A Singular Case

 

         The slightest change in perception can make all the difference.  On a singularly beautiful and momentous night, Chris went to bed a Methodist and awoke a Buddhist.  No great change ever occurs overnight, and this is so in his case.  The only thing that changed that night was a name, as the deep and meaningful change took many years to arrive at that spectacular and climactic moment.  Yet his heroic moment was neither fully realized in its significance nor was it shared amongst those he loved.  This was a private feat, but one that would renew and heighten his spiritual journey.  His story is singular in its peculiarity, but it is universal in its conclusion.  It is a conclusion that many of us are searching for.

                                                         At first, this revelation was completely hidden from family and friends.  Chris thought that it would be difficult to explain, and worried that he couldn’t explain why it was that he had changed.  In truth, he could not, for two very different reasons.  The first was that he himself did not know why.  His awareness was dim, and he was not aware of the deeper and more subtle changes that contributed to his conscious choice.  His explanation would fail, because he could not convey the reasons that he was not immediately conscious of.  The second reason is that even if he could fully express his reasons for his conversion, his more religious friends and family members could not understand.  His new religion was a second language, a language that when translated lacked the same meaning and insight.  Chris no longer thought like a Christian; he no longer thought about faith, salvation, sin, and God in the same way.  He spoke the same words, but each word signified something very different in his mind than to his friends and family.  His timidity and his insecurity about discussing religion grew as he felt distanced from others, and it would only become more difficult to discuss his true feelings with those that he loved.

                                                         The first people he told were complete strangers.  New friends he met over the internet, educational surveys and questionnaires, people he barely knew at high school.  When he did tell them, he felt a nervous relief at the weight that had just lifted from his shoulders.  He carefully gauged their reaction and constantly worried about their opinions of him and whether they could tell anyone.  He was most comfortable in expressing this to people who were so distant and removed from his life that his secret could be safe with them.  But the secret festered inside him while he went through the motions of being a Christian on the outside.  It was a constant source of anxiety for him, and there were moments where he really wished he was what he pretended to be.

                                                He dreaded going to Church, for he felt his beliefs incompatible with those of the Minister.  The Minister spoke in Christian, and Chris felt this desire to stand up and argue against his sermon publicly.  “Sin, you say, is a turning away from God.  Sin, you say, is a choice to turn away from God.  A CHOICE?!  Why would a dunce choose eternal damnation if he knew he could have eternal bliss?  He didn’t choose that, because he didn’t think damnation was POSSIBLE.  Free will is nothing but a doctrine you use to blame people who are encumbered by poverty or vices, when those problems have a source in everything but free will!”  His fear of publicly discussing his beliefs gave rise to an inner rage against those who differed from him.  But his rage was not the fire of a compassionate person towards injustice, instead it was rooted in his frustration and inability to express himself.

                                                         Chris refused to say the blessing before dinner.  He refused to say the Lord’s Prayer before going to bed.  He said “No!!” to all things Christian, while he felt incapable of saying “YES!!!” to anything Buddhist.  His rage gave way to open intolerance, but his fear remained.  He vowed not to be confirmed by the Church.  Nothing seemed more loathsome to him than pretending to believe.  He was an infant.

                                                Slowly, gradually, the truth did come out to a few select friends.  In their deepest confidence, he slowly poured his deeply guarded feelings and beliefs.  Their reactions varied from deep support and love, to complete indifference.  His rage diminished with feelings of security and confidence.  The secret was safe from his family, and it was his mother and grandmother who he dreaded most.  They were incredibly nice and happy people who thought that their families would find the same happiness in their tradition.  They feared losing one of their children to the moral decay of secularism; or, worse yet, to the strange customs and beliefs of another religion.  If he had converted to another denomination, there would have been less concern and worry.  But to a non-Abrahamic religion?  At best it would be a passing phase and nothing to worry about, at worst it would be a sign of a troubled and diseased soul.  Chris loved and feared these two women, so he struck a dangerous compromise.  He would continue to attend Church with his family, and he would act like a Christian while refusing to let it corrupt his soul. 

                                                         Chris continued to read his Buddhist texts in private, and searched out ways to express his new identity and understanding.  He begun studying Meditation, and attempted to discern which sect of Buddhism he belonged to.  The more he studied, the more alienated he became from his new found religion.  He found new practices and rituals that seemed truly strange and existentially foreign; he couldn’t begin to imagine going to a cemetery for aborted fetuses or condemning homosexuality as a sin.  He saw the American Buddhist community as being far worse: it seemed to follow the exotification of the East and a cheap, watered down comprehension of the truth.  But, what he was truly searching for was a community that he could belong to, a place and a people that he could call his home and his community.  And he could not find it.

                                                         His cultural isolation gave way to rage, once again.  It was a diminished rage, but one that manifested itself in a far more insidious fashion than before.  Chris began to use his psychological insights to cast doubt and fear in the hearts of those he disliked.  He would engage them in conversation, and push them further into their own doubts and insecurities.  His efforts were not always effective, but he drew a sick, unnatural pleasure from sabotaging another’s belief structure.  In truth, he enjoyed it because he envied their self-satisfaction, knew he could not acquire it, and resolved to separate the person from their source of strength.  His efforts were hampered by his compassion, which always took over when he could have done the most damage.  In his heart, he knew that what he was doing was wrong.  But, as it is with all sin, he didn’t understand his own actions.  He was in denial over his own actions, divorced from his own self. 

                                                         It was not until he studied the religion and culture of the Jewish people that Chris realized what it was that he had been searching for.  He realized that he had wasted time seeking the most perfect doctrine, when all that he had wanted was a workable community.  He had been seeking it the whole time, but he never knew it consciously before his trip to Israel.  The religious life should not, cannot, and is not exemplified by the solitary man of faith.  That man exemplifies a kind of faith that gives the maximum strength to an individual who is cut off from his own community.  His need for faith is a sickness, a weakness, a crisis that demands the faith of God, but is not the ideal state.  The ideal state is a man of conviction and love who participates in and supports his community.  The community supports itself, solves its disputes internally, and draws from the many skills and talents of its members.  The community is self-sufficient emotionally and psychologically.  The community is the ideal state for people seeking a sense of sacredness in their lives.  It was this awakening that finally brought him stability, that finally gave him direction, that finally brought his lonely heart home.

                                                         It was this awakening that finally gave me courage to pen these words, to be open and proud about my religion, and to make my former secret as public as it possibly can.  My family still doesn’t understand, but I am content letting them think what they like of me while I continue to progress.  Much work remains, but it will be much easier for me to find my new community now that I know what it is I am looking for.  This singular case was mine, but it is being repeated for literally millions of people.  This story, like all stories, will be told and spread until the words are on everyone’s lips and echo in the deepest parts of their soul.  I hope that other people can reach the same conclusion in their lives, and that we can all worship in the communities that we will make out of this spiritual wilderness.