Encountering the Sacred

This week I returned to Kerala after spending the month of April traveling in north India. The 25-day whirlwind tour was both fantastic and exhausting. We saw the Taj Mahal, and the Golden Temple, the holiest temple for Sikhs. We went on a camel safari in the Rajastan dessert where we rode camels over sand dunes and spent the night in the dessert sleeping under the stars. We waded in the Ganges River, hiked in the Himalayan foothills, and saw the place where Gandhi was assassinated. We visited McLeod Gaj where the exiled Tibetan government operates, and we even caught a glimpse of the Dalai Lama. We slept on trains, got food poisoning, and became experts at avoiding overpriced transportation offers. (“Taxi! Only 500 rupees!” Not a chance.) Basically, we had a fabulous time!

One of the half-intended, half-accidental themes of our trip to north India was encountering the sacred in various forms and through diverse religious experiences. India is saturated with holiness. It is the land where the Buddha achieved Enlightenment; it is the place of origin for such major religions as Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism, and Sikhism; legend has it that St. Thomas the Apostle (a.k.a. “doubting Thomas”) was the first to bring Christianity to India. (He is actually said to have landed in Kerala.) Everywhere you turn you can find temples, mosques, churches, gurdwaras, pagodas. You can see shrines nestled into tree trunks, and you may easily be woken at 5:30am to the hauntingly beautiful Muslim call to prayer, sung from a nearby mosque. During our travels, I encountered many diverse religious experiences: I visited Jain temples and the jamma masjid, the largest mosque in India; I watched Buddhist monks debate philosophy and saw Muslim worshipers praying at ancient monuments. For this blog entry, however, I will limit myself to describing three particular religious experiences from my time in north India: wading in the Ganges River, visiting the Golden Temple, the holiest temple for Sikhism, and spending several days in a Tibetan Buddhist refugee community.

Getting Wet:

Human beings are comprised of over 60% water. Without water we cannot survive. It takes about 9 weeks to die of hunger, but only 3-6 days to die of thirst. Water is life, and many of the world’s major religions recognize the significance of water. Christians are baptized, plunged into water as we are plunged into the Holy Spirit. Baptism recognizes our individual relationship with God, and it also symbolizes our inclusion into the Christian community. Through baptism we are connected to God and to one another through water and through the Holy Spirit.

For Hindus the Ganges River, which originates in the Himalayas, is a sacred body of water. Men, women, and children travel hundreds of miles on pilgrimage just to bathe there, to plunge into the cloudy water of this river. The other volunteers and I went the city that lies at the source of the Ganges, that is, where several rivers merge to form one river. This city, Haridwar, is a major pilgrimage destination for Hindus, and even though we came at the very end of the pilgrimage season, it was still crowded with men, women and children.

Standing knee-deep in the Ganges River, I tried to soak in everything around me: Garlands of marigolds and votive candles floating down the river, offerings to Mother Ganges. Groups of women holding hands as they plunge their heads beneath the cold Himalayan water. Naked children splashing and playing under the watchful eyes of their parents. The chill of the fast-flowing water around my legs, washing away the dust and heat.

Water is life, and it also acts as a means of connecting people, of creating a community. We are connected to one another by the water that flows through our blood, that brings life to our cells. I breathe the same air and water molecules that the person next to me breathes, and we are both sustained by our mingled breaths. I respect the Hindu community for acknowledging the sacredness of water in their reverence of the Ganges River. Although I did not fully bathe in the river, I did feel the pull. The current tugged at my ankles, reminding me of the sacred ties of water, which bind me to this planet and to all living beings who are sustained by water. With the holy water of the Ganges washing my feet, I felt alive and in community with the other pilgrims, connected by the sacredness of water.

Sacred Sounds:

The Golden Temple in Amritsar is the holiest place of worship for Sikhs. Some quick background on Sikhism: Sikhism is a relatively young religion, founded during the second half of the 15th century. Sikh theology is basically monotheistic and is based on the worship of one “formless” infinite Being. Also at the center of Sikhism is the elimination of social segregation. Sikhism attempts to overcome discrimination based on caste, class, gender and even religion. The founder, Guru Nanak, famously emerged from a divine encounter with this revelation: “There is no Hindu; there is no Muslim.” At its best, Sikhism tries to overcome the “us v. them” mentality that so many religions fall prey to.

When I visited the Golden Temple, I was struck by the beauty of the gilded building set in the middle of a man-made pool. Men and women wearing headscarves, turbans or veils – everyone must cover their head when entering the temple complex – sat around the pool talking quietly and enjoying the serenity of this religious space. But even more than the sight of the Golden Temple and the pool that surrounds it, I was touched by the sounds of the temple. Throughout the day singers chant the sacred poetry and teachings that are contained in the Sikh holy book. This singing is broadcast throughout the temple complex so that, as you walk around the pool or sit on its edge, your ears are filled with the gentle chanting of the holy verses.

Just outside the walls that enclose the pool and the temple, are the kitchens. Every Sikh gurdwara serves a free community meal called langar. All are welcome, friend or stranger, regardless of caste, creed or nationality. Men and women, Sikh, Hindu, Muslim, Christian, foreigners as well as locals, all can sit together on the floor, eating flatbread and curry prepared in the giant kitchen attached to the temple. As I sat on the floor eating with hundreds of other men and women, I noticed the sounds of food. Ladles scooping curry onto plates. Water poured into drinking bowls. The friendly chatter that accompanies the meeting of strangers over a meal. And over everything else, the clang of metal dishes being washed and restacked nearby. These sounds were just as holy as the chanting of the sacred verses in the Golden Temple. The sounds of a kitchen, of a meal, served for all, that brings people of all walks of life together as equals: that is surely the sound of something holy.

God of Compassion, God of Prayer Wheels and Repetition:

The days we spent in McLeod Gaj, the Tibetan refugee community where the Tibetan government is in exile and where the Dalai Lama lives, where probably my favorite of our entire trip. Buddhism is central to Tibetan identity, and during our stay in McLeod Gaj I was happy to learn about and experiences some of this ancient religion. We visited the main temple of the exiled Tibetan Buddhist community and watched devotees spin lines of prayer wheels, each of which contain prayers and holy mantras that are prayed by being spun. We wandered through the forested, mountain area that surrounds the town, and everywhere we saw Tibetan prayer flags inscribed with prayers and mantras fluttering in the wind. Physical prayers strung colorfully between the trees, blowing prayers of good fortune and compassion across the sky and over the mountains.

Almost everywhere we went in McLeod Gaj, we heard beautiful devotional music that repeated a single mantra over and over again. This mantra is meant to help Buddhists focus their devotion and concentration through repetition. The four-word mantra we heard repeatedly is supposed to be one of the holiest in Tibet and is a mantra of compassion. Compassion is at the heart of Tibetan Buddhism. The religion’s main deity is the Bodhisatva of Compassion, a sort of patron saint of Tibet, who is often depicted with 11 heads and 1000 arms, which represent omnipresence. Buddhism seeks happiness and freedom from suffering for all beings, and compassion, which is the sympathy for the suffering of others with the desire to help them, naturally forms the cornerstone of Buddhist philosophy and practice. As I contemplated Buddhist compassion in McLeod Gaj, I thought about how this kind of compassion is also central to Christianity. The compassion of Jesus who healed the sick and comforted those in distress, who fed the hungry and preached God’s love for all people, is not so different from the compassion central to Tibetan Buddhism.

God of Compassion,
God of Rivers and Kitchens and Community,
God of Prayer Flags and Mountains,
God of Love,
Open my eyes to the holiness that surrounds me
And let me feel your presence in every person,
every tree, and every prayer.
Amen.