The Equal Weight of Every Life
Seeing All Beings in the Light of Amida Buddha’s Great Compassion
Rev. Chiemi Onikura Bly
Here in Minnesota, where I currently live, we are surrounded by nature. As I have mentioned
before in this newsletter, rabbits hop through our yards, deer wander through the
neighborhood, hawks circle overhead, and sometimes coyotes appear nearby. We also see
wild turkeys casually strolling through the neighborhood. As Thanksgiving gets closer,
whenever we see them, we sometimes call out, “You’d better run while you can!” Of course,
they just keep walking, completely ignoring my friendly warning.
Recently, I had an interesting conversation with some of my neighbors. We are all dog
owners, so we often stop and talk while walking our dogs.
One neighbor said, “I found a dead rabbit on my second-floor balcony! I think a hawk caught
it and dropped it while carrying it away. What a horrible sight! And then today, I saw a dead
hawk in the woods nearby. I wonder if it was the same hawk that killed the rabbit.” Another
neighbor said, “Maybe a coyote got the hawk. I just saw a huge pile of coyote poop over
there.”
“Oh, that’s scary! We shouldn’t leave our dogs alone in the yard. Coyotes can easily jump
over a fence!”
As I listened to our conversation, something struck me. A rabbit was killed by a hawk.
Perhaps the hawk was killed by a coyote. And now we were worried that the coyote might
kill one of our dogs.
This is simply part of nature. To continue living, living beings depend upon other lives. The
hawk is not evil for eating the rabbit, nor is the coyote evil for eating another animal. Our
beloved dogs also live by receiving other lives. Their food may come neatly packaged in a
bag, but it still contains chicken, beef, fish, or other animals. Yet none of us looks at a bowl
of dog food and says, “How horrible!”
The rabbit had one life. The hawk had one life. The coyote has one life. And my dog has one
life. Each is living its one and only life. Yet from my perspective, these lives do not always
seem to carry the same weight. I may accept the death of a rabbit as part of nature, while
desperately wanting to protect my own dog. This is not only about animals. It tells us
something about ourselves.
We naturally divide the world according to our own relationships and feelings: those we love,
those we do not know, those we like, and those we dislike. Without even noticing it, we give
different weight to lives depending on how important they are to us.
In the first chapter of the Tannishō (A Record in Lament of Divergences), which records the
words of Shinran Shonin, we read:
“Know that the Primal Vow of Amida makes no distinction between people young and old,
good and evil; only Shinjin is essential. For it is the Vow to save the person whose karmic evil
is deep and grave and whose blind passions abound.”
Before Amida Buddha’s Great Compassion, there is no distinction between old and young,
good and evil.
The great sky embraces everything beneath it, whether large or small. The earth supports
everything upon it, whether heavy or light, clean or dirty, without making any distinction. In
the same way, the Great Compassion of Amida Buddha’s Primal Vow embraces all people
and all beings without discrimination. Each and every life is seen as irreplaceable and
precious and is given a place where it can truly rest.
At the same time, the light of Amida’s Wisdom reveals something very different about us. We
live centered on our own needs and desires. We draw lines between those we love and those
we dislike, between what is precious to us and what seems to have little to do with us.
The conversation about the animals in my neighborhood made me see this in a very ordinary
moment. The rabbit’s death seemed like nature. The hawk’s death was frightening. But when
we imagined our own dogs might be in danger, everything suddenly became much more
serious.
Jodo Shinshu does not tell us simply to treat every life exactly the same. Rather, through
listening to the Dharma, we are shown how deeply our own way of seeing is shaped by
attachment, likes and dislikes, and our own convenience.
And yet, those very beings—limited by blind passions and unable to see beyond
ourselves—are embraced by Amida Buddha’s Great Compassion.
The rabbit, the hawk, the coyote, our beloved dogs, and each one of us are living one
precious and unrepeatable life. Amida’s Compassion does not measure those lives by the
scale that we use.
To hear the heart of Amida Buddha calling us beyond our divisions of love and hate, and to
awaken to the preciousness of being embraced without distinction—this is the precious
opportunity we receive through the Jodo Shinshu teaching.
Gassho