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.
