The Temple Door

This is excerpt #4 from, "Believer, Beware: First-Person Dispatches from the Margins of Faith"



Danielle Trussoni writes of her travel in Vietnam. Is she a pilgrim or a tourist? Her father had been one of the countless tragedies that war left in its wake and now the daughter has come hoping to make some sense of his broken life.

One hot afternoon, Danielle finds her way to the doors of a Buddhist temple. An old monk invites her in. He asks her if she is a Christian. She says she was raised Christian but has no idea what she believes any longer. He looks on her with pity. "You must discover this. It is important to know who you are." When she was about to leave, the old monk offers three joss sticks of incense and tells her that she must pray. "Pray for what?" She asks. "You will know," he said, "when you begin."

As she tries to pray, and through the haze of the incense, Danielle recalls the family movies of her childhood. Before her parents split up, they used to gather in the evening, kids in their pyjamas, to watch 8mm film projected on the wall. Her father always said those were the best years of his life.

She recalls watching those movies again after graduate school. One scene stands out. Her father is walking along side of her as she learns to ride, holding the bar of her bicycle seat. She recalls falling and skinning her knee, but the actual event is captured on film. She doesn't fall. Her father had been there to catch her. Danielle realizes that her memory is inaccurate, coloured by later conflict.

Danielle prays for her father's illness to disappear. She prays that all the terrible things that happened in war would never happen again. She prays for peace.

Some of the most important discoveries come when we are in a strange place. The experience of dislocation allows us to explore in ways we don't when we are in a familiar place. You don't have to step out of your present context to gain perspective, but sometimes it helps.

Peter