I was told this story by my confirmation teacher a long time ago, but it’s one I often think about. I’ll give it you here with only minor changes to help with brevity and due to gaps in memory.
While My Teacher was attending divinity school an opportunity of a lifetime presented itself. My Teacher was working on their thesis showing common elements between Christianity and Buddhism when they heard a genuine Zen Master from a Japanese monastery would be a guest teacher at a Buddhist retreat out in California. Moreover, this Zen Master would be meeting individually with students throughout the week on a first come first served basis. Not wanting to miss a golden opportunity, My Teacher immediately booked a spot at the retreat and snagged a coveted meeting with the Zen Master.
With their luggage stuffed full of Comparative Religions literature, My Teacher flew to the Buddhist retreat overflowing with excitement. As luck would have it, My Teacher had the very first meeting with the Zen Master scheduled for the day after the conference started. Barely able to sleep the night before, My Teacher arrived bright and early for their meeting with the Zen Master.
Opening the door to admit My Teacher, the Zen Master was bright eyed, if not bushy tailed. My Teacher immediately began talking a mile a minute about everything they had been working on so far. The Zen Master held up a hand. “I’m sorry. The jet lag seems to be affecting me worse than usual. Perhaps we can start with a cup of tea on the patio before beginning our discussion?” My Teacher hurriedly agreed. As the Zen Master led the way to the back patio where the equipment to brew tea was laid out, My Teacher could bear it no longer and began sharing their thesis work once more.
As My Teacher gestured wildly and spoke passionately about their thesis, the Zen Master quietly and deliberately went about making tea. Quite oblivious to the Zen Master’s lack of responses, My Teacher carried on with increasing fervor. Then, the Zen Master began to pour out the tea into My Teacher’s teacup. But when the tea reached the top of the cup, the Zen Master kept pouring. Soon tea filled the saucer, ran out onto the table, then directly onto My Teacher’s lap. “Master, the tea cup is filled. It won’t fit anymore tea!”
The Zen Master smiled and put down the teapot. “Indeed, it cannot. It is a good lesson to know that you cannot put more tea into a teacup that is already full,” The Zen Master Said. A wave of embarrassment washed over My Teacher. The Zen Master continued, “From the moment I’ve opened my door, you’ve been very eager to share what you know. However, the purpose of learning is not to speak about what we know already, but to listen to that which we do not. I am as unable to teach you as I am unable to add more tea to your full teacup. We should always endeavor to empty our minds first before attempting to fill them with wisdom.”
We’re running a bit long for today, so I’ll come back next week with why I keep this story close to me. In the meantime, when you enter a situation, whether novel or mundane, ask yourself, “Is my cup empty or full?”