John the Baptist

I do not belong to any one religion. Several years ago, I decided to read all of the religious texts from all of the major religions and realized that they were all pretty much the same. By this I mean they said the exact same things: Love and honor yourself, love and honor others. Be kind. Be a good person. 

My fiance and I practice a form of meditation taught by Buddha, are getting married in a Hindu temple, celebrate Jewish holidays and sometimes go to a Christian church. We have a prayer and meditation room at our house. I often joke that the God of your choice can be found in this room. I understand the protagonist in The Life of Pi perfectly. With so many cool rituals, traditions and deities, who could chose just one?


Recently, I had an idea for a book. I thought, what if someone was to create one text, written in a common, non-assuming language that anyone could understand, which incorporates the similar messages from all of these religious texts? I thought it would be a neat way to show people how all of our cultures and religions, although seemingly dramatically different from one perspective, are really quite similar when you break things down into the basics. So, I got out my copy of the Bible, the Gita, the Dhammapada and all the others I could find, in order to start drafting this book. 

I got distracted when I started to read the New Testament. That John the Baptist! I am still as fascinated by him as I was when I was a child in a Methodist Sunday School class. Eating locusts and honey! Wearing his camel hair clothes! Living in the wilderness! Can you imagine? 

And what was all of this about repenting of one's sins and having to get baptized? Back then, when I was a child, I disregarded this part of the story and just thought about what a cool, eclectic guy this John the Baptist might have been. I thought about how I would have liked to hang out with him. Later, when I learned that he had been beheaded, I was slightly traumatized. Who would do this to such an eccentric soul? Who could bear to serve his head on a platter? I was more bothered by this than the crucifixion. 

As I grew up, I grew away from Christianity, and my fascination with John the Baptist, mainly because of the whole repent of your sins stuff. I don't believe we are bad, us humans. I don't believe in a heaven or hell after our deaths. I don't believe any one can truly save me but me. For a long time, I became resentful of all of the judgment and exclusivity that seemed to be very common in a lot of the self-proclaimed Christians I knew and I completely threw out the baby with the bath water. I would have nothing to do with Christianity for a very long time. 

As I grew up even more, I realized that what I disliked about this religion was not the religion per se, but the way people had manipulated it for their own self-serving reasons. Jesus was a beautiful person. He preached unconditional love. He told people to look at themselves before they even started to judge someone else. He gave and gave and gave. What a great example of how to live a human life. I started to view the Bible symbolically and it took on a much deeper meaning and relevance to my life. Christianity became bearable. 

When I viewed the Bible symbolically, Jesus was no longer some supersonic prophet who was asking me to form a co-dependent relationship with him in order to prevent me from spending my afterlife burning in hell. He was me-the part of me I really like. The part that is loving and kind and generous. He was reminding me that this is the way to live if one wants to be happy. Heaven was no longer something I had to strive for. If I lived in a way that demonstrated kindness to myself and others, I could have it right here, right now. 

John the Baptist told people to come to the big river where he stood thigh deep in cold water, ready to dunk people under. "Repent of your sins and be baptized!" he would yell to the people. "The savior is coming!" John was out for one thing and one thing only-and that was cleansing.

For a long time, I thought cleansing meant I needed to work on becoming a better person. I feel totally cleansed after each 10-day Vipassana retreat. I feel more honest, more loving, more compassionate, so I thought this is what John the Baptist was trying to say. It was all about what I had to do to others, what I should be for others. Be kind, be a better person, forgive them. 

This week, I was rereading a bunch of spiritual texts I have, as I am in the process of creating several coaching programs from them. In one, the line, "All judgment ends up being self-judgment in the end" really stood out to me. Recently I've been doing The Work almost non-stop, as I'm getting married next week and would really like to put some of my old baggage behind me when I commit my life to this man I love. While doing The Work, I keep realizing, over and over, that all of my judgments of others are really just judgments I have of myself. All of the advice I have for others is really just the medicine I need to take. 

She should stop being a victim turns into I should stop being a victim. 

These kids should listen turns into I should listen. 

He should be more responsible turns into I should be more responsible. 

Until there is no one to judge, no one to give advice to, and no one to improve but me. 

Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? 

See? That Jesus was full of wise, rhetorical questions. 

So where does leave John the Baptist? I'm not quite sure. I do know that when I began to ponder my own judgment, I began to wonder about forgiveness. If all judgment ends up being judgment of one's self, then wouldn't all forgiveness really just be forgiving ourselves? In the end, when I strip my anger and my sadness and my fear down to the basics, it seems to be all I have left. Forgiving myself. 

For what? you may wonder. For selling myself short. For hiding my talents. For settling for less than what I deserved. For staying in situations that didn't allow me to thrive. For staying angry. For not seeing the deeper lessons. For not accepting myself. For believing I wasn't good enough. 

Several years ago, I remember a touching article I read in Shambala Sun. The journalist had interviewed a famous spiritual healer and at the end of the interview, the journalist inquired about a painful experience in his life. He asked the healer for some guidance, to help him figure out why this terrible thing had happened to him. The healer did not answer the journalist's question. Instead, he wrapped his forefinger and thumb around the journalist's wrist, looked him in the eyes and said, "You are good." I have never forgotten the journalist's account of this. It moved me in a way I have not been able to explain until now. 

It is time for me to go to the river inside of my heart. It is time for me to walk in, dunk myself under and come up forgiven. It is time for me to realize the savior has come. The savior is me. I am loved. I am full of grace. I am good.