03-06-05 Buddhist Church

I was thirty-one years old and as white as a surfer in a teen Hollywood movie when I walked into the Buddhist Church in Anaheim. I had never been to a Buddhist service or ceremony at any time in my life. And my deepest association with Japanese culture had been the repeated viewing of "Kill Bill".

I was, of course, late.

My first impression was that the place was very crowded. For some reason, I had somehow expected that the Buddhists would be a quite, keep to themselves, organization of a few dozen people. But, arriving at 10:00 am for the 10:00 service, I had to park in a residential neighborhood three blocks away and hustle to the church.

The church building was one of three or four buildings surrounding an elevated square courtyard. In the courtyard, children and parents meandered. It was "girl scout" day at the church. The girl scouts had set up tables for selling their famous fund raising cookies. Inside the church, girl scouts announced the different parts of the ceremony.

At the door to the church, a group of people crowded in a vestibule, awaiting an opportunity to enter with minimal disturbance to the proceedings. When one happened, I was rushed in with the crowd. All the pews in the room were filled. I found a metal chair set along the back wall in the corner and took a seat.

The room was chanting in Japaneeese. At the front of the hall was a raised stage. On the far right ride of the stage was a podium for the speaker. A large shrine of decorative construction, the purpose of which I cannot even guess, occupied the center of the stage. Along one side of the shrine was a man in a black tunic, with a gold inlaid sash hanging about his neck. He had a set of thick percussive sticks and was providing a beat for the chant. On the left side of the stage, two other men in similar robes chanted.

A lady next to me handed me a book. She had opened the book to the proper page for me, and pointed to a grouping of text somewhere in the bottom of the first of three columns of text. "We're somewhere around here" she whispered. I thanked her, and tried to find the place in the text. Of course, the language was completely foreign to me, and the phonetic pronunciations spelled out in the book were very difficult to identify. I tried to find my place, but then gave up, and tried to get a feeling of the chanting. The rhythm was soothing. I listened for a few minutes, matching my breathing to the chanting crowd. After a few minutes of taking in the scene, I looked again at the text, and managed to identify the place. I chanted under my breath, afraid to say words incorrectly or out of turn, but allowing myself to utter as a part of the unity of the group.

Near the end of the chant, the leader switched from his percussive blocks to a round metal bowl with a rich, sustained tone. The lady next to me got my attention. "The translation is in the back," she whispered. I leaned over and she showed me a page with a translation of the "sutra" that we were chanting. The translated language confirmed what I had suspected. The sutra was pretty standard religious glorification. Gosh, our religion is cool. It's really swell. It's grand. We like it a lot. It's so good for us. We like it a whole lot. We're grateful, and so on. I don't mean to demean the poetry or ideas in any way, as I only browsed them briefly. But, I recognized the concept that any religion celebrates itself in a similar manner.

After the chant, a girl scout asked us to stand for a song, and told us a page number. The song was in English, with a simple theme played on an organ. The organ and the singing sounded very familiar, and could have just as easily been a part of any generic Christian church service in Montgomery, Alabama.

When the short song ended, we turned out pages again at the direction of another girl scout, and read a passage on the Buddha, Dharma and Sangra. I had heard of these "three jewels" before, but cannot at this point explain them fully. To let the reader know my level of understanding at this writing, I can say that it is my understanding that to "take refuge in" the Buddha jewel is to reflect on the person of the Buddha, his life and example. To "take refuge in" the Dharma jewel is to appreciate the teachings of Buddhist doctrine (called the Dharma), both in the sense of the teachings themselves and the scriptures containing them. And, to "take refuge in" the Sangra jewel - well - I have no idea what that is. I think it has something to do with community.

The sermon followed this reading. The teachings were based on the story of Hisako Nakamura, a Japanese woman who, through frostbite and gangrene has lost both hands and both feet at a young age, and had grown up severely disabled. As a speaker, the reverend, or sensei, was quite charismatic. He opened my using young volunteers from the audience to act out a portion of his message. He had one young boy picking up pistachio nuts with his feet to act out not having hands. Another boy was blindfolded and asked to identify items by smell alone. A girl was asked to write "abc" using a pen in her mouth. "Don't worry." He told her. "I washed it this morning." Each child that volunteered, he gave a bracelet of beads.

The sermon continued, never reaching a message of direction or a "we should", but always as a reflection and lesson.

After the sermon, there was an organ song, and a series of announcements from the community. Then a girl scout told us that it was time to offer incense. Some of the congregation stood to leave at this time. Others walked forward to offer incense. I have no clue what the incense ceremony is all about. I followed some people outside to the courtyard.

After the main service, the congregation broke into different activities. There was a Japanese school, a class for children, and an adult "dharma school" session. I knew that I wanted to go to the adult session, but didn't know what building it was going to be in. I waited outside the front doors of the church building to see if I could get a clue from the crowd. When I saw a single, white male walk out, I followed him with my eyes. He joined a line of people going into a low foundation building directly across the courtyard. I assumed this was the place I should go.

The line was for coffee, tea and donuts. It also passed a book table. I was tempted to browse the book table for books. Fortunately, I had no cash. I would have considered asking if they accepted plastic payments, but I recognized that I actually owned two books on the table, neither of which I have completely read. I reminded myself that I am also a very slow reader, who currently has a library book on his nightstand.

The crowd thickened, with most people carrying plates of deserts to their seats. The teacher entered, and passed out some photocopied pages from Hisako Nakamura's autobiography. After a few minutes to let people get seated, he began, by placing his hands together and chanting "Namu Amida Butsu", "Namu Amida Butsu".

He spoke about the book in greater detail, telling us more of this woman's inspiring life story and adding some personal experiences to the lecture. He then read the passage from the book that he had copied for us, and a poem written by the woman. The poem was in English, with the exception of two lines: ""Namu Amida Butsu, "Namu Amida Butsu"

The session was short and very informal, with an open question and comment time at the end. Several of the audience asked questions and added commentary. When the teacher announced that class was over, the people milled and chatter began. I turned to the man next to me, and pointed to the two lines in the poem.

"What does this 'Namu Amida Butsu' mean?" I asked.

He smiled at me. "OK." He said. "You should ask the reverend. He can tell you about that."

I lingered around as the reverend spoke to a lady and then to one of the children volunteers from the church service, then asked him by question.

He picked up a piece of chalk and went to a chalkboard, writing: "Nembutsu," and: "Namoamidabutsu"

He explained that the words represented that name of the Buddha, and that this was the focus of shin Buddhism. As Zen focused on mediation, shin focused on reflection on the concept of the name of Buddha, his life an example.

"Of course." He said "the meaning gets deeper from there."

Of course.

A white woman walked over to the conversation. "Here" she said. "You can have this." She handed me a glossy three-inch by five inch, twenty-page photo and text pamphlet entitled "Buddhism, the path to enlightenment."

I flipped through it as I walked the three blocks to my car, sensing that I would pass it along to my wife, and that if I returned to this church, I would come early next time.