The Religion of the Samurai A Study of Zen Philosophy and Discipline in China and Japan — Themes and Context

From Bodhidharma to the Sixth Patriarch

Nukariya devotes the first chapter to Zen’s Indian origins and Chinese establishment. He recounts Bodhidharma’s audience with Emperor Wu—a famous encounter where the patriarch denies the merit of building temples—and the transmission of the law through a series of patriarchs. The narrative is punctuated by the “flight of the Sixth Patriarch,” a turning point that splits Zen into Southern and Northern schools. Nukariya treats this schism not as a doctrinal dispute but as a divergence in method: the Southern school emphasizes sudden enlightenment, the Northern gradual cultivation.

The author’s language is direct, often summarizing complex lineages in a few sentences. He does not linger on hagiography; instead, he uses these episodes to illustrate Zen’s core tenet: direct insight beyond words. The chapter concludes with a section titled “Decline of Zen,” suggesting a cyclical view of history that reappears in the Japanese context.

Zen and the Samurai Ethos

Chapter two traces Zen’s arrival in Japan and its resonance with the warrior class. Nukariya draws explicit parallels between the Zen monk and the samurai: both embrace “honest poverty,” cultivate “manliness,” and maintain “courage and composure of mind.” He links Zen’s institutional success to the patronage of the Ho-jo regents, then charts its survival through the “Dark Age” and Tokugawa shogunate.

The author’s method is comparative: he juxtaposes Zen’s discipline with the samurai’s code, arguing that Zen provided a philosophical foundation for military service. The excerpts do not include detailed battle accounts; instead, Nukariya focuses on mental training—the ability to face death without fear. This section grounds Zen in a specific social history, moving beyond abstract doctrine to explain why the religion appealed to Japan’s ruling elite.

Scripture as Waste Paper

In chapter three, Nukariya argues that Zen rejects scriptural authority. He calls sutras “no more than waste paper” and insists that the universe itself is Zen’s true scripture. The chapter cites the “Sermon of the Inanimate”—the idea that mountains and rivers preach the dharma—and critiques the tendency to treat “the Absolute and Reality” as mere abstractions.

Nukariya’s rhetoric is provocative: he denies the need for canonical texts while simultaneously referencing sutras used by Zen masters. This tension reflects a broader strategy: he is not dismissing all scripture but repositioning it as secondary to direct experience. The chapter’s structure moves from negation (scripture is unnecessary) to affirmation (nature is the true teacher), a pattern that recurs throughout the book.

Universal Life and the Betterment of the World

The final excerpted chapters shift from historical and doctrinal exposition to a philosophical argument for progress. Nukariya asserts that “everything is living” and that the “Universal Spirit” manifests as moral order. He cites contemporary events—the Turco-Italian war, the Chinese revolution—as evidence that war drives out war, and he invokes Shakya Muni’s precept “not to kill” as a universal ideal.

This section is notable for its optimism: Nukariya believes in the “betterment of life” through education, social institutions, and spiritual unfoldment. He lists modern inventions (X-rays, wireless telegraphy) alongside psychic phenomena (clairvoyance, telepathy) as signs of human progress. The argument is teleological: history moves toward the realization of a merciful Buddha, Maitreya, who will appear in a future age of peace. This eschatological frame ties Zen’s philosophy to a global vision of moral evolution.

Nukariya’s study is best approached as a work of advocacy rather than neutral history. He selects episodes and doctrines that support his thesis: Zen is a living philosophy capable of addressing modern conflicts. Readers should note the book’s date—1913, on the eve of World War I—and consider how its pacifist rhetoric responds to the militarism it describes. The excerpts do not cover Zen practice or meditation in detail; those seeking instruction in zazen will need supplementary sources.

I keep thinking about how Nukariya describes Zen as a path beyond texts, yet here I am, holding his book like a kind of token. It reminds me of sitting with Hinduism and Buddhism, An Historical Sketch, Vol. 3 — A Reader’s Guide years ago, feeling the same quiet ache—how teachings meant to free us still ask us to turn pages. Both left me with that strange, tender paradox.