Posted at 12:35 a.m. PST Sunday, January 30, 2000
Temple shooting at odds
with Sikh beliefs
East Bay Sikh worshipers struggle to
get on with their lives and their
religious growth a week after the El
Sobrante temple shooting
By John Boudreau
TIMES STAFF WRITER
EL SOBRANTE -- The domed and gracefully arched
peach-colored palace, perched in the hills overlooking
the city, has an other-worldly quality. In winter's mist, it
rises up like a lighthouse that provides a beacon to
those trying to find their way in a storm.
To Sikhs, this is God's house. The Gurudwara Sahib is
also the heart of political, cultural and communal life for
some 2,000 East Bay Sikhs. Those who practice the
500-year-old religion go there to seek oneness with God
and with their community. They strive to apply principles
of purity in the hubbub of modern living.
A week ago today, though, the temple's monastic mien
was defiled when a gunman peppered the main worship
hall with bullets from an assault rifle.
It wasn't the first violence to strike this temple, or others
in the Bay Area and North America. The causes, experts
say, are tied to complex sociological aspects of a
relatively young religion. Sikhism's strong democratic
tradition makes it vulnerable to frequent leadership
disputes. Cultural pressures create friction among Sikhs
who have long lived in the West and those newly arrived
from the homeland of Punjab, India, where the drive for
an independent Sikh state has sparked brutal conflict.
But media attention to the resulting temple clashes,
members say, obscures the deep moral beliefs of
Sikhs. A violent outburst that captures headlines
contradicts the faith's fundamental tenets of self-restraint
and self-sacrifice. Lust, anger and pride are to be
controlled. Hard work and education are prized, as are
community service and loyalty to others.
"A Sikh cannot be called a Sikh if he does not protect
another person, even at the risk of his own life,"
observed Jespal Brar, a leader of the temple.
The faith, born in northern India with a belief in one God
and equality for all, was unwelcome and unwanted by
established faiths. Sikhs -- which means "disciples" in
Punjabi -- fought to preserve their tradition in wars
against Hindu and Muslim armies. Sikhs gained a great
reputation as soldiers, fought for the British Army during
World War II and have served in the Indian Army.
Today, Sikhs wear ceremonial swords, called kirpans,
as symbols of their fight for justice.
"If all other means to achieve justice fail, then you use
the sword," says Gurinder Singh Mann, professor of
Sikh studies at UC-Santa Barbara. "You fight the
injustice in the world."
The sword symbolizes sovereignty and the call to help
others in need. "The sword becomes the principle of
independence and resistance against injustice," says
I.J. Singh, a professor of anatomy at New York
University and author of a book that examines the
meaning of being a Sikh. "It is not to chop people's
heads off in the temple."
The religion has more than 18 million followers around
the world, including some 250,000 in the United States.
It draws on the teachings of its 10 Gurus, enshrined in
the holy book, or Sri Guru Granth Sahib. The first leader,
Guru Nanak, born in 1469, founded the faith based on
the concept of universal acceptance of all humanity and
the belief in one creator. His teachings stood in direct
opposition to India's caste system.
To underscore that essence of human equality, the Guru
established common surnames, Singh (lion) for men,
and Kaur (princess) for women. It was a radical notion in
India, where one's name denotes lifelong place in
society. The caste system determines whom one can
marry, a person's profession and place of residence.
Those of the lower station are not permitted to eat with,
or even prepare food for, those in the higher-ranked
groupings.
The idea behind each temple's dining hall, called the
Guru Ka Langar, is that rich and poor sit side by side on
the floor.
"There is no priestly class," I.J. Singh says. "Any lay
person can perform any ceremony. A woman can lead
prayers."
Sikhism professes a karmic life cycle in which
adherents must experience many lives before reaching
the ultimate goal: becoming one with God.
"The basic philosophy is oneness of God, the oneness
of reality," explains Nikky-Guninder Singh, professor of
religion at Colby College in Maine. "That has to be
translated into the social, political and economic reality.
It's not just an abstract. It's important that truth be lived.
(Sikhism) believes in the oneness of society. We should
have no isms -- no sexism, no racism."
Sikhs are called to live moral lives of sobriety and
charity. Use of alcohol, tobacco and drugs is prohibited.
Community service is strongly encouraged. Believers
are counseled to give 10 percent of their income to
charity. Hair and beards, believed to be part of God's
plan, aren't cut. Sikhs wear turbans and steel bracelets
as symbols of faith.
The temple is at the center of a deeply communal
religion. It is open all day and into the evening. Members
show up to pray and socialize at all hours. At the center
of religious life is the Living Guru, the holy book.
At the El Sobrante temple, several versions of carefully
bound scripture, when not in use, are placed on
gold-coated beds and wrapped in satin bed covers. A
space heater is used to warm the scripture in winter, a
fan to cool it in summer. Priests place the holy book on
the altar during a daily 5:30 a.m. ceremony. Before
doing so, though, they ask the Living Guru for
permission to begin the day.
"We treat the literature like it was a physical guru," says
Prabjot Singh, a member of the El Sobrante temple.
"Guru is like a modem that connects with God."
The temple, a spacious three-story structure, has large,
open rooms, symbolizing the sense of openness in
which believers practice their faith. It has four entrances
-- south, east, north and west. It's a way to recognize that
the religion welcomes people of all ethnicities and
creeds, Prabjot Singh says.
God, he says, is like the ocean. Each of the world's
religions is a stream that feeds into the cosmic sea.
Like other immigrant faith communities, Sikhs struggle
to prevent young people from assimilating too much.
Prabjot Singh, a 25-year-old chemist, says a certain
tension exists at the temple among those who cut their
hair and those who don't. Friction occurs between
parents, who still embrace Punjab culture, and children
enamored of the American pop scene.
"There are big clashes," he says. "It's very tough."
Sikhs grapple with whether one can be a spiritual Sikh
without cultural trappings, such as the long beards.
"These are classic tensions of the religion and culture of
any immigrant community," says Mark Juergensmeyer,
professor of sociology and a Sikh expert at UC-Santa
Barbara. "Dating is another issue."
In England, Sikhism has influenced pop culture. The
traditional harvest dance has been melded with rap,
creating bangra, he says. And Punjabi women's dresses
have been modified into modernized pant suits worn by
non-Sikhs.
For now, the El Sobrante Sikh community faces far
more trying difficulties than issues of culture.
Joga Singh Sandher, a limousine driver from San
Lorenzo, is charged with murder and assault in the
shooting that killed beloved Sikh leader and popular
high school teacher Ajmer Singh Malhi and wounded
another man at the El Sobrante temple. The attack
occurred at the end of the day's service as about 300
people, including children, sat in prayer. Malhi, after
bullets pierced his stomach and head, collapsed behind
the Palki, the altar that holds the Sikh scripture.
The trauma, like air, touches everything, says H. Kaur,
who has attended services at the Gurudwara Sahib for
three decades. "Some people said, 'We'll never come
back to the gurudwara (temple) again.' They feel so
hurt."
Head priest Baldev Singh says grief counseling is
needed, especially for the children. "We have to
address the congregation and start the healing process
by talking about it," he says. "Even after that, it will take
some time for people to become comfortable."
It is hard for Prabjot Singh to be at the temple, a place
as dear to him as home.
He met Malhi while taking a math class at Merritt
College in Oakland. The teacher showed him how to be
a scientist and a man of faith.
Prabjot Singh wears a tightly wound burgundy turban
and jeans. He uses scientific metaphors to illuminate
belief in God. He came to the United States when he
was 14 and endured the immigrant's anxieties of being
different. He cut his hair and tried to blend in.
The other night, alone in the temple, Singh was unnerved
by the shooting, still marked by bullet holes in the walls.
"It was a scary moment. Something was telling me to go
away." A day or two later, he noticed more blood
splotches outside the place of worship.
Staying away, though, would be a blotch on the memory
of the dear friend who helped lead him back to his Sikh
faith.
"It would be wasteful if all we did was get up, eat, go to
work and watch TV on the weekend and really do
nothing to contribute to society in a positive way," Singh
says. "That would be like being a civilized animal.
"These teachings enable us to live in this world and still
do good deeds and be spiritual as we go through our
day-to-day living. Our ultimate goal is to work hard
toward being enlightened -- finding the glow of God."
John Boudreau covers religion, spirituality and ethics.
Reach him at 925-943-8167 or
1
jboudreau@cctimes.com