Wednesday, April 1, 2026

mountain monasteries and downtown temples: Korea March 2026

An edited version of this will appear in Dilatato Corde after Easter. 

24 March 2026

I have a long connection to Korea––cousins by marriage who are half Korean, my two best friends in the seminary in Los Angeles, and a long friendship with a young Korean Buddhist monk when I was a new monk myself. I had a layover several times in the past at Incheon in South Korea but had never gotten out of the airport. Because of my seminary classmates I knew some things about Korean culture, and because of the monk and a fine book I read more than thirty years ago I knew a good deal about Korean seon Buddhism, its version of Chan or Zen.

 

One of the most active members of DIMMID is Fr Anselmo Park, a monk of Saint Maurus and Saint Placidus Abbey in Waegwan, who is also the president of our corporate board and whom I had met several times already, and so I have been looking for an excuse to go for a visit ever since I took on this role. A reason presented itself when I found out that the World Meditation Day Foundation, on whose committee I serve, was holding its second forum in Seoul. I came in several days early to spend time with Anselmo and meet my Korean monk and nun brothers and sisters––and am so glad I finally did!

 

After some years serving as prior of his community, Anselmo is now the director of a retreat house in the middle of Seoul and lives with a community there that also runs Waegwan’s publishing house. Upon my arrival late Sunday night, I stayed the first night with them there and then he and I headed south immediately by car the next morning. Anselmo had meticulously arranged the whole week well in advance of my arrival. Side note: the food was really wonderful and very healthy for most of my stay in Korea, especially in the monasteries and temples––light soups and crispy vegetables, always with the selection of six to ten condiments, various radishes, kimchee, seaweed. Indeed on the way to our first destination Anselmo treated me to a delicious lunch at a restaurant that specialized in mushroom-based dishes. Our first stop then was at Beopjusa Temple. (Apparently that translates to “the Buddha stays here.”) It is at the base of Sognisan Mountain and is traces its origins back to 553, though it was destroyed by the Japanese and rebuilt in the 16th century. Beopjusa is also home to a 100-foot bronze Buddha and famous for having the only five story wooden pagoda in Korea. All of it is very much in the ancient Chinese style, since seon Buddhism came there directly from China. There is a monastic community there as well, though we did not see any monks.

 

We then headed farther south to another famous temple-monastic community, Jikjisa. (It is usually referred to as “Jikjisa Temple,” but sa actually means “temple” so that seems a little redundant.) Though sometimes they are referred to as sansa, meaning “mountain monasteries,” it was interesting to me that these places are known as “temples” not as “monasteries” even though they generally have monastic communities. That may be because they are all frequented often by lay people for devotion and practice. There are seven of these sansa in Korea that are UNESCO World Heritage Sites.

 

We were expecting to meet a monk friend of Anselmo’s who is also a well-known Buddhist professor, named Venerable Kum-Gang, but as we arrived the chief abbot of the Jogye Order, the Venerable Jinwoo, was just getting out of his big black Genesis (the high-end models of the KIA brand of cars) and greeted us warmly. He and Anselmo had not met before, but we were expected, and from that moment on we were treated as honored guests. The abbot was very anxious to show us around and explain as much as possible of the iconography and buildings. Prof. Kum-gang arrived a little while later. Neither the abbot nor Kum-gang spoke very much English, and of course the only thing I know how to say in Korean was ‘thank you’ and ‘kimchee,’ but we still managed with Anselmo bravely summarizing.

 

During this season at Jikjisa they also do training of novices and others in formation, so there seemed to be a lot of monks and nuns there dressed in practically identical light grey habits (consisting of wide pants and jacket-shirts), and also many young monastics in varying colors of red and gold lined up in almost martial formation. We had arrived already late in the afternoon and were treated to some light snacks in the abbot’s private reception area and then dinner in the main hall, and thankfully that was all we had to do for that evening. I was feeling the effects of jetlag and ready for bed. Anselmo had warned me and asked if I was okay with sleeping on the ground on a mat, which I thought would be fine. But as it turned out the rooms in the guest house, which was about three kilometers up from the temple-monastery grounds, were simple but very well-appointed with regular beds and floorboard heating and very nice bathrooms with a hot shower.

 

We were to get up very early the next morning to take part in the morning rituals with the monks and nuns. Kum-Gang drove us down at 3:45, which was actually a little early for the rituals. We arrived outside the pavilion where the first activities were to take place around 4 AM but nothing really started until 4:30. I didn’t realize that we were going to be outside for a good part of the morning ceremonies, nor how cold it was going to be. So I was pretty chilled to the bone by then (but trying not to show it). The day begins with the beating of an exceptionally large drum and then the ringing of an equally large bell. From what I understood the sounds serve two purposes: first to wake up the elements of creation––the sky and the earth were both mentioned; then to signal to the rest of the monks throughout the compound that it was time to start their own prayers. The abbot was very keen on me taking an active role and I was offered two of the oversized drumsticks to accompany the monk who was pounding out a specific rhythm. At first, I tried to refuse, but Ven. Jinwoo was insistent, so I took my place next to the other monk and beat out what I hoped was an adequate accompaniment. And then the bell––it was rung with a kind of a log hung from chains and struck against the bell with a preparatory rhythm of 1-2-3 then strike! The regular monk had me do it with him twice and then left it to me a few times. I was feeling the weight of responsibility for waking up the elements as well as the other monks, but nothing in creation seemed to have suffered the worse for my efforts. We were then led into one of the prayer halls where we took part in a series of prostrations. The number 108, as would be expected, was mentioned several times, but I do not think we did that many. The monks were chanting all the while. Then the three of us (Fr. Abbot had slipped off by then) were led to a nice and very warm little cabin where three large cushions were laid out on the floor for the three of us to have a good long meditation together. The whole morning ritual lasted about an hour and a half.

 

Overall, both there and at Beopjusa I was struck by how much what I would call intercessory prayer was taking place, specifically for the dead. There is a Buddhist belief in hell, known as Naraka, though it is not a place of eternal punishment or damnation. It’s temporary, depending on the karma from your life, and can be of intense suffering. There were actually various depictions of it all around both places, some of them gruesome and difficult to see––people being trapped in ice, sliced open with swords, etc. etc. It made so-called “Catholic guilt” seem rather mild!

 

From Jikjisa, I then spent one night at the well-known Benedictine abbey at Waegwan and then had one last stop. Anselmo had a retreat to give and so one of his brothers drove me about two hours farther south down to Busan, at the very bottom of the Korean peninsula. There I was the guest of the Olivetan Benedictine Sisters at a large facility that functions as their motherhouse among many other things. There happened to be a provincial gathering there at the time, so the chapel was filled with sisters. (They do not consider themselves “nuns” since they are mostly engaged in active ministry.) I was warmly greeted by Sister Eucaria along with the prioress, neither of whom spoke English but did speak Italian, especially Eucaria who had studied in Rome for several years. We were later joined by Sister Ivan, who also spoke particularly good Italian, having studied seven years at the PIMS (Pontifical Istituto di Musica Sacra) in Rome. (Sr. Ivan was also the choir mistress and the liturgical music was indeed very beautiful.) I wasn’t exactly sure why Anselmo wanted me to meet them––they do not actually do any work in interreligious dialogue––but I am always happy to get a chance to talk about the work to a Benedictine community, and I got that chance in the morning at Mass, where I also got a nice surprise.

 

They had told me that their chaplain was an Olivetan Benedictine monk from the local community, and I mentioned that I happened to have met a Korean Olivetan years ago when I was studying Italian for a month at San Miniato al Monte in Florence. There was a Korean monk there at the time who was a guitarist studying to be a luthier. Wouldn’t you know it? It was the same Sebastian, and he remembered me as well. He advised them that I was a singer and so I was recruited to both give a little presentation at the end of Mass and sing something as well, which I did gladly, with Sr. Eucaria doing simultaneous translation. Eucaria and Ivan then gave me a nice tour of Busan, especially of the stunning modern cathedral, and we wound up at the Benedictine Meditation Center (retreat house) which is run by one Fr. Isaac. He was also much more comfortable in Italian than English, having just returned to Korea from studying at Sant’Anselmo in Rome for several years. We had a great visit and the four of us went for a nice Italian meal followed by good coffee in downtown Busan. The three of them then loaded me onto a train back up to Seoul for my main event.

 

The UN’s official World Meditation Day (December 21st each year) was dreamt up and pushed through by a Chinese Shaolin Buddhist monk who is now stationed in Switzerland, the Venerable Miao Hai. He was actually the first interaction I had as the new Secretary General of DIMMID. He had been trying to get to the pope, was passed onto the Dicastery, who passed him on to my predecessor Fr. William, who passed him on to me, and Miao Hai made the trip down from Switzerland to see me when I first landed in Rome back in September 2024. After the UN passed the resolution for World Meditation Day, Maio Hai formed the World Meditation Day Committee and Foundation, which he asked me to be a part of. I have met several really fine people from around the world through him and find myself now in charge of the (so-called) Experts Committee.

 

As I said, I had been looking for a reason to come to Korea, and this 2nd World Meditation Day Forum (the first was held in Switzerland last year) gave me that reason. It was being held at a marvelous facility in downtown Seoul called the Jungto Society. It’s a fifteen-story building that houses an organization founded by the Venerable Pomnyun Sunim, a Korean monk who is very involved in what we might call “socially engaged Buddhism,” and for that reason a rather notable figure among Korean monastics. (Apparently, he is a hero to some and seen with suspicion by others for his involvement in social issues.) The center serves social and cultural exchanges as well as running many training programs for practitioners. As far as I understood everything operates on a volunteer basis. In fact, even the gentleman who picked me up at the train station and drove me to Jungto was a volunteer who let me know that he wasn’t even a Buddhist but was happy to do something for Ven. Pomnyun. They also have other centers in Seoul, retreat houses and temples throughout Korea, and two centers in the USA. Here is how they describe themselves: “Jeongtohoe is a spiritual community that aims to become persons free from suffering and lead a life that benefits neighbors and the world.” It was founded in 1988 with the aim of “solving problems prevalent in modern society” in ways that are based on the Buddha’s teachings. They stress applied and engaged Buddhism, teach what they consider to be the original teachings of the Buddha, and emphasize practice over ritual. It was all very impressive.

 

The main persons I was spent time with during the forum were my Indian brother and friend the fine yogi and scholar Siddhartha Krishna, the Venerable Bhante Anuruddha, a Sri Lankan Theravadan monk living and working in Switzerland, a lay Taoist-Confucian scholar from China named Dr. Zhenbao Jin, and another brilliant young Chinese man named Hengqiu Hu, who is finishing his doctorate at Osaka University and working with some Japanese Zen monks on a project with robotics. I took a delightful long walk with the first three on Saturday night, and Hengqiu and I, besides a few conversations at Jungto, shared a ride to the airport at Incheon Sunday morning and had time for another long visit and conversation there about the resonances between Taoism and Christianity. There were also two stellar young women who I got to know, Sinan and Maggie Che, who ably handled most of the logistics. Ven. Miao Hai has a way of surrounding himself with very fine and talented people.

 

We had several dignitaries with us for the first day––ministers of culture and a former prime minister besides the Most Venerable Hyeguk Sunim, an elderly monk who is considered to be the enlightened Zen master of Korea. I gave the welcoming address in the name of the WMD committee, which was basically the same conference I gave in Geneva for the UN “United and Present” Conference on Mindfulness and Public Policy in December. Apparently, I struck the right tone because it got quoted several times. Then there was a long series of offerings by various monks and then lay people, some of them online. The morning was mainly given to spiritual input, the afternoon to the science of meditation from folks involved in academia, psychology, neuroscience, and medical research. One of the presenters, to give an idea of the caliber of these folks, was Prof. Jagpreet Chhatwal, Associate Professor at Harvard Medical School and Director of the Institute for Technology Assessment at Massachusetts General Hospital.

 

Friday evening four of us led guided meditations for the whole assemble crowd––Siddhartha, Ven. Bhante and I as well as Shaykh Abdalmalik from Mauritania representing the Sufi tradition. I was the first to go, not knowing what anyone else was going to do. I had 20 minutes to say something about the Christian contemplative tradition and how we approach meditation. It was a good exercise for me to try to sum it up succinctly and also leave room for some silence together. I did a quick primer on the basics––the “why,” the posture, the breath, and mantra/word—and was still able to leave time for some silence together, figuring that the others would pass more time in silent meditation. But I was wrong; the others “guided” their meditations almost through their entire allotted 20 minutes. That was another of those moments when I was very grateful not only to be the Christian presence in an environment that probably does not have much of one, but also to be asked to take a leading role. I must say I find it deeply consoling and very comfortable to be in situations like that.

 

We had the same kind of input Saturday morning, and then spent the final afternoon with just the 20 or so of us who are actually on the World Meditation Day Committee from the various disciplines in the kind of small group work I am used to––brainstorming, making posters, and sharing the results with the entire group––regarding future steps for the WMD Foundation. I can share with you what our group came up with: to be “a network of networks supporting both meditation as formative and therapeutic, as well as transformative and transpersonal.” There was much talk about the therapeutic benefits of meditation and mindfulness (though I wanted to add “formative” to that aspect), and I came away convinced of its efficacy and necessity in that arena, even though I had been suspicious about the danger of commodifying and marketing meditation. But we also wanted to add that second step: to go beyond individual personhood to communion and beyond healing to real transformation.

 

I want to end by returning briefly to what I said at the beginning of the World Meditation Day Forum. The way I introduced our gathering is also how I feel now, at the end of it. And if I might add something that wasn’t in those earlier words: I believe we are doing this for the sake of the whole world, just as monks in a monastery do what they do for the sake of society. Here then is a slightly revised version of my opening remarks.

 

There’s a piece of wisdom from Albert Einstein that’s often quoted these days. The original line comes from 1946, as humanity was entering the nuclear age. He said that whenever a species faces new conditions in order to survive, it must also adapt its thinking. The atomic bomb, he said, had “profoundly altered the nature of the world as we knew it,” and therefore “the human race finds itself in a new habitat to which it must adapt its thinking.” [i]

 

A simpler way to put that might be: The problems we face today cannot be solved by the same consciousness that created them. That’s especially true of the “poly-crisis” our world is experiencing, as the United Nations calls it. We need a new consciousness, what I would call a transformed or evolved consciousness.

 

If the atomic bomb changed the world in 1945, what has changed it in our time? We might substitute 9/11 and the rise of terrorism, or globalization and nationalism, or the internet and artificial intelligence. In each case, we see that our old ways of thinking can’t solve the challenges they’ve produced. Once again, we need a new consciousness.

 

In the Christian tradition, St. Paul expresses something similar in his Letter to the Romans (12:1): “Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.” The Greek word he uses for “mind” is nous. It doesn’t just mean intellect. Nous refers to a deeper faculty—beyond memory, imagination, or sense perception, something linked to the divine ordering of the cosmos. It’s what some philosophers have called “the mind of God.” We could just as well say, “Be transformed by the renewal of your consciousness.”

 

The spiritual traditions teach that real transformation happens at this deepest level of consciousness. Through genuine spiritual practice, an inner evolution takes place—a contemplative awakening that changes how we see ourselves and the world. This transformation brings a new understanding of human nature—what we might call spiritual anthropology—and a new awareness of reality itself, what theology calls cosmology or ontology.

 

Across traditions, enlightenment experiences often reveal the unity of all being. And when someone truly perceives that unity, a deep desire for peace arises as its natural consequence. Einstein himself expressed the same intuition when he said: “Today we must abandon competition and secure cooperation.”

 

My conclusion is this: those who make policy decisions, shaping the future of nations—desperately need this transformation of consciousness if humanity is to survive and thrive. No government, no ideology—left, right, or center—can offer real solutions without it. Because the problems we face will never be solved by the same consciousness that created them. A conversion—an evolution—has to take place in our collective consciousness. And the most reliable, time-tested way for that to happen is through the deep work of mindfulness and meditation.

 

And so for interreligious dialogue, sharing silent meditation and mindfulness practices is a wonderful meeting point––and I assume this is why Cardinal Pignedoli all those decades ago asked monks to take a leading role in it. That silence is the place before words, the place beyond words, the experience from which we speak and where we meet, no matter our poetry to describe it.

 



[i] “The Real Problem Is in the Hearts of Men”; https://www.nytimes.com/1946/06/23/archives/the-real-problem-is-in-the-hearts-of-men-professor-einstein-says-a.html.

the suffering servant and choosing violence

 

These are two homilies I offered at the Hermitage on Wednesday of Holy Week, one for Mass and the other for the Penitential Service that evening. They felt like two parts of one homily anyway.

 

We had an event at the Gregorian University in Rome this last October in honor of the 60th anniversary of Nostra Aetate, the Church’s Declaration on Non-Christian Religions, mainly scholars speaking about the various traditions, alternating between someone from that tradition followed by a Catholic scholar speaking about that tradition. There was one tense moment during the session on Judaism, when some criticism of the State of Israel’s policies in Palestine got brought up by a Catholic professor using language that shocked everybody. He compared Israel’s actions in Gaza to the Shoah, said something about false messianism and his interpretation of the Suffering Servant of Isaiah, and even a mention of something being “satanic.” Several of the rabbis present were, rightly, greatly offended by it, as were some of the other non-Jews. But one other moment stayed with me. One rabbi very calmly intervened saying something like: “Your argument is based on an assumption: we Jews do not agree with the Christological interpretation of the Suffering Servant.” It was a interesting moment for me, to hear that said in public. How often we are oblivious of the fact that we use the Jewish scriptures in a way that doesn’t align with how Jews understand them?

 

One of the things that goes by this week, that is so full of amazing elements, without getting much notice is this beautiful series of readings from Deutero-Isaiah, the so-called Songs of the Suffering Servant that we heard Monday, Tuesday and again today (Isaiah 42, 49, 50) and then culminating on Good Friday with the most beautiful one of all from Chapter 52–53, just before we read the Passion. Who would believe what we have heard? To whom has God’s power been revealed? The Suffering Servant is a mysterious figure that is chosen by God to bring justice and salvation, often through suffering. In Jewish interpretation, the Songs of the Suffering Servant are generally understood to be about the whole nation of Israel as a collective, that endures persecution at the hands of gentile nations while remaining faithful to God. So, you will find Jewish commentators arguing that the “servant” refers to the Jewish people in general, suffering for the sake of God’s name.

 

For the Christian, of course, these canticles are a kind of portrait of obedience and what we call “substitutionary atonement,” one man dying for the sake of the people (as we heard the chief priest Caiaphas say in Jn 11:50), and they are understood as prophetic depictions of Jesus. I couldn’t help but think too of St. Paul’s phrase from 1 Corinthians 1:23, the message of “Christ crucified” that he said was a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Greeks, because the cross conflicted with demands for signs of power and desires for philosophical wisdom. The cross certainly challenges cultural expectations of a conquering Messiah. It’s also a stumbling block for our Muslim brothers and sisters, by the way, who cannot imagine Allah allowing his servant to suffer such a humiliating end. And therefore, the Qur’an teaches that it was only made to appear as if Jesus was killed or even crucified.*

 

So, a stumbling block to Jews and Muslims, foolishness to Greeks and other wise ones. While the rest of the world, on the other hand, simply rejects perfect love and puts it on the cross. For example, during a recent press conference in Jerusalem, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu cited the historian Will Durant saying that, “History proves that, unfortunately and unhappily, Jesus Christ has no advantage over Genghis Khan. Because if you are strong enough, ruthless enough, powerful enough, evil will overcome good.” He clarified later that that was a reflection on the harsh realities of history and not an attack on Christianity; that simply really reveals the current mindset. And I must say, he’s kind of right about the harsh realities of history and even in terms of the current state of the world at war. I don’t want to just pick on Benjamin Netanyahu; I think many Christians have the same mind set and have given up on the way of Jesus, the way of the suffering servant. “In the real world” we hear world leaders say: “We live in a world in which you can talk all you want about international niceties and everything else, but we live in a world, in the real world … that is governed by strength, that is governed by force, that is governed by power … These are the iron laws of the world since the beginning of time.”**

 

With all due respect to our Jewish and Muslim friends, this touches the very heart of the Christian message. You are right: the cross does not look like victory. It does not look like the triumphs of conquerors. Jesus does not defeat his enemies: instead, he allows himself to be defeated, handed over, mocked and crucified––without putting up any kind of defense! And yet, we believe, as Paul says, that “The weakness of God is stronger than human strength.” That’s the strange center of the Christian mystery into which we enter these days. What appears as weakness we believe is, in fact, divine power. What appears as defeat we believe is the decisive victory over sin and death.

 

In his homily on Palm Sunday Pope Leo kept referring to Jesus as the “King of Peace.”

 

We turn our gaze to Jesus, who reveals himself as King of Peace,

even as war looms around him.

He remains steadfast in meekness, while others are stirring up violence.

He offers himself to embrace humanity, even as others raise swords and clubs.

He is the light of the world, [even] though darkness is about to engulf the earth.

He came to bring life, even as plans unfold to condemn him to death.

 

We are invited to follow that king these days, the suffering servant, the King of Peace, but let’s be honest about what we are being called to––to be suffering servants like this: To bring God’s justice even if and when it involves sacrifice on our parts. To be steadfast in meekness even when others are stirring up violence. To continue to be light of the world and to hope in that light even when it looks like darkness is about to engulf the earth.

 

 

* * *

 

On another but related topic… Do you ever think about why Jesus had to die? I follow this young fiery Korean Episcopalian priest––Joseph Yoo––and he recently was talking about this. He says that for a lot of us the only answer we’ve ever been given is basically what you might call the “penal substitution atonement theory” ––that Jesus took the punishment that we deserved so that God wouldn’t be angry at us anymore. Some of that derives from those same songs of the Suffering Servant that we are hearing each day this week. (And I am very fond of the Christological interpretation of these canticles, by the way.)

 

But there is more than one way to understand the cross and Christians throughout history have seen it in different ways, Rev. Yoo explains. Some think that Jesus died on the cross to defeat sin and death. Others say he died on the cross to reveal God’s love. Others teach that he died to restore what was broken. And maybe all those have a little piece of the interpretation of the cross––it’s not just one thing.

 

Rev. Yoo says that in this season of his life, on the other hand, he understands the cross in this way: “What if Jesus didn’t die because God needed him to. What if he died because we kept and keep choosing violence, power and fear over love, justice and mercy?” I found that very powerful. Let’s keep it simple: What if Jesus died simply because we human beings always keep choosing violence, power and fear over love, justice, and mercy? What if Jesus died because the world keeps rejecting perfect love?

 

The Holy Father has been saying similar things to this over and over again these days on the world stage, in stronger and stronger tones. In his address to the diplomatic corps back in January, he simply said it this way: “War is back in vogue and a zeal for war is spreading.” And the example he gave was on a global level––mind you, he is speaking here to diplomats, ambassadors: “The principle established after the Second World War, which prohibited nations from using force to violate the borders of others, has been completely undermined.”

 

War is back in vogue and a zeal for war is spreading.

 

In his Palm Sunday homily, the pope sort of shocked everybody with how forceful his words were. He said “(Jesus) does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war, but rejects them, saying”––he quotes the prophet Isaiah 1:15 here––“‘Even though you make many prayers, I will not listen: your hands are dripping with blood’.” What if Jesus died simply because we human beings always keep choosing violence, power and fear over love, justice, and mercy? And folks like the late Rene Gerard and Gil Bailey and James Allison convinced me years ago that Jesus came to show us that God is nothing like that, that God has nothing to do with violence, that God is about life not death.

 

Last week in Morocco the Holy Father gave the other side of it, the positive side, let’s say. How does God convert us? he asks. God converts our hardened hearts by “revealing the true name of his omnipotence: mercy.” This is a theme that Pope Francis certainly highlighted over and over. “It is mercy that saves the world,” Pope Leo said. It’s mercy that “nurtures every human life in all its frailty, from the moment it grows in the womb until it withers away.” And “Liberation from idols is thus deliverance from power understood as dominion,” as well as deliverance “from wealth turned into greed, from vanity masquerading as beauty.”

 

When I was a kid, we used to hear things like when we committed this or that certain sin we were “nailing Jesus to the cross again.” I was thinking that could apply to violence: every time we act out of violence, we are putting Christ to death again, every bullet is a nail in his hands or his feet, every war scourges him at the pillar.

 

And so––this is back to Rev. Yoo: What if the cross was simply “Jesus stepping into the worst of human suffering to say, ‘Even here I am with you’, and the resurrection is the moment that evil death and oppression lost their power.” So, what does that mean for us?

 

It means that salvation isn’t just about what happens when we die. It’s about being set free now––free from fear, free from shame, free to love like Jesus loved. The cross isn’t just about what Jesus did for us. It’s about what Jesus invites us into––a new way to live, a new way to love, a new kind of world, a world where love always wins.

 

And so, we come asking for forgiveness for at least a two-fold purpose. First of all, to repent for the ways we ourselves keep choosing violence, power and fear over love, justice and mercy. We might examine our own consciences and ask “How often do we, do I, wage wars? How often do we, do I, believe in dominion, wealth and vanity?” And secondly, we are here to be set free––free from fear, free from shame, free to love like Jesus loved––set free by God’s mercy that nurtures every human life in all its frailty, from the moment it grows in the womb until it withers away; and to be delivered from power understood as dominion, delivered from wealth turned into greed, and vanity masquerading as beauty.

 

Jesus steps into the worst of human suffering and says, “Even here I am with you.” Because of the resurrection evil, death and oppression have lost their power. Even though the world crucifies perfect love, the resurrection shows us that love will not stay in the grave.

 

Let us commend ourselves to the mercy of God.

 


*Surah An-Nisa 4:157-158.

** Stephen Miller in an interview with Jake Tapper on CNN February 16, 2026.

Monday, February 2, 2026

Teranga

(This is a first draft of an article wrote for our Dilatato Corde online journal, putting it out there for freinds and families, even longer than my usual entries.)

 

It is almost two weeks since my return, and I am finally ready to write about my experience in Senegal. For better or worse, I don’t think I can do so in a detached and objective way. It all meant so much to me and has continued to resonate.

I was very much looking forward to this trip and this event for several reasons. The primary, professional one was to be able to take part in the very successful ongoing monastic-Muslim dialogue that has been taking place now since the 1990s. I noted two different descriptions of it: our hosts for this particular meeting, the Benedictine monks and nuns of Keur Moussa and Keur Guilaye, referred to it as Dialogue entre le monachisme et le monde musulman–“the dialogue between monasticism and the Muslim world.” Professor Shomali, on the other hand, the main convenor of this gathering, kept describing it as “the dialogue between Shi’a Islam and Catholicism.” In other words, the monks made it about all of Islam, not just Shi’a, while the Muslims made it not just about Catholic monks but Catholicism in general. I appreciated both of those broadenings. That being said, historically it has been a dialogue specifically between Shi’a Islam and Catholic monasticism.

It was birthed in England with the fortuitous meeting of Mohammad Shomali, then a doctoral student in Manchester, and Timothy Wright, a monk and later abbot of Ampleforth Abbey in England, which developed into both a friendship and a collaboration. Abbot Timothy, of beloved memory, invited Mohammad to speak to his monastic community, and Professor Shomali, in turn, invited Wright to lecture at a research institute in Qum, Iran. From those initial events, the first specifically Monastic-Muslim dialogue was held in Rome in 2011. There have been seven subsequent gatherings in Rome, Assisi, the UK, Vienna, Nairobi, Iran, and South Africa, with this one in Senegal being the ninth. The topics for these dialogues have been such things as friendship, community, human dignity, unity of and in God, mission/conversion, death, and suffering and martyrdom. Our topic for this gathering was “Human Solidarity.”

The second reason I was looking forward to this trip was because it was to be my first time on the continent of Africa. I have dreamed of and hoped for an experience of the great continent one day. Morocco, Egypt, and Senegal have all been in my daydreams. I have said many times this past year that for my new mission I felt lacking in knowledge of both African cultures and Islam, both of which are important for the work of DIMMID, but I hoped to remedy that.

And the third reason is because I have been inspired by much of the music of Africa, that I have been exposed to, mostly West African: the percussion, of course, much of which I have picked up from my collaborator John Pennington, and the guitarists that I have listened to such as Ali Farka Touré, Habib Koté and the amazing group Tinariwen, all from Mali, Lucky Diop of Senegal, Ayub Ogada of Kenya. Along with that the music of the African harp called the kora, especially the albums of Ballakè Sissoko, also from Mali, and of course, Senegal’s own Youssou N’Dour, made better known among us Westerners for his work with Peter Gabriel, though I saw him perform in Santa Cruz, California with his group L’Etoiles d’Afrique. Another album, “A Wish” by the Nubian musician Hamza el-Din on the oud, drum (tar) and vocals, is one of my all-time favorites, especially the title track. And of course, the vocal tradition which seems to run through many of the African cultures, acapella, often harmonized, amazingly syncopated (at least to the Western ear)––the root of our own call-and-response spirituals and all subsequent American Gospel, jazz, pop, blues, R&B, and rock.

Putting those three together, I was especially looking forward to being with the Benedictine monks and nuns of Keur Moussa and Keur Guilaye, respectively. (The most prominent pre-colonial language in Senegal is Wolof––though nearly everyone speaks French––and the word keur is the Woolof word for ‘house’. So Keur Moussa is “the house of Moses”.) The women are usually overlooked because of their well-known brothers. The two abbeys are located about 50 kilometers east of Dakar. The men’s monastery is consecrated as the Abbaye du Cœur Immaculé de Marie and the women’s monastery 3 km away is officially the Monastère Saint-Jean-Baptiste.

Keur Moussa and Keur Guilaye are mainly famous for their extraordinary liturgical music which incorporates traditional Gregorian chant with Senegalese instruments, particularly the kora. Abbot Olivier was happy to inform me that the room I was staying in at the guesthouse was dedicated to Dominique Catta, one of the founding members of the community from the famous abbey of Solesmes who composed much of the music in the early 1960s as the Catholic Church was starting to shift away from the exclusive use of Latin and Gregorian chant to both the vernacular language and music that flowed from the native genius. As far as I am concerned their music is one of the highwater marks of the Vatican II liturgical reform, an example of brilliant inculturation and exactly what the architects of the novus ordo, the new order of the Mass, were calling for.

The kora is best known as the instrument that accompanied the West African tradition of griot singers who handed down genealogies, myths, and historical events through song, even functioning at times as counselors and mediators among the Mandingo people of Senegal, Mali and Côte d’Ivoire. Along the way the monks of Keur Moussa wound up developing a system for writing down kora music, which historically was only an oral tradition, and also started a workshop for building said koras.

We were actually being housed with the nuns at Keur Guilaye, where all of the sessions of our conference took place. I had no idea that the women used the same music as the monks. So after all these years of having heard recordings of the men, my first in-person exposure to this beautiful music was hearing it sung and played by women, which was an additional treat. Our first liturgy with them was on the feast of Saints Maurus and Placid, the two young monks who appear in St. Gregory the Great’s Life of Benedict, and, to my delight, the antiphons for the psalms at Lauds were Gregorian chants while the body of the psalms were sung to the gently rhythmic accompaniment of the kora and drums. Moving from one to the other felt as natural as breathing for me. It was also enjoyable to watch the sisters calmly get up from their place in choir and move to the kora, the tabala (a large camel-skin drum), or the balafon (a wooden mallet instrument like a xylophone).

I had arrived Wednesday evening and was met at the airport by two friendly women from the Senegalese Protocol for Foreign Affairs. Various personnel from the government were with us for much of the weekend, not as a ponderous looming security presence, but to aid our stay. It was my first taste of Senegalese teranga, a Wolof word that means basically “hospitality.” As I was driven by myself from the airport to the monastery with my driver, who did not speak English (and I was so sad that I did not speak French!), I was getting my first glimpses of a new country. I could not help but compare it to my first impressions of India riding a bus overnight from Chennai to Trichy. Once we got to the monastery, I found that several people had arrived already, particularly our Iranian friends who made up the heart of the Shi’a delegation. The nuns also had a staff of five or six other women who were working in the kitchen, and they could not have been more welcoming and accommodating. The food was abundant and delicious, lots of fresh fruit, salad and fish, besides the soups and other meats and rice. Lots of fresh bread including crispy baguettes which seem to be ubiquitous wherever the French have been.

In the morning after Mass, my first sight of our meeting room left me very impressed by how well Abbot Olivier Saar and his team had arranged everything. We were at a U-shaped configuration of tables, in a comfortable air-conditioned hall, all of us with our assigned seats and name plates. Each of us had a microphone and headphones because in the back of the room there was an isolation booth where two men did simultaneous translation for the entire time we were together (French/English; there were few of us who were adept in both languages as Fr. William and Abbot Olivier are). There were also two young men, again from the protocol, to aid however they could plus several others and one young monk who was the “gofer” for the whole weekend as well.

The Shi’a delegation, besides Professor Shomali himself, included two other clerics from Iran, Sheikhs Rastifar and Khoddami, who are students of Professor Shomali, dressed in their elegant grey capes and head pieces all week (Professor Shomali would have been as well but his luggage never showed up!), and two blood sisters from the US, Isaraa and Shahnaze, who are Lebanese by blood and very committed observant Muslims, along with another lovely lady, Aarifa, from the island of Zanzibar, all of whom are also very articulate students of Shomali as well, all them were clothed in beautiful black chadors. The Catholic delegation included two other monks and one nun from Senegal, Pere Thomas who acted as the MC throughout time together, Pere André and Sr. Marie Gabriel, besides Abbot Olivier, another monk, Frere Guy, from Côte d’Ivoire, Sr. Lusina from Kenya, and Fr. Victor from South Africa, besides Fr. William and myself.

Professor Shomali, who is the heart of this series of encounters, is very keen on the intellectual side of this exchange, a teacher through and through. We three monk-organizers––myself with Fr William and Abbot Olivier––were leaning more on the experiential side. In the end it seems to me that we found a good balance. For the most part we followed the pattern of presentation and response, alternating Catholic and Muslim, followed by open discussion. Our first presentation was by Pere André, who is a Biblicist and the novice master at Keur Moussa, on the joint 2019 “Document on Human Fraternity for World Peace and Living Together” signed in Abu Dhabi by Pope Francis and the Grand Imam of Al-Azhar, Sheikh Ahmad el-Tayeb. Of course, even our printed schedule included the timetable for the three main Islamic salats of the day––early morning fajr, midday zuhr, and the evening maghrib. And I assure you, our Muslim friends did not miss one.

 

The next two days were mainly dedicated to excursions in a large luxurious air-conditioned bus. On Friday we made the over three-hour trip to the fascinating city of Touba. It is Senegal’s second largest city and is referred to as “the Mecca of Senegalese Islam.” The city was founded in 1887 by a revered Sufi master named Cheikh Amadou Bamba, who is buried there, and it is the spiritual center of the Mouride brotherhood, the prominent Sufi Islamic order (tariqa) that he founded, largely based there in Senegal and in Gambia.

Senegal has a predominantly Muslim population, estimated at approximately 95-97% of its 18 million people. (The remaining population is primarily Christian, concentrated in the west and south, alongside a small number who practice traditional African religion.) The vast majority of Senegalese Muslims are Sunni, and almost all belong to one of various Sufi tariqas. I think it is safe to say that this widespread influence of Sufism gives Islam in Senegal a distinctive flavor.

            Touba is also renowned for its Great Mosque, a massive structure with five minarets located at the heart of the city, and for its annual Grand Magal pilgrimage which commemorates the exile of Cheikh Amadou by French colonialists and draws millions of followers. There is a specific, distinct movement within the Mouride brotherhood called Baye Fall, who are known for their unique clothing and their dedication to service. We were being hosted by several of them throughout our day there, many of them young men.

As we arrived, we were warmly officially welcomed by the great Cheikh’s grandson and immediately whisked off on a long tour of the extensive library and museum, and then walked through the compound of the Great Mosque itself. It happened to be a special feast day, so there were crowds of people there, reminding me again of India and being at some of the temples during the holy days. In the midst of it all, we were treated like visiting dignitaries the entire time. We were then driven across town to a sumptuous guest house which stood in stark contrast to the rather bleak and dry landscape and impoverished neighborhoods through which we had passed. I was told that it was decorated in the style of a Moroccan palace, and it is a sort of private club for high members of the tariqa who come to town. There were tables laid out with the remnants of a morning meal, but that was quickly replaced with other snacks followed by a full lunch, with several young men in their distinctive garb hovering around to provide whatever we needed.

The male Muslims were going to go back to the mosque for the Friday afternoon service, which of course is the main salat of the week, while the rest of us waited at the guesthouse. Fr. William and I were both offered bedrooms to take a nap––for which I was very grateful––and everyone else found couches or corners. When I got up from my nap it was entertaining to walk through the rooms and see monks and nuns in various supine positions in this sumptuous little palace. We ended up spending several hours there, and more food and drink was brought out before we headed across town again to their educational institute.

There we got another tour and attended a specially planned conference with speeches by four different representatives of the Mouride “on the Brotherhood’s contributions to Human Solidarity and Fraternity.” It almost goes without saying that the Sufi-tinged Islam of Senegal is, while very pious, not only moderate but inclusive. Each of the speakers emphasized much more that side of Islam as well as our common ground. We were listening again in translation (this time also from Arabic for one of the speakers), and we are hoping to get transcripts of the talks. Pere Thomas was on the dais with them along with Professor Shomali, and he got the final word, telling their Muslim friends that “We are proud of you!” That was a very moving thing for him to say and for us to hear.

 

Saturday was given to another excursion on the bus, this one a little closer to home. Just off the coast of the city of Dakar there is a little beautiful island that holds a horrific history, and those two contrasting elements––the beauty and the horror––stayed with me the whole time we were there. It’s called Gorée and for about four hundred years it was the largest slave-trading center on the African continent. Dakar is considered “the nose of Africa,” as it is the westernmost point of the entire continent, protruding into the great Atlantic Ocean, so a logical point from which to send ships east on their damned voyages filled with enslaved bodies.

We parked near a wharf and were immediately welcomed by a small team of uniformed men who graciously helped us board a boat. I assumed it was simply one of the ferries that make the short trip across to the island, only to find out later that it was actually the presidential yacht loaned to us for the occasion. Another example of the generosity of the Protocol for Foreign Affairs and the good relationship the monks have with the government.

When we first stepped onto the island you would have thought it was just a tourist site with bright colored signs and concessions greetings us. The narrow streets lined with brightly colored houses, and we learned that the Portuguese, the Dutch, the French and the English had all used this island during the years of the slave trade, leaving behind a beautiful paradise of an island. There were also many Western/European tourists wandering about. After a short walk, we came to the Presbytere de Gorée, next to the church of St. Charles Borromeo where we were greeted by the very articulate Abbé Alphonse Biram Ndour, the parish priest of St. Charles Borromeo Parish, a large Senegalese man wearing a full black soutane, with a sash around his waist. He was to serve as our guide for the next few hours. He took us to the main, shall we say, “attraction” of the island, the infamous House of Slaves.

There are several houses one next to the other on the same street, but this is the one that has been turned into a museum of sorts with an interactive exhibit recounting the shameful history of the slave trade. It was two stories high, as brightly colored as the other surrounding houses, but its significance was that this one contained what is called the “Door of No Return.” At the end of a short, tunnel-like corridor there is an opening that gives way to the wharf from which the captured people would board a ship, never to return to Mother Africa, usually separated forever from their families if they had all been captured together. One sign read:

 

Africans enslaved for sale in the Americas usually lived on Gorée very briefly, and so very little is known about them. We do know, however, that they were from the interior of Senegambia, were forced to leave their families and homes and squeezed into the hold of ships for the transatlantic journey to ports in North or South America. Perhaps as many as a million Africans died on the trip, so someone leaving here may never have made it across the sea.

 

Of course, the living situation in the holds of ship were infamously crowded and unspeakably subhuman, and there is more than one story of ships actually throwing captives overboard alive for situations such as running out of food, for instance. And since they were considered articles of commerce, not human beings with rights, at times the ships’ owners would try to collect insurance money on them as lost cargo. At one point a gentleman with an impressively loud voice like a town crier climbed onto the staircase that led to the mezzanine and offered a description of the treatment of slaves during that era, at times in horrific detail.

There was one touching spot on the ground floor of the House of Slaves, a sort of well and fountain at which we were invited to perform a rite of taking some water out and pour it on the ground. It was a very tranquil spot amidst the crowds of people and a very touching ritual. I threw a little of the water on my head instead in a kind of purification ritual as one would do at the Ganges and prayed for whatever souls were still not at rest in this horrible-beautiful place.

The upper rooms were given to a very impressive modern museum recounting the history of pre-colonial Africa as well as the slave trade. Abbé Ndour was eager for us to realize that there were also modern forms of slavery that continue to this day. The final room was given to an exhibition dedicated to that, which included, I was surprised to see, a short recap of the George Floyd murder in 2020. Much of the art was modern, and the placards were all in French and English. My companions teasingly urged me to come over and read one such placard which read something that the Trump-MAGA movement would surely take umbrage to, a sort of nod to “critical race theory”: “Slavery is included in the United States’ DNA.” It then continued:

 

Slavery was a shock for the continent, which suffered severely, on all levels: social, economic, environmental, psychological. It is the greatest crime against humanity. When the first settlers arrived, they immediately assimilated the Black man to ebony, an animal of nature, good to be hunted, tamed. Thus came the deportation of captives, from tribal wars in which they were the instigators. Slaves were snatched from all over Black Africa and transported to the Americas.

 

There was a place in the courtyard just in front of the corridor of “no return” where people could and usually do line up in a group and get a group picture taken with big smiles, as we were urged to and did just before we left. I found that strange and uncomfortable, to say the least, like taking a selfie at Auschwitz.

We then walked another short distance to the spacious compound of the Sovereign Knights of Malta (Ordre Souverain de Malte au Senegal; I was wondering how far this went back historically and what role the knights played in the history of the island) that now serves as the Centre Médico Social de l’Ile de Gorée where a congregation of Catholic sisters had a sumptuous lunch prepared for us of thieboudienne which we were told it the traditional national dish of Senegal. It’s a rich one-pot meal of fish, rice, and tomato sauce, typically with all kinds of vegetables, carrots, cabbage, and cassava.

We then made a visit to the highly decorated French colonial church of St. Charles where we sang midday prayer from the French breviary on mobile phones while our Muslim friends did their salat, and then crowded into a hall where we had a further talk by Abbé Ndour, on what we can do, separately and jointly, to oppose current social and political movements that threaten human solidarity and fraternity. At the end we were treated to a surprise visit by the local imam, a colorful jovial tall man named Issa Ba, who was obviously a good friend of the abbé. (Later he rode back across the bay with us on the yacht and very much wanted to engage me in conversation and give me his contact info because he has a brother living in Italy.) Another of the most touching and telling things I heard during that trip was Imam Issa telling us (through the translator, speaking in Wolof) that he doesn’t leave the island often, but when he does, he calls his friend Abbé Ndour and tells him, “I’m going away for a few days. You’re in charge of the flock.”

We concluded our excursion that day with a visit to an Islamic center in the middle of Dakar, which is the very elegant penthouse home and office of a very highly regarded teacher from Iran who has been living in Dakar for some time now. The Iranians were especially glad to meet him, and he gave us a summary of his life and work. He has written many books that have been translated into French (he spoke to us exclusively in Arabic) that he was handing out liberally. It was another full and very rich day, and we were glad to return to Keur Guilaye for a late generous dinner.

On Sunday morning we finally got our chance to visit Keur Moussa itself. We were driven over in four separate vehicles, and got a full tour of the orchards and the kora workshop. Then of course a beautiful Sunday liturgy and hearing the music in the place it was invented. At the end Mass both Dr. Shomali and I gave presentations to the crowd which included a sizable group of pilgrims from Italy. I was disappointed that we did not get any time to interact with the community outside of our tour guide and the few we met in the shop afterward. But it was encouraging to see so many young faces in choir among the seasoned veterans. Almost all of the monks are African by now; I saw only two what I assumed were French faces among the monks.

Back at Keur Guilaye our major presentation for the day was Brother Guy from Côte d’Ivoire on Pope Francis’ famous Encyclical Letter Fratelli tutti, “On Fraternity and Human Friendship” which was again followed by a good discussion. Then Sheikh Shomali offered us a presentation on his dream of founding what he calls the “School of God,” a joint undertaking with the Focolare movement. He proposed something that might sound controversial to conservative ears in both of our traditions: God has not sent different religions, really, just different “schools.” The idea is that students from any religion could come a study under teachers-masters of either tradition and learn what our respective traditions in the way of wisdom for ethics and way of life. He is certainly fully committed to the ideal of finding the unity between and sharing riches of our two traditions. Our last morning folks were starting to trickle away already, but we had one final session planning for our next meeting (May 2027) and the idea for the theme flowed right from our discussion of the “School of God”: formation and Rule of Life.

 

There is something special in Senegal. The peaceful coexistence of the majority Muslim population is famed and does not seem to be a myth. Maybe it is no wonder that it is considered to be the most stable democracy in Africa. As for our gathering, I kept writing down little aphorisms I was hearing all weekend:

 

“Maybe we can create a new ummah, not Muslim or Christian.”

 

“In a real family, brothers and sisters don’t get together to avoid war;

they get together because they love each other.”

 

“There’s always room in the house when there’s room in the heart.”

 

“Know that people are of two kinds:

either they are your brother or sister in faith or your equal in creation.”

 

“Like in a wheel, the closer you get to the center, the closer the spokes are to each other.”

 

The charming story of a Christian asking a Muslim,

“When we dig to the bottom of this well, is this Muslim water or Christian water?”

And the Muslim responding sadly, “How can you ask that? It is Allah’s water!”

 

And what Professor Shomali said during his presentation on the “School of God”:

“I cannot say to God that I did my best to do His will if I only read Muslim texts and discuss them only with my Muslim friends.”

(I could substitute Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, Taoist, etc. etc.)

 

And my favorite, the monks told us that their Muslim friends say to them:

“You are a part of us; we are a part of you.”

 

And finally, this description of the Senegalese Teranga: “By being so giving to all, regardless of nationality, religion or class, a feeling grows that everyone is safe and welcome.” Maybe it touched me so deeply because it is the very opposite of what is going on in my own country of origin right now, I must sadly say. As a matter of fact, Senegal and Côte d’Ivoire which the Trump Administration has decided to partially restrict and limit the entry of nationals, “to protect its citizens from terrorist attacks and other national security and public safety threats.” When we were talking about our next encounter, I at first mentioned how it would be nice to give witness of this friendship in the States, and then immediately withdrew that suggestion since getting visas for our African friends would be perhaps difficult if not impossible at that point.

And I am not sure if someone said this or if I gleaned it from what was being said, but I have this paragraph scratched in my notes and let me conclude my travelogue with this:

 

Whether we like it or not, we need to have the maximum unity and fraternity. Our duty (and honor) is to prepare for that unity and fraternity. It is the plan of God that we will someday have universal fraternity but in the meantime, we need to pray and work (and study) for it. Not only that, we can also have a small replica of it to witness to the world.