BETTER ANGELS

Better Angels: On the eve of the school shooting in Texas, a prayer at the Sikh temple in Oak Creek

Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

Last week, the day before eight students and two teachers were shot to death at Santa Fe High School in Texas, Pardeep Kaleka — a former teacher and Milwaukee police officer — went to pray at the Sikh temple in Oak Creek.

Pardeep, wearing a black turban, entered the temple’s sanctuary through a doorway bearing what has become too common a feature of American architecture:

Pardeep Kaleka is the eldest son of Satwant Singh Kaleka, the president of the Sikh Temple of Wisconsin who was gunned down at the temple Aug. 5, 2012. Kaleka works to foster forgiveness and compassion and to combat trauma. He’s seen at the Sikh Temple of Wisconsin, 7512 S. Howell Ave., Oak Creek.

A bullet hole.

It was placed there by a white supremacist, Wade Michael Page, who attacked the temple on Aug. 5, 2012.

Page killed six people. And himself.

One remaining bullet hole was left in the doorway leading to the prayer hall at the Sikh Temple of Wisconsin. A plaque below it reads, "We are one."

It seems fitting, when counting those who have been killed in a mass shooting, to distinguish the victims from their killers. Pardeep does not.

According to his reckoning, seven human beings died that day. Those seven included his father, the temple's founder, Satwant Singh Kaleka.

The bullet hole is on the right side of the doorway, a few feet above a gleaming white floor. Beneath the bullet hole are the words, “We are one.”

“Ek Onkar,” Pardeep said.

“ ‘We are one.’ For Sikhs, and I think for humanity, this is the ultimate truth,” he said. “We are all from the same source.”

Pardeep Kaleka, third from left, with fellow members of the Sikh Temple of Wisconsin.

Heavy on Pardeep’s mind last week were reports that President Donald Trump had called some immigrants to the United States “animals.” While it was pretty clear that Trump was referring to members of the violent gang MS-13, Pardeep was no less troubled.

“The idea that some people can be less than human is a damaging thing,” he said.

“If you understand that we are one — and that that is a fundamental truth — then how can you call someone an ‘animal'?

“You are dehumanizing somebody, and when you dehumanize somebody, you can justify harm."

Wade devalued nonwhites. To him, they were a subspecies. He called them "dirt people." Pardeep, on the other hand, has done everything in his power to understand Wade. He can recount, with compassion, Wade's troubled life.

"To understand," Pardeep said. "Not to justify. But to understand. Hurt people hurt people. We have to understand the 'why' of what is happening in order to genuinely do the 'what' " of what must be done.

To deepen his understanding, Pardeep befriended former skinhead Arno Michaelis. Together they founded Serve2Unite, an anti-violence organization, and have just released a book about their unusual partnership: "The Gift of Our Wounds: A Sikh and a Former White Supremacist Find Forgiveness After Hate."

Pardeep Kaleka prays in the prayer hall at the Sikh Temple of Wisconsin.

Thursday, Pardeep knelt on the floor of the Sikh sanctuary and prayed, just as his father had prayed as he bled to death in a room just a few yards away.

"Waheguru," he was heard to say. "Waheguru.Waheguru."

It is a phrase that is difficult to translate into English.

"It is a call out to the spiritual, the creator," Pardeep said. "I believe all the people that passed that day, their last words were Waheguru."

At first, Pardeep believed his father was praying for himself. That belief has changed.

"This prayer that he said, that everyone said before they passed, was not for himself but a prayer for us to move forward. That was his dying prayer."

It was a prayer for humanity. And that humanity includes even his father's killer.

"I would definitely include the shooter in our thoughts and prayers," Pardeep said. "And our blessings."