This is a whole another topic, but what has been happening in Japan for the last 150 years, and most especially in Western Zen Buddhism, is the emergence of clergy who more resemble Protestant ministers or Rabbis in those other religions 
(often married, with kids, frequently with other jobs to support themselves, their family and even their Buddhist group economically when not "stepping into the Pulpit/onto the Zafu "on Sundays.) Although the development of married clergy 150 years ago in Japan is completely strange and heterodox to many Chinese, Thai and other strictly celibate Asian continental Buddhists, who often consider --all-- Japanese lineage priests (not just Zen, but all sects) as "de facto lay people" because they marry (actually, the process of priestly marriage began much earlier if less openly in Japanese Zen than 150 years ago, and 1000 years ago in some sects of Japanese Pure Land Buddhism), and was first officially instituted as a Japanese government/Shintoist policy to weaken Buddhism in the 19th century, I believe it actually is a welcome step in bringing these teachings and practices out of the monastery, to the rest of life.
The traditional "Four Categories" of the Buddhist Sangha were/are "bhikkhus (monks), bhikkhunīs (nuns), upāsaka (laymen) and upāsikā (laywomen)." Women nuns sit behind and have far fewer rights than male monks, lay people behind them both (and their role as lay people is typically not to practice and study deeply themselves, but primarily to support the monks and nuns economically through donations.) Nishijima Roshi believed very much in leaping through these divisions, as I described in his obiturary:
In my book, the role of Zen clergy is primarily service to others, to maintain the Sangha, to know our Teachings and Practices and to enable all Sangha members to learn and Practice, and to make sure that this Path is passed on to coming generations.
Gassho, Jundo
STLah
PS - I am going to split this off into its own topic. A split off about non-splitting.
(often married, with kids, frequently with other jobs to support themselves, their family and even their Buddhist group economically when not "stepping into the Pulpit/onto the Zafu "on Sundays.) Although the development of married clergy 150 years ago in Japan is completely strange and heterodox to many Chinese, Thai and other strictly celibate Asian continental Buddhists, who often consider --all-- Japanese lineage priests (not just Zen, but all sects) as "de facto lay people" because they marry (actually, the process of priestly marriage began much earlier if less openly in Japanese Zen than 150 years ago, and 1000 years ago in some sects of Japanese Pure Land Buddhism), and was first officially instituted as a Japanese government/Shintoist policy to weaken Buddhism in the 19th century, I believe it actually is a welcome step in bringing these teachings and practices out of the monastery, to the rest of life. The traditional "Four Categories" of the Buddhist Sangha were/are "bhikkhus (monks), bhikkhunīs (nuns), upāsaka (laymen) and upāsikā (laywomen)." Women nuns sit behind and have far fewer rights than male monks, lay people behind them both (and their role as lay people is typically not to practice and study deeply themselves, but primarily to support the monks and nuns economically through donations.) Nishijima Roshi believed very much in leaping through these divisions, as I described in his obiturary:
He advocated a way of stepping right through and beyond the whole matter, of finding living expressions where others saw restriction, and of preserving the tradition even as things change. While he was a champion of the celibate way (Nishijima Roshi, although married, turned to a celibate lifestyle for himself upon ordination), he never felt that celibacy was the only road for all priests. Nishijima advocated a form of ordination that fully steps beyond and drops away divisions of “Priest or Lay, Male or Female”, yet allows us to fully embody and actuate each and all as the situation requires. In our lineage, we are not ashamed of nor try to hide our sexuality and worldly relationships, nor do we feel conflicted that we are “monks” with kids and mortgages. When I am a parent to my children, I am 100% that and fully there for them. When I am a worker at my job, I am that and embody such a role with sincerity and dedication. And when I am asked to step into the role of hosting zazen, offering a dharma talk, practicing and embodying our history and teachings and passing them on to others, I fully carry out and embody 100% the role of “Priest” in that moment. Whatever the moment requires: maintaining a sangha community, bestowing the Precepts, working with others to help sentient beings. The names we call ourselves do not matter. In Nishijima’s way, we do not ask and are unconcerned with whether we are “Priest” or “Lay”, for we are neither that alone, while always thoroughly both; exclusively each in purest and unadulterated form, yet wholly all at once. It is just as, in the West, we have come to step beyond the hard divisions and discriminations between “male” and “female”, recognizing that each of us may embody all manner of qualities to varying degrees as the circumstances present, and that traditional “male” and “female” stereotypes are not so clear-cut as once held. So it is with the divisions of “Priest” and “Lay”.
... For thousands of years, it was nearly impossible to engage in dedicated Zen practice except in a monastic setting, to access fellow practitioners, teachers and teachings, to have the time and resources and economic means to pursue serious practice, except by abandoning one’s worldly life. By economic and practical necessity, a division of “Priest” and “Lay” was maintained because someone had to grow the food to place in the monks’ bowls, earn the wealth to build great temples, have children to keep the world going into the next generation. Although Mahayana figures like Vimalakirti stood for the principle that liberation is available to all, the practical situation was that only a householder with Vimalakirti’s wealth, leisure and resources might have a real chance to do so. Now, in modern societies with better distributions of wealth (compared to the past, although we still have a long way to go), ‘leisure’ time, literacy and education, media access and means of travel and communication across distances, many of the economic and practical barriers to practice and training have been removed. This is the age when we may begin to figuratively “knock down monastery walls”, to find that Buddha’s Truths may be practiced any place, without divisions of “inside” walls or “outside”. For some of us, the family kitchen, children’s nursery, office or factory where we work diligently and hard, the hospital bed, volunteer activity or town hall are all our “monastery” and place of training. We can come to recognize the “monastery” located in buildings made of wood and tile as in some ways an expedient means, although with their own power and beauty too. There are still times when each of us can benefit from periods of withdrawal and silence, be it a sesshin or ango, or the proverbial grass hut in distant hills. Yes, this Way still needs all manner of people, each pursuing the paths of practice suited to their needs and circumstances, be they temple priests catering to the needs of their parishioners, hermits isolated in caves, celibate monks in mountain monasteries, or “out in the world” types demonstrating that all can be found right in the city streets and busy highways of this modern world. Nishijima, a zen priest yet a working man, a husband and father most of his life, stood for a dropping of “inside” and “out”. He was someone that knew the value of times of retreat, but also the constant realization of these teachings in the home, workplace and soup kitchens.
... For thousands of years, it was nearly impossible to engage in dedicated Zen practice except in a monastic setting, to access fellow practitioners, teachers and teachings, to have the time and resources and economic means to pursue serious practice, except by abandoning one’s worldly life. By economic and practical necessity, a division of “Priest” and “Lay” was maintained because someone had to grow the food to place in the monks’ bowls, earn the wealth to build great temples, have children to keep the world going into the next generation. Although Mahayana figures like Vimalakirti stood for the principle that liberation is available to all, the practical situation was that only a householder with Vimalakirti’s wealth, leisure and resources might have a real chance to do so. Now, in modern societies with better distributions of wealth (compared to the past, although we still have a long way to go), ‘leisure’ time, literacy and education, media access and means of travel and communication across distances, many of the economic and practical barriers to practice and training have been removed. This is the age when we may begin to figuratively “knock down monastery walls”, to find that Buddha’s Truths may be practiced any place, without divisions of “inside” walls or “outside”. For some of us, the family kitchen, children’s nursery, office or factory where we work diligently and hard, the hospital bed, volunteer activity or town hall are all our “monastery” and place of training. We can come to recognize the “monastery” located in buildings made of wood and tile as in some ways an expedient means, although with their own power and beauty too. There are still times when each of us can benefit from periods of withdrawal and silence, be it a sesshin or ango, or the proverbial grass hut in distant hills. Yes, this Way still needs all manner of people, each pursuing the paths of practice suited to their needs and circumstances, be they temple priests catering to the needs of their parishioners, hermits isolated in caves, celibate monks in mountain monasteries, or “out in the world” types demonstrating that all can be found right in the city streets and busy highways of this modern world. Nishijima, a zen priest yet a working man, a husband and father most of his life, stood for a dropping of “inside” and “out”. He was someone that knew the value of times of retreat, but also the constant realization of these teachings in the home, workplace and soup kitchens.
Gassho, Jundo
STLah
PS - I am going to split this off into its own topic. A split off about non-splitting.
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