Growing up in a Vietnamese family, the majority of my faith resounded with Buddhist teachings and values. While I was not exposed to it very much, my mother always assured me that God was real and that while others may have views different than those of ours, we must respect and allow them to express those views nonetheless.
I am quite reserved, as are my parents-- we have never really discussed religion explicitly, and there were no temples around in the area that we knew of until we actively sought one out after the passing of my grandparents in the past few recent years. I always felt this was normal, that my family did not really speak about much of anything; there was a mutual, silent understanding in the way we went about our days. We were happy, perhaps blissfully unaware of what discord existed as a result of not being so open about the multiple elephants in the room during my 19 years on this earth.
Without going into too much detail, at some point during those 19 years, I became very loathing of who I was-- perhaps every angsty teenager went through a similar stage, but at that point I felt alone, despite the very obvious company that surrounded me, my wonderful, loving family and friends... but that's neither here nor there-- the point is that I was not comfortable with who I was, and therefore I was not apt to truly express my love for others. While the Buddhist values were useful in laying the foundation for the peaceful, moral, and divine ways, I just did not feel as though I truly belonged to the faith. Things began to escalate.
Fast forward to high school, where I encountered several now very close friends-- they spoke of their faiths passionately, and I admired the feats they accomplished in the name of their beliefs. How happy and at peace with themselves they were-- or at least that was how it appeared to me. I didn't know much about the Bible, but in my education it was constantly being referenced. I distinctly remember a frail old man handing out small, orange books consisting of Christian proverbs outside of school; this was my first encounter with the Lord, it seems.
A year after that, my grandmother passed away-- my grandfather followed after a few months. To provide the proper services and to follow traditions, my family sought out a temple a few towns away to perform the funeral services. Attending both services, I followed the traditions and prayers out of respect-- I love my grandparents with all of my heart, but a part of me feels guilty then and now for not putting 100% of my heart into it. It was not that I didn't try to-- I really did-- but it just did not feel very real. While reserved as a person, I don't conceal my feelings very well-- and following those services, I began to grow irritable and unwilling to speak about my faith.
Applying to college and figuring out what I wanted to do with my future was perhaps the most difficult thing in my life thus far at that point-- I applied early decision to my first choice school, the University of Pennsylvania. Having tunnel vision, I could not picture myself at any other school, I thought about how it would destroy me if I did not matriculate there. At first, I was deferred from attending, then ultimately denied. I thought about God, and if He really exists, why He wouldn't allow this to happen-- I had worked so hard for this. Why?
I found temporary solace in the small, orange book.
As I read them, those words made a subtle twinge in the left side of my chest.
Since then, a lot of things happened that made me question His existence. I talked to friends and some family members about my confusion. However, I avoided the conversation with my parents, because although they would love me nonetheless, it would be a ridiculous idea initially (imagine in a Christian household, your child told you he or she was now a Buddhist). I knew I would be met with resistance... This went on for months. In September, I finally admitted this to a few precious loved ones.
"Being Christian means having a personal relationship with Jesus. "What God was joined together, let no one separate." I'm here for you, Viv."
"You're worried about what you would do for your parents and what you can do for your grandparents. You can still light incense for them and attend temple services on special days out of respect-- it does not need to feel as though you're faking it. Your faith is yours alone."
"I'm so excited you've decided to let God into your life! This is a huge step, and we are with you every step of the way."
"It doesn't matter to me what you believe in, I just want for you to love others, be the good person we know you always have been. We love you."
That was it.
This Christmas, I was blessed with the opportunity to spend the day with a close friend and her family. We attended a very modern and engaging service at the local church, where I was greeted and met with friendly handshakes and smiles of those united under one God. And while my parents and I did not celebrate together, I was so incredibly happy to find they were so accepting of my celebrating it at all. I felt closer to my parents, to the world, to God more than ever.
Slowly, I'm beginning to love myself and to love my neighbors, embracing the values of joy, love, and peace-- while at the same time, keeping my Buddhist roots in the back of my mind. The foundation of any religion is to be kind to one another and to love each other, of course, differences and similarities in beliefs and all.
A toast new beginnings.
Happy holidays, Merry Christmas, and God bless.
- V
