Buddhist congregation grateful to Columbus community after fire
As we enter our third year of the coronavirus pandemic, an appreciation for the value of patience — being able to be present with what is without giving in to a negative mindset — is growing in all parts of our community.
Knowing we are in this pandemic mode of life for the long haul — another year or more — has been a huge disappointment for so many, as all of us deal with the growing understanding that mask-wearing, hand-washing, vaccines and distancing will be part of our lives for more months to come.
In a way, it’s a sort of exile, an abnormal “normal” in which the world we knew has gone and the future world has not yet come into view. As human beings who crave certainty more than anything, it’s been hard — just hard — to live with the uncertainty.
But taken in the context of my own congregation’s last six years, after an arson fire destroyed our building and sent us into a sort of exile that is only now beginning to change, it’s all part of that amazing Buddhist concept called “impermanence.”
When people hear about our congregation’s misfortune, they naturally feel sympathy for us. No one wants to be homeless, and here we are, 50-odd families who haven’t had a home of our own for six years. Folks wonder how we got through it, kept encouraged, and even thrived.
Two answers readily come to mind: our amazing Columbus community, and, yes, the coronavirus pandemic.
As regards the saying, “It takes a village to raise a child,” one could just as easily say, “It takes a village to raise a church.”
From the moment the local interfaith community heard about the early-morning arson fire on Jan. 31, 2016, that destroyed our center, located in a 90-year-old wooden frame church in East Franklinton, our little family of faith was surrounded by kind and loving hands lifting us up.
The day of the fire, a Presbyterian church contacted our center’s leadership and offered a space for one of our twice-weekly prayer-and-meditation services. Mayor Andrew Ginther’s assistant reached out by phone, and the very next day, as the mayor and I spoke by phone, the Interfaith Association of Central Ohio was organizing a prayer service of love and support for us later in the week.
Investigators determined that since several fires were set in trash bins on our alley that night, it was unlikely our fire was a hate crime. We were incredibly relieved and were powerfully heartened by what happened next.
On a blustery February morning just days after the fire, 150 people gathered in our parking lot, the burned hulk of our building standing as a backdrop for our devotions. One after another, faith representatives from all traditions spoke and prayed for us and all who had lost their homes. City officials and everyday folks we’d never met were all standing with us in our loss. It was a grace-filled moment.
At the close of the service, a local rabbi offered us space for our weekly meetings, and our little Buddhist center had a temporary home.
All in all, a half-dozen faith communities offered us shelter during what we now jokingly call our “nomad” period. Like the Tibetan nomads who gave birth to our particular school of Buddhist practice, we were picking up our tents and taking our flock on a tour of the city that introduced us to people we might never have met otherwise.
Our elderly spiritual leader, Khenpo Karthar Rinpoche, had spoken to us by phone from his home in upstate New York. He’d urged us to not be sad, but to rebuild our home. He also encouraged us to make new friends in the community.
That turned out to be an easier task that we’d imagined.
Business people offered us encouragement and helped us organize fundraisers. An account was started for us at The Columbus Foundation. Local arts organizations and our neighborhood’s own Franklinton Board of Trade gave us connections and advice as we worked with architects, lawyers, builders and fundraising experts to slowly create our brand-new home.
Even when the pandemic hit in 2020, we found new friends. When our hosts at Congregation Tifereth Israel had to close due to pandemic precautions, we hopped onto Zoom like everyone else and were stunned when folks from New Zealand, Australia, South America, Europe — and every region of the United States began joining our programs. The spiritual message was resonating, even across the miles.
So in a way, impermanence has led to an unusual resiliency, and now, six years on, Columbus Karma Thegsum Chöling is preparing to reopen again.
Our dear Khenpo Rinpoche’s advice has helped us recognize the beauty and diversity of our own community. Every person can feel loss; every person can feel alone. But if we just sit still, share space together and feel our human connection, we can find home in our joined hearts and accomplish powerful things.
Lama Kathy Wesley is a Columbus native and a Buddhist minister at the Karma Thegsum Chöling Buddhist Meditation Center in Franklinton.
Keeping the Faith is a column featuring the perspectives of a variety of faith leaders from the Columbus area.
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