No God, No Failure in Buddhism
By: Carolyn Slutsky
March 6, 2006 02:34 PM | Permalink
On a hazy Friday evening at the New York Buddhist Church at 331-332 Riverside Drive, a small group gathered in the upstairs meditation room to hear an introduction to the practice and teachings of Buddhism.
The group was led by T.K. Nakagaki, a Buddhist minister from Japan who practices Shin Buddhism, a tradition founded by Shinran in the 13th century. Clad in a black robe, his head shaved, Nakagaki sat on a large, black cushion on a raised, gray rattan meditation mat. An ornate fireplace dwarfed him, as did the objects surrounding him. He explained the significance of each: to his left was a burning candle, symbolizing wisdom, and to his right stood a vase of fresh flowers symbolizing the impermanence of life. A small bench held pots of incense, used in offerings of respect, and decorating the mantle were statues of the Buddha. Nakagaki explained that the statues were in no way meant to be gods, and were in fact developed in reference to European and Greek depictions of gods.
"In Buddhism, there's no failing because there's no God," Nakagaki said of the nonjudgmental aspect of his religion.
Nakagaki began the session by asking the students to sit on identical black cushions in a row on the floor, backs straight, bodies relaxed, heads straining toward the ceiling as if hanging by their hair. In Buddhist meditation practitioners start by breathing out and then breathing in. Those meditating sit cross-legged on the cushions in the position of a triangle, legs supporting the weight of the back, leaning forward, hands in front forming another triangle. The eyes should be slightly opened and fixed on a point on the floor.
"If thoughts come into your head, think them then let them go," said Nakagaki. "When you're sitting, your body becomes a mountain. Whatever comes, rainfall, crowds, the mountain is still there." After meditation, Buddhists chant. In the Shin Buddhist Service Book, the Japanese chants are transliterated and their pitches are denoted in horizontal lines stemming from a vertical line. Practitioners memorize the chants, which praise the Buddha's enlightened wisdom, and each chant is a sutra. Nakagaki explained
to the group that sutra is connected to the word suture, as in a text sewing the Buddha's words together.
Nakagaki reflected on the nature of comparative religion, saying that Western religion tends to be more linear, with a beginning and end point, while Eastern religion is circular; indeed, one of the main symbols of Buddhism is the wheel, symbolizing that the beginning is the end and the end is the beginning. He also explained that Theravada Buddhism is closer to Catholicism in its conservative approach to the teachings of the Buddha, whereas Mahayana is more like Protestantism. Theravada is a rural tradition and Mahayana comes from the city.
"All paths are different, but all reach enlightenment," said Nakagaki.
He ended his teaching with a lovingkindness meditation. "May I be happy, well and peaceful," he intoned. "May my parents and all my relatives be happy, well and peaceful." He expressed wishes for his friends, enemies, neighbors, those who live in his city, his country, his world, all animals and plants, all sentient beings, all future generations to be happy, well and peaceful and free from suffering, pain and attachment. Then he placed his hands together and bowed his head.
Aaron Schumm, an MBA student at Duke who said he was looking for an
alternative to the Christianity he was raised with, was impressed with the evening's lessons.
"I'm a big fan of awareness and respectfulness," said Schumm outside the temple later that evening. "No one's aware so I find that interesting. And attunement with your surroundings, you look at things in a different light. This gives you a different perspective."
As for whether he would incorporate the teachings he'd just learned,
Schumm had mixed thoughts.
"I like the meditation part, I can't relax. But I'm not going to sit around my apartment and chant."







