In Shodo Harada Roshi’s Zen, robes and rituals are not regarded as decorative or secondary, but as concrete means through which the mind of practice is embodied. The robe is understood as an expression of vow and lineage: wearing it signifies taking refuge in Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha, and standing within the stream of transmission that flows from Shakyamuni Buddha through generations of Zen ancestors. In this sense, the robe is “vow made visible,” a reminder that one carries the responsibility of the tradition. At the same time, the simplicity and uniformity of the robes reduce social distinctions and personal display, supporting the teaching of “no rank” and encouraging practitioners to set aside self-centered comparison.

The way robes are handled and worn is itself treated as practice. Careful folding, putting on, and maintaining the robe becomes zazen-in-action, training attention to detail and fostering a mind that is precise and awake. In this way, robes function as “fields of merit,” cultivating humility, gratitude, and non-attachment when they are properly respected. They continually point the practitioner back to impermanence and to the need to let go of clinging, so that the “real robe” is understood as the mind that has released fixation on self.

Rituals in Harada Roshi’s tradition—bowing, chanting, offering incense, walking meditation, formal services, and structured daily activities—are likewise treated as physical expressions of the Dharma. When performed wholeheartedly, they express reverence and gratitude for the Buddha, the ancestors, and all beings, and they transmit the teaching beyond words and concepts. The precision of these forms, especially during intensive retreats, cuts through laziness and distraction, unifies the group’s energy, and supports deeper concentration. Ordinary activities such as work and communal practice are thereby transformed into continuous mindfulness training, integrating meditation with every aspect of daily life.

Across all of this, robes and rituals are consistently framed as skillful means rather than ultimate ends. Their value lies in how they discipline the body and mind, create a shared container for serious practice, and point directly to Buddha-nature. When engaged with sincerity and full presence, they help reveal the ground of egolessness and interconnectedness that Zen seeks to realize. When clung to mechanically or used to bolster identity, they lose their meaning; their true function is to support awakening, not to serve as objects of attachment.