My experiences in Dallas this spring helped further my understanding of Christianity and its interactions with other religions. I grew up in a relatively sheltered church, and my exposure to different denominations, let alone religions, was very limited. I did participate in a Spring Break missions trip last year, which exposed me to Catholicism and traditional religion in Panama, and my Christian high school provided eight weeks of instruction in different religions, but that is hardly a sufficient introduction. As we drove to Dallas, I contemplated two questions. First, what exactly am I about to see? Second, how will I change who I am as a result of my discoveries? The Dallas trip solidified my faith in Christ by contrasting the works-based religion of other people with loving salvation.
I was admittedly nervous as we walked up to the Hindu temple. The new sights and sounds were a little shocking, and I hadn’t a clue what to expect inside. Our hosts were lovely, however, and soon put me at ease. I remember touring the meditation room upstairs and marveling at the interconnectedness of Asian religions. I still struggle to comprehend how the Sikhs, Jains, Hindus, and Buddhists can all manage to cohabitate in relative peace and even embrace later prophets as further revelations of their own founders. The Om symbol dominated the upstairs room, but I was also drawn to the image of the Buddha among the dozens of images. The colors and scents were a refreshing change to my Western senses, but I couldn’t connect well with the Hindu ideology.
The Theravada Buddhist temple earned my greatest attention. I cannot understand the appeal of Buddhist nirvana, but I appreciate the practices undertaken to obtain it. The beautiful paintings along the walls and the steps outside helped divide my attention from the outside world, and I was very attune to what Ken was saying. I kept thinking of the high school students and what they must have been feeling then. Ken’s story of being a lawyer then businessman then beggar then monk resonated with my opinions on Buddhism and its appeal to wealthier, jaded Americans.
The Sikhs were so very welcoming, and I was overly enchanted with the chai tea, I admit. The service itself seemed like a scene out of Bollywood, but I liked the repetitive chanting and enthusiasm for the Adi Granth. I especially noted the presence of children and how they were encouraged to participate in the service.
The Jewish synagogue caught me off guard with how much I wanted to participate more fully in the service. The words were beautiful, and I loved the repetition of the Torah and their reverence towards God. I compared their enthusiasm and community with many Christian services, and I was sorely disappointed. Or perhaps I was just saddened by how Neal’s Kippah kept falling off his afro.
I appreciated my time in Dallas, and I did my best to keep my eyes and ears open, but I was very grateful to be back in a Christian service on Sunday morning. Worshipping my Savior and Redeemer felt surprisingly beautiful and refreshing after a weekend of watching others praise their gods. My response since then has been an increased renewal of my faith and vigor in evangelism. I find myself praying with friends more often, because I appreciate that privilege. Exposure to other religions broke my heart, and I have an increased burden to share the gospel.
