Barefoot, his toes bandaged and bloody, the Venerable Bhikkhu Pannakara — a Buddhist monk — quietly led a handful of his fellow faithful and their loyal dog Aloka over the back roads of South Carolina last week. They wore various footwear: some in socks or sandals, some with thick bandages around their injured feet, like himself. All wore loose robes of ochre and rust. None walked alone.
A flood of humanity filled the streets and sidewalks along their route, including in Columbia, where police vehicles led the monks’ procession while a sea of marchers followed behind. Their Walk for Peace had begun in October at the Huong Dao Buddhist Temple in Fort Worth, Texas, and will conclude in mid-February - 2,300 miles later - in Washington D.C.
Those who join them for a few blocks or a few miles hope to borrow a sense of that mindfulness, unity, and abiding peace for which the monks are known and are now trying to spread nationwide during their walk. Some days, this mission is harder than others.
“It’s time to let go of everything to live in harmony and unity, and to love everyone as our own brothers and sisters,” Pannakara said. “... Even though there are many people who hate us, shout at us, and curse at us, we respond with ‘may you be well, happy, and peaceful.’ If we can all do this together, our world will be at peace.”
In other words, “That’s fine, dude. I’m not mad at you,” as Renee Good said shortly before she was shot and killed by an ICE agent last week in Minneapolis.
Both the monks’ Walk for Peace and Good’s killing are a litmus test for the nation’s soul. If we cannot find common ground in basic human decency, cannot expect morality among our leadership, and will not uphold the rule of law in the best of times, then we have little hope of surviving the stormclouds in our future.
In his book “People of the Lie,” M. Scott Peck wrote that “Stress is the test for goodness. The truly good are they who in time of stress do not desert their integrity, their maturity, their sensitivity.” This is being demonstrated by the Buddhist monks’ long walk along jagged, rocky roadways, just as it was demonstrated by Good when she smiled at the man who would become her killer and said, “I’m not mad at you.” Three shots later, the ICE officer proved Peck’s point as well with his final epithet as Good died: “f—ing b–ch.”
Both Good and Pannakara’s monks have brought people together in the dawning days of the new year – one through peace and one through tragedy. The question remains as to what we’ll do with these intersecting moments of history, this opportunity to reflect on our path and alter its course. Will we do as the monks have done, search for moral clarity and peace while striving for unity? Or will we continue to allow the deep divides created by ICE’s aggression turn us towards violence and isolation instead?
Governor Andy Beshear has drawn both applause and mockery on social media for trying to bring Kentuckians together despite the president’s best / worst intentions in framing Good as a domestic terrorist before an official inquiry. Last week, Beshear criticized ICE’s growing aggression and called Good’s death both foreseeable and tragic.
“Yes, we need secure borders, but how we enforce our law shows our humanity or lack of it, and this administration is definitely showing a lack of it,” he said.
Social media trolls gleefully pointed out the ways Good might have survived the encounter, assuming she had been able to predict the ICE agent approaching her was primed to fire his weapon at her head. Others — including law enforcement officers, military medics, and lawyers — have discussed the lack of police policies guiding ICE agents, the laws against the use of deadly force in such situations, and the growing erosion of basic rules of engagement by pseudo-military squads on America’s streets.
Such starkly different views of daily reality are no longer strictly reserved for political discourse. They are quickly becoming a deep moral gulf, one our communities will not bridge easily without serious and long-lasting interventions by the nation’s leadership. Unfortunately, the president’s administration thrives on such division, even as it tears our peace and prosperity apart. Humility doesn’t make the splashy headlines he craves.
Humanity walks on quiet feet. It doesn’t score big on social media, a phone in one hand and a fire arm in the other. Humanity works to enliven and unify a community, not rip it apart behind the anonymity of a black mask and a flack jacket. Humanity compels us to foster a deeper understanding of one another — a clarity born of peace and principles — rather than rehashing old prejudices and rhetoric towards the imaginary “others.”
Or, as our very own Andy said so well, “Everyone is our neighbor, and kindness and love go a lot farther than hate.”
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