In the person of Nembutsu opens up the great path of unobstructed freedom. 

"Tannisho, A Shin Buddhist Classic," trans. by Taitetsu Unno

Personal Stories: Responses to Shin Buddhism ...

D.M., Texas                     

You mentioned my spiritual odyssey, and it has indeed been curious. Actually I have been friendly disposed towards Jodo Shinshu ever since 1960 (40 years ago!), when I read a book called, "Buddhism and Jodo Shinshu." Prior to that, I had seen only anthologies by the likes of Christmas Humphreys and Edward Conze or Zen books by Suzuki and others. When I was in college in the late '40s, I took the correspondence course from the British Buddhist Society, which leaned mostly towards Theravada. All of these authors convinced me that Buddhism was wonderful, but I, the happily married father of a young family, could not possibly be a Buddhist myself. I had no desire whatsoever to become a monk.

"Buddhism and Jodo Shinshu," however, showed that there exists a Buddhism which is for anyone, even for the likes of me. I read the book over and over, underlining passages and wearing out the pages. I immediately loved the "Tannisho," which was included in the book, and have marveled at it ever since. I also subscribed to the magazine, "The American Buddhist," and received it for many years. However, my way through the door of Shinshu was stopped dead by a remark by Rennyo: "There must not be even a dewdrop of doubt" (V.21). How is such a thing possible? How can there not be a dewdrop of doubt? I have always had rivers of doubt -- oceans. How could I just will them to dry up and disappear?

After graduating from college in Mexico, I went to theological seminary, first at Princeton and then at Philadelphia Lutheran, on your old stomping ground of Germantown Avenue in Mount Airy. Existentialism was in vogue in those days, and I, too, was taken up by it. Existentialism, not the Bible, was the key to faith. The Bible was analyzed like any other piece of ancient literature, and thus it became a problem, not a solution. The Christian had to make an existential leap of faith. Once we had arrived on the other side of the chasm, we were told, everything would look different. But I teetered on the brink, unwilling to jump into space.

Finally I chose the Eastern Orthodox Church precisely to avoid the existential leap. The Eastern Church was a historical entity, something which could be seen and experienced. It was there as an actual fact and had been there for centuries, perhaps even back to the time of Christ. If Christ were true, his handiwork must be true, too. We could see and experience this handiwork (so ran the argument) in this ancient Church, which was His very Body. I was ordained a priest in 1953 and began parish work the next year.

For the next five years I served in parishes of the Syrian Archdiocese, which at that time was the only Orthodox jurisdiction encouraging the use of English. However, instead of an existential leap I now had to make a cultural leap, from Philadelphia to Lebanon. The one was as difficult as the other.

By 1960, I had gone from from full-time pastor to part-time pastor and full-time educator. (It was then I began reading on Jodo Shinshu.) In 1962, we moved to Wayne, Pennsylvania, where I joined the faculty of Valley Forge Military Academy. There I remained for 15 years, eventually retiring as a colonel and chairman of the Foreign Language Department.

One day an old friend of mine, who had become an Orthodox bishop, paid me a visit and begged me to take an Albanian parish in Connecticut. I asked him, "What are Albanians like?" "They are the nicest people in the world," he replied, "and the best cooks." It turned out he was right on both counts. I served the Connecticut parish for thirteen fruitful years, retiring in 1987 as an Archpriest. It was while I was teaching in Pennsylvania in the 1960s that I first came upon the Nichiren Buddhists, or rather, they came upon me. Some Sokagakkai missionaries approached me on the streets of Philadelphia, and soon I was attending meetings and trying to figure out what they meant by "Gohonzon" and "benefits." Neither seemed very Buddhistic to me, but I was able to gather a lot of material for my future book, "Fire in the Lotus."

By the early 1970s, Reiyukai had entered the mission field, too. They advertised a guided tour to "find Buddha in beautiful Japan" at a very reasonable price, so one of my daughters and I took them up on their offer. We had a grand time although we learned more about fellowship and veneration of ancestors than we did about Buddhism. President Kubo, though, struck me as a good man and a serious scholar. Reiyukai recruited me to speak at their centers in Japan and write articles and even a book in English on Buddhism.

During one of my trips to Japan, I met Murano Sensei, who was then teaching at Rissho University. He took me to the Head Temple of Nichiren Shu to meet the Lord Abbot. Later on Nichiren Shu had me do some English books for them. Murano and I liked each other from he start, and as the years passed we became good friends. He stayed at our place in Connecticut and I at his in Hawaii on a number of occasions. I helped him with his revision of the Lotus Sutra in English, and he helped me gather material for my book on Nichiren Buddhism. One of his sons visited us in Texas, and our son went to see him in Japan. After my retirement from the ministry, I began to write a lot of material on Nichiren Buddhism and considered myself a disciple of Murano Sensei even though I still could not accept all the tenets of Nichirenism.

We exchanged so many letters than he even published some of them in a small book, which he published in 1998. While I was in the Church, I always firmly believed that I must be loyal to the ecclesiastical authorities who had appointed me and the people who depended on me. I was careful not to mix my Buddhist avocation with my Christian vocation (although once a newspaper writer after interviewing me did just that, labeling me a "Buddhist Christian"). Likewise, in my Buddhist studies I felt I must remain loyal to my good teacher, Murano, and wait until he died before striking out on my own. But he seems to have no intention of dying, bless his heart!

Meanwhile I continued studying Shinshu. I read your Shinran's "Gospel of Pure Grace" 20 years ago and took your correspondence course 10 years ago, learning much from both. I also read everything available in English by Shinran and even struggled with some of his Japanese writings. Frankly, I have always found Shinran far more convincing than Nichiren. The latter is pedantic and academic, while the former is philosophical and personal. However, that dewdrop of doubt would not vanish away.

What finally began to crack things open was my trip to Korea in May. There I found Pure Land expounded as an integral part of Mahayana as a whole, capable of illuminating Zen, esotericism, or Tendai. At the same time, the deficiencies of Chinese Pure Land practice became glaringly apparent, too, and it was Shinran who had revealed and resolved these deficiencies. Chinese Pure Land stresses continuous and mindful chanting of the Name. Everything comes to a head at the moment of death. 

The whole fate of the devotee hinges on that last second of life. If he gets distracted for one instant, all his years of practice will have been in vain. If he can keep his mind fixed on Amida, he is destined for the Pure Land. But if his attention wanders to anything else -- his wife or his children, for instance -- he is doomed. One of the books I brought back from Korea contains a whole chapter devoted to the special care friends and family must give to the patient during his last moments to make certain that nothing distracts him from steady concentration on Amida Buddha. Instead of assurance, the practitioner faces the most dreadful test of his life.

Here the Shinshu Creed speaks with special force: "We believe that the assurance of our rebirth through his Salvation comes at the very moment we put our Faith in him," that is, when we see with clarity, not when we struggle with the pangs of death. As for my dewdrops of doubt, they are part of my makeup. I cannot change them. Amida accepts me as I am, dewdrops and all.

N.J., California            

I was reared Southern Baptist, learning to fear a punishing God. My early years were spent cultivating guilt, shame, and the knowledge that I would never be a good person, but always a sinner. As so many, during my teens I rebelled, refusing to step foot in the church. I spent the following decades searching, but I couldn't tell you what I was searching for. Finding myself abandoned at age 38, with an 8-month-old baby and no job, I returned to the religion of my youth. There was comfort in familiarity. But that year reaffirmed the reasoning I left twenty years earlier. I left, more mentally defeated than before.

Having been unable to find employment, and knowing my son had only me to take care of him, I counted my losses, moved from San Diego to Bakersfield in order to return to college. Living in Bakersfield is much easier (read "cheaper") to live in when going to college, working part time, and raising a child on your own. I am in my senior year, majoring in history.

During this time, I ventured into a new age group. Their main concern was meditating, through self-hypnotism, in order to acquire material things. This supposedly was all that was needed to make a person happy. This materialistic view always bothered me. I have, over the years, learned to live simply, and this type of lifestyle was just not for me. But I felt that perhaps the teachings of this group, along with hypnotherapy and life regression, could help me control this great anger that permeated in and around me. It didn't. But through this experience I did gain a steadfast belief in reincarnation, and knowing there was a place that all people go, after death, a way station of sorts, to re-group before being re-born.

Therefore, when I had to take a required course on religion, I chose Religions of India. This class, surprisingly, was almost too easy for me. It seemed everything being taught was already a part of me. But when we came to Buddhism in the latter part of the course, I was blown away!

"Living Buddha, Living Christ," by Thich Nhat Hanh was the required text for this particular portion of the course. Here were answers to questions I've had for so very long. Needless to say, the following lectures on Buddhism, and the explanation of what the "Pure Land" was had me enraptured. But it wasn't until the professor, after hearing my explanation to his question on what we perceived as "One-Self" looked directly at me in class and said, "Nancy, you're a Buddhist, but you just don't know it yet." I left class that day in a sort of haze. I thought about his statement, and my enthusiasm for the material, and the whole of everything that led me to this point in my life. My professor is right, I am a Buddhist but now I know it.

It was only this past March (2000) that all of this happened. Not a very long time ago, but I feel I've come home. My anger has slowly dissipated with the knowledge gained with Buddhism. Then began my search for the basics. The Internet is a great source of information. But at times the amount of information becomes overwhelming. I found some fantastic web sites; many that help converts to Jodo Shinshu who find accessibility to a temple either hard or non-existent.

I flirted with Zen, of course, hasn't everyone? But found too much emphasis on finding a teacher and a Sangha both are unavailable in my area of the world, frustrating. Continuing my search, I found, on the Internet, a meditation group located in Long Beach, and was accepted, via telephone, to consider them my Sangha. They specialized in Theravadan Buddhism, which I found to be intellectually stimulating, but also very solitary. It was suggested I buy "A Gradual Awakening" written by Stephen Levine, in order to help me learn to meditate. All of the self-hypnotism really messed me up when it comes to meditating. The book made me realize not only how weak my mind is (millions of jumping monkeys!), but also how little time I actually had to meditate.

Being a full time Mom to a very healthy three-year-old, a full time student, and working part time made the jumping monkeys in my mind the least of my distractions! Also, I found the monasticism involved was definitely not my cup of tea. I am a people person, and I love to talk and touch! (And write J!) So, I turned to Thich Nhat Hahn and began reading "The Teachings of Buddha." I felt I needed to know the succinct background of Buddhism before all else.

It was during this time I discovered the Shin Forum and joined. I didn't know what Shin was, but did know this forum dealt with Buddhism, and perhaps I could pick up some pointers. At first all I received from the letters being sent to the forum was mass confusion. Just what were these people talking about? So, being the good historic researcher I am I begin looking up anything and everything on the net that had a Shin, Jodo Shin, or Jodo Shinshu in it. And I read and read. The more I found, the more interested I became.

Now my greatest challenge came to the forefront. I live in a city of two hundred thirty seven thousand, two hundred twenty-two people. There are seven full pages in the yellow pages listing various churches, including one Islamic Mosque and one Sikh Temple. There are no Buddhist Temples listed. One was built in June of this past year, a Thai Temple. Since the opening, they have kept very low key. Simply stated, Buddhism, and specifically Jodo Shinshu is relatively unheard of here.

I did find a Betsuin in a town 200 miles north of here, in Fresno, and visited it some months back. I enjoyed being there very much but find the drive, 200 miles up and back in one day, rather daunting.

So, I keep myself busy reading books sent to me from my friends, and reading the Forum. But still, I feel so isolated. This too, will pass. I have been "doing" things to help propagate Jodo Shinshu in my area. My hope is that some day I will be able to start a Ko here in this town.

One of the first things I did, is order a "Buddha fish." This fish goes on your car, like the Christian fish, but it is rather fat, with the word "Buddha" in it. Yes, it gets noticed. And yes, many comment on it. I've not had any bad remarks, just questions.

I've also had many interesting conversations with my friends. When I get stumped, which is often, I turn to my mentors I've been fortunate to meet on the internet, for answers. This allows me to feel not so isolated.

Another site I've found, that may be of help is http://www.vbtemple.org/ -- This is a great site for isolated beginners, they have a complete daily tradition in Sanbutsuge, Juseige and Junirai, available in Japanese, English and in audio.

And by writing to the Society for Buddhist Understanding, one can receive "The Teaching of Buddha" for an $8.00 donation, or free if you can't afford it. I recommend this book to any Buddhist, it is one to be kept bedside to read again and again. The address for this is:

Society for Buddhist Understanding
16925 E. Gale Avenue
City of Industry, CA 91745 
(626)369-5035

Also, I have a friend who is working on "Dharma Talks" on tape. I find this a fascinating and long awaited program for those of us who are isolated or unable to attend Jodo Shinshu temples. As this program progresses, I will let everyone know.

Also, I believe that we can all help one another, via e-mail, telephone, and in person, just by being available, and being open-minded. We are all from different backgrounds but have one goal, to be reborn in the Pure Land.

P.S. Kentucky       

The Name-that-calls has been seeking me for lifetimes, it seems; whispers of its voice finding me in the depths and crevasses of my involuted and wilful human career. At several crucial junctures I have stopped to listen, and each time I breathlessly echoed my thank you, but my monkey mind would grow impatient and bored and I would be off to my next shiny moment.