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Message from Cheri
Gasshō, Around here, we call this communication “the 20th email.” It’s not, particularly, but it does help us remember that on or near the 20th of each month, this email, on this subject, is supposed to go out. We, as a group, prepare a number of emails each month designed to keep you informed about the activities of Living Compassion. It is my responsibility, and pleasure, to create this one, which is meant to make clear how Living Compassion is expressing Zen awareness practice, i.e., what Living Compassion has to do with Zen awareness practice. Even though it is mine to do, I always ask whoever is around for input on topics. What has been our primary focus this month? What word or phrase best conveys what we’re up to right now in practice? We usually have an easy time coming up with the answer to those questions because practice has themes. For a while, we all are looking at resistance, then we’re talking about letting go, then acceptance seems to be what everyone is working with. Group discussions will center around the current theme, and, for me, it is very helpful for us all to be looking together. When we’re all exploring a topic, we can go deep into one area, rather than touching lightly on a lot of different subjects. Recently, as you’ve no doubt noticed, we’ve been working with possibility, saying yes, and participation. This month we have been feeling particularly inspired. We’re accomplishing many of our “getting in touch and staying in touch with sangha” goals. We’re hearing from more of you, there are a lot more yeses, possibilities abound, and everyone is pitching in at a whole new level. It’s a very exciting time in our practice. Recently I was in an airport restaurant, sitting at a table on which someone had left a newspaper. Being somewhat popular culture deprived (willingly and gratefully!), I picked it up and began to scan it. Several pages in, I saw a picture of a beautiful child and found this little article titled “An Inspiring Story”: “Not far from the recent carnage in Jordan, a humanitarian gesture by one bereaved Palestinian family put a rare ray of hope this week in the seemingly endless cycle of Middle East violence and revenge, pointless killing and death. Ahmed Ismail Khatib, a 12-year old boy with a winning smile, was playing near his home in the Jenin refugee camp on the West Bank when he was shot by Israeli troops. The soldiers said that from a distance, they mistook the toy gun he was holding for the real thing. Ahmed died two days later in an Israeli hospital, yet another victim of the five years of bloody conflict that has claimed nearly five thousand lives, three-quarters of them Palestinian. Unlike so many others, however, his death did not trigger yet another round of violence. It triggered a reason for hope. Ahmed’s parents, rising above their grief, donated his organs to critically ill patients in the hospital, all Israelis, who had been waiting for transplants. Their action might have saved five children, ages 7 months to 14 years, and a 58-year-old woman. Defying criticism from some fellow Palestinians, Ahmed’s father, Ismail Khatib, told interviewers, ‘I don’t mind seeing the organs in the body of an Israeli or a Palestinian. The Palestinian people want peace—for everyone.’ He added: ‘I feel that my son has entered the heart of every Israeli.’ Ismail Khatib and his family put a human face on the suffering of so many in that violence-prone land. Their generosity of spirit, in the worst circumstance any parent can imagine, puts so many of the region’s politicians and troublemakers to shame. Their example—ordinary people pursuing the path of peace and humanity—should be an inspiration to others on both sides, driving out the peddlers of hate and bloodshed.” Their example can be an inspiration to us all. It can inspire us to grasp the magnitude of the opportunity we have as human beings, the priceless treasure that life, all life, is. If we truly understood what life is, the thought of killing anything would be appalling. Killing another human, for any reason, would be unimaginable. I brought the article home, knowing I wanted us to do something to honor this boy and his heroic parents. Lately, we’ve been referring to the Zen Monastery Practice Center as the Zen Monastery Peace Center. Just trying it out. So far we like it. The Monastery is a peace center. What we practice there is peace. We practice being peaceful with ourselves through the ending of self-hatred and suffering. We practice being peaceful with one another, with the earth, and with our fellow inhabitants through kindness, respect, gratitude, and generosity. At the Zen Monastery Peace Practice Center we are beginning to acknowledge our appreciation of all that supports us through even greater efforts to be more conscious in our consumption, with an increased focus on sustainability. We are setting goals for ourselves to reduce our garbage and even to reduce what needs to go to recycling by choosing more carefully what we purchase. We are putting up placards to explain the organic gardens, the composting, the recycled building materials, and so forth, in the hope that visitors will be inspired to increase their own efforts toward a kinder, more peaceful relationship with the earth. When our new meditation hall is ready (please join us for our “hall raising,” May 20 to June 18), we will begin putting on some of the programs we had envisioned for the Peace Center in Assisi, Italy. I am submitting for consideration as the name for our new hall, The Ahmed Ismail Khatib Center. His story will be right there on the front of the building, and in that way, for as long as any of us live, for as long as that building stands, his story, and the possibility of peace and compassion that it offers, will continue to inspire us. Gasshō,
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