by Vivek Dubey
New York
Whatever boogeymen the word Buddhists conjured up for her, we did not, thank goodness, fit the bill. She answered the door and, after the slightest hesitation, shook our hands. We briefed her on our plan for the morning: breakfast at Panera Bread, back before 9 a.m. Reassured, she turned and called her son to the door. Together, we hit the road—him, the young men’s leader and me—kicking off the first of seven visits.
This was February 2023, just months into my leadership on the South Jersey Region team. The region had, I sensed, lots of potential, with plenty of youth scattered throughout and, even, its own Buddhist center. However, neither the center nor the youth were active, the center having closed during the COVID-19 pandemic and the young men having grown lethargic in the post pandemic world. My mission as a men’s leader was clear from the start. Find and raise young men, the future of our movement, and with their help, reopen our center.
At Panera, over coffee, the young man, a longtime friend of an SGI family, opened up about his struggle for the trust and respect of his orthodox family.
I did not pretend to understand the depths of his struggle, but I knew how he could break through. We asked him if he’d join us behind the scenes, as Soka Group, at April’s kosen-rufu gongyo meeting. Actually, he’d been thinking about it (like so many, he’d been missing our vibrant faith community). Without hesitation, he said yes.
As promised, we had him home before 9 a.m. and headed out to our next visit, a 30-minute drive to Mount Laurel. The young man we met there opened up—he too had struggles. Again, we encouraged him to support behind the scenes, and again, got a yes. Each young man we met was facing a distinct challenge. Not all were of age to support, but of the seven we saw that day, three confirmed to support the opening. It was a united, all-out effort. And also, for me, the only way I knew to repay a profound debt of gratitude.
I arrived to the U.S. in 2008, burned out, angry, grieving and sick, having spent my last two years in India between my work and the hospital where my parents had stayed. While my father had returned to health, my mother had not survived her aggressive cancer. Having worked my way up from very little, it was a point of pride to provide for my family. But it was also, I see now, a point of prejudice—I looked down on those unable to do the same. After my mother’s passing, however, I fell ill and had many outbursts at work—there was no denying that I’d reached my limits.
I arrived in the states soon after, where I received the Gohonzon and began my Buddhist practice in earnest. Two years after this, the SGI held a large youth event, supported behind the scenes by the Soka Group. It was the first time I saw them in action. There was something about these young men moving with purpose, in harmony, with a shared commitment to something greater than themselves. I sensed that I was being shown a kind of secret—a way of life, a way of service, that did not deplete but rejuvenated. And I felt, too, a pang of regret: I was 36 then, just outside the upper age limit of the youth division at the time.
In the years that followed, I resolved to run, if not in this lifetime as a member of the young men’s division, then alongside them, with all my strength. To the surprise of my doctors, I recovered my health and more, a kind of vitality I’d never known. Over time, I took on more responsibility and began to support the youth to the best of my ability. But alongside the immense joy that comes of growing together with young people, there was a question, a concern, really, that was growing within my heart: I’m fighting now with all my strength, but what about when I am no longer here?
In 2019, I attended the men’s conference at the Florida Nature and Culture Center with my father and walked with him along the path that runs the grounds’ perimeter, to the Peace Garden, where I paused in front of a stone wall, engraved with the names of those who had contributed to the SGI-USA’s Millennium Fund. Taking it in, I understood that the fund’s goal is, as the name suggests, to secure the financial foundation of kosen-rufu into perpetuity—for the next thousand years and more. I knew, immediately, that it was something I wanted to do.
Fast forward to April 2023: We reopened the South Jersey Buddhist Center with full youth support. And from here support only increased. Month after month, the youth gave their all and, naturally, received benefits. You’ll recall the young man we took to coffee—who wanted the trust of his family? He took on region Soka Group leadership, a cause that gave rise to deep self-respect. In time, he gained the trust of his family, and yes, their respect. Another of the Soka Group was accepted to Soka University. Another landed a great job. They were showing all of us what it means to win.
Ikeda Sensei says: “I wanted to win, I had to win. Winning and then reporting that victory to my mentor [Second Soka Gakkai President Josei Toda] was my supreme mission as a disciple” (Making the Impossible Possible, p. 59).
As any pilot will tell you, a plane encounters resistance on liftoff. With so much forward momentum in South Jersey, I fully expected to encounter hardships. But I was not prepared for what the following years had in store. That July, I was laid off from my job of 18 years. That November, I was shaken by the passing of Sensei. My marriage was tense, and my son struggled at school. When my wife filed for divorce in March of the following year, I was devastated. But I was, at the same time, determined. I knew I had to show actual proof for all the men and young men of South Jersey.
Just days after Sensei’s passing, I secured a new and better job and reported this victory to my mentor in my heart. In March of 2025, my wife and I amicably divorced and sold our home in a spirit of mutual respect. That August, I realized a long-held dream of moving to New York. I returned that month for one more meeting at the South Jersey Buddhist Center—a Soka 2030 event that saw our highest attendance to date, during which my son received the Gohonzon. His mother and I joined him up front for the conferral. Up there with him, I realized that, with faith, harmony is possible for every family. For the sake of my son and the young men striving in faith, I’m determined to give my all, right where I am, and lay the foundation for kosen-rufu, for the next thousand years and more.
You are reading {{ meterCount }} of {{ meterMax }} free premium articles