I was raised Roman Catholic. This blog entry is based on a paper I wrote around 1990 when I was studying Hinduism and World Religions at Harvard Divinity School.
During high school, I became increasingly devout, attending Mass at the crack of dawn on weekday mornings whenever I could. I was a member of the Third Order of St. Francis. I mean... I was into it. Really into it.
Around this time, quite apart from my formal Catholic practices, I became increasingly aware of a numinous Presence which surrounded me all of the time. This Presence (which I never conceptualized as "Jesus" or "Christ" or any other personification of deity) was a completely available listener with Whom I frequently communicated praise, petition, and thanksgiving... and simple observations and thoughts... sort of an ongoing conversation with an active Listener. As a young Catholic believer, I would have described my practice in terms of sacraments and formal prayers and a great many exterior manifestations of belief... only after I reached adulthood and endured a profound and lengthy faith crisis did I come to appreciate that my ongoing communication with this sense of Presence was the deepest and most powerful aspect of that practice. I did not label my experience as "prayer" -- it was simply a part of my everyday life, much like eating or talking or sleeping.
In college. I took required courses in theology and philosophy, and began to come to terms with the mythological aspects of Christianity... virtually all of which I had accepted as verbatim truth as a youngster. I abandoned the remnants of formal Catholic practice (to the great consternation of my family). One afternoon when I was 19 or so, I spoke to that Presence which had always surrounded me ... and found myself alone for the first time in my life. The term "faith crisis" does not being to encompass the sense of isolation which I felt at that moment. This occur ed about a year after my mother's death. (Many years later, a yogi teacher of mine said, "When we are angry with God, we make God go away.")
I was not part of a spiritual community at that time. It's been said that a connection to a community can help an individual stay connected to the Light even while personally sitting in the dark. When I found myself out of the light, I concluded that the light did not exist. I spent twenty some years out there, in sort of a dark agnostic/atheist place.
So -- fast forward to the mid 1980's. I was working in high tech, lots of pressure/stress. I read about an ashram (an Indian term for a home for a spiritual community) in Lenox MA, which sounded wonderful to me... out in the mountains, great veg food, yoga. I found that I loved being at Kripalu, and I returned frequently -- although I was baffled and boggled by the guru component of the practice. Lots of pictures of their teachers. Lots of bowing and reverence to those pictures. All very alien to me. Then one weekend I attended a gathering with their teacher -- and thought he made a great deal of sense. I began reading more about Hinduism and eastern religions (an area where I had dabbled back in the 60s). In the fall of 1988 or, I flew to Chicago for a two day retreat with this teacher. We were sitting for meditation. (Bear with me here... ) One minute I was sitting on a dirty shag rug in Chicago. In the next instant, I found myself sitting in the Light which is the very presence of God, crying and saying from my heart "Why did You leave me?" That experience is called shaktipat. Shakti is a feminine noun in Sanskrit, and means energy or power. Some Hindu teachers are able to transmit that energy -- it's sort of the spiritual equivalent to being in a field of radio waves, and those waves affect some of the people who are on the receiving end. Shaktipat is the transmission of spiritual energy from a guru to a disciple. Receiving shakitpat was a life-transforming event for me. Somewhat to my own bemusement, I searched for a place to study Hinduism -- and found a program at Harvard Divinity School. I applied, and was accepted... and in January 1988 I left my high tech job and began studying at Harvard. I completed a masters in theological studies in Hinduism and World Religions in 1990.
Someone once asked me "What attracted you to Hinduism?" I suppose it could be called "attraction," in the way that a powerful magnetic field is attraction ... a force over which I really had no control. Once I began studying Hinduism, I found that so many aspects of the theology and the practice spoke to my heart. You might wonder how I was able to handle multi-armed, multi-hued deities, when I had so much trouble with Christian theology. I just know that the stories and the gods and the chants and the very language make my heart sing. When I made it to India in the mid-1990s, I had the strongest sense of coming home. I spent hours in the temples, and just sitting by the Ganges, surrounded by spirit and incredibly happy. In English, we have lots of words which mean "religion," or things about God. In Sanskrit, no such words exist... because everything is about God, so why would you need a separate word at all?
At Harvard, I also took courses in Buddhism. I found them interesting, in sort of an academic way -- but I never found the same passion about Buddhism. Truth be told, I think it's easier to be an American Buddhist than an American Hindu. First, there are a lot more folks with whom to find and form community. Second, you can be a Christian, or a Jew, or whatever, and still study and practice Buddhism. Hinduism is distinct from those other faiths... although the spacious arms of Hinduism allow room for them all!!! Part of the issue -- Hinduism is inexorably tied to India, and to Indian culture. Buddhism can be more culture-neutral. Finally, when you say "I'm a Buddhist," most Americans have a clue (however slight!) about what you're saying. Hinduism, with its pantheon of gods, is SO remote from anything most Americans have ever experienced.
In the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, the sage Yajnavalka is asked how many gods there are. He says 33 million. No, really - how many? 33 thousand. Seriously - how many? 3000. And so on until he gets down to three... then one and one half.... and ultimately one.... just one. And notes that everything he has said is true... there are many gods... there is one. Both true.
For me, at the heart of Hinduism, there is only One... one God, one soul. One. And that One is within us, and all around us, and is the breath we breath. The Atman is the soul of a person... and it, too, is that One. When you see someone dancing and chanting to Krishna, Krishna is that One for her. When you see someone bowing to a representation of the Goddess, that is the One. When you see a picture of a Hindu worshipping at a stone or a tree in his village... that part of nature is the embodiment of the One for him.
This is a quote from a Hindu guru named Nityananda: "One must seek the shortest way and the fastest means to get back home -- to turn the spark within into a blaze, to be merged in and to identify with that greater fire which ignited the spark."
For some folks, the way home is Christianity... or Judaism... or Buddhism. For me, it's Hinduism.
During high school, I became increasingly devout, attending Mass at the crack of dawn on weekday mornings whenever I could. I was a member of the Third Order of St. Francis. I mean... I was into it. Really into it.
Around this time, quite apart from my formal Catholic practices, I became increasingly aware of a numinous Presence which surrounded me all of the time. This Presence (which I never conceptualized as "Jesus" or "Christ" or any other personification of deity) was a completely available listener with Whom I frequently communicated praise, petition, and thanksgiving... and simple observations and thoughts... sort of an ongoing conversation with an active Listener. As a young Catholic believer, I would have described my practice in terms of sacraments and formal prayers and a great many exterior manifestations of belief... only after I reached adulthood and endured a profound and lengthy faith crisis did I come to appreciate that my ongoing communication with this sense of Presence was the deepest and most powerful aspect of that practice. I did not label my experience as "prayer" -- it was simply a part of my everyday life, much like eating or talking or sleeping.
In college. I took required courses in theology and philosophy, and began to come to terms with the mythological aspects of Christianity... virtually all of which I had accepted as verbatim truth as a youngster. I abandoned the remnants of formal Catholic practice (to the great consternation of my family). One afternoon when I was 19 or so, I spoke to that Presence which had always surrounded me ... and found myself alone for the first time in my life. The term "faith crisis" does not being to encompass the sense of isolation which I felt at that moment. This occur ed about a year after my mother's death. (Many years later, a yogi teacher of mine said, "When we are angry with God, we make God go away.")
I was not part of a spiritual community at that time. It's been said that a connection to a community can help an individual stay connected to the Light even while personally sitting in the dark. When I found myself out of the light, I concluded that the light did not exist. I spent twenty some years out there, in sort of a dark agnostic/atheist place.
So -- fast forward to the mid 1980's. I was working in high tech, lots of pressure/stress. I read about an ashram (an Indian term for a home for a spiritual community) in Lenox MA, which sounded wonderful to me... out in the mountains, great veg food, yoga. I found that I loved being at Kripalu, and I returned frequently -- although I was baffled and boggled by the guru component of the practice. Lots of pictures of their teachers. Lots of bowing and reverence to those pictures. All very alien to me. Then one weekend I attended a gathering with their teacher -- and thought he made a great deal of sense. I began reading more about Hinduism and eastern religions (an area where I had dabbled back in the 60s). In the fall of 1988 or, I flew to Chicago for a two day retreat with this teacher. We were sitting for meditation. (Bear with me here... ) One minute I was sitting on a dirty shag rug in Chicago. In the next instant, I found myself sitting in the Light which is the very presence of God, crying and saying from my heart "Why did You leave me?" That experience is called shaktipat. Shakti is a feminine noun in Sanskrit, and means energy or power. Some Hindu teachers are able to transmit that energy -- it's sort of the spiritual equivalent to being in a field of radio waves, and those waves affect some of the people who are on the receiving end. Shaktipat is the transmission of spiritual energy from a guru to a disciple. Receiving shakitpat was a life-transforming event for me. Somewhat to my own bemusement, I searched for a place to study Hinduism -- and found a program at Harvard Divinity School. I applied, and was accepted... and in January 1988 I left my high tech job and began studying at Harvard. I completed a masters in theological studies in Hinduism and World Religions in 1990.
Someone once asked me "What attracted you to Hinduism?" I suppose it could be called "attraction," in the way that a powerful magnetic field is attraction ... a force over which I really had no control. Once I began studying Hinduism, I found that so many aspects of the theology and the practice spoke to my heart. You might wonder how I was able to handle multi-armed, multi-hued deities, when I had so much trouble with Christian theology. I just know that the stories and the gods and the chants and the very language make my heart sing. When I made it to India in the mid-1990s, I had the strongest sense of coming home. I spent hours in the temples, and just sitting by the Ganges, surrounded by spirit and incredibly happy. In English, we have lots of words which mean "religion," or things about God. In Sanskrit, no such words exist... because everything is about God, so why would you need a separate word at all?
At Harvard, I also took courses in Buddhism. I found them interesting, in sort of an academic way -- but I never found the same passion about Buddhism. Truth be told, I think it's easier to be an American Buddhist than an American Hindu. First, there are a lot more folks with whom to find and form community. Second, you can be a Christian, or a Jew, or whatever, and still study and practice Buddhism. Hinduism is distinct from those other faiths... although the spacious arms of Hinduism allow room for them all!!! Part of the issue -- Hinduism is inexorably tied to India, and to Indian culture. Buddhism can be more culture-neutral. Finally, when you say "I'm a Buddhist," most Americans have a clue (however slight!) about what you're saying. Hinduism, with its pantheon of gods, is SO remote from anything most Americans have ever experienced.
In the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad, the sage Yajnavalka is asked how many gods there are. He says 33 million. No, really - how many? 33 thousand. Seriously - how many? 3000. And so on until he gets down to three... then one and one half.... and ultimately one.... just one. And notes that everything he has said is true... there are many gods... there is one. Both true.
For me, at the heart of Hinduism, there is only One... one God, one soul. One. And that One is within us, and all around us, and is the breath we breath. The Atman is the soul of a person... and it, too, is that One. When you see someone dancing and chanting to Krishna, Krishna is that One for her. When you see someone bowing to a representation of the Goddess, that is the One. When you see a picture of a Hindu worshipping at a stone or a tree in his village... that part of nature is the embodiment of the One for him.
This is a quote from a Hindu guru named Nityananda: "One must seek the shortest way and the fastest means to get back home -- to turn the spark within into a blaze, to be merged in and to identify with that greater fire which ignited the spark."
For some folks, the way home is Christianity... or Judaism... or Buddhism. For me, it's Hinduism.
