For the “Path to Light” series, Michael McIntyre conducts an interview for the Community Communique with a speaker who wishes to remain anonymous. This interview was conducted in February of 2014. You are reading Part 1 of 3.
MM: It is my understanding that you wish this interview to be anonymous?
XX: That’s correct.
What led you to International Community of Christ?
Well, there were strong influences from the time I was three, a Rabbi, several Catholic priests, Buddhist monk, and a Hindu mystic. All these before my eighteenth birthday.
How did they influence you?
It was not so much that they changed my person, my core, but shifted my perspective. Actually a lot of what they passed on to me did not surface until after joining the Community. I was pretty hardheaded in my early years.
What do mean by “shifted your perspective”?
Umm, . . . One day this Buddhist monk, his name was Sahn, was explaining that it was important to not kill any living thing without warrant because it was possible that this ‘living thing’ could be the reborn life of a once-human being. He then went on to explain reincarnation, the best he could; I mean, I was just seven years old. This was all very peculiar to me. Fantasy. Like the Easter bunny, Santa Claus. Then a couple weeks later I was explaining the phenomenon of ‘snow’ to him. He was in utter disbelief. We were in the tropics at this time, where he had lived his whole life, and it never snowed in this part of the world. Few people had televisions, radio was a luxury, it was isolated.
Anyway, he kept shaking his head in disbelief and several times stated how such a thing was impossible. Finally I convinced him of the reality of ‘snow,’ and it came across in his face: he believed me. At that moment it occurred to me that reincarnation could be a real thing. Just because I had never seen or recognized reincarnation, just like Sahn had never seen snow, it didn’t mean that these things weren’t real.
So, then, you understood reincarnation? You believed in it.
No, not necessarily. But it opened me up. I realized I was conditioned by my upbringing and that it was shallow: to think that only one point of view or construct could be correct and that all others had to be excluded.
You’re seven. And you were thinking in these terms?
Maybe not in those exact words, but certainly those exact ideas.
So, this is when your—let’s say—the journey of your spirit began?
No, I was interested in basketball, chess, and girls, but these episodes with Sahn, and there were many, left me to be interested in other religions and a respect for those traditions. At the time, in the early sixties, this view was absent in American culture. The rule then was if you didn’t adhere to the Christian faction, you were doomed. I remember, and it was for a couple days, my father took us on a tour of the Buddhist temples in the area. It was a cultural thing; he loved history.
So we’re in the Temple of the Golden Buddha, which I found out was actually made of brass—the Buddha statue was really brass—all the monks were seated in their orange robes; incense was burning; people were bringing flowers for offering, and my sister was seated right next to me. She was eight at the time. The monks are softly chanting these little prayers, with their hands folded, while making repeated bowing gestures towards the Buddha icon. My sister, being the good little conformist, folds her hands and begins making the same bowing gestures just like monks. My mother was horrified, [and] promptly interrupts my sister’s display, and when leaving the temple remarks to her, “You can’t do those things, you’ll end up in hell.” My immediate response was, “That’s silly mom, she not going to hell for bowing in front of the Golden Buddha.” Nevertheless my mother was convinced, and she was an educated woman; she taught at universities. Even today some people still think like that.
Even though you were just in elementary school, your views were pretty progressive for the time.
It wasn’t really me so much; it was Sahn. Sahn gave that to me. I still love the man. One day I meet him, and he’s carrying a small bundle of bamboo sticks in one of his hands [and says]: “Come with me. I want you to see this.” He brings me to a patioed area, like a big carport, and lays the sticks on an eating table that has newspaper, rice, and some twine. He snaps the sticks and twines them in the form of a cross.
“What are doing, Sahn?”
“You’ll see.”
He breaks and twines the remaining bamboo, puts it altogether in the form of a diamond and lays it on a piece of newspaper. “You’re making a kite! I love kites.” “That’s right.” He grabs the small bowl of rice, folds the newspaper edges and begins pasting them together with rice. “Is that rice really going to work, Sahn?”
“Always has. But it has to dry for a while”
Couple hours later we’re airborne. Follow me here, I’m going to tie it together with the next story.
A few months later my father takes us oceanside for a week. He has an extra boardinghouse, so he invites Sahn and a few other locals. Early one morning, Sahn and I awake before everyone else. He says, “Let’s go down to the beach.” We’re walking along, and he stops. ”See that temple house on the jungle cliff over there?” “Yes. It’s big.” “That’s the King’s house. He stays there when he comes to the ocean.” “Can we go?” Sahn laughed. “Well no, I don’t think they will let us in. He’s not there, anyway.” The tide had just receded; the sand was wet, and we stopped again “XX, see those little marks in the sand?” “Yes.” “Ok, follow them. See where they go. . .Right there!” Sahn kneels down where the markings end and gently starts digging. I have absolutely no idea what he is thinking. Thirty seconds later he lifts this crab up by one of its legs, holds it in front of my face and says “See? Now, let’s see if you can do the next one.” It reminded me of the kite. This man, this monk, had no tools, no weapons, no technology, just his head and two hands, and he did these things. At that point I realized knowledge was the most prized tool and that some things were secret from public knowledge: for that you needed the good fortune of a Teacher. A half-hour later we show up at the boarding house, where the locals were, and open this cloth bag filled with crabs. They all start whistling and clapping, cooked up the crabs along with rice, and invited me to sit down for breakfast. This was rare; they never did this with white people, nor did they speak English other than with Sahn.
Thinking back on it, I believe, in part, Sahn orchestrated the whole crab episode with premeditation in order to show these locals that white people aren’t just these strangers in our land, they are much like us. He was a very intelligent man.
< PART 2 >
