As a child, religion and spiritual beliefs were quite confusing in my household. My father was a born- again teenager, exploding into tantrums so many Sunday mornings that after a while, my mother just shook her head, muttered how she’d pray for his soul, and kissed him goodbye.

But my mother’s Sunday round-up and schlep to Catholic church wasn’t as Catholic as it seemed. In the basement of our house there was a private room that actually wasn’t very private at all. It was a sacred space she would go every morning to do secret things before the world woke up. It was decorated with miniature statues, ornaments, incense, heirlooms, and trinkets from times passed. She went there to sit and meditate, to, as she puts it, be enveloped by the Light. And she made us, her children, swear to never talk to anyone about it.

Once I was old enough to better understand, my mother sat me down and explained to me that though she believed in the Christian way she also had a strong inclination for Buddhism. In her early twenties she got involved with a meditation group that ultimately changed her life. Not ready to give up on Christianity, the faith in which she was raised, she decided to leave her Baptist church and joined a Catholic church, mainly because of the calm, serene, meditative environment. That church was the church I slept in every Sunday morning – the church my father avoided.

My mother said that Buddhism “strips away the bone and just leaves the meat.” Universal laws such as karma, and leading a non-violent life, run parallel to the teachings of Jesus, but without the fables, and stories. Just cut and dry sensibility.

Though she never admitted it I know that the only reason my mother never fully left Christianity is because of the fear of judgment from her peers. To be Black and anything but Christian (or Muslim) is to be heathen. Or to not be all Black. Or to be progressive, which unfortunately for an older Black woman from the south, is not seen as such a good thing either. That is, until another older Black woman from the south decided to chant what Nichiren Buddhists believe is the mantra of enlightenment, “Nam-Myoho- Renge-Kyo,” and her story be made public. Tina Turner.

Since “What’s Love Got To Do With It,” the story of Tina Turner’s emotional and spiritual evolution, more Black people, especially young Black people, have decided to delve into the world of Buddhism. They find themselves more at home, without all the emotionalism of the Black church, often clouding the intended message. Shouting and dancing has turned into chanting for many, and sermons have become self-served and intrinsic. Young people are becoming more confident in bucking what they’ve been taught, and more fearless in what they want to know. A spiritual evolution is taking place. Today, you find that more people consider themselves “spiritual” and are shying away from “religion.” You also find people who cling to God and God alone. Nothing else. These are just signs that things are opening, and Christianity, one of the youngest faiths, is being challenged.

I am not advocating on behalf of the death of Christianity. I, personally think it’s a beautiful faith, when manifested sincerely. But it’s a good thing to de-homogenize ourselves and further the brilliant diversity that has existed within us since the beginning. We push for new thought, new ideas, and new ways to be better, and it’s about time our differences, even in faith, be celebrated and accepted. Simply put, my mother shouldn’t have to hide, nor should she feel obligated to any religious practice for fear of scrutiny, or worse, hell. And as a child caught between the chapel and the chanting, I shouldn’t have had to keep such a silly secret.

For more info on Black Buddhism check out zenundertheskin.typepad.com

By Jason Reynolds