—— 参加审判九宗罪活动有感
作者：陈婷
编辑：周志刚 责任编辑：罗志飞 翻译：吕峰
2025年8月30日的洛杉矶，天空湛蓝明亮，阳光如洗。下午四点多，中国驻洛杉矶总领馆门前聚集了一群人。他们手里举着横幅与标语，呼喊“要求自由”，有人举着写满“九宗罪”的纸牌，也有人只是默默合十祈祷。人群中有年长的民主斗士，有年轻的学生，也有因信仰而流亡的佛教徒与基督徒。他们的背景各不相同，却因一个共同的信念站在一起——追求人权与自由。
现场主持人逐一宣读所谓“九宗罪”，包括对人权的践踏、对宗教的压制、对文化的破坏等。这些声音并不仅仅是一种政治抗议，更是一种深切的人类良知的呼喊。作为一名藏传佛教徒，当时我心中涌起许多难以平息的感受。
多年前，我和师兄们在道场里共同持诵经典的日子，是我记忆中最宁静的时光。佛陀教导我们慈悲与智慧，提醒我们无论面对何种苦难，都要以正念面对。然而，现实却并不总能允许这样的安宁。近些年来，信仰环境越来越紧缩：寺庙被迫关闭，僧侣被驱逐，甚至线上修学资源也逐渐消失。对普通信众来说，坚持修行成了一件危险的事情。
一位大德曾说过：“没有信仰自由的地方，就像没有空气的世界，人只能窒息。”这句话在今天的集会中再次印证。不同的宗教群体都曾经遭遇相似的困境：教堂被捣毁，法会被禁止，清真寺被监控。这样的打压不仅针对信仰本身，更像是对人类灵魂的一种束缚。
信仰自由，是人权的核心组成部分。人可以没有财富，没有地位，但不能没有信仰的空间。佛陀曾教导，真正的自由并非来自外在的拥有，而是内心的安住与解脱。而宗教信仰，正是帮助人找到内心安住的重要途径。
这也是为什么现场的许多人，即使来自不同的国家和宗教背景，依然能够站在一起。他们高举标语，不仅是对某种体制的不满，更是在捍卫一种普世价值：人的灵魂应该被尊重。
在洛杉矶的这场活动中，我看到年轻人与长者同声呼喊，看见基督徒与佛教徒一同祈祷。那一刻，我感受到一种超越国界、民族与宗教的力量。这种力量，正是来自对信仰自由与人权的共同渴望。
不可否认，在一些地方，宗教与文化一直受到各种限制与打压。无论是对言论的控制，还是对宗教活动的限制，都让无数信众无法自由地追求心灵的寄托。表面上，这是权力的延伸，但从更深的层面看，这是一种对人类文明多样性的损害。
作为佛教徒，我相信因果律。任何以谎言、压制和暴力为基础的制度，只能够一时维持，无法永远掩盖真相！大德常提醒我们：“对恶要清醒，对人要慈悲。”这句话对我而言意义深远。我们揭示这些问题，不是出于仇恨，而是希望人类能在更清明的环境中生活，能够自由地选择信仰与价值。
过去几十年，文化遗产也在不断遭受冲击。从“统一思想”的政策，到对多元信仰和传统文化的排斥，很多古老的智慧被边缘化甚至消失。然而，无论是儒家的仁义礼智信，佛教的慈悲与智慧，还是道家的自然与和谐，都是人类文明的重要部分。它们的价值不应被抹杀，而应该被继承与弘扬。
文化的消失不仅仅是文字与仪式的消亡，更是人类灵魂的空洞化。当人们失去文化与信仰的滋养，社会也就失去了向善与自我修正的能力。这种空洞最终会让整个民族和国家付出代价。
当天的集会在夕阳余晖中逐渐散去。人们收起横幅，有人还在低声祈祷，有人互相拥抱。那一刻，我心中有一种温暖的力量。我们或许渺小，但我们并不孤单。
我双手合十，在心中默默发愿：愿真相被更多人知晓，愿信仰自由早日实现，愿每一个受苦的众生都能离苦得乐。
这条路不会轻松，但因果不会缺席，正义也不会永远沉默。洛杉矶的集会只是一个缩影，却让人看到了希望。不同的民族、宗教与背景的人们，可以因共同的价值而站在一起。信仰自由与人权不是奢侈品，而是每一个生命应得的权利。
未来，我们仍需努力，但只要有这样的坚持，种子就会发芽，光明终将到来。
The Call for Freedom of Belief and Human Rights— Reflections on Participating in the “Nine Charges” Rally
Author: Chen TingEditor: Zhou ZhigangExecutive Editor: Luo ZhifeiTranslator: Lyu Feng
Abstract:On August 30, 2025, at a rally in front of the Chinese Consulate in Los Angeles, diverse groups of people called for human rights and freedom, exposing the Chinese Communist Party’s suppression of religion and destruction of culture, while standing together to defend human conscience and universal values.
On August 30, 2025, the sky over Los Angeles was bright and clear, bathed in sunlight. A little after 4:00 p.m., a crowd gathered in front of the Consulate General of the People’s Republic of China. They held banners and placards, shouting “We demand freedom.” Some carried boards listing the “Nine Charges,” while others stood silently, palms pressed together in prayer. Among them were veteran democracy activists, young students, and Buddhist and Christian exiles who had fled their homelands for their faith. Their backgrounds differed, but they stood together for one shared belief—the pursuit of human rights and freedom.
The host of the rally read aloud the so-called “Nine Charges,” including violations of human rights, suppression of religion, and destruction of culture. These voices were not merely political protests; they were a profound cry of human conscience. As a Tibetan Buddhist, I was deeply moved by emotions that surged within me.
Years ago, when my Dharma brothers and I chanted scriptures together in our monastery, those were the most serene days of my memory. The Buddha taught us compassion and wisdom, reminding us to face suffering with mindfulness. Yet reality does not always allow such tranquility. In recent years, the environment for religious practice has grown increasingly repressive: temples have been forced to close, monks expelled, and even online resources for study gradually erased. For ordinary believers, practicing faith has become a dangerous act.
A great teacher once said: “A place without freedom of belief is like a world without air—people can only suffocate.” That truth was echoed at the rally. Different religious communities have suffered similar hardships: churches demolished, ceremonies banned, mosques surveilled. Such repression is not merely an assault on faith itself—it is a shackle on the human soul.
Freedom of belief is a core element of human rights. A person can live without wealth or status, but not without a space for faith. The Buddha taught that true freedom does not come from external possessions, but from inner peace and liberation. Religious faith is a vital path toward that inner stability.
That is why so many people, from different nations and faiths, could stand together at the rally. Their raised placards were not only an expression of discontent with a political system, but also a defense of a universal value: the dignity of the human soul.
In Los Angeles that day, I saw the young and the elderly cry out in unison, and Christians and Buddhists pray side by side. In that moment, I felt a power that transcended borders, ethnicity, and religion. It was the power born from a shared yearning for freedom of belief and human rights.
It is undeniable that in some places, religion and culture have long faced restrictions and suppression. Whether through censorship of speech or restrictions on religious gatherings, countless believers are prevented from seeking spiritual solace freely. On the surface, this may appear to be an extension of state power, but at a deeper level, it represents an erosion of human civilization’s diversity.
As a Buddhist, I believe in the law of cause and effect. Any system built on lies, repression, and violence can survive only temporarily; it cannot forever conceal the truth. Our teachers often remind us: “Be clear-eyed toward evil, but compassionate toward people.” For me, these words carry profound meaning. We expose these injustices not out of hatred, but out of hope—that humanity may live in a more enlightened environment, free to choose its beliefs and values.
Over the past decades, cultural heritage has also been repeatedly struck. From policies enforcing “ideological unity” to rejection of pluralistic traditions, much ancient wisdom has been marginalized or erased. Yet whether Confucian benevolence and righteousness, Buddhist compassion and wisdom, or Daoist harmony with nature, each is an indispensable part of human civilization. Their value should not be obliterated, but preserved and passed on.
The disappearance of culture is not just the loss of texts and rituals; it is the hollowing out of the human spirit. When people lose the nourishment of culture and belief, society loses both its moral compass and its ability to self-correct. Ultimately, this emptiness exacts a price on the nation as a whole.
As the sun set that day, the rally gradually dispersed. People rolled up banners; some prayed softly, while others embraced. In that moment, I felt a warm strength within. We may be small, but we are not alone.
I pressed my palms together and silently made a vow: may the truth be known by more people; may freedom of belief be realized soon; may every suffering being be freed from pain and find happiness.
The road ahead will not be easy. But cause and effect never fail, and justice will not remain silent forever. The Los Angeles rally was just one small reflection, yet it revealed hope—that people of different nations, religions, and backgrounds can stand together for shared values. Freedom of belief and human rights are not luxuries; they are rights every human being deserves.
The future still demands our efforts, but as long as there is such persistence, the seeds will sprout, and light will ultimately arrive.
