Just when I’d lost all hope in Humanity…

I’m taking a class called Sociology of religion. The core of the course surrounds the effects of religion on society and the effects of society on religion. As part of the class I was required to visit two places of worship I’ve never been to and write a report on each of them. I’d like to share my experience with one of the places I visited, Louisville’s Vietnamese Buddhist Association (4600 South 6th Street Louisville, KY). I had a rough understanding of the Buddhist religion from my studies in World Religions with Dr. Fuller, and I have a few friends who claim Buddhism as their faith. But I was completely unprepared for what I found in the tiny little building.
At first I was a little uncomfortable being one of only two Caucasians in a small building crowded with Vietnamese. We noticed very early on that the only other people in the building who spoke English were the children who spoke it as a second language, but were not allowed in the service. John (who is in the class with me) and I were pretty much on our own to interpret the rituals and scripture. The whole experience was awe inspiring. I would just like to say that although I felt out of place as an English speaking Caucasian (which has never actually happened to me before) I did not feel judged in the least bit by anyone at the Vietnamese Buddhist Association. I never got any questioning looks from anyone in the congregation, and I was truly touched by one woman who approached me before the service and said “Nice to meet you.” in broken English. It was probably the only phrase in my language that she knew, but she wanted to make me feel welcome, and she did.
The building itself looked like it used to be a store or office of some type. There were glass double doors and large windows in the front which were tinted. Other than the large statue of The Buddha out front there was no real indication that the building was used for religious purposes until the service was held. All doors and windows were opened in spite of the chill to the early afternoon air, and candles and offerings were placed outside around the statue as colorful flags waved above the small building.
The room in which the service was held was about the size of a normal classroom, the walls were painted a cheery yellow, and the carpet was soft and red. The room was brightly lit from the open windows and on the red carpet every two or three feet sat a portable little stand holding a large packet of Xeroxed text. At the front of the little room stood an enormous altar stretching from the floor to the ceiling with fresh flowers and lit candles, containers of water, fresh fruit, and a huge, colorful statue of The Buddha. Framing the altar on the wall was a painting of a serene forest and lake. I can’t adequately describe the beauty and color of this altar; suffice it to say that I could hardly take my eyes off of it throughout the service.
Although the building itself was packed with people of various ages, there were only about twenty-five people attending the service, the youngest of which was probably no younger than 14. Most of the congregation was elderly or in middle age, at 19 I was definitely one of the youngest in attendance. The gender makeup was roughly half and half, with females on the right side of the room and males on the left. I would like to stress that John and I were the only two Caucasians in the building everyone else was Vietnamese. Performance during the service was thunderous and enthusiastic; I noticed that there was an amazing attention to the individual’s worship as opposed to the congregation as a whole. At the beginning and end of the service the room was filled with drums and bells as we stood facing the Buddha. We bowed slightly, faced the altar, then dropped to our knees and placed our heads the floor, then stood and did it over again. The congregation sat on the floor, legs crossed, with straight posture for most of the service as they chanted the offered text. For over an hour straight the entire congregation recited the text (written in Vietnamese) in front of them to a rhythm being offered by a gentleman playing on a wooden bell, and periodically another gentleman would sound a large metal bell signaling the congregation to bow slightly toward the Buddha. The service itself was roughly two hours long, the overall mood was festive and spiritually moving.
Two Monks sat at the front of the congregation with their backs turned facing the Buddha; they led the recitation, almost singing what the rest of the congregation was speaking to rhythm. There were the two men who provided the sound, one on each side of the altar, one on the wooden bell, and one on the metal bell. The Monks (who were the only members in the whole service who spoke by themselves) were dynamic during worship, however, when they addressed the congregation at the end of the service they were very gentle and soft spoken in spite of the microphone in front of them. The Monks wore bright orange and yellow robes, while all the other older members of the congregation wore light blue-grey robes over their slacks and sweaters. There was not much interaction between anyone during the service, however at the end the Monks were friendly and open to questions and I was pleased when the younger of the two Monks came to me specifically (an obvious outsider) and bowed respectively, I returned his respect. In my entire life I have never been to a religious service which was so moving. I could tell that everyone there WANTED to be there.
Now, I’d like to point out that I also attended a Catholic Church for this project, a 99% white, English speaking congregation. While I was there I felt so uncomfortable, so judged. Nobody talked to me, and as I turned to shake the hands of those around me during Peace, I was greeted with disapproving looks. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of that church. I hope this puts into perspective the exact level of my astonishment at the fellowship I was greeted with in a place I could have expected to feel so alienated. I’m going back to the Buddhist Temple, this time with an interpreter - We know some Vietnamese girls at school who attend the same temple. I guess my point is that I had another instance in my life were I was completely blown away by society, and it felt really god to have some of my faith in humanity (and maybe my faith itself) restored. So here’s hoping that all of you can find your own experience like this…