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Good Morning! OHIOGOZAIMASU! Last week we had a very enjoyable Hanamatsuri Service, Luncheon, and Program. All the different groups stepped up and were prominent. I would like to thank everyone for your contributions towards making the day a very special one. Today, I would like to begin with one of Shinran Shonin’s Wasans.
Please join me in Gassho: Although my eyes, blinded by passion, do not see the brilliant Light which embraces me, The Great Compassion never tires, always casting Light upon me.
This wasan tells us that although I am not always capable of recognizing it, the boundless compassion of Amida continuously benefits me.
Buddhist compassion is not like God’s love given to us if we are good. Buddhist compassion is more like natural law...like the laws of gravity. Here on earth, the laws of gravity work whether we believe in it or not. If we woke up one morning and decided not to believe in gravity, we wouldn’t just float away. The laws of gravity work regardless of what we think. In the same way, Buddhist compassion works to constantly surround us with benefit. Buddhist compassion works regardless of what we think...regardless of whether we accept it or not...regardless of whether we believe it or not...regardless of whether we are Buddhist or not.
Our own self-centered-ness keeps us from seeing the compassion that surrounds us. As we recognize our selfish nature, we are enabled to break through it, and we realize the compassion of Amida that surrounds us. This compassion is the network of interdependent conditions that bridge past, present, and future...that keeps us afloat...and allows us to live. Compassion is everything from air and water...to food and shelter...to family and friends. Keep this in mind...we’ll get back to it.
Usually, when we move into the month of April, we might look for signs of spring. This year, it seemed like April had all four seasons in a matter of two weeks. Rev. Castro of the Seattle Betsuin once told an old Japanese story of a man who was searching for the first sign of spring. He walked throughout the countryside looking for the first plum blossom that had opened. Everywhere he looked, there were buds, swelled and ready to burst upon, but not a single one had opened. He walked home disappointed. Arriving home, he went into his gated yard where he saw a single plum blossom...the first one...bursting forth from his own tree. Often, we go so far only to find that what we seek is right in front of us.
When I think of April, I think of the Boston Marathon. The Boston Marathon is the most storied marathon in America. It is also one of the smallest major marathons because you have to qualify to be eligible to enter. This year, it was run just this past Monday. I subscribe to the Runner’s World magazine, that keeps me up on the world of running. One of the special stories of this year’s Boston Marathon was that it marked the 40th anniversary of the first woman to officially run and finish the race. Katherine Switzer, a 19 year-old journalism student at Syracuse University, ran the 1967 Boston Marathon. Parts of her new book, Marathon Woman, were a part of this month’s magazine.
At that time, there was no woman’s cross-country team at Syracuse University, or anywhere else. She had been training with the men’s cross country team, and their 50 year-old coach, Arnie. Arnie was a veteran of 15 Boston Marathons. He welcomed Katherine to train, and took her under his wing. To get through tough sessions, Arnie would tell stories of the Boston Marathon. Katherine loved to hear these stories, but one night, she snapped and said, “Oh, lets quit talking about the Boston Marathon and run the damn thing!” “No woman can run the Boston Marathon,” Arnie fired back. “Why not? I’m running 10 miles a night!” She mentioned Roberta Gibb, who had jumped into the race the previous year and finished it.
“No dame ever ran the Boston Marathon!” he shouted, as skidding motorists nearly killed us. Then he added, “If any woman could do it, you could, but you would have to prove it to me. If you ran the distance in practice, I’d be the first to take you to Boston.”
You could imagine her eyes lighting up, and the theme to “Rocky” in the background. Three weeks before the race, Katherine and Arnie ran a 26 mile trial. Coming to the finish, Katherine suggested they go an extra 5-mile loop. “Arnie agreed, reluctantly. Toward the end of our 31-mile run, he began turning gray. When we finished, I hugged him ecstatically – and he passed out cold.”
The next day, they filled out the entry forms. There was no mention of gender in the registration package. She signed her name, K.V. Switzer like she always did, and put down the $3 entry fee, and they mailed them in. “Two weeks later, my boyfriend, a 235-pound ex-All American football player and nationally ranked hammer thrower known as Big Tom Miller, announced that he was going to run Boston, too, and didn’t need to train because “if a girl can run a marathon, I can run a marathon.” Then John Leonard, from the university cross-country team, decided to come, too. Talk about a pace team. I’d be running the toughest race of my life with three of the most talented athletes I knew.
The group was set, and they were off to Boston. At the start, the runners were jogging, and warming up. They were surprised to see a woman, and had encouraging words for her. Everyone had gray sweats on. There was snow, wind, freezing rain, and sleet. Everyone looked the same. “As we jogged over to the start, Tom said, “God, you’re wearing lipstick!” “I always wear lipstick. What’s wrong with that?” “Somebody might see you are a girl and not let you run. Take it off.” “I will not take off my lipstick.”
With this, the race started. The start of a marathon is fun … everyone is friendly and the spectators are encouraging. The pain doesn’t start until later. After a couple of miles, a flatbed truck full of photographers pulled in front of them. Realizing she was a girl, they began flipping through the names to see who she was. Cameras were clicking. Suddenly, there was a man in an overcoat and hat shaking his finger at her ...aying something. She couldn’t tell what he said, but he grabbed at her, caught her glove and pulled it off. They passed him, but then could hear him coming up from behind. "...I jerked my head around quickly and looked squarely into the most vicious face I’d ever seen. A big man, a huge man, with bared teeth was set to pounce, and before I could react he grabbed my shoulder and flung me back, screaming, “Get the hell out of my race and give me those numbers!” She felt attacked, as this man grabbed at her numbers, front and back. The man was Jock Semple, the race manager. Arnie tried to fight him off, but was thrown to the side. Jock had Katherine by the shirt, but then, “… a flash of orange flew past and hit Jock with a cross-body block. It was Big Tom, in the orange Syracuse sweatshirt.” Jock was knocked by the side of the road, in a clump. Arnie looked at the three of them, and shouted, “Run like hell!” They all took off, flying past the press truck.
All this happened within the first few miles of the race. After all this, they were tired...the adrenaline was spent...they ran quietly. It took miles before they began noticing things again. They weren’t even halfway into the race. Katherine was quietly lost in thought. She resolved to finish the race, no matter what. She thought about all the women who didn’t run...wouldn’t run...couldn’t run. In those days, many believed that distance running was harmful to women and that it would ruin their reproductive organs. In track, women were not allowed to run races longer than the 800 meter run. The myths were nonsense, but women were not allowed to disprove them. She thought about all the people who supported her and encouraged her...her parents...her coaches...Arnie. “My folks and Arnie had given me this chance, and it dawned on me that I was not special after all; just lucky.”
This one sentence is the reason I am sharing this story about the Boston Marathon...“it dawned on me that I was not special after all; just lucky.” In this one moment, realization occurs to move beyond the self-centered egotistical shell to the recognition of the compassion of others that allows us to be who and where we are. I am not saying that Katherine Switzer became enlightened during the Boston Marathon...just that there are moments in everyday occurrence that reveal glimpses beyond ourselves...glimpses of truth...that validate the Buddhist perspective.
Our own self-centered-ness keeps us from seeing the compassion that surrounds us. As we are enabled to see beyond ourselves, we break through, and we realize the compassion of Amida that is surrounding us all along. “it dawned on me that I was not special after all; just lucky.”
They all finished the race...first three of them...and then Big Tom an hour or so later. On their long drive home, they stopped at a coffee shop early the next morning. Another patron had a newspaper, where they saw pictures of themselves plastered all over the pape...the start...the attack...the finish... everything. Running for women was changed forever. Katherine later became an official, an analyst, and a spokesperson.
Although my eyes, blinded by passion, do not see the brilliant Light which embraces me, The Great Compassion never tires, always casting Light upon me.
........GASSHO..........RAIHAI
Rev. Dennis
Idaho Oregon Buddhist Temple
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Ontario, Oregon 97914
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