March 29, 2007
Culturally Christian?
It’s getting clearer and clearer to me that in terms of worldview and philosophy Buddhism really can’t be beat. But I was born and will remain a “cultural Christian,” from my evangelical roots (not as intense as Jesus Camp, but not completely unrecognizable either) to my current immersion in the contemplative liturgical scripture-infused world of chant.”Cultural Christian” is a riff on the “cultural Judaism” I learned about from hanging out with Hebrew students at UC Berkeley as an undergrad. (See some manifestations here and here.) I know that Christian identity is different from Jewish identity, but I feel some kinship with these good souls who recognize the incredible richness of their tradition, don’t want to abandon it entirely, but don’t subscribe to its philosophical or religious tenets.
There is one lone Wikipedia entry, a brief stub, on Cultural Christianity, which succinctly states, “The term usually is used pejoratively by other Christians to describe these individuals, whose spiritual understanding or practice they see as underdeveloped or superficial.” Pooh. Just when I thought I had a good thing going 
. Yet another reputation to salvage? (Peter Brown’s The Rise of Western Christendom makes clear that name-calling has been an excellent Christian strategy for millenia: from “pagan” (the equivalent of “hick” or “rube”) to “Arian” to “Nestorian”, it’s a classic technique. OK, not just Christians enage in this, but we’ve been pretty good at it.
Still, the concept fits me pretty well: it describes my reliable passion for certain “classical Christian “artefacts and my very tenuous and unstable relationship its core concepts (Buddhism just says it better for me, almost all the time). Something to keep playing with in the endless identity game.
As always when we have a really good Peregrine rehearsal: I’m in love with Gregorian chant all over again. This evening it came at a particularly rich time, after several nights hearing the Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche expound on Buddhist wisdom (and somehow I snuck in there a viewing of Jesus Camp, which stirs up a whole host of its own personal issues about which more later, if all the conceptual planes circling my airport ever manage to land).
But into this maelstrom comes that inimitable, unforgettable, aesthetic spiritual transformative musical experience of singing chant really well with people I’ve been singing with for years. It just all opened up and was sublimely perfect. At moments like this, I really don’t care what identity I have. It just feels great to be alive.