“Where would I find enough leather

To cover the entire surface of the earth?

But with leather soles beneath my feet,

It’s as if the whole world has been covered.”

― Shantideva

We are facing perilous times in our country.

Zen Centers and teachers are understandably cautious about bringing up politics. Why? To protect the space for a deeper kind of engagement with our lives, our hearts, and our world than through the divisive lens of what we usually call politics. To protect the possibility of a harmonious and inclusive community that welcomes everyone: regardless of how you voted or what you believe about this or that policy or approach.

And it's part of my vow as a priest to practice restraint and humility as best I can: do I really know that my ideas and preferred policies are really the best? The world is complex. Unintended consequences are the norm. Arrogance and elitism are subtle and so divisive.

I truly try to be welcoming to all, and I want to be helpful to everyone as best I can. Plus I want to understand other points of view. I do sincerely hope that those who voted for the current president can practice with us.

But what's happening now in our nation's capital is beyond the usual range of ideas and actions we've called "politics."

Our new leaders are breaking the the very laws and constitutional agreements our country is founded on. Again and again and again. And creating great suffering as they do so. (In the Sangha to Sangha section below I share one of the ways this has affected people I love.) The alarm bells that our nation's democracy is in peril are ringing out. As well they should.

How do we practice in these times? We don't want to drown in the troubles, but we also can't ignore what's going on if we're to show up as citizens. Plus the troubles which at first seemed 3,000 miles away are showing up here and now with recent arrests by ICE agents acting very much like secret police in Ferndale last week.

A friend sent me a chapter from His Holiness the Dalai Lama's newly published memoir. The book's title says a lot: "Voice for the Voiceless: Seven Decades of Struggle with China for My Land and My People." Here is a monk and teacher who's truly been there in unimaginably difficult "political" circumstances.

Among his wise recommendations are:

(1) deeply recognize that any meaningful human endeavor must overcome difficulties arising from the deep suffering rooted in greed, hatred, and delusion,

(2) understand that difficulty and hatred can be met with love and compassion, and to remember that our adversaries are powerful teachers for us,

(3) actively appreciate whatever we can find to appreciate in the "other" side,

(4) hold what's happening in a bigger perspective: though it's hard to believe at the time, good can emerge from even very difficult disasters,

and (5) to practice optimism. If we give in the pessimism, we've lost our hope - we've "chosen to give up, even before trying."

Powerful reminders.

Perhaps the whole disaster is a giant wake-up call from complacency. I've always taken a more or less functional democracy for granted. That was sorted out over 200 years ago, so I can just live my life. I was taught about the checks and balances between the three branches of government in grade school. Even as we've watched the slide into paralysis, the enormous increases in inequality, the ever more powerful link between wealth and power, and the increasingly nasty rhetoric there is a deep part of me that figured, "it'll all work out, not my problem." But it seems that it is my problem. It's all of our problem.

And we are deeply fortunate to be able to practice. And to practice together. To take up that practice as our foundation. To turn difficulty into light as best we can. To return to ground together. To return to community. To look at the seeds of greed, hatred and delusion within us. To learn how to be engaged, but also to be humble. To watch out as we yearn for justice that our minds aren't actually yearning to get rid of the others we find incomprehensible and repugnant.

May every one of us find our strength and our voice, but with our open hearts and our love.

May we at Red Cedar continue to build and deepen a space for practice in service of this. And may each of us in our own way find ways to engage and help - no matter how "small" it might seem to us.

May those on the "other side" too find peace, find understanding, understand suffering and love. And may we understand that there is no "other side."

And don't forget to sit down and practice. To study and take inspiration. And be together with sangha friends (not just to hang out, although that's encouraging, but to practice together).

We need each other now more than ever. And we are human, suffering beings ourselves, no matter how well put together we might appear to be. When there's trouble between us - it happens - may we see that trouble as our practice in deepening and opening our hearts. May we learn and grow together.

His Holiness closes his chapter with one of the verses from Shantideva he recites daily. (Daily, for 70 years--this is a practice!):

As long as space endures

As long as sentient beings remain,

Until then, may I too remain

to dispel the miseries of the world.

In our weekday morning practice we encourage wise engagement too with this verse adapted from our precepts:

May I today in all actions of body, speech and mind:

affirm life; give generously; keep the mind clear;

treasure the body; be courageous and kind in speech;

open to and heal through strong emotions;

and return to Buddha, Dharma and Sangha on every breath.

I hope to see you in practice soon. It's more vital than ever to sit down together in practice. And then to rise up together as we face this world.