The Words of the Bowles Family
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The Words of the Bowles Family |
John Bowles has been a missionary since 1975 to countries in the Middle East and central Asia. In 1979, as missionary to the Tibetan people living in exile in India and Nepal, he began working on a book which explains the Divine Principle from the viewpoint of Buddhism. Here is some of his testimony about how he came to write this book.
In December 1979, I was assigned as a foreign missionary to work with the Tibetan refugees who had been driven into exile in India and Nepal by the Chinese conquest of Tibet in the 1950's.
In the past, I had worked only in Moslem countries, in desert and jungle terrain. But now came the opportunity to meet people from the Buddhist religion and a mountain culture.
The differences I found between the Tibetans and anything I'd ever seen before were startling. They are extremely spiritual or psychic oriented. The spirit world plays such an integral part of the people's lives, not just the monks who actually study and practice psychic arts, but even ordinary laymen who express no outward interest in spiritual things.
After meeting and talking with Tibetan leaders, parents and students for one year, it became clear that we were miles apart in conceptual thinking and life outlook. They came from the cold and rugged, wind-swept plateaus of the High Himalayan mountain ranges in central Asia and practiced an old Tantric form of Buddhism, VAJRAYANA, known to westerners only as a bizarre and strange cult of psychic powers, chanting, wild deities and demons.
The age of Buddhism began 2500 years ago in India which already had a culture 2000 years old. Buddhism in Tibet began more than 1500 years ago, when it was wedded to the ancient Tibetan Bon religion, whose roots stretch far back into the unknown reaches of the past. Yet, here 1 came, the newcomer, from a modern western society -- Christian, middle-class Oklahoma. My hometown, Enid, is less than 100 hundred years old, my country less than three hundred and my religion (the Unification Church) less than 40 years old.
We were living in two completely different worlds, they and I. The young was meeting the old. West was meeting East. At the time, 1 was studying the fascinating Tibetan language, but could converse only with those who spoke English. When we would try to talk about transcendental things; God, man's spiritual self or the Ultimate Purpose of Life, even though we both would be speaking in English, our give and take always bogged down and I would feel so sad that such a beautiful treasure as we had in the Principle couldn't be shared fully. The Tibetan people, so kind and friendly and deep in character of heart, became like my own children. But still we were painfully separated by a great chasm of seemingly irreconcilable differences of language, culture and religion. How could we ever meet? I prayed often for God to guide and inspire me about how to bridge this awful gulf that separated me from my beloved people.
This led to the decision to write a book of some kind to serve as a witnessing aide. It had to be neutral enough not to take sides in the Buddhist-Christian confrontation, as I had heard expressed by Christian writers about Buddhism and by Buddhist writers about Christianity. The value of salvation from sin through Christ was undeniable, but the integrity of Tibetan family life and Buddhist humility were desperately needed in arrogant and egotistical western Christian society.
Gradually, in working amongst the Tibetan people, it became apparent that both Buddhism and Christianity contained unique aspects the other needed, not just for some fashionable ecumenical dialogue, but for their very existence and survival. Each needed the other's element of truth in an undistorted and uncompromised form. Their separation and rivalry had to be ended, but how to write such a book? I was not an writer by any means, and not schooled in the doctrinal technicalities of either religion. I could only do my best to open my heart to both Buddhist and Christian goodness and truth, trusting that God would assist me beyond my limitations.
My formal research for the book began in New Delhi, in the heat of the summer of July 1981, by reading several books and pamphlets written by Buddhist authors, including one of quotes by Buddha himself. Great struggles occurred within me in trying to comprehend what these fellows were talking about. "What attracted them to Buddhism?" I thought, "And why do they defend such seemingly absurd ideas, such as `the negation of the ego,' the 'quest for emptiness,' and the meaning of 'the void, the non-void, and immaculate non-substance'! This is crazy."
I mentioned to my Japanese brother and his wife, who were missionaries to India, that the Buddhist ideas appeared absurd and meaningless to me. They seemed to feel sorry for me in my struggle to penetrate 5000 years of religious and cultural separation and they expressed support and encouragement. So I continued to struggle as I pressed on through the summer to learn what God was trying to say through these men of the East.
One definite feeling inside me at the time was fear of what I would have to do if I came to realize that what these Buddhists were saying was true. I would have to follow and live by it. Yes, I felt threatened at that stage, but I had to continue and accept what God was leading me into. God? Even my notion of God was being threatened. Some essential and fundamental rock bottom change was approaching -- I could feel it. I was still too much a "western man" and realized more deeply what True Father had been saying to the western members about us becoming more universal.
One aspect of this conflict in my heart about the Buddhist teachings was resolved before I left for Nepal in October that year; I realized that, as impressive as their teachings might be, in 2500 years of history Buddhists had not created an ideal society, culture or world. Thus it became clear that not only did each of the two religions have something the other needed, but each possessed some weakness that had to be removed in order to fulfill the ideals each professed, but had never fully achieved. Respect had to be shown for both religions and a truly humble attitude taken in offering any critique of someone else's religious beliefs.
The first manuscript of the book was written in seven winter weeks amongst the Himalayas of Nepal. The center was in Kathmandu, the ancient capital. I pushed myself hard to write eight or ten hours a day, interspersed with trips to the post office and walks in the cold dark nights. Every evening power cuts left me with no electricity, so many candles were used to write by. This added to an atmosphere already made eerie by the worship of demons and ghosts and wild deities, which permeates that Hindu- Buddhist society. The pigeons that were so noisy and bothersome on my tin roof were said to be very auspicious signs of good fortune, but their scratching made more strange the mood of that period.
As the days passed and I sat at the little desk writing (not too bothered by the termites, ants or lizards of the house), I came to love the creation more and more. Often I sat in meditation, looking out the window at an ancient Buddhist temple on the far distant hillside, the site of one of the first temples ever built 2300 years ago. It was easy to feel this work of writing a book to unite eastern and western people as being very historical. I could feel God anxious to bring us together and how long He had waited for me, or someone, to finally arrive and bring His precious message of hope.
Many inspirations came, both in the warm afternoon sunshine and the cold dark nights, with only a couple of flickering candles for light. Slowly the vague and subtle meaning of eastern thought became clearer.
The "I" that Buddha said we must destroy by our own effort, and which caused me worry, is actually our ego-centered fallen nature which me must get rid of by our self. The impermanent "self" he said would wither away and disappear by the very changing nature of the universe is our physical body. After much reflection on this "changing" characteristic which Buddhism teaches so emphatically as the base of all existence, (i.e. "nothing is permanent"), I began to realize that Buddha was emphasizing the aspect of existence which is called, in Unification Thought, "developing quadruple base." He was not emphasizing the "identity maintaining quadruple base."
I recall writing to my fiancee, Claire, from Kathmancbi on October 25, 1981:
"Writing this book is not only very hard work, but such an adventure -- I'm amazed! I'm discovering new dimensions of the Principle I never knew before. I find myself saying, 'Oh, so that's what that means,' or `Ah-ha, so that's why Father said that.' The Principle has become almost totally renewed for me. It's exciting. Upon studying the Buddhist view of the creation, I had a very moving experience of regaining some of the vibrant rapport I had had with the creation during my college years in 1965-70. It came upon me quite unexpectedly. I'd become so cerebral toward the creation these past years, I felt really ashamed. I immediately apologized to the different parts of the creation, telling each part how sorry I was to have taken it for granted. This led me to examine more carefully my relationships with other people also. That needs some improvement too."
The Buddha always taught that what man really needed in order to escape this fallen and confused world of Samsara (or suffering) was peace of mind and soul so that he could begin to see things as they really are and not the distortions his busy life-style creates for him. As the Principle teaches, the first fallen nature was the failure of Lucifer to see Adam and Eve as they really were -- Son and Daughter of God. Therefore, in order to be able to have true relationships with other persons and the things of the Creation, we must be able to see them clearly as they really are -- beautiful and living beings; all energy, atoms, stars, plants, animals and man -- breathing the love of God. Discovering the value of this peace of mind was mentioned in a letter to Claire on November 15:
Kathmandu, Nepal:
"Some ye! nice understandings have come which you'll like. Some are probably what you were trying to say all along. In fact, the gaining control of 'energy' and 'being' is just exactly what you have been trying to tell me... the importance of finding inner peace. I never knew why you talked about inner peace so much, but now I think I can begin to understand. I need that kind of peace very much, desperately even. If not, I will dissipate myself and all God has hoped for me to do. I really have to acknowledge your wisdom."
Soon after I arrived back in Delhi to plan the next phase of my work with the Tibetan refugees, an anonymous phone call came for me from the Delhi airport simply saying for me to call New York -- urgent. I was then informed that I would be going back to America and train for a new mission... journalism. For several hours I walked in the Delhi streets wondering if this had really happened to me, and if this really meant it's the last time I'd ever be in India. I would probably never see Tibet or its people again.
In a year or two, the book will be printed and hopefully will accomplish what my dream for it has always been: a bridge to cross the deep chasm that exists between East and West, a way to make it possible for the two religions and cultures to approach each other and eventually unite.
My work with News World is progressing and I must acknowledge God's wisdom in bringing me here, but often my heart drifts through the barriers of time and space to that land and its people that I came to love and admire so much. What do I think about in these moments of reflection and memory? I think it was best stated in this excerpt from a letter which I wrote from the exile capital of the Tibetan refugees in Dharmsala, India:
December 20, 1981:
"Even at this moment in late December, it's cold at night but still warm and sunny in the day. I'm sitting against a rocky, grassy bank of earth, the sun is beaming down on me, I feel toasty in jacket, scarf, jeans and climbing boots. Slate and tin-roofed cottages surround me to the left and right, above and below, on this 6,900 foot mountainside. Prayer flags flutter here and there in the gentle breeze and the low murmur of monks chanting in a nearby house can be heard mingling with children's voices at play down the hillside a ways.
I think I really love this place. There is a natural rustic primitiveness here that is so cleansing and purifying to my spirit. I felt this as soon as I arrived. The tall stands of pine and fir, the soaring hawks, the muddy streets, the closeness of the parents and grandparents and children, the hardiness of life up here is so pure and invigorating. The last no, sunrises and sunsets have awed me over and again. Meeting with my three best Tibetan friends has endeared my heart to their welfare even more than before. I don't really want w live anywhere else: only where the Tibetans are, do I want to be."