Post-Election Realization: ‘We’ve Been Here Before’

Editor’s note: Sydney Shiroyama, a Minister’s Assistant at the Palo Alto Buddhist Temple, wrote this article for the PABT newsletter. The Wheel of Dharma is reprinting it with her permission. 

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On the 11th day of every month, the Multifaith Voices for Peace and Justice group has an event called “Peaceful Presence.” This event features speakers and rituals from various faith traditions on topics related to peace and justice. 

The Palo Alto Buddhist Temple is a participating congregation, and I have attended some events in the past. It’s been so nice to meet different faith leaders in our neighborhood and listen to their wisdom. Each time, I am reminded of how close our values align, even though it comes from a different religious practice. 

‘Peaceful Presence’ 

The “Peaceful Presence” on Nov. 11 was held at the First Congregational Church of Palo Alto, a Christian church just up Louis Road. The theme was, “Serving and Praying for our Nation.” As Rev. Dr. Eileen Altman opened the event, she shared a song by Holly Near, written in the wake of gay rights activist Harvey Milk’s assassination in 1978 in San Francisco. 

The song opens with the verse: 

“We are a gentle, angry people, And we are singing, singing for our lives.” 

Each verse repeats twice, and then the first line changes to:  

“We are a justice-seeking people …

We are young and old together …

We are a land of many colors …

We are gay and straight together …

We are a gentle, loving people … “

I’ve been to very few non-Buddhist services and that was the first time I’d been to that church. Still, as I sat in the pews, singing alongside people of different religions who I’ve never met, it all felt familiar. I was overcome with a realization — we’ve been here before.

Of course, much has changed since 1978, and we have new sets of challenges. However, the feeling of hope, pain, anger and perseverance that the song conveyed are hauntingly relevant almost 50 years later. 

I don’t know whether this realization made me feel better or worse. There is something deeply unsettling about feeling like there’s been a lack of progress; that we’re still dealing with the same intolerance. There’s also a strange comfort in realizing that others have grappled with issues that I care about. Our ancestors have been here before — with their anger, frustration and despair.

When I learn about Shinran and the seven philosophers who shaped his thought, I realize that they also worried about the moral capacity of humans. 

Shan-tao (613-681) talked about a concept of “Deep awareness of human nature” and wrote, “We are really sinful, ordinary beings, fettered to Birth-and-Death, continuously drowning and transmigrating since innumerable kalpas ago, and have no means of emancipation.” 

Honen Shonin (1133-1212) believed he lived in a time of decline; where human capacity was weak, and the practices of Buddhism were difficult to undertake.

In “The Collected Works of Shinran,” there is a collection of 16 hymns called, “Gutoku’s Hymns of Lament and Reflection,” which reflect his disappointment and grief he felt in reaction to the negative behavior of monks of the major temples. 

It includes the following hymn: 

“Each of us, in outward bearing,

Makes a show of being wise, good, and dedicated; 

But so great are our greed, anger, perversity, and deceit, 

That we are filled with forms of malice and cunning.”

These writings might sound a little harsh, but they resonate with my feelings lately. As I am inundated with news of constant violence, intolerance and fear in the world, I question the moral capacity of people — especially those in power who seem to be the cause of so much suffering. Shinran and his teachers expressed a sense of hopelessness and despair. 

Many before us believed their time in history was the worst it could ever get, and here we are, wondering how we could become any more divided. 

Finding Hope

Despite the nihilistic vibes, even these seemingly cynical philosophers were able to find hope. 

As much as we see mentions of the faults of human nature, there is as much optimism in the salvation of Amida Buddha. In the “Shoshinge,”  Shinran wrote:

“The person burdened with extreme evil should simply say the Name: 

Although I too am within Amida’s grasp

Passions obstruct my eyes and I cannot see the light; 

Nevertheless, great compassion is untiring and illuminates me always.” 

I understand this point theoretically, but the abstract quality of Amida Buddha makes it hard for me to accept. When we are told in these moments to, “say the Nembutsu” or “focus on what you’re grateful for,” this advice sometimes feels idealistic. I want my actions to be impactful, measurable, and righteous. I want to make the world better. I want people to stop killing each other and the planet. I feel guilty when I’m passive. How privileged am I to have this luxury of not needing to fight back to survive? 

In a culture that positions people as winners and losers, it’s easy to feel this way. When I speak to people on my “side” with “like minds,” we intentionally or unintentionally prop each other up. It feels good to feel better, smarter and more moral than others. It makes me feel like I know what other people need. Turns out, the more I puff myself up, the harder it is to hear those who I’ve distanced myself from. And without my ability to listen, they become the people who need protection from me. 

Lessons From Shinran

Shinran helps remind me of the reality and danger of my own faults. I’m slowly learning that critical self-reflection and a deep understanding of our bonbu nature helps us awaken to reality. This kind of internal work is not passive. Rather, it’s challenging and necessary, and sometimes it takes a lifetime to grasp. 

It’s difficult to understand that our narrow perspective is just one of many. That we are inextricably linked with everything and everyone around us. That the oppression of others affects us, too. That our actions affect others in good ways and bad. And amidst the pain and suffering of this world, despite our own evil nature, we are uplifted and embraced by wisdom and compassion. 

As we circumambulate this saha world of suffering, history repeats itself and we realize we’ve been here before. The good news is that there are so many teachers to listen to. We are singing for our lives, alongside generations of angry, gentle, loving people. Like brilliant stars in a dark sky, “great compassion is untiring and illuminates me always.”