TL;DR: Devotion, once something I mistook for blind belief, revealed itself through witnessing the sincere hearts of saints and enlightened beings. When it is no longer driven by fear or the desire to escape, devotion is essential to the arising of wisdom and compassion for the benefit of oneself and others.

On one occasion, a casual conversation about religion arose in my office. Most of my co-workers are Christians, and their conversations sometimes revolve around God and the devil, especially before stepping into meetings with our scrupulous head of department, who has unusually high expectations and, unfortunately, low emotional intelligence.

At some point, one of my co-workers turned to me and remarked that Catholics and Tibetan Buddhists are “so wrong” because they practise idolatry. She was referring to the act of praying to saints or enlightened beings. Her comment stayed with me, not because I wanted to argue with her, but because I realised that I once thought the same way. 

Long before I encountered Buddhism as a lived path, I too did not understand what devotion was, or why human beings felt the need to bow, pray, or offer their hearts to something beyond themselves.

Doubt and the Limits of Belief

As I grew older, I joined various Christian groups, hoping they would answer my existential questions and be a part of a community. Even though there was no idolatry involved, I felt no connection to the God they spoke of, a God to whom I had to pledge my allegiance without being allowed to express doubt.

I had little confidence in what could not be seen or felt. Why should I give my obedience to an unseen almighty whom I did not know? 

At times, I was an atheist, but more often an agnostic. I could not say that God existed or did not exist without proof. This question of whether something divine exists was not foremost in my mind until I began to recognise the felt sense of suffering within me.

Most of the time, we distract ourselves the moment an unpleasant feeling arises. Many of us are not aware of, or are unable to stay with, feelings of suffering. 

When I finally reached that moment of recognition, it was Buddhism that attracted me, something I never imagined would happen, as I had always thought it was outdated.

Discovering Buddhism Through Inquiry, Not Faith

Because Buddhism had been taught and translated into English, I was finally able to understand the religion of my mother.

I was drawn to the Buddhist path to nirvana as it showed me the possibility of deliverance from suffering without needing to believe in anything without understanding. The teachings were practical and logical. More importantly, questioning was not only allowed but encouraged. I could express my doubts without censure in the Buddhist centres I frequented. No one coerced me into believing in anything, not even nirvana. What freedom that was.

I followed others by prostrating to the Buddha and chanting, not out of faith, but out of a desire to learn. I did so with the intention of being released from the cycle of birth and death, rather than devotion to whatever I was chanting.

Yet I also wondered why Buddhism was considered a religion. There was no God to worship and no dogma one was asked to believe in. 

The Buddha encouraged investigation rather than belief. Instead of forced faith or devotion, the Buddha encouraged his students to test his teachings through listening (reading is available in our present day) and the practice of virtues and calming the mind towards wisdom. 

Wisdom in the context of Buddhism is training the mind so that it is calm and clear enough to observe its tendencies. From here, faith and devotion arise. This entrance to the teachings is for those who embarked on the path like me, filled with doubts and needed something logical. 

While there are no gods or God to worship, there were devotional practices such as prostrations and chanting. Besides bowing to the Buddha, we were also expected to bow to teachers, and in some places, almost treat them like superstars.

I understand the act of prostration to let go of my ego then. However, I still have a tiny sense of disagreement about how devotees create this atmosphere that certain Buddhist monks are very special and make it hard to approach them. It could be the Vinaya or tradition. 

But the Buddha said that good friends are ones who lead us out of ignorance. While I respect and am inspired by great teachers, I find that the special sacred boundaries created by devotees and ancient traditions are sometimes frustrating. If a teacher monk is famous, I don’t find it possible at all to approach the teacher with a question about my meditations. 

In my perception, a good friend is easily approachable. Moreover, I don’t think the Buddha’s intention was for us to treat him or his teachings as something unattainable or only for a select, closed group.

That being said, not all Buddhist centres are the same. I have been to certain traditions where one is able to easily approach a monastic without those boundaries mentioned, and am able to have a normal conversation with them about the dhamma and life in general (not idle talk).

Encountering Devotion Through Others’ Compassion

I did not understand devotion, and I could not bring myself to be devoted to my first Buddhist teacher in the Tibetan tradition, though I respected him. I observed other students surrounding him, joining their palms and slightly hunching their postures whenever he entered the hall. 

I found it difficult to approach him in person because he was always surrounded by an inner group. Appointments were required, the waiting list was long, and the time to ask questions was brief. 

The closest form of devotion I felt towards a teacher was my first Tibetan teacher’s teacher, who had already passed away by the time I joined the centre. There was a video of him during his final illness. He was weak and in a wheelchair, yet he made a wish that all beings’ suffering might fall upon him, so that everyone else could be well and happy. He was willing to take on others’ suffering and exchange his happiness for our pain. 

After I left the tradition, I learnt that this is the practice of tonglen, where one is open-hearted enough to visualise taking in the pain of others with the in-breath, and sending out whatever goodwill that will benefit them with the out-breath. This practice helps reduce the strong patterns we have for selfishness.

I had never encountered anything so profoundly altruistic, especially from someone who was dying. It moved me to tears.

Later, I read surviving accounts of Tibetan monks being held at gunpoint by Chinese soldiers. Before being shot, they prayed for their captors and wished them happiness. This deeply touched my heart. And here I was, pursuing nirvana largely out of the fear of endless rebirths and suffering for myself.

Learning Devotion Through the Catholic Saints

My understanding of devotion changed a few years later during the COVID pandemic. Although I had previously been touched by a fellow retreatant’s sincere devotion to the Buddha during chanting, it was only during the lockdown that devotion truly revealed itself to me.

During the lockdown, I saw films about Catholic saints on YouTube, something that amused a British Theravadin nun I later spoke to – we both share the same love for Saint Francis of Assisi. Having run out of Buddhist documentaries, I wanted to fill my mind only with spiritual material. I had no expectations that these films would resonate with me. I watched them purely out of curiosity.

To my surprise, I was deeply moved by the love these saints had for Christ. Saints such as Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Faustina, and Francis of Assisi did not glorify a God external to themselves. They sought inwardly. Their humility and willingness to embrace poverty and suffering so that their souls, or minds, could be purified moved me profoundly.

They did not pursue spirituality merely as a means to enter heaven. They were willing to accept suffering because they loved Christ. Through suffering, they felt closer to him and shared in the pain he endured on the cross. This was a different way of viewing spirituality for me. Their love was so great that they happily took on Jesus’ example on the cross to carry their own suffering. 

I began to view Christianity differently since then. I saw that Jesus’ act of carrying the cross was a teaching on carrying our own crosses (suffering) with patience, forgiveness, and compassion to ourselves and others. Christianity was no longer a religion for me. It is a way to the truth. And truth is something sacred residing in our hearts, also taught by the Buddha.

Realising the Shared Heart of Devotion

The saints made me feel ashamed of myself. Do I love the Buddha as much? How much am I willing to sacrifice for the love of the Buddha’s teachings? What was I after? My path was selfish, no different from the worldly act of working at something to get something in return.

From that point on, the intention of my practice changed.

I came to understand that Siddhartha Gotama’s quest was sacred, and I am grateful for his message to those without devotion or faith like me, so that I could enter the path to the deathless or the Buddha within.

My practice is no longer merely driven by a selfish desire to escape the wheel of rebirth. Instead of striving for nirvana, my practice is to realise the Buddha within me.

The Heart of Devotion

Since then, I have been able to sit in front of a Buddha statue and feel a quiet contentment. Looking at images of Buddhist enlightened beings and Catholic saints draws me into a sense of calm. They remind me of my own potential to face suffering with courage and patience with devotion to something sacred within. 

I realised that true devotion is different from what I saw of people praying or lighting incense to a higher power. I wouldn’t say that is idolatry, too, because most people go to the temples and pray for help or ask for something. When you idolise someone, there is admiration.

Devotion in the spiritual sense to me is not idolatry. It is inspiration and admiration for this great beauty called love, seeking the love and wisdom that is a natural state in our heart/mind. Seeing images of those who have done it is an inspiration and a guiding light for the world to what is possible as a human.

When I look at a statue of the Buddha, I no longer feel that the Buddha is separate from me. I see that others are not separate either, for we all contain the Buddha within. When the mind and heart become quiet, the Buddha can enter and reside there. From this place of awareness and awe, wisdom and true love (brahmaviharas) can shine forth, and life no longer feels like a burden, nor death a threat.

Wise Steps:

• Instead of judging others in their outward devotion to their religion, reflect deeply about why we seek help from a higher power to develop compassion in our hearts.
• Do not reject a religion due to bias. Visit the church or temple and listen. From there, discern if it is suitable for you, and understand your true intention of going to these places.
• When we have devotion to something more sacred, it means we are able to give up the less sacred (or the mundane). It doesn’t have to be a physical example; it only needs to come from the heart.