A Zen master in Maine
The Ruminations on America Project
is a year-long exploration into real American values as told by one
person in each of the 50 states. Each subject discusses their respective
lives, states and state of the union.
Stefano Barragato, 76, believes people don't have to "become
macho robots to practice Zen," even if those people are in maximum
security prisons on felony charges, sometimes for life.
For 15 years, Barragato volunteered weekly to teach a group of inmates
about the practice of Zen, which is not a matter of striving, according
to Barragato, but rather just being in the "now," fully
present.
Formerly of Brooklyn, Barragato lives in Maine with his wife, who
is a Zen teacher and a practicing Catholic, and together they've built
the Treetop Zen Center on their property.
In The Little Way of Zen, one of Barragato's writings, he warned:
"By aiming, we miss."
Barragato spent a year and a day in Connecticut's Danbury prison many
years ago, when he failed to score the conscientious objector status
he declared when registering for the draft at the age of 18. Maryknoll
Sister Lelia Mattingly, who crossed the line at a School of the Americas
(SOA) protest in Fort Benning, Georgia, also served her time at Danbury.
The FBI recently escalated the SOA Watch group to "priority"
level status, which means that the group is now subject to counterterrorism
monitoring. In an article published this month in The Progressive,
FBI spokesperson Bill Carter had this to say:
"The FBI does not investigate individuals based on First Amendment
activities. The FBI investigates only when we have information that
an individual or a group may be involved either in violent activity
or national security issues."
Perhaps the concept of "violent activity" should be more
sharply defined. Those who protest the SOA claim to be peacefully
aligned against slaughter, just as Barragato was sent to prison for
refusing to participate in the Korean War: a felony.
A cradle Catholic, Barragato left the fold when faced with the task
of filling out forms for the military. When he sought the advice of
his local parish priest, he was shocked by the man's response.
"He scared the hell out of me," Barragato recalled. "He
said, 'Who the hell do you think you are, Jesus Christ?'"
To escape prosecution, Barragato fled for Paraguay, where he attempted
to join the Bruderhof Society of Brothers. The FBI contacted his attorney
with a warrant for his arrest, and he paid his debt to society and
returned to Paraguay for nine years. Finding employment in the United
States with a felony record, he noted, is difficult, and he ended
up working at a mental hospital in Pasadena. He said he wanted to
become a teacher, and did all the work necessary to achieve his dream,
but was denied because of his felony.
He wrote to President John F. Kennedy to request a presidential pardon,
since he was still a pacifist and a Quaker almost a decade later.
It was President Lyndon B. Johnson who issued Barragato a "full
and unconditional pardon." He was then able to vote and receive
his teaching credential. Eventually he was hired as the executive
director of the Jung Institute in Los Angeles, but he decided after
a year to "chuck it all and become a Zen monk."
"I am interested in teaching a Zen which anyone can do and understand,"
Barragato said, "using everyday down-to-earth language to reach
ordinary people."
An avid wild mushroom hunter who loves to play bridge, the Baroque
recorder, and jazz vibes, Barragato said he felt the effects of dehumanization
during his own time behind bars, even though he was in prison for
"the noblest reason."
"The prison system in America is terrible," he said, adding
that most prisoners are poor and face jail time because they can't
afford the expense of representation. "So much of what we feel
for prisoners is based on politics, not kindness. Some people who
commit violent crimes obviously need to be separated from society,
but most criminals shouldn't be."
Even for sex offenders, he said, prison does little to rehabilitate
those criminals who will likely be released back into society at some
point. If the goal is to prevent the creation of repeat offenders,
Barragato feels the system is a failure.
"We can put people on the moon," he said. "We should
put some of that energy into helping people. What's going on in this
country—this crazy, senseless war, the monopolization of the
economy by the oil industry, the rape of our environment by the present
government, in fact, we seem to destroy everything we touch. It reminds
me of ancient Rome, which liberated a country by burning it to the
ground."
The phrase "history repeats itself," implies a passive role
by the people who make history happen. Perhaps it could be better
stated:
When the lessons of the past are ignored, we are doomed to repeat
the same shockingly tragic errors in judgment we condemn in those
who lived in other places, at other times.
But it doesn't have to be that way.
We can learn.
We must.
For links to the people, places and things mentioned in this column,
please visit www.ruminationsonamerica.com.
