Awake or asleep
in a grass hut
what I pray for is
to bring others across
--Zen Master Dogen
San Quentin Prison sits on a bare spit of land on San Francisco Bay. This is where the state of California puts prisoners to death. The gas chamber is still there, but for the last five years executions are done by lethal injection in a mock-clinical setting that cruelly imitates a hospital room. About 550 men and 11 women wait on California's death row, usually for 15 to 20 years. The voting public supports this state-sanctioned violence. In fact, no politician can get elected to higher office in California without appearing to support the death penalty.
On a stormy evening in March of 1999, several hundred people came to vigil and rally to protest the execution of Jay Siripongs, a Thai national and Buddhist, convicted of a 1983 murder in Los Angeles. Sheets of rain and a cold wind beat on everyone gathered at the prison gates: death penalty opponents, a handful of death penalty supporters, press, prison guards, and--right up against the gate, gazing at San Quentin's stone walls--75 or more Buddhist students and meditators bearing witness to the execution, sitting in the middle of anger, grief, painful words, and more painful deeds.
My robes were soaked through, and my zafu sat in a deepening puddle. Across a chain-link fence, 10 feet away, helmeted guards stood in a wet line, rain falling as hard on them as on ourselves. I felt a moment of deep connection: black-robed meditators sitting upright in attention in the rain, protecting beings as best they know how. Is there a difference between our activities? Yes, of course. But recognizing unity, even in the midst of difference and turmoil, is the essence of peacemaking. I imagine there were guards who were aware of this unity.
|The essential practice of peace is giving, or dana paramita. Giving attention, friendship, and material aid. Giving spiritual teachings and community.|
Our witness at San Quentin is part of a great vow that Zen students take. Bearing witness is the bodhisattva's radical act of complete acceptance and non-duality. In this time and place it leads me to active resistance and social transformation. We vow to bear witness where violence unfolds. We vow to recognize the human capacity for violence within our own minds. We take refuge in the Buddha-dharma, and seek to resolve conflicts. We vow never again to raise a weapon in anger or in complicity with the state or any so-called authority, but to intervene actively and nonviolently for peace, even where this may put our own bodies and lives at risk.
Who will take this vow? Am I ready? Are you?
Meditating on peace, echoes of [the 13th-century Zen master] Dogen ring in my ears. In "The Bodhisattva's Four Methods of Guidance," Dogen writes, "You should benefit friend and enemy equally. You should benefit friend and enemy alike." His radical language cuts to the heart of peace. His 13th-century world was different from our own, but the conflicts and twisted karma of suffering beings are the same.
In every age, the dream of peace and the practice of peace arise together with war and conflict. They are deeply related. In every age, war compels people to cover their hearts and act in unimaginably cruel ways. No other animal is capable of such cruelty. The color and shape of the victims, heroes, and perpetrators may differ, and the landscape itself, but the face of war is always ugly. The victims need our help. So do the perpetrators.
Let me offer three approaches to Buddhist peacemaking: giving, fearlessness, and renunciation.