Am I a Buddhist?

It’s not something I had previously said in a sermon or congregational meeting . It’s one of those things that I’ve said to friends and colleagues but when with general church members, I’ve held my tongue. But a few Sunday’s ago, the level of my frustration was rising and the words came out of my mouth. Not surprisingly, what I said was largely ignored or misunderstood.

In the context of a meeting on the overall mission of the congregation and how that mission was manifested in the Sunday service and programs, I stated that I understood and respected the many perspectives expressive. I then explained that I found the experience of worship was not sufficiently inclusive for me. I went further to say that many Sundays I have difficulty attending worship because of the focus on a powerful deity who needs to be praised and glorified. There was a brief pause and the discussion went back to what kinds of hymns should be sung.

After the meeting, one of the members of the congregation said to me that she understood what I said and that I’m probably more comfortable with Buddhism. I was a bit puzzled by the comment. Last year, a survey was conducted in the congregation to assess topics of interest among members for programs. The greatest interest expressed by church members was to learn about Buddhism. In response to that, I contacted a friend of mine who is a Buddhist teacher who offered a three night series at our church on Buddhism. I have studied Buddhism and sat for meditation at sanghas and temples. But I’ve also participated in a large number of Native American ceremonies and worked with a couple of traditional healers and medicine people in providing care to Native American individuals with mental health conditions. Over a period of a few years I worked a great deal with the rabbi at a Reform congregation that had a large number of families with Jewish and Christian members. I’d frequently attend Shabbat services with that congregation and did joint presentations with the Rabbi about spirituality, traditions, and various practices. For about 18 months, I taught Christian spirituality to a small group of Hindu people who lived in an ashram. We found many parallels between the two traditions. Lastly, my “go to” spiritual writer when I find myself particularly disconnected from the spiritual dimension of life is the Sufi poet Hafiz. In all of these contexts, I’ve always known that I am rooted in the Christian tradition and a follower of the teachings of Jesus. I’m very comfortable in other religious and spiritual contexts, because I am grounded in my own Christian tradition.

When it comes to Christian practice, I have a great deal of difficulty with a number of common practices that I see as reflective of a lack of theological development. From my perspective:

1. Prayer doesn’t change the laws of nature or physics. Nor is prayer about convincing a powerful being to do something for us. Instead, the power of prayer is that it changes us. Prayer has the potency to change our perspective as well as actually change the way our brain functions.

2. The tendency to anthropomorphize God is dangerous. God is fundamentally a mystery beyond our understanding. While we may understand aspects of the Divine Mystery as being like a father or mother or lover or friend, the essence of Divinity is beyond our mental capacity. This mystery was encapsulated by Christians in the third century in the articulation of God as Trinity, i.e., a dynamic exchange of relationships among equals. Reducing God to fit our mental capacity misses the wonder who is the Divine.

3. God doesn’t need anything from us. When Christians insist that God needs to be praised, worshipped, and glorified, they are just creating a co-dependent deity who needs people for God’s own ego. Instead, I agree with the wisdom of Meister Eckhart that the only prayer that is necessary is gratitude.

I also recognize that the folks who belong to my church are good hearted but they just don’t understand my perspectives. Instead, I am Christian, first by birth and today by choice. While my up-bringing has influenced my understanding of Christianity, I’ve grown far beyond the limits of practices of my youth and been nourished by the wisdom of many traditions. I remain a Christian. Drawing from the book of Genesis, I affirm that the creative mystery of God (dahbar in Aramaic; logos in Greek) permeates the cosmos. That fundamentally the mystery of God is Trinitarian in so far as the essence of Divinity is found in relationship. The nature of God is generous love and self-giving. The realm of God is within each of us, it is around us, and it is to come, as Jesus explained in the gospels. The purpose of human life is to live in the mystery of the ever-creating, ever-loving God whose presence is found in our relationships with self, others, and with everything that is. God surely doesn’t need me nor need my adulation. Rather, God’s creativity called me into existence and for that I am eternally grateful.

As for my local church, I hope people there can grow beyond the limits of the theological paradigms so that they can be more expansive in their experience of the wonder of God. While I am with them, I hope to support them in their growth for we are all on a journey toward the fullness of life.