Below is Pritam’s introduction he had written for National Bestselling Author, Thich Nhat Hanh in Going Home; Jesus and Buddha as Brothers
At the beginning of the last great Ice Age, Neolithic artists created a series of extraordinary paintings deep inside the earth in the region of the southwest France now known as the Dordogne. These masterworks may be the oldest-known expression of the human spirit. The land above these subterranean cathedrals is today rich and fertile, blessed now only with a hospitable climate, rich soil, and abundant water but also with a people who nurture the land. It is to their great credit that this region of France, unlike so much of the earth, is more fertile now than when the first Homo sapiens set foot here thirty thousand years ago.
Today, the region is primarily agricultural, supporting vineyards, plum orchids, and fields of sunflowers. Growing and eating good food is a way of life, a passion, and an art. Few tourists come to this remote region east of Bordeaux on their tour of la belle France, and fewer still explore the narrow roads and small villages. The people here do not yet move to the frantic pace of modern city life. They are sill attuned to the natural rhythm of the sun and the seasons passing over the fields.
Located here in this cradle of humanity is a string of three small settlements, or hamlets, two of which are old farms, one a former youth hostel. The sign out front, faded and slightly askew, lets visitors know that they have arrived at Plum Village or, in French, Village des Pruniers. The buildings in Plum Village at first appear to be typical of the surrounding countryside. Built mostly of stone, they have stood for centuries as barns, farmhouses, tool sheds, and granaries. On closer examination, one sees that they are now being used as kitchens, dining rooms, classrooms, sleeping quarters, and mediation halls.
The walls, many of which were once plastered, have been stripped of all ornamentation, revealing the rocks, clay, and mud used to construct them centimes ago. Here the heaviness and richness of the earth itself is revealed. The windows are simples, the floors unfurnished, and the heat often comes from wood burning in crude stoves fashioned from old barrels.
The dirt paths are lined with flowers, bamboo, and fruit trees. There are also small signs scattered here and there advising the walker to “breathe and smile,” that “each moment is a wonderful moment,” or that “peace is every step.” The rustic beauty and charm of the place, however, does not account for the most remarkable characteristic of Plum Village-the deep quiet.
The quietness of Plum Village is more than the absence of noise. It is something else. It is truly peaceful here. People move slowly, smiles are contented, steps are deliberate, breaths deeper and longer. The land itself somehow seems softer, and the weather gentle even when it is cold. In late December, with Atlantic Gulf Stream coming ashore on the coast only one hundred miles west, Plum Village tends to be very rainy. The oaths become muddy, and the deep clay sticks to the soles of shoes. Outside of the main meditation hall, feet are caked with this red soil. The people awaiting entry huddle beneath umbrellas, searching for a dry spot to store their shoes. They enter the hall quickly, or as quickly as the pace of life in Plum Village allows, and find a chair or cushion upon which to sit.
The day has been cold and west, but everyone is feeling warm. Christmas is one of the biggest festivals of the year in Plum Village, and, except for the summer retreat, it attracts the most visitors. The day began at 4:30 a.m. with meditation and chanting, just as in the Christian monasteries only a few miles away. Here in Plum Village, however, the chanting is not in Latin or French but rather in Vietnamese.
The monks and nuns assembled here are French, Thai, English, Irish, American, German, South African, Vietnamese, Japanese, and, most noticeably, Buddhist. For although this land has been a stronghold of Christianity for centuries, today it also supports a more ancient path. This day the songs and chants have come from both the Christian and Buddhist traditions. In the early morning darkness, Christmas carols have been sung along with the daily litany of Buddhist sutras, gifts have been exchanges, and flowers have been laid at the altar to honor both the namesakes of Christianity and of Buddhism. Dinner, which has just ended, included traditional Christmas dishes from all of the nationalities represented. Songs have been sung in a dozen different languages. Among the visitors to Plum Village this day are priests and nuns from the great Christian citadels of Ireland, France, and Italy. As people take their seats, about half on floor cushions in the classic cross-legged style of the East and half in plastic chairs being unstacked from the corner, two tall American Buddhist monks, one speaking softly in his Texas twang, work to get the fire going in the old cracked stove.
Soon, Thay will arrive. Thay is the affectionate name given to The Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh, the founder of Plum Village. At seventy-two, Thay has lived an extraordinary life in an extraordinary time. Since the age of sixteen, he has been a Buddhist monk, living the life of an ascetic and seeker of the way. He has survived three wars, persecution and assassination attempts, and thirty-three years of exile. He is in the master of a temple in Vietnam whose lineage goes back over two thousand years and indeed is traceable to the Buddha himself. He has also written more than one hundred books of poetry, fiction, and philosophy, founded universities and social service organizations, rescued boat people, led the Buddhist delegation at the Paris Peace Talks, and been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize by Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.
During his lifetime, Thay has also learned to know and love the West and its spiritual traditions. He is one of the greatest spiritual teachers alive today, and his message of Buddhist mindfulness has been embraced and become a part of Christendom. His alter now holds not only a picture of the Buddha, his traditional spiritual ancestor, but also of Jesus Christ.
When Thay walks through the door, everyone stands to greet him. He walks calmly, slowly, and deliberately to the small, rough podium set about two feet up off the floor. He carefully removes his coat and sits down. He then lifts the glass set before him and with both hands and, with one fluid motion, raises it to his lips and drinks some of the warm tea, After setting down the glass, he looks up and brings his palms together in the classic Buddhist greeting. He bows, silently saying to himself, “I bow to you, an enlightened being to be.”
The community bows a greeting in return, and, in a moment, a bell is rung. The sound is deep and long and pleasant. It rings in waves until finally the inviter of the bell places her hand gently on the rim and stops the reverberations. After another thoughtful pause, Thay, speaking in a very soft, sweet voice accented with Vietnamese and French, says, “Dear friends, today is December twenty-fourth…” And everyone in the room who hears this voice knows that Thai Nhat Hanh is indeed their dear friend.
-Pritam Singh
South Woodstock, Vermont
