Aside from judo, Zen has perhaps had more influence on the Japanese art of fencing called kendo. "Ken" means the sword, "Do", the "Way". Together, they create "The Way of the sword." This suprises many people because they think, "How can the pacifistic philosophy of Buddhism be connected with anything so ferocious as the art of fighting?" But it was.

Shortly after Zen Buddhism was introduced into Japan it became the favorite way of life of the Samurai, those feudal Japanese warriors who were for many centuries there involved in perptual civil war between the various feudal lords. And as they lived in constant danger, constant insecurity, they took up Zen as a way of peace in the midst of fighting. But what about the ethics of this? It seems a simple problem. Either we're going to have fighting in a war or we're not. Now if we've made up our minds that it will be necessary to fight, that there must be soldiers, then, surely, there is not alternative but to do it well. In other words, if you're going to chop somebody's head off, chop it with a complete decision, because a half-hearted chop is very agonizing for the victim. So in the same way, as somebody said, "If you're going to tell a lie, make it a good one!" No shilly-shallying about these things. And this is the attitude of Zen. If you're going to do any evil deed, really do it; if you're going to make a mistake, make it a good one. And so the whole philosophy of the sword is deeply imbued with Zen.

Let's take a good look at one of these Japanes swords. They venerate things. You should see how beautifully the are wrapped in their silk case with brocade on it. Lovely things. This one has a blade, oh, probably about 400 years old, and it was lent to me by Mr. Shibata. It's a terrifying instrument, just a big, heavy, two-handed razor. Look at this... worn at the side, you don't draw it then go into action -- you can draw it and go into action at any moment. And it's principle of balance is such that the right hand pulls it at its convienient center of balance, while the left hand can simply control the movement very rapidly with a good principle of leverage. So practically all the defense of blows from either side is simply accomplished by slight movements of the blade from side to side giving great economy of movement.

There is sometimes only one rather startling and dramastic looking form of defense -- the wrist cut -- and only one thrust -- straight at the throat. And then the blow to the head. You've probably heard the shout (in Japanese the "Kiai") in the Japanese [Samurai] films, and you wonder, perhaps, what that is. That comes from Zen.

There was an old Chinese Zen master called Rinzai. Ane when people asked him, "What is the meaning of Buddhism?" he'd let go with a kiai -- "Ho!" They were profoundly disconcerted One simply, if you're a philosophical gentleman, does not answer questions like that. But that again, is a trap to see if the questioner can be phased and thrown off center. And so, in the same way, the Samurai in attack uses the same terrifying shout, as it were, to startle his opponent into losing his balance and thinking for a moment. And if he thinks, and hesitates, he has lost.

Now, of course, the practise of this of this is carried out with bamboo swords and we can watch a young Japanese fencing student putting on his bamboo armor, as he gets ready for a bout. They wear this helmet which is somewhat like the old-style steel helmets worn by the Samurai in medieval times. And they wear breats plates of laquer and heavily padded gauntlets. And then, in the fencing room, they salute one another -- and then they start in. And then you can see this two-handed sword in use. As in judo, one must move without stopping. So, in fencing, there is to be no interval between attack and defense. In watching good fencers, they seem to "dance" together and to, as it were, be going through the motions as one body -- and then there's that one critical moment where one man loses his gaurd and he's done for. So the attitude is called, in Chinese, mo chur chu , which means going straight ahead. A Zen poem says:

Under the sword lifted high
Is hell making YOU tremble;
But go straight ahead
And there is the land of bliss.

No stopping. Complete response to the moment. And this is particularly true, for example, if a single man is surrounded by several opponets. He can't hesitate and wonder "What is this fellow going to do to next?" Because when he is defending himself he, as it were, his mind is stuck on an opponet here -- he could be caught unawares from an opponent other there. So what he has is what is called an "unstuck mind;" an ability to be alert to the whole situation around you, so that if your mind gets fastened at any particular point, you're caught by that point. And so this "unstuck" mind is the fundamental requirement, not only for the artist in fencing, but also for the practitioner of Buddhism.

Now, in the hands of a man who is really both adept in Zen and adept in fencing, the sword of destrucion can in a curious way become a symbol of mercy. For the highest school of Japenese fencing is called "The No Sword School." To be able never to use the sword.

A good story about this is that there was a great Samuri traveling on a ferry boat. And just as they were putting off, another drunken, rowdy Samurai stepped on and started bragging about his powers. And he turned to the first Samurai and said "Well, what's your school of swordmanship?" And the first Samurai politely answered, "Mine is the "No-Sword school." "Ha-ha!" he said, "I'd like to see your "No-Sword school!" and immediately he challanged him to a fight and pulled out his sword. The first Samurai said, "Excuse me, but if we fight on this boat we may hurt innocent bystanders. Why don't we go and fight on that island over there?" So they got the boatman to move over to the island and, as they arrived, the ruffian jumped off onto the island all ready to begin the fight. And at that moment, the other Samurai grabbed the oar from the boatman and pushed the boat away into the island and left the rowdy stranded. "There," he said, "is my "No-Sword School!"

This applies, too, even in the actual making of the sword by the swordsmiths whose craft in Japan is something of a ritual. And as an example of "No-Sword" in the work of a very skilled swordsmith, let me tell this story:

There were two swordsmiths in old Japan. One who was considered the greatest, and the other just a little inferior. And they had a test one day as to which of them made the best blade. And they first took the blade of the second-best swordsmith and put it in a stream like this, and set a piece of paper floating down towards it -- and the sword simply slit through the piece of paper and the paper then joined together on the other side of it and went on down the stream. How could that be improved? They then put in the sword made by the greatest swordsmith and wondered, "How can this be better than the one we've just seen?" Well what happened was that the piece of paper came down the stream toward the sword but then, rather then being slit in two, it simply floated around it -- thus avoiding the sword - and went on.