Bow to Emptiness: A Zen and Muslim Reflection

 

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Bow to Emptiness: A Zen and Muslim Reflection

A few years ago, I found myself sitting in Dokusan with my Zen teacher, Edward Espe Brown, author of the Tassajara Cookbook. For context, Dokusan is a one-on-one meeting with the teacher, a place for deep introspection, guidance, and inquiry into one’s Zen practice.

I had been struggling with a question that seemed to pull at my core, something that had been weighing on me as I walked both the Zen path and the Muslim path. I asked, “As a Muslim, how can I bow to a wooden statue of Manjushri on the altar? Isn't this a contradiction?” I could feel the tension in the question. Bow to a wooden statue? To me, it felt like a violation of my core beliefs. Islam teaches that God is beyond form, and here I was, being asked to bow to an image.

Edward paused for a moment, his eyes kind and knowing, then he replied, “If you imagine you are bowing to a piece of wood sitting on the altar, then you are wrong — both in Zen practice and in Islam. But if you are bowing to emptiness, then I don’t see any problem. Furthermore, if you want to join the club, you have to abide by its rules.”

I had expected something more rigid, but instead, he offered me an incredible insight: Zen practice, like Islam, is not about bowing to objects, but to the emptiness-the emptiness that contains all things.

In Islam, I understand that God is beyond all form. He is the Unseen, the Infinite, the One who encompasses all. In Zen, the concept of emptiness isn’t a void, but rather a recognition of the interconnectedness of all things, of letting go of attachments and desires, and finding peace in simply being.

For me, this was a revelation. Zen meditation became a practice not of bowing to an image, but of recognizing the emptiness of the mind, the stillness of the heart, and the presence of the Divine—not in a statue or an altar, but in all things, in everything. The bowing became a metaphor for my own surrender — my submission to the Divine.

Zen and Islam share a similar core teaching: that in letting go of attachment, we find peace and connection with the Divine. In Zen, it’s the emptiness; in Islam, it’s the recognition of God’s Oneness. Both teach that we are not separate from the world, and in fact, we are interconnected with everything—with the earth, with other beings, and with the Divine.

Embrace of Emptiness and Faith
This conversation with Edward was a turning point in my practice. It wasn’t about choosing one path over the other, but about understanding the unity that runs through them both. Whether in Zen or in Islam, both are calling me to awaken and let go of the self, to see that we are all part of something greater. In each practice, there is a deep recognition of God, peace, and connection — we just find it through different avenues. Both paths lead to the same truth.