A touring group of gelukpa Tibetan Buddhist monks made their way to Austin, Texas. They tour every year to raise money for their monastery. Their twelve days in Austin was chock full of appearances, chanting, teachings, and the obligatory creation and dissolution of a sand mandala, which everyone seems to get into, even if they haven’t foggiest idea about Buddhism.
I only saw them once, and that was at the local mosque. A local Muslim group hosted the monks for a kind of religious dialogue. I thought that was an interesting, if not absurd, idea, so it attracted me all the more.
The event began with a meandering, unfocused talk by the imam, who did his best to find common ground between Islam and Buddhism. He used the word “spiritual” a lot, which is a good word to use, because it means nothing, or it means whatever you want it to mean. Don’t get me wrong: I like the imam. He’s a nice guy: humble, polite, and friendly. And praise be to Allah, he doesn’t pepper his sentences with “inshallah” and “Alhamdulilah” as many Muslims are wont to do, as if trying to prove their piety. (I downloaded one lecture by an Imam and couldn’t get through the first 30 minutes due to this very annoying pseudo-pious, linguistic tick.) By the way, if you don’t know what those two words mean, you will someday — as Islam spreads throughout the western world, and it is, and it will, those words will become part of the English language, just as sure as Muhammad is the most popular name in England now.
The one American monk among the troupe of Tibetans gave the presentation on Tibetan Buddhism. The talk was on the eight worldly concerns. This topic finds common ground between all religions; namely, don’t be affected by praise/blame, riches/wealth, loss/gain, and good/bad sensual experiences. Little was said about what Buddhists actually believe or do. I believe this was a wise course to take, given the composition of the audience.
My two favorite parts of the evening were the monks performing the evening prayers along with the rest of the Muslim congregation. In all, eight rakats, or sets of prayers, were offered. The monks joined right in. I was delighted to be bowing to Allah with a high-ranking, authentic geshe just to my right. To be honest, I spent much of the time trying ascertain their energy, as if I had some kind of enlightenment meter (kind of like gaydar) in me. I remember when I met Thich Nhat Hanh, he had the most amazing presence I’d ever experienced, like a mountain and cloud simultaneously.
After the prayer, the monks did a dedication chant in Tibetan, during which my daughter, who had just learned the word Buddha, was yelling “Buddha” at them. I was a proud daddy.
I’ll stop here for now. Part 2 will discuss some comparative aspects of the two faiths, for those who are more philosophically-minded.
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