The Roji-no-ge

Divide the eight lines into two, and their shape appears. The first four lines are about the one who makes the sound: subduing Māra, untying the passions, striking the bell on the open ground. The last four lines are about the one who receives the sound. "You who long to hear the Dharma, you who would cross the sea of birth-and-death — when you hear this wondrous sound, all of you, come." All of the first half flows into this calling word.

So this verse is not about the sound of striking the bell. It speaks to the step you take, turning this way when you hear the sound. Striking the bell is the temple's task. But the main character of this verse is you, the one who hears.

More than two thousand years ago, on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, Shakyamuni had a seat prepared on the open ground, the roji. This day marked the end of the summer practice, the rains retreat (ango), a day called the invitation ceremony (jusai) — a solemn turning point when the monks quietly pointed out one another's faults.

Shakyamuni called his disciple Ananda and told him, "On the open ground, strike the gaṇḍī at once." The gaṇḍī is the sounding instrument that gathers the monks. Ananda went up into the hall, took the gaṇḍī in hand, and declared, "Now I strike this drum of the Tathagata's faith. Let all who are disciples of the Tathagata gather, every one of them."

And then, the eight-line verse was chanted. The sound that tells the time became, in that moment, the Buddha's own call. That was how this verse began.

This verse later received the name "verse on hearing the bell" (Monko-ge). In the Tang, Daoxuan set down the eight lines as the chant for gathering the monks, and in the Song, Yuanzhao recorded, "This is chanted in unison by the people who hear the sound outside the hall; it is not the verse of the one striking the bell."

Who chants it has changed with the time and place. What matters is that, in every age, it faces the one who hears. Today, your temple will show you the way to compose your heart when you hear the bell. Please follow the guidance given there.

Still, let me say this. The next time you hear the bell, do not let it pass as a mere signal of the hour. Simply to notice — "I have heard it, this is the Buddha's call, come this way" — is already one step of the heart toward the seat of the Dharma.

"Roji" means open, roofless ground. A place where sound is not blocked, and rings out straight. It was such a place where Shakyamuni had his seat prepared.

There is another meaning to this roji as well. In the Lotus Sutra there is a famous parable: children flee a house wrapped in flames, sit down on open ground, and their hearts grow calm. That safe place, too, was called roji — the open ground of the heart, after leaving the house of suffering.

It is the same when the bell rings out. Neither the roof of trouble nor the wall of delusion stands before its sound. If the sound reaches you straight, then your heart, too, lies open like the roji.

To hear the bell, no qualification is needed. Whether or not you have faith is not asked. You have heard the sound — that alone means you are already called.

To join your hands, no words are needed either. Put your palms together, and simply think: "I am being called." With that alone, your heart gathers in the open ground and turns toward the seat of the Dharma.

The next time you hear the bell, treasure that single moment. The sound reaches you, always, from anywhere, to where you are.