The Berlin “Crash Visit”

In 1997, the Berlin sangha was working steadily to finish the new Zen center. After a long search, a member had found a huge space in a factory building, which after a major transformation would become our dharma place. But then we suddenly were informed that Zen Master Seung Sahn, along with several other monks and a nun, intended to visit the new Berlin Zen Center.

At that time, I was the abbot of the emerging new Zen center. We went into overdrive to be ready for their visit. We aimed for perfection, but a perfectly finished Zen center is an illusion, because everyone’s idea of perfection is just that: an idea. It wasn’t quite finished when they arrived.

Finally, the time for the visit was quite close. We were so nervous. We rented a huge van to pick up our honored visitors. I would be the chauffeur. Hah! If only I had known how to drive such a van. But try mind is a powerful mind. The following memories remain from that first visit.

When Zen Master Seung Sahn entered our barely ready dharma room, he went straight to the altar and bowed. A German artist had carved a new Buddha statue for us from a solid piece of oak. This new Buddha statue had replaced the previous small golden Korean Buddha statue. Our sangha members typically did not agree on most things, which provided great like-dislike teaching. But one thing we did agree on was how much we loved that Buddha.

In front of the altar, Zen Master Seung Sahn suddenly asked me, “Abbot, everyone like this Buddha?” I enthusiastically replied “Yes”—and breathed a sigh of relief as he nodded and moved on to inspect the rooms and the kitchen. We settled him in the interview room, which also had a small altar upon which the small golden Korean Buddha sat. Softly but clearly, he said, “This nice Buddha. Put on big altar.” It was a defining Zen moment for me and a great teaching in serious attachment. I took a deep breath and simply nodded.

I shared what he had said with the other members of the sangha, and asked them if they agreed to swap the Buddha statues that day. It was a defining Zen moment for the members. We all grumbled a little bit, but we swapped the Buddhas. We understood that it was not about “our way” but rather about attachment mind.

Later, Zen Master Ji Kwang (Roland Wöhrle-Chon) and I built a tall altar for the new wooden oak Buddha, and we placed this altar directly at the entrance door to the Zen center. Since then, this oak Buddha has greeted the thousands of Zen students attending practice in the Berlin Zen Center. Not long after that, we received a beautiful wooden Korean Buddha statue, which now sits on the dharma room altar. This wood Buddha and that wood Buddha: same or different?

Once, while waiting in a restaurant for lunch, the beautiful nun, now Zen Master Dae Kwan, stood up, took her sweater off and placed it over Zen Master Seung Sahn’s shoulders. She said: “Little bit cold here.” This very simple action brought sudden tears to my eyes. I had seldom seen that quality of directed attention and kindness and have never forgotten it.

That same visit remains indelibly imprinted in my mind as the Crash Visit. Zen Master Seung Sahn had described the big van in two words: “Big Horse!” After our restaurant visit, we were all in the Big Horse when I cut a corner too sharply and crashed into a brand-new BMW. No one was hurt, but I experienced agony mind. Zen Master Seung Sahn only said to me, “Hard training!” and smiled. The first thought in my mind was to find a taxi, which then appeared out of nowhere, and when everyone was safely in the taxi and gone, I sat down on the curb and cried in front of the shocked owner of the BMW.

I remember those two words—hard training—at those times when my life has indeed been hard, but I also remember his gentle smile.