Many misunderstandings about Ōbaku Zen arise from seeing its blend of Zen and Pure Land elements as a kind of compromise rather than a deliberate expression of the Dharma. It is sometimes dismissed as “not real Zen” or as merely a syncretic mixture, yet it maintains the core features associated with the Zen tradition: rigorous meditation, koan practice, and a direct orientation toward awakening and seeing one’s true nature. The inclusion of nembutsu and other devotional forms does not replace these practices; instead, they function as supporting disciplines within a coherent training regimen. Rather than diluting Zen, this integration preserves an older Chan style in which meditation, recitation, and ritual were not sharply separated.

Another common misconception is that Pure Land practices, especially nembutsu, stand in outright contradiction to Zen principles. Within Ōbaku, however, nembutsu is framed as a meditative and mindfulness practice, not merely as devotional prayer aimed at an external savior. It is treated as an expedient means that can deepen concentration and insight, pointing to the same ultimate reality that zazen and koan work seek to reveal. In this light, zazen and nembutsu are not mutually exclusive paths but different expressions of the awakened mind, suitable for practitioners of differing capacities and temperaments.

There is also confusion about Ōbaku’s identity and historical character. Some assume it is simply a Japanese innovation or, conversely, that it is wholly Chinese and lacks its own distinctiveness. In fact, it was brought to Japan by Chinese masters and retains strong Chinese cultural and liturgical elements, yet it also developed within a Japanese context and formed its own institutional and ritual profile. This has led to the mistaken view that it is either an exotic import or a marginal offshoot, when in reality it is a fully formed Zen school, smaller in size than Rinzai or Sōtō but still active and maintaining its own lineages and training halls.

Finally, Ōbaku is sometimes portrayed as philosophically confused or lacking coherence because it holds together practices that, on the surface, appear to pull in different directions. Its own self-understanding, however, presents these methods as complementary rather than contradictory: meditation, koan inquiry, chanting, and nembutsu are all seen as skillful means oriented toward the same realization. The school’s distinctiveness lies not in abandoning Zen, but in articulating a vision in which devotion and insight, form and emptiness, ritual and direct experience are woven into a single path of practice.