Washington Post Article on Buddhism

[Seinkyaw@xxxxxxx]

The |Washington Post       Saturday, October 10, 1998   B9 & 10

Religion

Faith Stories

Buddhism Lighted the Way to the Joy Within     (by Patricia Elam)

I grew up attending an African American Congregationalist church in Boston.
My grandfather and father were deacons.  My mother had an important role as
well, although I don't recall whether it had a title.
	
There was never anyone clapping or yelling out, "Amen", during the service, as
happens in many black churches.  Our choir never swayed to the beat of its own
singing, and no white-clad ladies stood with hands clasped, waiting to assist
someone who might be "overcome with the Spirit". Members of our well-dressed,
middle-class congregation always kept their composure.
	
We children attended Sunday school, although we fought vigorously against it.
We thought it so boring and stiff and without relevance to our daily lives.
The only good part about Sunday was the chicken our grandma cooked, using her
secret spices.  We always went to her house after church - and the chicken was
the most delicious I've ever tasted.  I had faith in grandma's Sunday cooking
but that was my only religion.
	
During high school and college I gave religion little thought.  But later, as
a divorced adult with a career, children and dreams, I realized something was
absent from my life --  and it wasn't just a meaningful relationship with the
opposite sex.  It was something unknown and confusing, but something that,
when I found it, would soothe the anxiety and emptiness dwelling in my heart.
	
I surprised myself by realizing that what I needed was some kind of
spirituality.  After all, everyone I knew who had it seemed to be satisfied
with their lives on a level I had not yet attained.
	
It was 1984, I was living in Washington by then and began visiting different
churches.  I had a list of criteria: must be African-centered, have a great
choir and must allow one to dress casually.  I found myself most attracted to
the churches with the best choirs.  Their earnest, wrenching vocals ripped
into me, satisfying the pain in my soul and filling up the empty spots.  
	
I kept going but paid little attention to the sermons because I had trouble
connecting to the concepts of "God" and "Jesus".  How did anyone know they
existed?  Why couldn't I feel their presence?  And didn't some mortal men
write the Bible, and why should I believe them since I didn't like some of the
things it said about women and gay people?
	
So I never joined any of those churches,  During the early part of 1986 two
people tried to get me to chant, "Nam myoho renge  kyo", a Buddhist phrase
loosely translated as "Devotion to the mystic law of the Lotus Sutra."  One of
these people was my former brother-in-law, who I already thought was a little
crazy.   The other was a women I occasionally ran into at the gym.   She also
didn't seem to be "all there."
	
But soon I began a new job, and there was a man in the office who seemed so
peaceful and calm in the midst of stressful situations.  I began to watch his
life and finally asked him how he managed it.  "My life isn't without
problems, " he said, "but I'm learning to handle them better by chanting, 'Nam
myoho renge kyo'," I was stunned.  I asked him to take me to a Buddhist
meeting.
	
It was strange at first.  Many white, black and  Asian people sitting on rugs
without shoes.  Candles, incense, beads and the incessant chanting, like
bumble bees humming loudly.  In spite of the weirdness, though, people seemed
genuinely happy.  And they were friendly, positive and encouraging.  I wanted
some of whatever they were feeling.
	
So I began to chant at home and attend Buddhist meetings on a regular basis.
I found the practice challenging because the prayers were in another language
and were done morning and evening.  But I felt so good when I finally caught
on to the rhythm of the words.  More importantly, there was no divine being to
pray to.  I was only encouraged to seek the "Buddha nature" within myself and
others.
	
I have now been chanting and practicing Buddhism for 11 years.  I have learned
to look within myself for the answers to my problems and have developed myself
beyond my own wildest dreams.
	
And I now see very clearly who I am: an African American woman, mother and
writer who is contributing, in my own unique way, to accomplishing world peace
- the long-term goal of my Buddhist practice.  I finally have joy in my life.
We have a rousing choir (although we call it a chorus), too!

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