Buddhism – Interreligious Dialogue in Scotland

Interfaith Insights 3 – Zen Buddhism

Welcome to our third “Interfaith Insights” conversation.
In this interview Anthony MacIsaac learns more about Zen Buddhism from long time friend, theoretical physicist, and Bruce Lee admirer, Neil Warrack, a Zen Buddhist living in Glasgow.

Anthony Macisaac

Anthony: As I understand it, you are Zen Buddhist. Perhaps you could give me a rundown of what drew you to this, and of where Zen stands in relation to other forms of Buddhism?

Neil: My first interest in Eastern traditions and philosophies probably came via martial arts and, in particular, Bruce Lee movies. A good friend introduced me to Bruce Lee via the film “Enter The Dragon”, which certainly left an impression. I ended up videotaping “Way of The Dragon” which was on TV late one night; in that film – which I watched endlessly – I saw clearly in his character what all Buddhists would recognise as ‘right thought’ and ‘right speech’, two aspects of the Noble Eightfold Path.

I read about the martial art he developed, Jeet Kune Do, and was very interested in the underlying philosophy which was one of ‘no form’, which is like developing a selection-box of techniques from different formalised martial arts which would allow a fighter to respond without thought or constraint. I guess there is an advantage to being less predictable in a fight, but his approach also had a notion of ‘this is all you need’.

As a person he seemed content – I was attracted to that. There was also something about his disciplined nature that I loved. The idea that discipline ‘in the right direction’ can produce, eventually, unconstrained action is something that still attracts me. It reminds me of a jazz musician using a repetitious practice just so they can get up on stage and play something they have never played before. It seemed like a nice form of freedom.

Years later, whilst studying abroad in Hong Kong, a Zen Monk who was living at the halls of residence with us taught a group of us some very basic meditation techniques. I loved the apparent simplicity of it and the feeling that everyone was welcome and equally ready to start Zen meditation. When I moved back home to Glasgow, I looked up a local Zen group and headed along, not long after that, I guess I had the thought of, “OK – so, I’m a Zen Buddhist now.”

Compared to other forms of Buddhism, I think Zen is characterised by its emphasis on meditation practice. Zen is a word derived from another word meaning ‘meditation’. Certainly, as I’ve experienced it, meditation is an extremely important part of Zen that is probably central in the life of anyone who calls themself a ‘Zen Buddhist’.

Anthony: If we had to speak of God, how would you approach this?

Neil: You and I have often spoken of God and, although I don’t believe in a being who created the universe at some other time before I existed, I think we are often talking about the same thing and I certainly think we understand and agree with each other a lot of the time, despite the differences in the way we use language. I think we are both often verbally dancing around the fact that we see ourselves as being a part of something much, much bigger.

I find monotheistic religions often speak of a God who wants us to be a certain way, and non-theistic religions, like Taoism for example, speak of a ‘way’ that is natural or preferable in some sense. I find these two ideas are often in agreement when it comes to some of the big-picture things. It’s perhaps a bit funny to put it like this, but I believe that God is the thing that doesn’t require my belief. God is that thing which persists, regardless of my personal opinions. God is love, yes, and kindness and compassion, of course. But for me God is also hate, frustration and sadness as well. These things arise despite our beliefs! To follow that logic, I believe God is also sandwiches and traffic lights and all those other, less-dramatic, things.

I find conversations about faith so fascinating when I feel a deep agreement between two people who may seem to have very different ways of looking at the world. You and I studied physics together and, at its core, physics is the process of asking the question, “What can we, as individual humans, agree upon?” We call those agreeable notions ‘facts’ and say they point to some larger, more fundamental, truth; a truth that doesn’t care about our differing private opinions. Physics and Buddhism agree that we are part of a very big ‘whole’, the universe, but I think we can go even further and say that not only are we part of something bigger but that there really isn’t a very good notion of ourselves at all. That’s because it isn’t needed by Buddhism or by physics, and it can often be detrimental to our realisation of what is true.

The ‘self’ doesn’t really exist in Buddhism in any sort of fundamental way, and in the physics of quantum theory we also have no notion of ‘self’, although physicists don’t really use that word. In our currently popular form of quantum theory, we have the notion of ‘measurement’, to put this another way, we have the mathematical description of an observation, but there is no real ‘observer’ in the maths. There is no bit of the calculations that you can point to and say, “That’s the thing that is observing!” Most quantum theorists probably agree that this is slightly unsatisfactory or maybe just that it is a little non-intuitive, but the theory doesn’t require an observer at all. Our assumption that someone must be the observer leads us directly to logical paradoxes. We get into confused thinking just by imposing our own opinions and ideas onto that which is in front of our eyes. I love the phrase in the American declaration of independence that goes, “We hold these truths to be self-evident”. For me physics and religion, and all life, is about exploring that which is truly “self-evident”, I think when I speak of God, I’m speaking about something which, hopefully one day, we can all agree is clear and self-evident.

Anthony: To move away from pure theology, how is your community organised? You told me before that you have a Roshi (master), and perhaps you can tell me more about this relationship. It sounds similar to the role of a Spiritual Director in Catholic Christianity.

Neil: We have, in our Glasgow ‘Sangha’ a ‘Sensei’. The Sangha is just the Buddhist community. The whole world is a Sangha really, but in our own local one we have a qualified teacher who we call Sensei. This is a person who has had their insight verified by someone who has had their insight verified by some who has had their insight verified by…. you get the idea. We have Roshis and other Senseis in our larger Sangha; connected groups in Sweden, Finland, the U.S.A, and elsewhere. Roshi means ‘old master’ or ‘old teacher’ and it is usually honorific, at least in our tradition. Besides Senseis and Roshis, which you might call ‘teachers’, we have Priests and Abbots who are trained in the wider areas of Buddhist tradition, philosophy and ritual. It is common for a teacher to be a Priest or an Abbot, but it is not essential. Likewise, we have Priests who are not teachers. I think it would be reasonable to think of a Roshi as a spiritual director, although I’m not 100% what that means in Catholicism!

Anthony: You have spoken before about the idea of illusion and enlightenment. As we move away from maya (illusion) towards the ‘real’, what might we experience? In other words, what might enlightenment feel like? If I understand correctly, it will certainly mean that our language becomes somewhat redundant, and that we may enter into a form of experience that can’t quite be expressed. I’d also ask here about the role of Buddhist scriptures – to what extent do these help?

Neil: I think words are powerful, but they have a slippery dynamic nature, I think that’s apparent whenever people take something the wrong way, which seems to happen all the time! But, to go a bit further than that, words are often used as a way to communicate, and we are often communicating ideas like, for example, ‘murder is wrong’ or ‘I need to catch my train before lunch’. I think Buddhism is a tradition of exploring something which is not an idea. Of course, reality can be conceptualised, but it is obviously more than just a concept and Buddhism is a framework of sorts to explore reality in a way which moves away from conceptualisation. The term often used is ‘direct experience’. My teacher often says, ‘we have a lot of ideas – we probably don’t need any more’.

So, if I can talk of enlightenment at all then it is perhaps best to say that it’s about directly experiencing our world in a way that is a little bit more aware of our very human preoccupation with conceptualising everything. We believe our conceptualisations very readily and this belief is an attachment that is not required by nature. I think of ideas as being sticky; some ideas are a bit sticky; others are really sticky. Buddhism says that our ideas, and any associated ‘stickiness’ they may have, are essentially a form of delusion and enlightenment is about becoming unstuck, or realising that there is, in fact, nothing for ideas to even stick to. The whole thing gets difficult (even sticky itself) when we talk about it, but I guess that’s part of the fun?

Anthony: Finally, you have a masters in theoretical physics and are currently completing a research masters in experimental particle physics, what impact do your physics studies have on your Buddhism and vice-versa? I’m also interested in whether there is an interplay between your Buddhism and your work as a musician.

Neil: In truth, my Buddhist practice cannot be separated from any other aspect of my life, be that studying physics, playing music, or eating breakfast. So it’s everywhere.

If the benefits of meditation practice, for example, didn’t extend outside the realm of those moments of meditation, why would I bother?

This must be true of all religious practice; it changes the way you move around in the world and the way you experience things. I suspect most Christians aren’t playing a gamble of ‘if I am good now, then I get heaven later’. That would be hard to maintain for a lifetime without any real daily payoff, we all like to see returns in the short term, right?

To be a bit less vague, my Buddhist practice allows me to deal with the emotional bits of life in a more complete and fulfilling way. This way, I feel like I feel more, it’s good. I believe that meditation can also help with concentration. Before I developed a regular meditation practice, playing music seems to have been my meditation. It puts you right there in the moment and you learn to lean on something that requires no thought, especially when playing with others; there is a wordless communication that never ceases, if you care to tap into it, and you can sort of sit back and watch it all happen. And when it’s flowing and you are ‘in the zone’, there really are no wrong answers, there’s just the music, calling and responding to itself, and sometimes it’s really enjoyable… and sometimes it’s really not.

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Aug 9 2023

Thai Buddhists reaffirm friendship and fraternity with Catholic Church

Buddhism, Interfaith Dialogue

On 15th June 2023 a Buddhist Delegation from Thailand met with representatives of the Dicastery for Interreligious Dialogue in the Vatican. Having been due to meet with the Pope who was recovering from surgery, the delegation left him a letter of prayers and well-wishes.

One minute of silent reflection “to really bring everyone here and now” opened the meeting between a delegation of Buddhist monks, and their entourage, and representatives of the Dicastery for Interreligious Dialogue at the Augustinianum on Thursday 15 June.

The delegation had been due to meet with Pope Francis during their two-day visit to the Vatican, but due to the Holy Father’s ongoing recovery in Hospital, they wrote him a letter, signed by the Venerable Somdet Phra Mahathirachan, Abbot of the Royal Temple of Wat Phra Cetuphon, instead.

The delegation from Thailand consisting of around eighty people, was made up of members of the Supreme Sangha Council of Thailand, the Sangha Assembly of Wat Phra Chetuphon, the Regulatory Office for Overseas Dhammaduta Bhikkhus and the Staff of the King Prajadhipok’s Institute, convened in the main hall of the Augustininum institute. There they were joined by members of the Dicastery for Interreligious Dialogue, including Cardinal Miguel Angel Ayuso, Prefect of the Dicastery, and Msgr. Indunil Kodithuwakku.

The letter to Pope Francis, written in Italian on behalf of all the members of the delegation, as well as the Archbishop of Chiang Mai, Francesco Saverio Vira Arpondratana and the Embassies of Thailand to Italy and to the Holy See, opened with assurance to the Holy Father that they hold him deeply in their prayers.

The delegation members recounted their activities in the Vatican, including having prayed for peace and having paid a visit to the tomb of the late Pope Benedict XVI. The monks then lead everyone to pray for Pope Francis, wishing him a speedy recovery.

In his address to the delegation, Cardinal Miguel Ángel Ayuso, Prefect of the Dicastery for Interreligious Dialogue, reiterated the prayers of the Buddhist delegation for the Holy Father’s wellbeing, and reminded them that we share, as friends do, “the same joys, sorrows, concerns and visions”. The two delegations, Catholic and Buddhist, in fact, do represent a pilgrimage of friends, the Cardinal continued, one which Pope Francis has witnessed.

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Sep 1 2022

Interfaith Parish Ministry

Buddhism, Hinduism, Interfaith Dialogue, Islam, Sikhism

By Fr Gerard Mitchell SJ, St Aloysius Parish, Glasgow

images Jesus in the gospel challenges his host and his friends to extend their horizons and to offer hospitality to people who are not part of their cosy and select little social scene. He challenges them to move out beyond the familiar, to what is strange and unsettling and messy and foreign to them

How might this be done in the world in which we live today? One way might be this.

For twelve years I lived and worked and ministered in Southall in West London. What gives Southall its uniqueness is the fact that, within a one and a half mile radius of the church, some 60 different religious groups meet at least once a week for

congregational worship. It is difficult to imagine the existence of a more multifaith parish anywhere else in the world than Saint Anselm’s Southall. One cannot move more than a few hundred yards without passing the entrance of a church, mosque, mandir or gurdwara. The Sikh community alone has established close to ten places of worship in Southall.

When I first moved there after ten years in leafy Wimbledon it seemed that, suddenly, I found myself in a totally different country. Exotic, novel, strange, different with crowded and bustling streets awash with Salwar kamiz and saris, turbans and chunnis of many hues. On first being driven along Southall Broadway I found myself thrilled, quite taken by surprise and convulsed with joyous laughter.

All through their lives, many people of faith will, out of choice, never cross the threshold of a place of worship of a tradition other than their own. It may be for a variety of reasons. Often, perhaps, it is out shyness or nervousness in the face of something apparently so different and strange.

After so many years of walking the streets of Southall as a pilgrim I must confess that I still did not always find it easy to cross the threshold of the other for the first time.

Perhaps the words of the gospel are particularly helpful in negotiating the way in such circumstances: when you are a guest, make your way to the lowest place and sit there, so that, when your host comes, he may say, “My friend, move up higher.” In that way, everyone with you at the table will see you honoured. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the man who humbles will be exalted.

Certainly experience, repeatedly teaches that a warm welcome is extended to the stranger in every place. Of course, there are customs to consider when you visit a place of worship: you must be prepared to cover your head here, or to remove your shoes there, or to do both in another place. A respectful attitude, however, is something you are indeed expected to have.

In other faiths, one encounters differences rooted in ancient traditions, often derived from sacred scriptures, that have nourished the faith of millions for thousands of years. These differences may find their expression in unfamiliar practices, and in rituals which have grown in complexity over the ages. Accepting the other means that one accepts not only that differences may exist, but also that there may be something to learn from them.

On such visits many personal contacts are established, walls of ignorance and suspicion start to crumble, the opportunity to start building bridges of friendship may eagerly be grasped. In a multifaith community like Southall, this demands acceptance of the other on the level of faith. In turn, this requires learning about the other and meeting the other on the level of faith. Much of this is achieved through visits to the others’ places of worship.

There is created between people of faith who accept each other a common bond which helps to weave together the rich and diverse strands to be found in a multiracial and multicultural society. Such experiences often deepen our own faith and help us to learn more about the ways of God with human beings.

As Pope John Paul II used to put it “Interreligious dialogue is ‘not so much an idea to be studied as a way of living in positive relationship with others’ (Pope John Paul II 1990). It is Listening respectfully, lovingly and openly in the spirit of Christ. It is emptying ourselves so that the other’s real identity can be disclosed. It is to imitate Jesus who sees the beauty of the divine image in every person who comes to him.

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Mar 2 2022

Saving St Mungo’s Museum

Bahai, Buddhism, Christianity, Festivals, Hinduism, Interfaith Dialogue, Islam, Judaism, Latest Updates, Scotland, Sikhism

by Sr Isabel Smyth SND

On 17^th February Glasgow City Council announced its budget for the forthcoming year and plans for post-covid recovery. Included in that budget is the statement “ As well as confirming the funding to keep all local libraries open, it will also allocate more than £1 million to reopen community centres and public halls, and £650k to reopen the much-loved St Mungo’s Museum and Provand’s Lordship” This feels like a victory for all those who campaigned tirelessly for the council to keep local libraries, museums and community centres open. Was this part of the budget the result of that campaigning, did Glasgow City Council listen to the voices of its citizens and realise how committed people were to their cultural and community centres, recognising the value they have in the ethos and development of a city.

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I was involved in the campaign to save St Mungo’s Museum or Religious Life and Art so that it would keep its interfaith and multifaith focus. Glasgow Life had indicated that its plan was to enter into an agreement with Historic Environment Scotland who own Glasgow Cathedral to revamp the Cathedral precinct to attract more visitors to the historic centre of Glasgow. This revamp would include St Mungo’s Museum and could mean a change in its focus to link more clearly with the history of the Cathedral. This has not yet been resolved but it is surely in keeping with the Christian origins of Glasgow to show its growth as the multifaith city, committed to social and interfaith harmony, that it has become.

The idea of a Museum of Religious Life and Art was the brainchild of Mark O’Neill, at that time Senior Curator of History with Gl. Museums. From the outset it was developed with a socially driven purpose, expressed in the mission statement:

to explore the importance of religion in people’s everyday lives across the world and across time, aiming to promote mutual understanding and respect between people of different faiths and none.

Mark and his team were convinced that if the museum was to live up to this vision stakeholders would have to be consulted and included in the museum’s development – even in the decision to call it The St Mungo Museum of Religious Life and Art. The stakeholders were the various faith communities in Glasgow as well as the Glasgow Sharing of Faiths, the first and, at that time, only interfaith group in Scotland. All these groups were approached and involved – donating artefacts and giving suggestions about the layout. Once opened the museum became a centre for interfaith celebrations and dialogues and because of the involvement of faith communities from its inception the Museum felt very much like a home from home. It did indeed become a much loved venue and the thought of it closing was like a bereavement and loss of what was considered a safe and neutral space to conduct what were sometimes difficult dialogues.

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The Museum opened on 4^th April 1993, one of only two Museums of Religion in Europe. Now there are more and many of those setting up similar museums came to Glasgow to learn from the St. Mungo experience. For these interfaith friends the thought of St Mungo’s closing or even changing its focus seemed incredible and many of them added their voices of protest to those of Glaswegians and the thousands of people who signed the petition instigated by Interfaith Glasgow.

This is not the first time that there have been plans to close St Mungo’s Museum, nor the first time it has been saved. It’s as though Glasgow Council needs to be reminded from time to time of its significance and the important contribution it makes to good community relations. Hopefully that no matter what future developments there might be stakeholders from Glasgow’s diverse religious communities, interfaith organisations, and anti-sectarian organisations will be consulted.

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May 11 2021

The St Mungo Museum

Bahai, Buddhism, Christianity, Festivals, Hinduism, Interfaith Dialogue, Islam, Judaism, Scotland, Sikhism

by Sr Isabel Smyth SND

The St Mungo Museum of Religious Life and Art is a very special place. It’s named after Glasgow’s patron saint who brought the Christian faith to Scotland in the 6th century and designed in the style of the medieval Bishops’ Castle on which site it’s built. When it was opened in 1993 it was one of only two museums of religions in Europe though there were Christian monasteries and churches that had been converted into or housed displays of religion. What made St Mungo’s different was that it included all religions and none and in the 1990s this wasn’t very popular especially with the Christian Churches, many of whom had a theology of believing they had an exclusive insight into truth and salvation and weren’t at all sure about displaying artefacts from ‘non-christian’ faiths. What challenged many of them was that the Gallery of Religious Life showed that all faiths celebrated, ritualised, and customised significant moments in life – birth, initiation, commitment, marriage, death. The displays honoured the integrity of each faith but showed their similarities. I delighted to see statues of the Virgin Mary with her son Jesus next to the Goddess Isis with her son Horus in exactly the same pose, or the infant Jesus next to the infant Krishna. This did annoy some people, but part of interfaith work is to realise that all want to celebrate significant rites of passage and that there are universal symbols and commonalities in the way they do this. It should also be said of course that it attracted a lot of praise and recognition for being ground-breaking and innovative and for significant artefacts like the statue of Siva Nataraja and the first authentic zen garden in Britain.

When the museum was being set up the curators worked hard to involve stakeholders and be inclusive of all faiths. Through the Glasgow Sharing of Faiths, faith communities were kept informed of developments, were consulted about the displays, and even contributed to them. Because of this the various faith communities felt they had an investment in the museum. In a very special way, it felt like home to them, and was used to celebrate festivals and events like the exhibition on the Declaration Towards a Global Ethic which was brought to Glasgow by Hans Kung who had presented it and had it accepted at the Parliament of World Religions in 1993, the same year the museum opened. But above all the museum became a centre for interfaith activity.

The mission statement of St Mungo’s says that it is designed to ‘explore the importance of religion in people’s everyday lives across the world and across time, aiming to promote mutual understanding and respect between people of different faiths and none’. As an interfaith practitioner I’ve had a lot to do with the museum and been greatly supported in my work by the curator, manager and staff. For about fifteen years we hosted an annual Meet Your Neighbour event which happened over a weekend but took an interfaith committee many months to plan. Different religious communities set up a display of their faith in the function room and were available to meet and talk to visitors. The weekend was punctuated by musical or cultural events, like the Jewish Choral Society, Hindu dancers, bellringers, tabla and sitar players. We had workshops on storytelling, sari wearing. Mehndi, calligraphy. We involved schools and on occasions when we decided on a concert on the Sunday afternoon, we had people standing by the zen garden with the doors and windows open so that they could hear the concert as there were no seats left in the function room. Sometimes the dialogues were of a more serious nature and in the run up to the reconvening of the Scottish Parliament in 1999 it was where members of faith communities gathered to consider what the New Scotland would be like for people of faith.

It was in the light of these discussions that the Scottish Interfaith Consultative Group was formed and this then led to the setting up of the Scottish Interfaith Council which today is known as Interfaith Scotland. The Council was started with very little – myself as the founding director, the gift of a computer from my community and the use of an office in St Mungo’s. This consolidated the relationship between the Museum and SIFC and we continued to work well together. For us St Mungo’s became the home to our dialogues with First Ministers, religious leaders, interfaith practitioners from England, Ireland, and Wales. It’s where we grew and developed. We eventually had to move out when we got funding to appoint staff and even then we were given an office by Glasgow Life, the body that runs Glasgow Museums. And continued to work together especially in projects such as the setting up of the Forum of Faiths by Glasgow City Council.

I think it’s obvious that St Mungo’s Museum is very close to my heart and I hope it’s obvious that it has fulfilled its mission well and contributed positively to the social fabric of Glasgow. So, I am appalled and dismayed that there is some likelihood that it might not open after the pandemic. The suggestion that the Council is looking to transfer the museum to a third party is worrying. St Mungo’s is unique, it has made a significant contribution to overcome racism, sectarianism and religious prejudice. It has worked with faith communities, school children and others to promote mutual understanding, respect and cooperation. It has involved stakeholders in a way no other museum has and to shut it would be a disgrace as far as I am concerned. It’s something that must be contested.

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128038490 Pilgrim Monument Alto Del Perdon Camino De Santiago Pilgrimage Site

Jan 17 2021

Virtual Pilgrimages

Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Religious Practice

By Anthony MacIsaac

During the difficulties imposed by Covid-19 many of our religious habits have necessarily changed. Among these are habits of prayer, personal and collective. One especially profound form of prayer is the pilgrimage, which has been affected extraordinarily. At its root, the concept of pilgrimage involves leaving one’s normal space, to enter into sacred space. To leave oneself (along with any notions of selfishness) and to be embraced by a living and selfless whole. When we make pilgrimage to a particular site, we indeed walk the paths on which countless others have trod, living and dead. We enter into communion with them, even if an unseen communion, and we focalise that onto a particular space. We might call this focal-point a kind of Divine presence in the world around us. It is indeed a kind of deep communion with God.

pic_1518594231 It is impossible to conceive of any religion that doesn’t include some concept of pilgrimage. Islam makes it one of the Five Pillars to its religion – the Hajj. Every adult Muslim is expected to make this journey at some point in their life, even if only by great difficulty. The Holy site of Mecca is itself rather illusive, despite being at the centre of this rite. It’s Ka’bah is popularly considered to have been built by Adam, and to have been re-built by Abraham. These legendary associations transform this figurative “House of God” into a focal-point for all Humanity, in the first instance, and then into an Abrahamic shrine. Pilgrimage to Mecca thereby accomplishes, for Muslims, a return to their source (Allah) and to the foundation of His relationship with Humanity. They fulfil religious obligation in making a journey of prayer to this site, and return home uplifted. For Jews and Christians both, Jerusalem is the central space by contrast (Muslims make a secondary pilgrimage there nonetheless). By Biblical narrative, this city was the site upon which God blessed Abraham – through Melchizedek, its King – and upon which His Chosen Nation was founded centuries later. In the New Testament, it was the city in which Jesus Christ was to be suffer His Passion, Death, Resurrection and Ascension. It was also the city in which Pentecost was to come, and from which the Gospel would leave to reach the ends of the earth. So that, in making pilgrimage to Jerusalem, there are again the two key notions of returning to a Divine source and leaving rejuvenated by that source, to bring its joy to others.

article-2059042-0EB7BDCD00000578-46_634x416 In the tradition of Hinduism, the ancient city of Varanasi holds especial significance for pilgrimage. Within its boundaries is the sacred river Ganges, which is of great importance to most Hindus, as a river in which they might wash away their sins. The city itself was reputedly founded by Shiva, who beheaded his rival Brahma. Brahma’s head was lost by Shiva, and fell into the ground, therefore making the land encompassed by Varanasi absolutely sacred in Hindu belief. Varanasi is crucial also to many Buddhists – the Gautama Buddha having given his first sermons not far from the centre of the city, at Sarnath. For Sikhs, there is the city of Amritsar, which hosts the Golden Temple. The city’s name translates as “Pool of the Nectar of Immortality” – returning us to the theme of a space’s power to transform us from within – and it was founded alongside the temple by Guru Arjan.

The above sites are just some of myriad different locations venerated in religions around the world. Each religious tradition will usually have a plurality of sacred spaces. This returns us to the effects of Covid-19. In the first instance, we have found that making great pilgrimages to great places has been an impossibility. Yet, what some of us might have recovered is a sense of the Holy in Nature around us – which is an even more fundamental source of the Divine than any Holy city, we might say. Whether we walk in a nearby park, or look to the night sky – we are able to sense something greater than ourselves within Nature. Granted, many of us live in busy cities and it is difficult to recover any of this sense. Parks might be closed, the night skies covered in artificial light. However, we still might have so many other little spaces of prayer around us – if we are fortunate. Our local Church, Masjid or Synagogue can become that source of the Divine in our life – we can make pilgrimage to it. Of course it is clear that the imagination becomes important with all of this. We are perhaps re-thinking our space around us. Seeing beauty in Nature, even when hard to spot, and appreciating the Holy in everyday religious life. The Catholic Church has certainly encouraged virtual pilgrimage throughout the pandemic, and perhaps other religious groups have also done so. In November, the Holy See even declared that a virtual visit made to a cemetery would allow us to obtain a Plenary Indulgence – which we would be free to offer to anyone buried there, or perhaps to anyone buried anywhere. Such a virtual pilgrimage as this didn’t presuppose the Internet – it went beyond that. We were told that even the act of imagining a visit made to the graveside, perhaps just the act of imagining our loved one, would bring this Indulgence. The emphasis on individual spirituality has taken centre-stage in this declaration. Through our own personal contemplative life, we can access the full bounties of God despite being so very confined in this difficult pandemic. For this winter season, the Christians among us (but others too if they desire) might stop to make a virtual pilgrimage – a pilgrimage of the heart – to Bethlehem. This has been the idea of the Christmas crib, for so long, and it would surely bring great benefits to us – even equalling those we would gain by making a physical visit to Bethlehem itself. There are no distances in God.

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Jul 20 2020

Solitude

Buddhism, Christianity, Interfaith Dialogue, Islam, Judaism, Religious Practice, Scotland

From the Blog of Sr Isabel Smyth – Interfaith Journeys

This week I went to an online interfaith meeting on solitude, something that has been a reality for some people during the self- isolation of this coronavirus period. For everyone it’s been a difficult time. For some it’s been the separation from friends and family that’s been hard while for others it’s the juggling of working from home with home schooling and entertaining children that’s been stressful and exhausting. For others it’s been keeping alive their businesses and organisations. That has been true of the interfaith world. There have been so many possibilities to join in interfaith dialogues, not just at home but all over the world. Sometimes it has felt that there have been just too many invitations and I’ve resisted a lot of them because I’ve appreciated the space and time for solitude away from diaries and meetings. I’ve resisted filling up my time with too much busyness. Of course there have been zoom and skype contacts so that I’ve not been at all lonely.

Solitude has a place in the Christian tradition. The celibate life of nuns and priests is seen as a legitimate calling which frees a person from the responsibilities of family to devote themselves to prayer and contemplation as well as service to the community. Being without a lifelong partner means there is a certain solitude about religious life, an aloneness even when living in community though that doesn’t necessarily mean loneliness. We have probably all experienced a feeling of loneliness in the middle of a crowd and a feeling of connectedness when alone by ourselves. But not all faiths value solitude.

Judaism is a religion that focuses very strongly on the family and community. Private, individual prayer is not as important as community prayer or living according to a tradition that re-members the past and reinforces membership of a people in a particular relationship with God. The text chosen for our recent scriptural reasoning event on solitude was the story from the book of Exodus of Moses spending 40 days and nights on Mt Sinai in conversation with God and in preparation for the gift of the Torah. The interpreter on the passage asked: was Moses truly alone if he were in the presence of God and since this time of solitude was a preparation for the giving of Torah then it was directed towards community which is at the heart of Judaism.

The Muslim presenter talked about three kinds of solitude in Islam which connects well with the Jewish view: preparatory solitude, whispering solitude and forbidden solitude. All the prophets including Mohammed, Moses, Jesus spent some time in solitude, in prayer and fasting, as a preparation for revelation. For Moses this revelation was the giving of the Torah, for Mohammed it was the revelation of the Qur’an and for Jesus it was the revelation of his mission to preach the presence of the Kingdom of God amongst us. Prophets are spokespersons, mirrors that reflect the greatness of God. To be effective they need to be purified, emptied of self and totally open to God’s voice and for this, a time of intense prayer and solitude is necessary. Whispering solitude occurs at moments when we can withdraw and disconnect from all around us to enter into the inner silence of our hearts to pray, listen to God, to remember that God is closer to us than our jugular vein. Forbidden solitude is the kind of solitude that leads us to withdraw totally from family, community or society responsibilities. It’s the kind of solitude that stops us engaging with the reality of the world around us, rather than preparing us to enter into it and serve it.

The Christian presenter was from the reformed tradition which, he pointed out, didn’t, until recently, value solitude in the way that the Catholic and Orthodox traditions did. The text he commented on was the Gospel of Mark’s account of Jesus’ time in the desert after his baptism in the River Jordan. We are told in Mark that is was the Holy Spirit, the One who is said to have descended on Jesus at his baptism who drove him into the desert where he remained for 40 days and 40 nights without eating, living among the wild beasts and ministered to by angels. In the other gospels there is an account of how Jesus was tempted during that time as to his identity and mission. This side of solitude shows the reality of having to face ourselves, our fears, compromises, our masks, our desire for ease and approval. Solitude is not just about communing with God or discerning His will. It is also about facing the wild beasts within all of us – wild beasts that we happily ignore or suppress in the busyness of life. But wild beasts that we need to face and even befriend if we are to be free and loving human beings.

For people of faith solitude is important but it has to be understood correctly. We’re never alone because we are in the presence of God and interconnected to all of creation; it’s good for us to face up to and be honest with ourselves; it’s important that our solitude does not lead us to disregard the world in which we live but becomes a preparation for honest and loving service, even if that be mainly through prayer. It’s an opportunity to see things afresh. Coronavirus has offered us that opportunity. I hope we haven’t squandered it.

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May 26 2020

Lockdown on Holy Isle

Buddhism, Interfaith Dialogue, Religious Practice, Scotland

A Guest Blog by Niamh Margaret Dillon. Niamh is a parishioner of St Augustine’s Church, Milton, and has spent lockdown on Holy Isle during her gap year. Niamh will soon go to study law at Edinburgh University.

*Volunteers on a pilgrimage to St Molaise’ cave in celebration of his feast day. Photo courtesy of Kevin Curtis. www.kevintjcurtis.com*

The Holy Isle lies across from Arran, spanning only two miles in length but 1000 ft high, and is, at certain times of the year, almost totally obscured by the mist and rain typical to this climate. Unassuming as it may sound, the small island is home to something very big: a vibrant spiritual community, with a remarkably rich history that marks it as having long been a sacred space, and a place where people – irrespective of background or faith – gather together on retreat, or to work in service of the land.

When I first arrived here in early March, expecting to stay for just three weeks, talk of coronavirus was barely on the radar. My thoughts were more directed on how I was feeling to be embarking on this new and wholly unfamiliar adventure. Yet not for a moment did I expect to love and be moved by it quite so much in the way I have, nor to still be living here two months on.

Upon reflection, as someone who had only known city life till this point, it was a much bigger transition than I even realised at the time- but an apt and welcome one. The island is populated more by animals – goats, soay sheep, and Eriskay ponies – than by people and, during March, the winter retreat was ongoing; meaning, for the most part, the centre and its inhabitants were in silence. So stirring was trying to process a completely new perspective on living, it’s easy to miss how this environment gradually moulds you over just a short space of time.

There’s a concept in Buddhism of ‘voidness’- the closest English translation from the original Tibetan phrase- fully explained to me by 80-year-old Yeshe Sid, long-time resident, as well as my only fellow Glaswegian on the island.

*80-year-old Yeshe Sid, originally from Glasgow, in the mandala flower garden*

“The best mediation is awareness,” he says. “[The principle of] voidness is recognising the empty space that exists within everything. The space that fills us is the same as the space that is in nature.”

This relates to why many choose to spend their time on Holy Isle in silence.

“By choosing not to speak, you become more mindful of your words and what you’re filling the empty space with. By not putting energy into filling this space, you allow yourself to direct your energy to your mind.”

It allows you to look within, and is rooted in mindfulness in all you do- reflecting on the question of ‘Is it meaningful?‘ It’s easy to practice this when in meditation or prayer, but exercising these principles in everyday life is the real task for all of us. I feel, without even being fully aware of this development as it was happening, I’ve gained more clarity; a heightened awareness of my own habits and thought processes.

That sense of meaningfulness is palpable in all aspects of life here. One realises the gravity of even the smallest tasks when rooted in the value of service, and carried out in honour of the island. It’s been a real lesson observing the mindfulness and heart that volunteers apply to duties such as preparing meals, cleaning, and harvesting – to name a few. It’s a special way of making everyone feel involved and part of the holistic body of the land, showing us how powerful what we do and say can be; an expression of working together towards similar, yet simple, outcomes.

I’ve delighted so much in learning from the wonderful residents of the island, exploring with them skills that are as fulfilling as they are practical, but that seem to be dying out in modern-day life. There’s something spiritually significant and rewarding about relearning trades that would have been commonplace for our ancestors. Being able to source a material back to its origins in the earth – a hat made from gathering wool the sheep begin to shed at this time of year, or planting something you know will eventually end up on your plate – is a gratifying, significant process. It is fruit of the hard work and devotion of the Holy Islanders, and now, an important aspect of living I had never before considered. Lockdown aside, so greatly was I revelling in exploring all these new practices, and in the joy of the company, I had already begun thinking about extending my stay.

The coronavirus has brought the world to a halt. It’s further exposed the fragilities and unsustainability of an already-ailing system, and brought into focus what we really value. In amongst the inevitable fear and confusion have arisen heartening stories that speak to the resilience of communities. There’s a special synchronicity apparent to me here – both on Holy Isle and ‘the outside world’, communities were the thing that came to the forefront. Whilst it seemed like everything else our society knows was crumbling, community was the thing that demonstrated both effectiveness in dealing with an unprecedented challenge, and the staying power to match. It’s been uplifting hearing stories from my own area of Glasgow, about the generosity among neighbours, and to see the endless dedication of our local food initiative and similar projects in ensuring no one falls through the cracks during lockdown.

Many people have commented how glad I must be I didn’t opt to spend my gap year in Thailand, or some similar quintessential destination, and they’re right. However, this isn’t just because of the uncanny timing in relation to the pandemic. How fortunate we on Holy Isle are to be some of the only people in Europe who can be close to one another, share meals together, and be in nature as we please is not lost on me for a moment. But, moreover, because connecting with the communities and cultures on my doorstep, in my own country, has been infinitely more fulfilling and fruitful than travelling to a far-flung destination ever could have been. Sitting so close to home just off the west coast of Ayrshire, to me this enchanting island is an exciting hub of interfaith work in Scotland. Both an accumulation and inspiring vision of all our nation can be and has to offer, epitomised in the warmth of the community – devised of residents, notably, from all walks of life and parts of the world-, the enigmatic energies that have been recurrently and inexplicably drawn to it throughout the ages, and the story of St Molaise himself – the son of Scottish and Irish royalty – who spent ten years here in solitude.

Until 1992, Holy Isle was in possession of a devoted Catholic woman who, following visions from the Virgin Mary, handed it over to the Kagyu Samye Ling Buddhist Monastery. These origins are, in themselves, magical. The co-operation and unspoken understanding between two different faiths has led to the development of a project as wonderfully blessed, healing, and steadfast as this one.

I have been so impacted by this little island. I think often of how loud life will seem when I step off the train at Glasgow Central Station- whenever that day may come- into a changed post-coronavirus world that I have been so removed from. Yet I’m assured in the knowledge that the lessons and stillness of this precious time on Holy Isle during lockdown is something I’ll carry with me always.

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Nov 24 2019

Mindfulness

Buddhism, Christianity, Islam, Religious Practice

By Anthony MacIsaac

Lately, over the past few years, the practice of “Mindfulness” has gained credence in the domain of psychology and general wellbeing. It’s been one of the new crazes, with people keen to know more about it and incorporate it into their routine. To be sure, there are various benefits to this, and it is worth realising how closely tied it all is to religion and faith life.

Throughout the world religions, there is great agreement about the necessity of meditation within prayer life. Taking the time to centre oneself, to let go of worries and concerns, and to feel union with God. For Christianity, this meditation has long been associated with finding His presence amidst the Sacraments. The ancient phenomenon of Eucharistic Adoration in the Catholic Church is making a comeback, and the faithful might sit before the Consecrated host for hours. Sometimes they might even fall asleep! Not out of disrespect, but out of the sheer comfort and peace they feel in the Lord’s company. Some of them might focus on intercessory prayer, asking for Blessings, and others might simply want to reflect on God’s goodness – either in the grand narrative of Biblical history, or in how it has played out in their own lives. In the Monasteries the slow reading of the Scriptures – “Lectio Divina” – has long been a staple of the Monks’ routine. Allowing the Word to enter in to the soul, allowing it to digest within, and to give inspiration for the present. Here we might think of the symbolism in the Bible, with Prophets from Ezekiel to Jeremiah to St. John the Divine, commanded to “Eat the scroll” given them by God’s Angel. If Scripture is to have any effect in religious life, it must be approached reverantly, with reflective spirit and gentle mind. Here there can be no room for violent or coarse interpretation, which so damages the religious life.

In Islam too, we have a rich tradition of meditation in prayer life and in approaching the Qu’ran. The Sufis exemplify this best, maybe, but there are also many examples in the mainstream. Whether on pilgrimage to Jerusalem or Mecca, or whether taking time out of the day to pray slowly in the Mosque, there are various opportunities for meditation. In the Islamic tradition, the central tenant within this reflection is surrender to the Will of God. Practically, this might mean accepting and assimilating difficult experiences in life, and building resilence for the future. In other words, we find much of the same net result here as we do with traditional Christianity. There might be small differences in how we understand the Divine Will, altering how we approach difficult situations, but these have little effect on the experience itself of meditation. With the Scripture, often the Qu’ran is sung in beautiful Arabic verse, and while many Muslims across the world don’t understand Arabic – just as many Catholics don’t know Latin – the experience of listening to such rendition is cherished. The mystery of the Book, and its profundity, is encapsulated in such “Lectio Divina”. Occasionally, we hear the Bible sung at Mass in Orthodox and Catholic Churches also – though this is reserved for the most solemn of occasions.

Within Buddhism there is arguably one of the strongest traditions of meditative life in the world. Certainly with Zen Buddhism, the whole emphasis is on reflective living. People might take some time out in the Monastery to meditate and find inner peace, over a few weeks or a few months. Very rarely would they stay for a lifetime. Come what may, however, the idea is to come away from these retreats refreshed and better able to live in Enlightenment. This may simply mean to live with gentle consideration, thoughtfulness in all that one does, and reverence for everything life has to offer. One subtle difference in the meditative practices of Zen, as compared to the Abrahamic monotheisms, is that is often seeks the void. It focusses, quite deliberately, on nothing. Or, in some traditions, on absurdities such as the “sound of one hand clapping”. The idea is that there is peace and understanding to be found in this void, devoid of any ideas, words or dogma. There is the debate to be had as to whether “Nothing” actually exists. Some would argue, from the mathematical point of view, that “Nothing” is just an empty set and therefore “Something”. Is God to be found in the void? Indeed, for the Abrahamic faiths, He created out of nothing. However, leaving these questions aside, the net effect of such Buddhist meditation seems also to be positive in its own way. As much as the self is negated within this tradition, it finds more and more actuality in being at one with Nature. This self-negation is perhaps just what our Muslim brothers and sisters are aiming for when surrending to the Divine Will, and what Christians are doing when they unite in Communion with the source of all reality – God. In the end, God seems to become all, and we subsumed within Him.

So for the secular practice of Mindfulness, what can we say? It seems that the central similarities are already there – though perhaps with more points of contact to the Buddhist tradition, in that there aren’t any doctrines attached to the practice. That being said, with Mindfulness, there is a crucial point of departure from this. In Mindfulness, we are encouraged to pay attention to our thoughts and our mind, as we relax and begin to meditate peacefully. We are not necessarily exhorted to abandon all thought entirely, or think about irrational phrases like the “One hand clapping”. The focus is on mental and physical well-being, so the whole therapy seems designed to reap the corresponding benefits attached to the apparently exclusive religious practice of meditation. It stops short with spirituality, and in many ways it might provide a good gateway into religious life for some people. Or at least help them understand what it might be like to pray. Some scientists have argued that we might find common neurological states, within the brain, for prayer across all religious traditions. This may well be the same for Mindfulness.

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Jul 9 2019

Holidays

Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism, Religious Practice, Scotland

By Sr Isabel Smyth

The holiday period has come to Scotland and with it some sunshine which is a welcome change. Everything and everyone looks so much brighter, happier and friendlier. Holidays are important in our lives. Originally they would have been associated with holy days – festivals which would have given a break from work to allow families and communities to come together to celebrate and remember significant moments in their community’s life. This was a way of reconnecting, of enjoying a change of routine and often diet, of taking time for fun and laughter away from the drudgery of normal living.

Today holidays are often an opportunity to visit new places and meet new friends. But they have not lost their sacred significance as moments to renew and refresh our spirit as well as our bodies. Today life is so hectic that people find it difficult to switch off even on holiday or their holidays themselves become a frantic pursuit of new experiences and new challenges. The Jewish community can teach us something about switching off. Every week Jews observe the Sabbath, a day on which they rest from normal work to spend time with their family and, for those who are religious, to give time to prayer and study of the scriptures. They do this in imitation of God who, according to the scriptures, rested on the seventh day of creation and commanded His people to do likewise.

Resting for the Jewish community, and for all those who follow the Judaeo-Christian tradition, is a divine act, an act of worship, an act of renewal and celebration. This celebration of Sabbath tells me that often there is a deeply human truth hidden in what seems to be a religious belief or ritual. We all need Sabbath times, holidays and holy days to renew and refresh our spirit, to savour and enjoy life. Without these our work will be ineffective and we will be in danger of suffering burn-out or some other illness. But we also need Sabbath moments—moments when we can be quiet, still the mind and return to the space within us to restore our spirit and get in touch with our inner wisdom. And Buddhism offers a practice for doing just this. Mindfulness, focusing on the present moment is now used by the NHS to help people who are depressed or have a mental illness.

It is something we could all do with practising.

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