Brothers

With Brother Phap Man in South Woodstock, Vermont

Many years ago, Aaron Solomon stopped by our Santa Cruz church for conversation, study and a bit of prayer.  I remember inviting Aaron to join me in my weekly visits to the county jail; I remember his stillness, his thoughtfulness in those circles of discussion and communion.  He was genuine and curious, kind and compassionate.  And the men we visited responded in kind.

Within a short time, Aaron set out to explore the world: the inner landscape of his own spirit, and the wider and wilder landscapes of spiritual practice and community.  He found a compelling and beloved teacher in Thich Nhat Hanh, and was ordained into the Buddhist monastic community at Plum Village in France.  Upon ordination, Thich Nhat Hanh offered Aaron a new monastic name: Phap Man or Brother Fulfillment.

These days, Brother Phap Man is living in a small Buddhist community in South Woodstock, Vermont.  What grace, what joy to visit with him there, today, and to sit in silence and meditation with him in the community's tea house on a frozen Vermont lake.  

Tea House, South Woodstock

I'm moved by the vitality I discover in meditation with friends: the profound gift unwrapped in silence in quiet place.  Brother Man's compassion is deep, his silences rich and spacious.  I can only hope he experienced something similar in me as we sat together.  After so many years--his journey into monastic life, mine through Christian ministry--we settled easily into mindfulness, a sweet communion of steps and spirit.  Today's conversation turned toward grace, the inevitable disappointments in servce to higher callings, and transition.  And I'm grateful for this deep connection: for the nourishment of my own discernment in our conversation and silence.  

May you be happy, my brother; free from suffering; cradled and blessed in the arms of peace.

All those years ago, Aaron wrote a remarkable poem (which he called "Vow") and shared it with me and the church.  It reflected his own emerging attentiveness to Buddhism, and his appreciation for authentic and daring confession too.  We adapted the poem--so generous and wise--for our own Holy Week liturgies: and it quickly and surely became a guide for prayer during our journey to the cross and beyond.  I continue to give thanks for the prayer--and for the daring and creative soul who offered it then:

One:	Because I have taken more than I need, my brother is starving.
All:	Because I have been busy, I have not taken the time to tenderly embrace my own suffering – to plant it in the ground of patience, and to reap the harvest of understanding.
One:	Because of this, my heart has become hard and I cannot hear the cries of my sister in her anguish.
All:	Because I have not taken the time to touch the Earth and listen in stillness – caring for all that dwell here – joy and faith in life are being uprooted everywhere.
One:	Because I have allowed anger and frustration to live in my heart, the world is burning with the violence of war.
All:	Because I have been adamant about what I believe, and have clung tightly to my own notions – my family is divided –
One:	And my brothers and sisters are being tortured and murdered even in the name of my God.
All:	Because of these things I vow:        to breathe deeply,        to walk slowly,        to sit patiently,        to act mindfully,        to listen carefully,        to speak with loving kindness,        to smile and look with compassion on all beings.