Black Lives Matter and Zen

(Reflections on Race and Class in Western Buddhism)

Below is Atta Dipa – the first part of our Hollow Bones Rinzai Zen Sutra book; it begins our Morning Service.  Purportedly, “atta dipa” were the Buddha’s final words, the last teaching he offered his disciples on his death bed.  From the ancient language of Pali, which predates Sanskrit, the phrase most commonly translates as “Be a lamp unto yourself.”  Below it, you’ll find the parody I wrote in the wake of Black Lives Matter.

Atta Dipa!

You are this light!

Pure selfless awareness.

Rely upon selfless awareness.

Do not rely upon concepts of self and other that appear.

Do not depend upon beliefs, sensations, and emotions which arise and fall away.

Meditative awareness, clear intention, acting wisely, compassionately, and skillfully are this practice.

Rely upon this only.

Rely upon this ceaselessly.

I am this light!

Pure selfless awareness.

I rely upon selfless awareness.

I do not rely upon concepts of self and other that appear.

I do not depend upon beliefs, sensations, and emotions which arise and fall away.

Meditative awareness, clear intention, acting wisely, compassionately, and skillfully are this practice.

I rely upon this only.

I rely upon this ceaselessly.

Atta Dipa – Parody

You are this white!

Pure racial awareness.

Rely upon racial awareness!

Do not rely upon concepts of white self and Other that appear!

Do not depend upon beliefs, sensations, and emotions which, like privilege, arise and fall away.

Rely upon this only!

Rely upon this ceaselessly!

I am this white!

Pure racial awareness.

I rely upon racial awareness!

I do not rely upon concepts of white self and Other that appear!

I do not depend upon beliefs, sensations, and emotions which, like privilege, arise and fall away.

I rely upon this only!

I rely upon this ceaselessly!

Ever since I was 15 and first discovered Alan Watts’ “The Book” and Ram Dass’s “Be Here Now,” I wanted to practice Buddhism – sometimes referred to as “The Middle Way.”  It took 15 years until someone showed up to show me how!

I recently passed the 32-year mark for Buddhist practice.  From 1988-1995 I practiced with the organization SGI (Soka Gakkai International), most known for chanting “Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo.” Along with that sacred phrase, we chanted parts of the Buddha’s Lotus Sutra transliterated from Chinese into Japanese.  From 1995-2000 I practiced Vipassana with the Spirit Rock sangha in Marin County, CA.  I did many meditation retreats there; most notably one three weeks long in 1998 with renowned teachers Jack Kornfield, Tara Brach, and Sylvia Boorstein.  Since 2000 I’ve largely practiced Rinzai Zen, beginning with the 2^nd ever Hollow Bones retreat in May of that year.  This “Warrior Zen” suits me best and, like many, I fell in love with our Founder Junpo Denis Kelly.  Recent upheavals related to Black Lives Matter have caused me to reflect again on this varied history of Buddhist practice.

There are still some things I miss about SGI, particularly how they were able to crack the diversity code and create a truly diverse, multi-cultural sangha, while so many Theravada, Mahayana, and even Vajrayana schools of Buddhism in the West remain locked in what Jack Kornfield once referred to as “the Upper Middle Way” – Buddhism for upper middle class white folks.  Certainly, this is no less true of Hollow Bones.  I’d like to share what was so moving to me about the SGI community.

In April 1988, while living in New York City, I met a Chinese-American photographer who asked me if I was interested in practicing Buddhism.  Wholeheartedly, I answered yes.  The timing seemed especially propitious since my marriage was dissolving and I was unhappy living there.  My new friend took me to regular weekly SGI “chapter” meetings in a very small apartment in Chinatown.  Crammed into two tiny rooms in a back alley 4th floor walk-up were over 40 people, all chanting fervently to the Gohonzon – a scroll containing a distillation of the Lotus Sutra that Nichiren Daishonin first inscribed back in 13’th century Japan.  Almost every face was Chinese.  Most were older Chinese women and most spoke little or no English.  The rapid-fire chanting of the liturgy sounded like swarming bees.  Though people were well dressed, I got the sense that nobody had much money.   It created quite a lasting impression.

I was instructed to chant for what I wanted and needed in life.  I was taught that material desires can lead to enlightenment, that there is always congruence between a person’s internal life and material life, and that chanting, wholeheartedly pursuing our awakening, raises our “life condition.” These ideas are not inconsistent with any teachings of the dharma that I know, though it’s not an approach much taken or much stressed by most dharma schools.  I was told that one of three things would happen with what I chanted for: I would get what I wanted, I would get something better than what I wanted, or I would attain the wisdom to alter or abandon my request.

I would chant in the dark on the back porch of my apartment and whisper for fear of my roommates finding out.  I would often weep from shame.  I felt my life had sunk to the very bottom to be practicing such foolishness.  Nonetheless, I soon experienced a number of small “miracles” that helped spur me onward.  But the major impetus for seriously maintaining practice came from what I observed about other practitioners and about the sangha itself.

Every large SGI group meeting I attended, whether in New York or later in Chicago, I was always struck by the racial make-up of the participants. To fill a room with hundreds of people, with over 40% African-Americans, 10-20% Chinese and Japanese, 10% Latinx, and the rest a mix of white faces (though from truly varied ethnic backgrounds) is no small feat in any American city.  But especially in Chicago’s largely white north side[1] it is exceptional.  That exquisite rainbow of cultures and ethnicities, people interacting with genuineness and great affection for each other, imprinted on me in a deep way.  In these “United” States, full of racism, segregation, classism – all the structured legal ways and unstructured cultural ways that keep people separated, living in antipathy and fear of each other – any institution that manages to bring together and harmonize this many different races and cultures has my wholehearted admiration and approval.

The same democratic spirit extended to economic class.  Rolls Royces could often be seen parked next to junkers (like mine) in the lot.  Doctors, lawyers, and businesspeople chanted and mixed freely with people without jobs, money, or prospects, some people already homeless or only one step away.

The racial and class mix of course was a reflection of both the organization’s ideology and aggressive recruitment strategies[2].  The ideology focused on the practicalities of people’s everyday lives: finding good jobs, maintaining a happy family life, staying healthy.  No issue was perceived as too small or mundane.

Prior to beginning practice, I had never heard of SGI.  As time wore on, I encountered different kinds of media put-downs of SGI, including an NPR broadcast on Buddhism in America narrated by Richard Gere.  I could well understand some people’s dismissive reactions to the practice especially when introduced to it in ridiculously reductionist ways, like “Can’t find a parking space?  Just chant!”  But it irked me when people intolerantly dismissed the whole practice, judging it “materialistic.”  As if people’s earnest desires for a car to take them to work or a decent roof to put over their children’s heads or a reasonable paying job were somehow deficient or greedy.  I learned that those sincere, struggling people were not “hung up on the material world,” as holier than thou others sometimes accused them of being.  By and large, SGI practitioners sincerely sought awakening, just like Zen practitioners – they yearned for equanimity and peace, for oneness, the non-dual, for Clear Deep Heart Mind.   But they also had extremely pressing needs.  “Erst das Fressen, dann die Moral,” Bertolt Brecht wrote.  And I think the same principle holds true when applied to spiritual practice – “food first, enlightenment later.”

A few years ago, we did a ManKind Project “Urban” Training in Oakland, a few blocks from my house.  The express purpose of the training is to offer our men’s self-growth work to four traditionally marginalized groups: young men (18-35), low income men, men of color, and urban men.  A homeless black man stood up during our first process Friday evening and said, “What the fuck good is any of this going to do for me?  I’m a drug addict living on the street and I haven’t eaten in two days.”  We agreed with him, got him some food, and blessed him on his way.

I referred to SGI as “Blue collar Buddhism.”  I was proud to seek enlightenment alongside “the great unwashed masses.”  At the non-dual level, it’s true that worries over money, housing, clothes, food, and safety of loved ones are simply thoughts in our head, no different from many others – part of the passing parade of mind.  But they also reflect realities in many people’s lives that deserve serious attention.  “Emptiness is form.  Form is emptiness.[3]”  Because Nichiren Shoshu Buddhism was intent on helping people resolve those practical issues first, before moving on to other, more lofty and conceptual issues (notice, I don’t say “more important” issues), I felt the practice was deeply compassionate.  There was a true Bodhisattva spirit and energy that pervaded the sangha; people genuinely wanted to do good with and for others.  SGI taught me that people have to move from the “lower worlds” of anger, hunger, and animal need (where many lives predominately dwell) before attaining higher realms of boddhisattva and enlightenment.  They practiced what they preached.  It was inspiring.

For me personally, it was also important to fraternize with people from other walks of life who I likely would never meet, much less connect with.  As a “red diaper baby,” like the children of many intellectual Communist families, I romanticized “the masses.”  While appreciative of their struggles from afar, up close I was often contemptuous of less educated, less worldly people, and I was just plain fearful of some.  I occasionally struggle with similar issues today. I had to remind myself that I was “walking my talk” when it came to practicing alongside sometimes desolate or strange people.  At SGI, I saw an old maxim put into direct action: those suffering the most should be ushered to the front in order to receive the most attention and benefit.  If this is not Boddhisattva Action in the World please tell me what is.

So I practiced diligently for seven years.  In my head there were often questions, occasionally even objections.  My occasional direct challenges to dharma leaders did not start with Hollow Bones and Junpo.  But in my heart, the practice always felt compassionate and right.  During that time, I saw many of the material promises of my practice fulfilled: I found an excellent affordable place to live, my career blossomed, I started earning five times my previous meager income, I had a wonderful new girlfriend.  More importantly, I was happier.  I drew confidence and hope from my practice.

Then, at the height of my greatest success, I hit a wall with my practice.  Most of it had to do with betrayals from business partners. I couldn’t seem to get what I wanted, something better than what I wanted, or the wisdom to let it go.  In short order, it seemed that Vipassana, and later, Zen, was the only cure.  But there are elements of daily Nichiren Shoshu practice I still miss, and most of them relate to sangha.  I miss the rainbow of human life represented in every meeting.  I miss the cultural and racial mix, the polyphony of different languages and accents, different life experiences and points of view, different performances featuring all the different arts in all their diverse cultural expressions: Spanish dances, teenage rap tunes, jazz, and “Ode to Joy.”  One of SGI’s strongest, most active intentions was to celebrate multi-culturalism.   That, and promoting education.  If they’re a leading force worldwide in progressive change it’s largely for these reasons. SGI leadership always understood that the more educated and aware of other cultures we are, the more tolerant and peaceful we become.

So how do we, as a Zen sangha, get to a place like that?  Where we look around the Zendo and see a circle of people of color reflecting the real world we live in?  Where the cushion of the wealthy tech entrepreneur lies adjacent to that of the formerly homeless barista working at Starbucks?  When, during end of retreat talent nights, we hear performances in different languages, see styles of dance, music, comedy, and drama from around the world?

The work starts with us.  It’s not dependent on institutional policies and practices though those can prove helpful.  Yes, it’s important we do events on a sliding scale and/or offer scholarships.  Yes, it’s important we extend invitations to POC and the working poor.  Yes, it’s important that our mission statement, written policies and practices include clearly worded statements welcoming people of all backgrounds.  Yes, it’s important we continue to do our own shadow work, rooting out the lived experience of racism that infects pretty much all white people.  Yes, it’s important we attend workshops to study multi-culturalism and learn the many institutional, cultural, inter-personal, and personal modes of oppression that exist.  Yes, we need to learn to communicate in ways that reflect awareness of difference. But these are all secondary.  I’ve watched the ManKind Project take similar steps over many years and largely get nowhere.  The numbers of low income and men of color in MKP are still shockingly small.

Nothing really changes until we live our lives differently.  We have to wake up and recognize, “Gee, all the people in my neighborhood are white; all the people I work with are white; all the people I socialize with, work out with, shop with, vacation with, and yes, go to the Zendo with are white…  This has got to stop!”  If that’s a recognition that rings true for you, now we can begin!

If you own and run a company it’s easy to resolve to make the next number of hires be POC, or GBTLQ, or at least women.  (I say “at least” because, though women are still not paid commensurate with men and still suffer from “glass ceilings,” they are already approaching and even surpassing the numbers of men hired in most job classes for those under 40 [though still not in tech].)  If you are an employee in a company speak up, insist, “We must do this.”  Taking to task who you work with is a great start.  But more is needed.  Consider changing where you shop, where you work out.  And now the toughest one of all:  Consider moving.  If you live in a mostly white neighborhood it’s going to be difficult to implement many, maybe most, of these changes. Until we are able and willing to put ourselves repeatedly into situations where white is not the majority we will not begin to truly learn about the “Other.”

It’s all about relationships.  Until we know people different from us well and they know us, they simply will not trust us enough to put themselves into yet another environment where all the white people make the rules. They already have that experience every time they go to a shopping mall, join a YMCA, enroll in a university, report a crime, go to court, show up for a job interview, fill out a government application. They already live in one big sangha like that; it’s called the U.S.  Until our friends are of difference, our neighbors, the people we work and play with, nothing much will really change.

I have an African-American filmmaker friend who I’ve known for 10 years.  Ever since I first hired him to film a conference, I’ve stayed connected with him.  Then he was a college student.  Now he’s a professional with his own production company.  I’ve played a kind of mentoring role in his career, hiring him as often as possible over the years for increasingly key production roles.  I met his wife and they invited me to their wedding.  He’s expressed his respect, trust, and love for me many times.  But when I asked him in February if he would join our May MKP “Urban” training he politely but firmly declined.  “Every day I walk out on the street I have to watch my back.  Every time I interact with clients I have to ignore their racist statements and assumptions.  Why would I put myself at risk in yet another uncertain white majority environment?”  Hollow Bones is yet another uncertain white majority environment.

I know Zen, especially Rinzai Zen, is all about the end game.  “Sit down, shut up, and wake up!”  This instruction, as simple as it is to our ears, can seem ethereal, even obtuse to someone suffering racism or poverty.

Not everyone feels called to work on issues of redress, to make a difference by righting historical wrongs.  I get that.  To some degree it’s been fundamental to my life’s work so it comes easier for me.  But we can all do something.  Hopefully, we can do much more than joining a protest march, putting a Black Lives Matter sign in the window, or telling people “I’m not racist” (which, as Resmaa Menakem, among other contemporary observers, has commented, is one of the scariest things a POC can hear.)

I suggest finding environments and circumstances where you as a white person are in the minority: attending Sunday morning service at a black church, shopping at black owned businesses, volunteering with a black run community group that largely serves people of color, traveling, once it’s possible again, to non-white overseas countries in Africa or Asia, even auditioning for a part in an amateur play or movie that has mostly black roles.  I’ve done all these things and I’ve learned something valuable from every one.  But most of what I’ve learned comes simply from living in places like Oakland, CA, Newark, NJ, Chicago, IL and Tianjin and Beijing China where I know instantly and powerfully what it means to be a person of difference, an outsider, and, nevertheless still, a person of great privilege, white.

We can’t be allies with POC until they deem us so.  So rather than congratulate ourselves on not being racist, let’s get to work building relationships with people of difference.  Fortunately, for most people it’s a whole lot easier than working a job.  We get to chat people up and get to know them.  We get to socialize and hang out.  Sounds like fun to me!

[1]  Later, in a great show of solidarity with Chicago’s predominantly black and poor residents, the Center was moved to the South Side – the historic, long-segregated, “black part of town.”

[2] Most of my objections related to the organization’s aggressive recruitment strategies. “Shakabuku” it was called – converting others to this brand of Buddhism.  I always felt those efforts were deeply misguided and in fact, they’ve since been abandoned. Yet despite that judgement, as part of my ongoing effort to challenge my own aversions, I myself participated in one or two solicitation efforts.  Were we overzealous?  Yes, clearly.  Many of us were acting out of selfishness in disguise, trying to catch the express train to enlightenment through conversion of others, not unlike Christianity’s saving of souls.  But I don’t doubt the sincerity of many people, perhaps most, up to the highest levels of SGI, who seemed determined to do what they could to minimize others’ suffering.  As for myself, along with the primary motivation of stretching my boundaries, I was certainly also motivated by trying to relieve suffering.

[3] This is a quote from the Buddha’s “Heart Sutra,” considered by many to be one of his key teachings.  It’s part of our Hollow Bones Sutra book and is recited during our Morning Service.  The words reflect a philosophy too deep to meaningfully summarize here, but suffice it to say that what is apparent to our everyday senses and rational understanding both is and isn’t representative of fundamental realities.