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| Surrounding ICE with compassion. Photo: John Davenport. |
September 14, 2017 I stood on the sidewalk outside the ICE
(Immigration and Customs Enforcement) headquarters at 4310 SW Macadam Ave, Portland, Oregon and
chanted Nam-myoho-renge-kyo for half an hour. I was the only chanting Buddhist
in an interfaith action to protect people from being deported, to surround the
ICE facility with compassion – to thaw ICE. As I stood there facing the brick
wall, knowing the security cameras were pointed straight at me, I waved to them,
then placed my hands in prayer position and chanted daimoku. An image rose up
in my mind of Nichiren standing on a cliff looking out over the ocean on April 28, 1253,
as he chanted Nam-myoho-renge-kyo for the first time. The interfaith group told
me I was the first chanting Buddhist to participate in their actions. I felt
like I was continuing the transmission started by Nichiren over 700 years ago.
This action in Portland to thaw ICE happens at noon on the second
Thursday of the month. A river of people streams in silent meditation around
and around the building (consuming an entire city block) while holding signs.
On each corner stands a person to ground the action with sound. Three corners
each had a person with a prayer bell, chiming positive vibrations. On the
fourth corner I stood, chanting with my whole being, as I stared at the brick
wall of the ICE headquarters.
The bricks, like everything, are composed of the mystic nature of
life, Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, which keeps electrons spinning in atoms, and
galaxies twirling through the universe. I sensed the bricks softening and
opening, like even the hardest of hearts. The words of Starhawk, author of the
book Truth or Dare, telling how
ritual resists and transforms hierarchical power-over structures, resonated
with me: “Ritual can become free space, a hole torn in the fabric of domination
… a bridge that brings through into the world of the everyday a sense of the
sacred. And so the everyday changes, deepens, until the sacred, like an
underground stream, wears away control from below” (p. 98). Truly, I felt like
a bridge of daimoku, of sacredness, flowing like water, transforming all it
touches.
As I chanted, exposed in public, scrutinized by Homeland Security
cameras, I felt grounded, powerful as the universe. I cover the webcam on my
laptop because it creeps me out to know a spy device is watching me in the
privacy of my own home. However, as I stood facing that brick wall of ICE – chanting
Nam-myoho-renge-kyo – all that fear, paranoia, even anguish evaporated.
Two uniformed men, one with a police dog on a leash, whose backs read
“Homeland Security,” came out of the building and walked past me. I kept
chanting, tuned in to our universal oneness of courage, compassion and wisdom.
One man smiled at me and waved. I smiled and waved back as I continued
chanting. After the action wrapped up, many silent walking meditators told me
how powerful it felt to walk through the vibration of my chanting
Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
The marchers have already
had some results: Trump has yielded on the immediate deportation of DACA. Next month another SGI member tells me she will join me
chanting to thaw ICE, as the silent meditators walk around the headquarters in
compassionate prayer. Maybe you can come join us, too! Or, if you live outside
of Portland, Oregon, perhaps you can connect with a local interfaith group to
thaw ICE in your town, or start your own group to thaw ICE. After all, we SGI
members chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo because one person stood up alone and chanted
for the first time.
For more information on thawing ICE, please contact the Portland
hosts:
