Buddhists gather to heal past wound
Pilgrimage to Antioch to chart new city path
ANTIOCH, Calif. — For one afternoon, on Antioch’s main street and tranquil riverbank, the fragrance of burning incense was paired with the sound of Buddhist and Tao chants. Their cumulative calming energy was meant to be a balm of sorts to soothe the racial and religious hate that cast a shadow on Antioch’s legacy.
Antioch’s dark past, specifically its horrific mistreatment of early Chinese immigrants, motivated about 200 Buddhists to undertake a recent pilgrimage to the city of about 115,000, tucked deep in the delta that drains into the San Francisco Bay. Their goal was to reconcile a dreadful past and anxiety-filled present — both time periods when Asian Americans nationwide have faced hate and discrimination — with the hope for a more egalitarian and harmonious future.
In the 1800s, thousands of Chinese immigrants came to the area during the gold rush to work in mines, and build railroads and levees. Those who lived in Antioch were subject to sundown laws and used secret tunnels to commute to and from work, according to local newspaper reports. Eventually, the city’s Chinatown spanning a couple of city blocks was burned down.
On Saturday, Buddhists gathered for the pilgrimage event titled May We Gather. It took place on the third anniversary of the Atlanta mass shooting when a white gunman targeted female employees at Asian American massage parlors because he saw them as “sources of temptation.”
Duncan Williams, an event organizer and a Soto Zen priest of Japanese descent, said the Atlanta killings bore eerie similarity to Antioch in 1876 when raging locals burned down the homes of Chinese women branded as sex workers. In 2021, Antioch became the first U.S. city to issue a public apology for the mistreatment of early Chinese immigrants during the gold rush.
He said organizers desired “a Buddhist response that draws on our teachings and practice” to honor ancestors and heal racial trauma.
So in Antioch’s El Campanil Theatre, a gathering of Buddhist monks and leaders from across the diaspora engaged in “karmic healing.” They offered chants and prayers at the altar of the thousand-armed Guan Yin, the goddess of mercy and compassion.
Bhikkhunis (Buddhist nuns) Hyokeun and Hyung Jeon from the Korean Borisa Zen Center in Las Vegas, offered a white, ceramic lotus to Guan Yin during the ceremony.
“The lotus flower is sacred in Buddhism because it maintains its purity and beauty despite growing in the mud,” Hyokeun said. “Hatred cannot solve hatred, only compassion can.”
Longtime Antioch residents, such as Frank Sterling, saw the Buddhist rituals as a major step in healing the community.
“You can’t do that until you acknowledge the past and there is a lot for us to move on from,” he said. “This is a good start.”