When Reverence Isn’t Enough: Leaving Orthodox Christianity to Practice the Beatitudes as Dharma
I thought the Jesus Prayer and liturgy would teach me to love like Christ. But it was Buddhist mind training—and Mr. Rogers—that showed me how.
From my journal, circa 2007
From my journal, circa 2008
When Praise Isn't a Lifeline
I found that Orthodoxy drove me deeper into depression.
The only advice I got to counter it was: “Praise God more.”
Many people in Orthodoxy feel this same way. But they’re afraid to admit it. Because the moment they do, someone points the finger:
You’re not spiritual enough. You don’t have enough faith. You don’t love God enough.
Well, I’ve buried a few people who were told that. People who were taught to trust this failed system— To confess harder, fast longer, praise more— Until they couldn’t survive another liturgy with an empty heart. Until they lost the will to keep pretending. Until they died by suicide.
So forgive me if I no longer play nice with pious platitudes.
The Missing Intention Behind the Prayer
Orthodox faithful are taught to bless people and pray for them. But too often, it’s framed as a spiritual duty, not a relational awakening. You pray for others because you're supposed to. But no one tells you what you're really trying to accomplish.
And here’s the irony:
How can you realize love from a God you cannot see if you cannot allow yourself to receive the love from people you do see?
The practice of blessing others—of sincerely praying for someone—is actually a form of offering love. But it becomes transformative only when you understand it that way. Not as a holy obligation. But as a way to reopen your heart when it has gone numb.
The Beatitudes Are Dharma—Not Dogma
That’s what drew me to Orthodoxy in the first place.
Not the gatekeeping. Not the sermons about sin. It was the Jesus Prayer and the liturgy— I thought maybe, through them, I could learn to love like Jesus did.
But over time, I realized something painful:
To actually learn that kind of love, you have to deeply practice the Beatitudes. And the Beatitudes? They’re a subset of dharma— minus the skill of Buddhism, where the focus is on methods, not arguing over Christology.
And here’s the crux of it:
Saying a bunch of prayers praising God when what you really need to do is remove the log from your own eye— that’s a problem. Because that log? It’s what keeps you from seeing the love that’s already present.
It wasn’t more reverence I needed. It was practice. Tools. Ways to work with the mind and heart, not just label them sinful.
The Buddhist tradition I follow is Dzogchen, which to me sounded like they understood Jesus when he told his listeners they were the light of the world. And in the Gospel of Mary, the Child of True Humanity is inside you. Seek it.
Dzogchen-style meditations and ideas, along with Gnosticism, gave me that.
Strangely enough, so did Mr. Rogers.
They taught me something Orthodoxy didn’t:
That we are surrounded by loving kindness.
That we are literally loved into being.
And the simple daily practice of remembering that—even briefly—will begin to transform you.
Not the Opposite of Seraphim Rose
Recently, someone in Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia (ROCOR) who reveres Seraphim Rose told me I was his opposite. Apparently, he thinks the spiritual arc is supposed to go from Zen to Orthodoxy—not the other way around.
But I’m not the opposite of Seraphim Rose. I studied Mahayana Buddhism in the ’90s, then came to Orthodoxy because I longed for a deeper experience of the Jesus Prayer.
But what I found was that the exclusivity of Orthodoxy works against its own teachings—especially the one about loving your enemies.
I realized I had been conditioned to fight against every disruptive thought and emotion, rather than letting them evaporate on their own.
And they do.
That’s not Buddhist fluff. That’s observable reality.
Back in 2006, an elder finally told me that the core of the Jesus Prayer was to be still and not react.
And I remember thinking:
“That’s what we were taught in Buddhism, yet here in Orthodox we were taught to fight against those thoughts, even identify with them and beat ourselves up for them”
In all fairness, there is no definitive document on how one should view afflicting thoughts. You will actually find significant variance across different Orthodox traditions—Greek, Russian, and others each have their own emphasis and approach.
When Fullness Leaves You Empty
So yes—some Orthodox will come at me for saying all this.
But if Orthodoxy truly holds the fullness of the faith,
then it should have fuller methods for softening the ego and awakening compassion
than anything Buddhism has to offer.
But it doesn’t.
And if you’ve ever actually practiced lojong or tonglen, you know this already.
Orthodoxy has the language of love.
Buddhism has the practice.
You shouldn’t have to choose between them.
But if you're left with a faith that can't help you feel loved—by God or anyone else—then it’s not fullness, it’s just form.
And if anyone feels the need to attack me for saying that?
It only proves the point.
Because confidence doesn’t shout you down.
And humility doesn’t need to win.
What I Practice Now
Now, I receive love from my benefactors—a field of merit, with Mary Magdalene and Jesus along with other spiritual figures who have held me in a wish of love. Daily deepening my awareness of how much I am loved.
Then I rest in that radiance, Letting my mind unfurl, And surrendering to the Child of True Humanity.
Next, I receive love again—And send it to my loved ones, Then to strangers, Then to those I don’t like. Believe it or not, you can send the wish of love to the person without liking them. We do it all the time at Holiday gatherings :-)
Nice and simple. Though maybe not that simple.
Because while doing this, the real practice is learning to trust in the wish of love—
More than whatever thoughts we may have about others.
To let the intention carry more truth than our opinions.
No monastic drama.
Just a heart remembering how to stay open.
May you be blessed
with the kind of love that welcomes you as you are.
May you grow free from the need to prove yourself.
May the ones you once called enemies become less important than the love that includes them.
And may your prayers—spoken or silent—reach those who truly need them.
With compassion and quiet strength,
Virgin Monk Boy
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Beautifully said. "I realized I had been conditioned to fight against every disruptive thought and emotion, rather than letting them evaporate on their own." This makes me think of the idea of integration and the shadow self, the language of Jungian psychology.
Thank you dear friend, for sharing the fruits of your Christ journey with us. Reading your thoughts blesses me.
Speaking personally, odd how our concepts change throughout the years. It wasn’t until my late 30’s that I realized that God laughs. Up until then, I thought of him as pretty darn serious and firm. Thinking of Him as loving and wanting the best for me helped me to lighten up on the guilt.