Even before I began to sit regularly, I was attracted by the image of the Bodhisattva, the heroic – to me -- Zen figure who defers his own passage to Nirvana in order to assist others on the path. Reminded me of the fabled captain who is the last to leave the sinking ship. Years later, when we were building our network of charter schools, we discovered Leaders Eat Last. I thought that the author, Simon Sinek, was pointing in a way to the spirit of the Bodhisattva.
When I began sitting regularly at the Soho Zendo, I was happy to chant the Four Great Bodhisattva Vows, although I was never quite comfortable with the first vow, “Sentient beings are numberless; I vow to save them.” I had some uncomfortable associations with saving. Deepest and vaguest were the echoes of the evangelical “Jesus Saves,” words which I felt was intended as a threat to us Jews.
Closer to the surface were stories I’d heard during my years of involvement with the Native American Solidarity Committee. Among the most moving were the stories of the missionaries and their schools. These were nightmare stories of indigenous children being taken from their parents and sent to boarding schools where their language and culture were, one way or another, beaten out of them. The missionaries were saving these children.
This image was vivid when I became Chief of the South Beach Children and Youth Service. I was an experienced chief at the time, being sent in to “clean up” a problem service. The adolescent inpatient unit got most of my attention. What I found there when I arrived were a lot of well-meaning, young therapists who were saving the children from their parents. They had constructed narratives for the young patients they were working with called “case formulations” which explained how all of the patients’ problems resulted from bad parenting. If our young therapists could just adopt these kids, all would be well. They would be the good parents.
The result was a series of skirmishes and occasional wars between our team and our patients’ parents. The kids stayed in the hospital a very long time. Nobody wanted to send our kids home to “those people.” It was a mess.
My mantra became, “Lord, protect me from the child savers.” My repeated message was that the parents were not our enemies, and they were not their children’s enemies. The occasions in which parents intentionally harmed their children were scarcer than the proverbial hen’s teeth. In almost all instances, our patients would be best served if we could help them get out of the hospital and home. Placement in foster care or residential treatment was seldom a better, healthier option. The children needed our help in getting home, which meant helping their parents learn to keep their children safe and thriving. I wrote a paper, “Parent Empowerment,” about the work we were doing.
When I got to the Zen Center of New York, I found that Bernie had a different translation of the first vow. “Creations are numberless, I vow to free them,” stirred mixed feelings. I was relieved by Bernie’s substitution of “free” for “save.” Freedom was a very good thing in my pantheon of values. Marching for civil rights, we had chanted responsively: “What do you want?” “Freedom.” “When do you want it?” “Now.”
Bernie substitution of “creations” for “sentient beings” didn’t play as well. It wasn’t that I was so comfortable with “sentient beings.” That sounded overly ambitious and grandiose. I understood the appeal which “sentient beings” had for the animal lovers, but there were so many people suffering. I understood that Bernie was pushing the envelope. I saw the appeal that “creations” had for the activists who were saving the rain forest. No need to worry if trees had feelings, -- or carrots for that matter, -- trees were definitely creations. But Bernie was pushing further. Not just the creations of God or nature, all creations, the creations of human beings, my creations, your creations. Everything is a creation, my dreams, my thoughts.
If “all sentient beings” seemed overwhelmingly ambitious to me, “all creations” was over the top. There were times when I was embarrassed by the narrowness of my social entrepreneurship practice. Was it enough to be building charters school on Staten Island which would integrate students living with emotional challenges while wars raged in the Middle East, while the rain forests were destroyed, while global warming threatened all life on earth?
Bernie had given me a direction, doing what was in front of me. All things were interconnected, and our charter school work was contributing to peace in the Middle East. Our student body and our faculty were diverse. We hired Muslim teachers. Many of our students were studying Arabic.
When over the years I was asked why we opened more schools when there was still plenty of work to do making our existing schools better, I always had my Bodhisattva answer, “Because there are more kids out there who needed our schools.” That was my vow. I wasn’t worrying about the words. Creations were numberless and I had vowed to save them.
In retirement, “creations” has taken on new importance. What am I doing? I’m writing. I’m creating. Bernie’s wording hasn’t prevented guilt and anxiety from arising. I worked in mental health and education until I was almost 80 years old, and still I wonder if I retired too soon. Shouldn’t I be “working”? Shouldn’t I be out there helping people? I still have some skills. Is doing my writing mere self-indulgence?
Creations are numberless, I vow to free them. What does it mean to free my creations?
On one level, I am bringing to light what has been buried or hidden. I am watching this process unfold. It was good for me to free my inner thoughts, to bare my secret heart. These days often in fiction, I could share these with my friends. Freeing my creations is not always an easy practice for me. Freeing my demons who I’ve kept locked in the closet for years, letting them out to tell their stories, is exciting and liberating and very, very scary.
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