What is 粥時斎時の偈 (Shukuji-Saiji-no-Ge)?: Verses for Morning Gruel and Midday Meal

Key Point: Shukuji-Saiji-no-Ge is a Buddhist verse that monks chant when they receive and eat food. Many people think it is a way to say thank you to people who provide food. However, it also teaches us that cooking is a way of Buddhist practice. We must use the virtues of ingredients in our cooking.

Shukuji-Saiji-no-Ge is a Buddhist verse that monks chant when they receive and eat food.

In Zen Dojo where I studied, this verse did not have a special name. When I researched it in books and on websites, I found many different names. For example, some people call it Sejiki-ge (the verse for food offering). Others call it Kisshuku-ge (the verse for eating gruel) or Kissai-ge (the verse for eating a meal).

In this article, I use the name “Shukuji-Saiji-no-Ge.” I chose this name because I found it in a book from the Showa era. In this book, the author divides meals into two types: “Shukuji” (morning gruel) and “Saiji” (midday meal). The author combines these two terms and calls the verse “Shukuji-Saiji-no-Ge.” (Reference: Kodo Sawaki (1941), Zazen no Shikata to Kokoroe: Fu-Gyōhatsu no Shikata [How to Practice Zazen and its Principles: With a Guide to Gyohatsu]. Yoyogi Shoin.)

You may wonder why monks do not have supper. In traditional Zen temples, monks are supposed to eat only breakfast and lunch. This is because there is a rule called 不非時食戒 (Fuhijijiki-kai). This rule says that monks should not eat after noon. Some countries follow this rule strictly. However, in Japan, monks take a light meal called 薬石 (Yakuseki). They call it “薬 (medicine)” to stay healthy. Therefore, they do not chant the verse at supper.

Glossary

粥有十利 is a term that explains the ten benefits of eating porridge.

粥有十利: The Ten Benefits of Porridge

• Complexion: It makes your face and body look healthy.
• Energy: It gives you energy and physical strength.
• Life: It helps you live a long and healthy life.
• Comfort: It makes your mind and body comfortable. It reduces pain.
• Intelligence: It makes your words clear and helps you think well.
• Digestion: It is good for your digestion.
• Balance: It calms coldness and bad conditions in your body.
• Hunger: It does not fill your stomach too much. It is just right.
• Thirst: It clears your thirst and gives you water.
• Health: It helps your body clear itself well.

三徳六味: Three Virtues and Six Tastes of Food

三徳六味is a term. It combines the six tastes from 大般涅槃経 (the Nirvana Sutra) with the three virtues.

Originally, “三徳” refers to the three stages of liberation in Buddhism: 法身 (Dharmakaya), 般若 (Prajna), and 解脱 (Nirvana). However, in the 典座 (Tenzo/the Zen kitchen), 三徳 refers to three different standards: 軽軟 (light and soft), 浄潔 (pure and clean), and 如作法 (proper method). Monks cook meals based on these standards.

三徳（The Three Virtues in Food Preparation）

• 軽軟 (Light and Soft): The food should be light and easy on the body. It should not make the monks feel heavy or sleepy, so they can focus on their training without any problems.
• 浄潔 (Pure and Clean): The food must be prepared in a clean environment. It should not be made with impure techniques or a greedy heart.
• 如作法 (Proper Method): The food should be cooked and served according to the right methods, at the right time, and in the right place, showing respect for the practice.

六味: The Six Tastes of Food

• 甘味 (Sweet): The taste of sweetness.
• 苦味 (Bitter): The taste of bitterness.
• 辛味 (Spicy/Pungent): The taste of spice or heat.
• 鹹味 (Salty): The taste of salt.
• 酸味 (Sour): The taste of acidity.
• 淡味 (Mild/Plain): The taste of simplicity or natural flavor.

According to 大般涅槃経 (Nirvana Sutra), food is categorized by six distinct tastes. These tastes are considered essential for maintaining health and balance in one’s practice(Reference: 大般涅槃経, Vol. 4, translated by Dharmakshema | SAT Daizokyo No. 0374).

The six tastes are interpreted as follows: sourness represents impermanence; saltiness also represents impermanence; bitterness represents non-self; sweetness represents bliss; spiciness represents the self; and mildness—the natural flavor of the ingredients—represents eternity.

Nirvana Sutra, Volume 4

These six tastes serve as a metaphor for Buddhist practice.

While Shukuji-Saiji-no-Ge (Verses for Morning Gruel and Midday Meal) is generally recited by monks to show gratitude toward the donors who provided the food, the content reveals a deeper purpose. It demonstrates that the act of preparing ingredients to bring out their full potential is, in itself, a direct path to the Buddha-way.

The Core

• In Zen, we cherish what is at hand and do our best within the limitations of our environment.
• Cooking to bring out the full potential of ingredients is a form of Buddhist training.
• Shukuji-Saiji-no-Ge is a Buddhist verse that monks chant when they receive and eat food.

My Experience: In the Zen Kitchen, Making the Most of What We Have

Key Point: The fundamental difference between a common household kitchen and the 典座 (Tenzo/the Zen kitchen) lies in the approach to planning. In a typical home, we often start by deciding on a menu and then purchasing the necessary ingredients. In 典座, however, we begin by observing what ingredients are already available and then determine the menu. In this environment, the ability to plan the meal is far more important than mere technical skill in cooking.

Rice, with its mild and subtle flavor, serves as the perfect foundation for countless ingredients, embodying the very nature of Japanese cuisine. Therefore, I believe that a true chef is not one who prepares a pre-planned menu, but one who possesses the wisdom and creativity to craft a complete meal from what is already at hand.

We often hear that a simple, traditional Japanese diet is excellent for our health. Interestingly, much of this wisdom traces its origins back to Zen monasteries. The influence is vast, ranging from staple seasonings like miso and soy sauce to preserved foods like 沢庵 (Takuan/pickled radish). Even the elegant 懐石 (Kaiseki) cuisine of the tea ceremony finds its roots in the monastic meals of Zen temples.

Personally, I keep my daily meals quite simple, largely to minimize the time and effort spent in the kitchen. In the Zen monastery, however, the roles of the planner and the cook were often separate. I learned that the ability to plan a menu was even more critical than technical cooking skills. The quality of the cook matters less than the quality of the menu planning; it was a serious matter, sometimes even a question of survival for the community.

The fundamental difference between a common household kitchen and the Tenzo—the Zen monastery kitchen—lies in their approach: households typically decide on a menu and then purchase ingredients, whereas in the Tenzo, we begin by crafting a menu based entirely on the ingredients we already have

A skilled menu planner crafts a menu that utilizes what is already at hand, providing clear instructions and simple steps so that anyone can cook a delicious meal. This allows the cook time to rest, attend to laundry, or mend clothes. Conversely, an unskilled planner dictates a menu based on their own personal desires, resulting in complex procedures and ambiguous instructions that only a highly capable cook can execute. Consequently, the cook ends up exhausted, scolded, and deprived of any time to rest.

In Japanese Zen monasteries, seniority is absolute. When an elder takes on the role of menu planner, one must follow their instructions, even when they make little sense—making it a matter of survival. In the monastery where I lived, the role of Tenzo was a rotating duty. However, in ancient Zen temples, this was a high-ranking position reserved only for the most capable. This was precisely because, as I have experienced, the responsibility for ‘food’ was not merely a chore; it was a matter of survival.

Rice and congee (okayu) possess a mild, subtle flavor that allows them to pair perfectly with almost any ingredient. In essence, the art of Japanese cuisine is the mastery of utilizing this neutrality. Therefore, I believe that a true chef is not defined by their ability to follow a pre-set menu, but by their capacity to create something profound from whatever is already at hand.