Dear Sensei Tony - Why do we practice liturgy? This is Marie.

Hi Marie—

I love your question; I think many others have it too. When I was growing up, the churches we attended had very limited liturgy, but my later experiences in the Episcopal Church developed in me a love and appreciation for “the smells and bells.” In our Dragonfly Sangha we have drawn from three primary Buddhist roots: Zen, Shin, and Tantra. In these older traditions, liturgy is central. It’s part of what in Sanskrit could be called puja or bhakti. You might say it is a form of worship if we understand the etymology of that word as “an attitude of worthiness, dignity, and reverence.” I personally like the phrase “worthy-ship.” We translate it as divine liturgy, and you could also say that it is an aspect of what we call meditation or contemplation. Liturgy also means “the work/play of the spiritual community.” Thus, when I engage in this practice I realize I am part of a cosmic communion, whether I am engaging in it alone at my home altar or in group gatherings.

To comprehend this more clearly, we need to understand the teaching called Trikaya, or the Three Bodies of the Buddha. It’s sort of like a Buddhist trinity. The first body is called Dharmakaya. This is the primordial, groundless ground of all being. It is Oneness that is ineffable and is known in Tantra as Adi Buddha. From this Oneness emanates all things. This emanation is the second body, Sambhogakaya. This represents the flowing energy of the cosmic archetypes. The archetype is what we invoke in liturgy. In our Sangha we have various names for these representing awakened aspects of our true nature. For example, there is Fudo (divine protection), Fugen (limitless graciousness), Kanzeon (compassionate healing), Jizo (constant traveling companionship), and Amida (boundless light and life). For some, this archetype could include Christ or a personal Buddha (a loved one who has transitioned), etc. When we practice liturgy we are creating the third body, Nirmanakaya, of personal embodiment.

Because we understand that all arises from Shunyata, or boundless interdependence, we know that ultimately there is no separation between what we invoke and us. For example, the Buddha images that are ubiquitous are not idols but icons that draw us into a deeper understanding of Oneness. Our devotion to Oneness and the emanations of Oneness through liturgy help us to realize or embody Oneness in ourselves. While we understand that ultimate liberation is gnosis, we also know how human beings actually function in daily life. In Oneness or ultimate reality there is manifold diversity—or, as the ancient Buddhist liturgy says, “in all creations.” And whether we use a word or image, we are still functioning out of an “I and Thou” relationship.

For example, the great Buddhist philosopher Nāgārjuna, who founded the Middle Way school (Madhyamaka) and was renowned for his adamantine teachings on emptiness, was a practitioner of the veneration and adoration of Amida Buddha. He understood that no matter what humans do, they tend to reify things and deny their inherent interdependence. It is better to meditate on a divine being (Tibetan: yidam) that one knows is a reflection of one’s own true self. And we can learn to do this with others. I look upon my wife both as a unique being and an embodiment of Kanzeon, and—as the old wedding liturgy says—I “worship her with my body,” and yet we are mystically not two but one.

In our Dragonfly Sangha we advocate this devotional approach. Why do we do this? Because it is part of being a whole practitioner of Oneness. We recognize the equally important practices of meditation, precepts, sacred study, and mindfulness, but we also know that sometimes these practices can be wrongly undertaken as dry intellectuality and often become more about the “head” than the “heart.” We engender the heart and mind poetically as one (Japanese: kokoro). We know that a practice of devotional love creates a stronger connection and allows us to compassionately seek and serve Oneness in all of creation.

So the next time you participate in liturgy, don’t treat it as a perfunctory ritual—give your whole self to it. Let the offering of incense and the chanting of mantra fill your whole being with enthusiasm; let that holy love fill you to the brim and then flow out into the world as a sacred offering.—

I love your question; I think many others have it too. When I was growing up, the churches we attended had very limited liturgy, but my later experiences in the Episcopal Church developed in me a love and appreciation for “the smells and bells.” In our Dragonfly Sangha we have drawn from three primary Buddhist roots: Zen, Shin, and Tantra. In these older traditions, liturgy is central. It’s part of what in Sanskrit could be called puja or bhakti. You might say it is a form of worship if we understand the etymology of that word as “an attitude of worthiness, dignity, and reverence.” I personally like the phrase “worthy-ship.” We translate it as divine liturgy, and you could also say that it is an aspect of what we call meditation or contemplation. Liturgy also means “the work/play of the spiritual community.” Thus, when I engage in this practice I realize I am part of a cosmic communion, whether I am engaging in it alone at my home altar or in group gatherings.

To comprehend this more clearly, we need to understand the teaching called Trikaya, or the Three Bodies of the Buddha. It’s sort of like a Buddhist trinity. The first body is called Dharmakaya. This is the primordial, groundless ground of all being. It is Oneness that is ineffable and is known in Tantra as Adi Buddha. From this Oneness emanates all things. This emanation is the second body, Sambhogakaya. This represents the flowing energy of the cosmic archetypes. The archetype is what we invoke in liturgy. In our Sangha we have various names for these representing awakened aspects of our true nature. For example, there is Fudo (divine protection), Fugen (limitless graciousness), Kanzeon (compassionate healing), Jizo (constant traveling companionship), and Amida (boundless light and life). For some, this archetype could include Christ or a personal Buddha (a loved one who has transitioned), etc. When we practice liturgy we are creating the third body, Nirmanakaya, of personal embodiment.

Because we know that all arises from shunyata, or boundless interdependence, we know that ultimately there is no separation between what we invoke and us. For example, the Buddha images that are ubiquitous are not idols but icons that draw us into a deeper understanding of Oneness. Our devotion to Oneness and the emanations of Oneness through liturgy help us to realize or embody Oneness in ourselves. While we understand that ultimate liberation is gnosis, we also know how human beings actually function in daily life. In Oneness or ultimate reality there is manifold diversity—or, as the ancient Buddhist liturgy says, “in all creations.” And whether we use a word or image, we are still functioning out of an “I and Thou” relationship.

For example, the great Buddhist philosopher Nāgārjuna, who founded the Middle Way school (Madhyamaka) and was renowned for his adamantine teachings on emptiness, was a practitioner of the veneration and adoration of Amida Buddha. He understood that no matter what humans do, they tend to reify things and deny their inherent interdependence. It is better to meditate on a divine being (Tibetan: yidam) that one knows is a reflection of one’s own true self. And we can learn to do this with others. I look upon my wife both as a unique being and an embodiment of Kanzeon, and—as the old wedding liturgy says—I “worship her with my body,” and yet we are mystically not two but one.

In our Dragonfly Sangha we advocate this devotional approach. Why do we do this? Because it is part of being a whole practitioner of Oneness. We recognize the equally important practices of meditation, precepts, sacred study, and mindfulness, but we also know that sometimes these practices can be wrongly undertaken as dry intellectuality and often become more about the “head” than the “heart.” We engender the heart and mind poetically as one (Japanese: kokoro). We know that a practice of devotional love creates a stronger connection and allows us to compassionately seek and serve Oneness in all of creation.

So the next time you participate in liturgy, don’t treat it as a perfunctory ritual—give your whole self to it. Let the offering of incense and the chanting of mantra fill your whole being with enthusiasm; let that holy love fill you

I love your question; I think many others have it too. When I was growing up, the churches we attended had very limited liturgy, but my later experiences in the Episcopal Church developed in me a love and appreciation for “the smells and bells.” In our Dragonfly Sangha we have drawn from three primary Buddhist roots: Zen, Shin, and Tantra. In these older traditions, liturgy is central. It’s part of what in Sanskrit could be called puja or bhakti. You might say it is a form of worship if we understand the etymology of that word as “an attitude of worthiness, dignity, and reverence.” I personally like the phrase “worthy-ship.” We translate it as divine liturgy, and you could also say that it is an aspect of what we call meditation or contemplation. Liturgy also means “the work/play of the spiritual community.” Thus, when I engage in this practice I realize I am part of a cosmic communion, whether I am engaging in it alone at my home altar or in group gatherings.

To comprehend this more clearly, we need to understand the teaching called Trikaya, or the Three Bodies of the Buddha. It’s sort of like a Buddhist trinity. The first body is called Dharmakaya. This is the primordial, groundless ground of all being. It is Oneness that is ineffable and is known in Tantra as Adi Buddha. From this Oneness emanates all things. This emanation is the second body, Sambhogakaya. This represents the flowing energy of the cosmic archetypes. The archetype is what we invoke in liturgy. In our Sangha we have various names for these representing awakened aspects of our true nature. For example, there is Fudo (divine protection), Fugen (limitless graciousness), Kanzeon (compassionate healing), Jizo (constant traveling companionship), and Amida (boundless light and life). For some, this archetype could include Christ or a personal Buddha (a loved one who has transitioned), etc. When we practice liturgy we are creating the third body, Nirmanakaya, of personal embodiment.

Because we know that all arises from shunyata, or boundless interdependence, we know that ultimately there is no separation between what we invoke and us. For example, the Buddha images that are ubiquitous are not idols but icons that draw us into a deeper understanding of Oneness. Our devotion to Oneness and the emanations of Oneness through liturgy help us to realize or embody Oneness in ourselves. While we understand that ultimate liberation is gnosis, we also know how human beings actually function in daily life. In Oneness or ultimate reality there is manifold diversity—or, as the ancient Buddhist liturgy says, “in all creations.” And whether we use a word or image, we are still functioning out of an “I and Thou” relationship.

For example, the great Buddhist philosopher Nāgārjuna, who founded the Middle Way school (Madhyamaka) and was renowned for his adamantine teachings on emptiness, was a practitioner of the veneration and adoration of Amida Buddha. He understood that no matter what humans do, they tend to reify things and deny their inherent interdependence. It is better to meditate on a divine being (Tibetan: yidam) that one knows is a reflection of one’s own true self. And we can learn to do this with others. I look upon my wife both as a unique being and an embodiment of Kanzeon, and—as the old wedding liturgy says—I “worship her with my body,” and yet we are mystically not two but one.

In our Dragonfly Sangha we advocate this devotional approach. Why do we do this? Because it is part of being a whole practitioner of Oneness. We recognize the equally important practices of meditation, precepts, sacred study, and mindfulness, but we also know that sometimes these practices can be wrongly undertaken as dry intellectuality and often become more about the “head” than the “heart.” We engender the heart and mind poetically as one (Japanese: kokoro). We know that a practice of devotional love creates a stronger connection and allows us to compassionately seek and serve Oneness in all of creation.

So the next time you participate in liturgy, don’t treat it as a perfunctory ritual—give your whole self to it. Let the offering of incense and the chanting of mantra fill your whole being with enthusiasm; let that holy love fill you to the brim and then flow out into the world as a sacred offering.