If You Dislike Christianity,
You'll Hate Buddhism!
You'll Hate Buddhism!
Robert M. Price 
As a teacher of comparative Religion courses over 
many years, I have come to notice some surprising and even paradoxical 
things. It is no surprise to me when certain students keep their minds 
as closed as a clenched fist because their fundamentalist upbringing 
demands it. I know to expect it, especially since I felt that way myself
 when I was their age. I try not to let it rest that way, though. I have
 no trouble respecting various points of view, because I have no problem
 respecting individuals as persons, and their most intimate beliefs are a
 part of them. I think Rousseau had the same thing in mind when he 
observed that one cannot live in harmony with one's neighbor so long as 
one really believes one's neighbor is damned to Hell. But accepting 
their belief insofar as they cherish it is another thing than accepting 
it as on a par with other options when the belief has nothing going for 
it, no leg to stand on. For instance a servant of truth simply cannot 
dignify Creationism by treating it as a scientific alternative deserving
 equal time in the class room. Anyone who knows the first thing about 
scientific method and the nature of theorizing knows Creationism does 
not belong in the game. You don't enter a horse in a dog race. Thus as a
 teacher, your responsibility is to use Creationism as a foil to 
demonstrate what the scientific approach really is, and it is not a set 
of particular conclusions but rather a method of arriving at 
(tentatively held) conclusions.
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 In the same way, if education is your game, you 
cannot allow it to appear that you respect and thus appear to legitimate
 narrow-mindedness. Like a good Zen Master, your business is to ask 
disturbing Socratic questions, to coax the truth out from within the 
student. For instance, I like to suggest that the person who says "I've 
made up my mind; don't confuse me with the facts," is making me think 
the opposite of what they want me to think. Do they have great faith? 
Instead, I can't help but think that deep down, they already know the 
jig is up! You don't lock up the barn that tight unless you know the 
horse wants out! They must know their faith would never survive a close 
look at certain facts. Trying to preserve the illusion, they are only 
making it more obvious that they know it is an illusion after all. I 
merely point this out.
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 As I say, I am not too surprised to find this 
attitude prevalent among fundamentalist Christian students. But it has 
surprised me on occasion to discover the same sort of mind set present 
in other quarters. For instance, there are plenty of fundamentalist 
nonbelievers: people who have left fundamentalism behind in terms of 
doctrine, but who have only redoubled it as an attitude. Just scan the 
letters pages of certain Rationalist and Free Thought periodicals. Once I
 read a letter from an ex-fundamentalist boasting of his various efforts
 at propagating the lack of faith. This poor fellow was making a 
spectacle of himself by passing out atheistic handbills on the street 
corner, printing up atheist bumper stickers, etc. In short, he had given
 up religion only to preserve what most of us would consider its most 
odious and onerous aspects! For such a person, the tag 
"ex-fundamentalist" denotes merely another sub-type of fundamentalism, 
like "neo-fundamentalist" or "hyper-fundamentalist." But, again, I can 
empathize with this one, pathetically ironic as it is, because I have 
succumbed to this one, too.
-------------- 
 But we seem never to learn. I can remember some 
fifteen years ago when my wife Carol and I dropped by to visit Maryanne,
 a classmate of my wife, and her husband. Carol had told me she was a 
convert to Buddhism--which today may mean anything, often denoting more 
of a New Ager than any traditional sort of Buddhist. After all, if you 
really believe Cyril Henry Hoskins, AKA Tuesday Lobsang Rampa, is a 
Buddhist, you may think you are, too, even if you are as far from the 
Dharma as he was.  As we opened a polite conversation, it rapidly 
developed that Maryanne took a rather non-Buddhistic stance toward 
Christianity. That is to say, her third eye was somewhat jaundiced when 
it came to Christianity. She proceeded to fulminate bitterly against its
 psychological and theological inadequacies. You can imagine the usual 
line about the destructive self-hatred and guilt over the physical body 
that Christianity fosters. Then she went on to denigrate the bloody 
superstition of the substitutionary atonement of Christ on the cross.
 Let's get one thing straight. I agreed with these 
critiques. At the time I still maintained some sort of vague Christian 
identity myself, albeit of a rather left-wing Tillichian brand. My 
approach then was to try to "purify" Christian existence from these 
various phobias and superstitions, get to the 
philosophical/psychological meat of the thing. I have since given up the
 enterprise. But I felt the gauntlet had been thrown down and I made 
ready to reply. I figured the best defense was a good offense. Thus I 
sought not to defend Christianity (I couldn't have defended those 
aspects in good faith anyway). But neither did I consider attacking 
Buddhism, which then as now I revere as a true religion. My chosen 
strategy was to show how she was reading Buddhism even more selectively 
than she was reading Christianity. 
 Surely, I ventured, she could not be unaware of the 
fact that the very doctrinal features she despised in their Christian 
avatars were not only present in but absolutely central to historic 
mainstream Buddhism! I'm not sure what she took Buddhism to mean, but 
it's a safe bet all the Buddhist faithful in China, Mongolia, Tibet, 
Sikkim, Bhutan, Nepal, Korea, and Japan (to say nothing of that ancient 
stronghold of Oriental mysticism, Colorado) would not agree with her. 
For Mahayana Buddhism is solidly based on the Bodhisattva doctrine. 
Southern Asian Buddhism, Theravada (or Hinayana, as the Mahayana call 
it), is a spare and logically simpler scheme of attaining Nirvana 
through self-effort aimed at extinguishing the apparent self, or ego.
But the Lords of the Mahayana rejected such a goal as
 selfish in aim and in means. Instead, they believed, all Buddhists 
ought to emulate Gautama Buddha himself who, after all, did not yield to
 the temptation of Mara that he should leave this poor world behind and 
pass forever into his own Nirvana at once. For the sake of poor mortals,
 Samsara addicts, the Lord Buddha deferred his own rightful Nirvana. And
 so should we! 
And given the fact that all beings share the Buddha 
nature and are thus capable of eventual Buddhahood, it is finally 
nonsensical to suggest that I can be saved without you and everyone else
 being saved. It's all or nothing. This means, as the Buddha is made to 
reveal to his disciples in the Saddharma Pundarika (The Lotus of the 
True Law), that even the 24 previous Buddhas (including Dipankara, the 
one under whose tutelage Gautama Buddha first heard the Dharma preached 
many ages before) are still active behind the scenes in the Sambogkhya, 
the penultimate realm of existence where the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas 
dwell like celestial gods, answering prayers and otherwise aiding poor 
mortals who need a hand up.
 One ought to take the vow to embark on the path to 
Buddhahood, and once one does so, one counts as a Bodhisattva (a 
Buddha-to-be). This is a long and hard row to hoe, but you'd be spending
 the time in pointless reincarnations anyway, so why not? Through 
countless lifetimes of toil and self-sacrifice for the good of others, 
the Bodhisattva earns good karma far in excess of that necessary to win 
his wings (as Clarence does in It's a Wonderful Life). He has to be in 
the business of doing good works to become worthy of Bodhisattvahood. 
 Now, who's the Bodhisattva to do these good works 
for? This works out rather well for the vast majority of Buddhist laity 
who have not the stamina to undertake the Greater Career. They are doing
 their bit by financially supporting the earthly Bodhisattvas (as they 
did the Theravadin monks down south) and by praying to the heavenly 
ones, as their ancestors used to pray to the Vedic gods. Eventually the 
store of supererogatory merit amassed by the Bodhisattvas was believed 
so great that they could grant not only worldly boons but actual 
salvation itself! We think that  the Buddha taught that there was no 
grace upon which to draw to gain Nirvana, since the whole idea was to 
change your own frame of mind, nullify the ego, which in the nature of 
the case only you can do. But by hook and by crook, Mahayana Buddhism 
eventually evolved a salvation scheme by which certain virtuosos, like 
the Buddha himself, might in fact offer such saving grace to those 
calling upon them in faith. By such an act of receptive faith the 
believer is allowed to draw upon the store of good Karma gained by the 
Bodhisattvas by their good works. It will be transferred to the 
believers'  accounts as if it had been their own achievement. Does this 
sound familiar? It will sound even more so. For some Bodhisattvas, in 
order to gain still more abundant good Karma, will voluntarily submit to
 the tortures of the numerous spectacular Hells of Buddhist eschatology.
 Avalokiteshvara and his brethren are in this fashion undergoing 
expiatory  suffering in your place and for your benefit.
 In Pure Land Buddhism, fantastically popular in 
Japan where it spread from China and India, we witness the ultimate 
spinning out of the logic of this redemptive theology. A long succession
 of Pure Land patriarchs, basing their teachings on the Longer and 
Shorter Sukhavati Sutras (= Pure Land Scriptures), sought to 
refine the meaning of salvation by grace through faith alone. Their 
Sutras have Gautama taking the role of John the Baptist, singing the 
greater glories of Amitabha Buddha, an ancient king who, hearing the 
preaching of a contemporary Buddha, renounced the throne and took up the
 discipline of the Bodhisattva. His strategy was to put all of his 
accumulated Karmic green Stamps toward the creation of a "Pure Land," a 
world in which one need only be reborn to achieve the stage of 
non-returning, the seventh stage of the Bodhisattva path (something that
 would otherwise take unthinkable eons of good works, as it did in the 
case of Amitabha himself). At the end of one lifetime in the Sukhavati, 
one would infallibly attain Buddhahood. 
 And how was to one guarantee one's reservations? 
Aye, there's the rub. The text said one need only call on Amitabha's 
name three times, and that would do it. But the various patriarchs 
sought to determine, with all the introspective microscrutiny of a 
medieval penance manual, precisely what mental condition constituted 
saving faith. What meditations and attitudes were required? As always 
happens with introspective pietism (read Watchman Nee, Andrew Murray, 
etc.) what looked easy turns out to be arduous and confusing--or is made
 to be so. Each subsequent patriarch narrowed the range of activity 
required, recognizing that the more a successful faith hinges upon one 
fulfilling certain conditions, the more salvation after all depends on 
one's own works ("Self-Power"). And this is incompatible with the 
doctrine hat one needs grace to be saved in the first place. On the one 
hand, we are so crushed beneath a burden of bad Karma that we would have
 no hope of ever working it off ourselves. On the other, we live in a 
degenerate age when the Dharma is but dimly understood. Facing Scylla 
and Charybdis in this way, we must be saved by grace ("Other-Power"), or
 we will not be saved at all. Hence the Pure Land theologians tried to 
circumvent the clever subterfuges of the self-exalting ego by placing 
complete and utter reliance on the Other-Power of Amitabha Buddha. 
 In the end, the Japanese patriarch Shinran wound up 
recapitulating Martin Luther and John Calvin: he taught that the first 
inkling of an inclination one felt to call upon the name of the Buddha 
was itself proof of Amitabha's prevenient grace. One could never have 
even sought such salvation without already having been given it! We 
cannot even seek to repent unless we have already been regenerated by 
the unilateral grace of God. If we were still sinners, we would think of
 nothing but continuing to sin. There is no question of subtle Christian
 missionary influence. It is just that the logic of piety, taught not to
 believe in its own power, and yet having to do something, however 
minimal and passive, always issues in the same solution, as it did also 
in Visistadvaita Vedanta Hinduism, which divided into the monkey school 
(believers must hang on to God's grace like a baby monkey carried by its
 mother) and the cat school (momma cat simply carries her kittens by the
 scruff of the neck, like it or not).
 Is all this a betrayal of Buddhism with its doctrine
 of self-reliance? They say no, since a religion based on the negation 
of self can hardly rely for its success on Self-Power! Interesting 
point.
 So here we have a religion containing the features 
of crippling original sin, bankrupt and worthless selfhood, salvation by
 passive faith in the vicarious sufferings of a redeemer (actually a 
whole stable of them, as in the Catholic calendar of saints), and all of
 this derived from an infallible scripture, not from one's own cherished
 intuitions. What is this religion? Buddhism. Christianity. Take your 
pick. If you prefer something less complex, something more self-reliant,
 you can always find revamped, streamlined versions of either religion. 
But, as they stand, neither is all that much different from the other in
 broad outline. When Maryanne embraced what she called Buddhism as an 
alternative to Christianity, she had merely exchanged six of one for 
half a dozen of the other, though she didn't know about at least three 
of them!
 One might contend that Mahayana is a corrupt form of
 Buddhism, one that has lost sight of the vision of its Founder, whereas
 Christianity's corresponding doctrines are in continuity with the 
central vision of its Founder. But this is the worst kind of special 
pleading. If it happened to the one, it would be surprising if it hadn't
 happened to the other, too. 
Max Scheler thought that both religions 
inevitably suffered the same fate because of the ever-recurrent pattern 
of religions that exalt a charismatic founder. The founder is first 
lionized because of his summons for all to follow him in the heroic 
path. He dies, and the followers form a sectarian community, living out 
his heroic ethic, necessarily in alienation from the conventional world 
around them. But time passes and no one finds it any more so easy to 
live at such a fever pitch of piety and social radicalism. They come to 
assimilate themselves to the world again, rationalizing this by means of
 deifying the founder. Now that the life style he taught seems so far 
beyond the reach of even believers, they conclude his own heroic life 
must have been the result of his being a superhuman god. Thus no one can
 be expected to emulate him, and his heroism ceases to be a role-model. 
Instead, the believers come to regard it as an act done on their behalf 
so as to absolve them of the sin of not being able to do it! Mediocrity,
 here we come! And then Luther, Shinran, and the others start in trying 
to eliminate any vestige of self-effort as impious, even though at first
 it had been the very basis of the founder's teaching! Such a decline, 
plainly recognized, at least on some level, in Buddhism, is more 
characteristic neither of Christianity nor of Buddhism.
 Why had my wife's friend been oblivious of all this?
 My guess is that, like many today, she had really adopted some form of 
Western pop self-realization therapy and, ironically, called it 
Buddhism. Harvey Cox foresaw this trivializing trend in his 1977 book Turning East. Shirley MacLaine can call it Buddhism, like Jim Bakker calls his religion Christianity, but neither is fooling me. 
 It might be better to do what Herman Hesse advocated in his novel Siddhartha:
 follow the Buddha's path not by slavishly aping him, but by striking 
out on your own authentic dharma just as he did. How else are you to 
imitate a great non-conformist except by refusing to conform to him? 
Have the courage of your own convictions! Don't hide behind supposed 
authorities by bottling your own product and putting the Buddhist (or 
Christian) label on it.
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