Arming School Guards is Not the Answer

Area resident Judy Shepps Battle shares a moving letter from a Zen Buddhist monk to the Newtown, Connecticut school shooter


The following is an amazing letter written by Brother Phap Luu, a monastic living with internationally-known monk Thich Nhat Hahn in Plum Village France. He was raised in Newtown, Conn., site of the recent horrific elementary school shootings. 

My heart is moved by his compassionate, powerful words on the tragedy that are addressed to Adam Lanza, the shooter. 

Personally, I am deeply disturbed by the public suggestion of placing armed guards/retired police in our schools to respond to school violence (a nearby town in NJ -- Marlboro -- has reportedly already voted to do so).

Violence begets and reflects violence. Certainly, the antidote to acidity is not to add more acid. 

In my simple view, a more effective solution is to cultivate inner peace in our own heart and practice mindful listening to troubled youth and adults both as individuals and a community.

My heart breaks in this awareness. 

Here is his letter, one that is being freely shared on the Internet and is in public domain. All comments welcome. 

Saturday, 15th of December, 2012
Dharma Cloud Temple
Plum Village

Dear Adam,

Let me start by saying that I wish for you to find peace. It would be easy just to call you a monster and condemn you for evermore, but I don't think that would help either of us. Given what you have done, I realize that peace may not be easy to find. In a fit of rage, delusion and fear—yes, above all else, I think, fear—you thought that killing was a way out. It was clearly a powerful emotion that drove you from your mother's dead body to massacre children and staff of Sandy Hook School and to turn the gun in the end on yourself. You decided that the game was over.

But the game is not over, though you are dead. You didn't find a way out of your anger and loneliness. You live on in other forms, in the torn families and their despair, in the violation of their trust, in the gaping wound in a community, and in the countless articles and news reports spilling across the country and the world—yes, you live on even in me. I was also a young boy who grew up in Newtown. Now I am a Zen Buddhist monk. I see you quite clearly in me now, continued in the legacy of your actions, and I see that in death you have not become free.

You know, I used to play soccer on the school field outside the room where you died, when I was the age of the children you killed. Our team was the Eagles, and we won our division that year. My mom still keeps the trophy stashed in a box. To be honest, I was and am not much of a soccer player. I've known winning, but I've also known losing, and being picked last for a spot on the team. I think you've known this too—the pain of rejection, isolation and loneliness. Loneliness too strong to bear.

You are not alone in feeling this. When loneliness comes up it is so easy to seek refuge in a virtual world of computers and films, but do these really help or only increase our isolation? In our drive to be more connected, have we lost our true connection?

I want to know what you did with your loneliness. Did you ever, like me, cope by walking in the forests that cover our town? I know well the slope that cuts from that school to the stream, shrouded by beech and white pine. It makes up the landscape of my mind. I remember well the thrill of heading out alone on a path winding its way—to Treadwell Park! At that time it felt like a magical path, one of many secrets I discovered throughout those forests, some still hidden. Did you ever lean your face on the rough furrows of an oak's bark, feeling its solid heartwood and tranquil vibrancy? Did you ever play in the course of a stream, making pools with the stones as if of this stretch you were king? Did you ever experience the healing, connection and peace that comes with such moments, like I often did?

Or did your loneliness know only screens, with dancing figures of light at the bid of your will? How many false lives have you lived, how many shots fired, bombs exploded and lives lost in video games and movies?

By killing yourself at the age of 20, you never gave yourself the chance to grow up and experience a sense of how life's wonders can bring happiness. I know at your age I hadn't yet seen how to do this.

I am 37 now, about the age my teacher, the Buddha, realized there was a way out of suffering. I am not enlightened. This morning, when I heard the news, and read the words of my shocked classmates, within minutes a wave of sorrow arose, and I wept. Then I walked a bit further, into the woods skirting our monastery, and in the wet, winter cold of France, beside the laurel, I cried again. I cried for the children, for the teachers, for their families. But I also cried for you, Adam, because I think that I know you, though I know we have never met. I think that I know the landscape of your mind, because it is the landscape of my mind.

I don't think you hated those children, or that you even hated your mother. I think you hated your loneliness.

I cried because I have failed you. I have failed to show you how to cry. I have failed to sit and listen to you without judging or reacting. Like many of my peers, I left Newtown at seventeen, brimming with confidence and purpose, with the congratulations of friends and the approbation of my elders. I was one of the many young people who left, and in leaving we left others, including you, just born, behind. In that sense I am a part of the culture that failed you. I didn't know yet what a community was, or that I was a part of one, until I no longer had it, and so desperately needed it.

I have failed to be one of the ones who could have been there to sit and listen to you. I was not there to help you to breathe and become aware of your strong emotions, to help you to see that you are more than just an emotion.

But I am also certain that others in the community cared for you, loved you. Did you know it?

In eighth grade I lived in terror of a classmate and his anger. It was the first time I knew aggression. No computer screen or television gave a way out, but my imagination and books. I dreamt myself a great wizard, blasting fireballs down the school corridor, so he would fear and respect me. Did you dream like this too?

The way out of being a victim is not to become the destroyer. No matter how great your loneliness, how heavy your despair, you, like each one of us, still have the capacity to be awake, to be free, to be happy, without being the cause of anyone's sorrow. You didn't know that, or couldn't see that, and so you chose to destroy. We were not skillful enough to help you see a way out.

With this terrible act you have let us know. Now I am listening, we are all listening, to you crying out from the hell of your misunderstanding. You are not alone, and you are not gone. And you may not be at peace until we can stop all our busyness, our quest for power, money or sex, our lives of fear and worry, and really listen to you, Adam, to be a friend, a brother, to you. With a good friend like that your loneliness might not have overwhelmed you.

But we needed your help too, Adam. You needed to let us know that you were suffering, and that is not easy to do. It means overcoming pride, and that takes courage and humility. Because you were unable to do this, you have left a heavy legacy for generations to come. If we cannot learn how to connect with you and understand the loneliness, rage and despair you felt—which also lie deep and sometimes hidden within each one of us—not by connecting through Facebook or Twitter or email or telephone, but by really sitting with you and opening our hearts to you, your rage will manifest again in yet unforeseen forms.

Now we know you are there. You are not random, or an aberration. Let your action move us to find a path out of the loneliness within each one of us. I have learned to use awareness of my breath to recognize and transform these overwhelming emotions, but I hope that every man, woman or child does not need to go halfway across the world to become a monk to learn how to do this. As a community we need to sit down and learn how to cherish life, not with gun-checks and security, but by being fully present for one another, by being truly there for one another. For me, this is the way to restore harmony to our communion.

[AUTHOR] Douglas Bachman (Br. Phap Luu) who grew up at 22 Lake Rd. in Newtown, CT., is a Buddhist monk and student of the Vietnamese Zen Master and monk Thich Nhat Hanh. As part of an international community, he teaches Applied Ethics and the art of mindful living to students and school teachers. He lives in Plum Village Monastery, in Thenac, France. 

These are truly words to ponder. 

Judy Shepps Battle is a New Jersey resident, addictions specialist, consultant and freelance writer. Her weekly column "It Takes a Village" appeared in the South Brunswick Patch for a year. She can be reached by e-mail at writeaction@aol.com. Additional information on this and other topics can be found at her website at http://www.writeaction.com/. 

This post is contributed by a community member. The views expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Patch Media Corporation. Everyone is welcome to submit a post to Patch. If you'd like to post a blog, go here to get started.

slyfox1961 December 24, 2012 at 12:34 AM
@Joe R: for every example you cite where someone "almost" got shot inadvertantly, there are a hundred where someone who was armed saved someone else or themselves. But you are right, it is best we surrender and only allow the bad guys to be armed. That will make everything much better. And only allowing me to have a clip that holds 10 rounds instead of 14 will also make things much better. These laws worked well at Columbine, didn't they?
Marina December 24, 2012 at 04:55 PM
Both Br. Phap Luu & Judy Shepps Battle are out of touch. Why do all the kooks come out of the woodwork when a tragedy happens....Peace and Commpassion they cry....HOG WASH...Arm the guards at the schools, metal detectors and as for Marlboro I applaud you and I wish other school systems will follow your lead.
BobDee December 26, 2012 at 10:55 PM
The meds, the meds, the meds! Fanapt (not a SSRI, is an antipsychotic medication used to treat schizophrenia.) is what he was on....side effect...suicide! How long will this go on! Jeez. www.ssristories.com
Joe R December 28, 2012 at 01:52 AM
Judy Shepps Battle and Brother Phap Luu are two wonderful, life affirming people who are a referesing relief from the folks who seem to love guns and want us to have more and bigger guns everywhere and at all times. But I must admit that I have nothing but disgust and loathing for the assassin who mercilessly slaughtered 20 innocent wonderful children, six brave teachers, educators and other staff. I have no pity for the murderer, none. Brother Phap Luu is a better person than I and he is on a higher spiritual plane than I can ever hope to achieve. But he lives in France and in a monsatery, if I have my facts right. He did not see the full blast hourly nonstop reports of this terrible massacre, as it was developing and as we did see here in the US. What happened to those 20 children and 6 adults is beyond an abomination so I can't even contemplate feeling any kind of sympathy or empathy for that despicable monster. Not now.
Joe R December 28, 2012 at 01:53 AM
continued: But I still respect and admire Brother Phap Luu for his sincere spirituality. I feel kind of divided about having armed guards at schools. We already do have armed guards at schools in high crime areas with rampant gang violence. But to have armed guards at all schools all the time, is that even feasible given all the budget cuts? I think arming the teachers and or principals is way over the line. If things are that bad that teachers have to be armed, then we do not live in a civil or civilized society, we live in a war zone and the enemy is us, we are at war with ourselves. I really don't think the solution is more guns, geez for pity's sake, we are awash in guns with an estimated 300 million guns in private hands. With all these guns floating around we should be the safest place on earth.


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