Chanting for Happiness

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That song is a less graceful example of the long-standing tradition of incorporating intercultural elements into Nichiren Buddhist faith. The founder and namesake of the practice, Nichiren Daishonin, was a 13th-century radical Japanese priest who asserted, in a time of clerical corruption, that every living being had a Buddha nature and could therefore attain enlightenment without the help of an ordained intermediary. Nichiren drew his teachings from the Lotus Sutra, one of the final sutras delivered by the Buddha. As the story goes, in order to make the liturgy accessible to everyone in the world, he completed a translation fusing all the known languages of the time. To this day, from New Jersey to Ghana, Nichiren's disciples chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, a combination of ancient Chinese and Sanskrit, pronounced with a Japanese accent.

Unlike their Zen counterparts, Nichiren Buddhists embrace their earthly desires as a means to achieve happiness in this lifetime. My parents have an index card next to the gohonzon on their altar, listing an ever-evolving list of their wishes for themselves, their loved ones, and the world. By forming a direct alliance between their life condition and the rhythm of the universe, my parents believe they are augmenting their purest intentions with universal assistance. They call this process 'human revolution' and have faith that it will lead them to 'become absolutely happy in this lifetime, help others to do the same, and, person by person, create world peace.'

As Nichiren Buddhists, my parents are members of a global organization called Soka Gakkai International (SGI). In the spirit of engaged Buddhism, members of SGI, one of the world's most ethnically and socially diverse Buddhist groups, base their faith in action. To this end, SGI works closely with a long list of peace, education, and environmental protection groups like the Boston Research Center, the Pacific Basin Research Center, and the Earth Charter. In addition to their community work, twice a day every day, in their homes and at local 'culture centers,' all the world's 12 million SGI members sit down and chant in prayer for kosen rufu (the spread of the teachings), understood as the promotion of world peace.

The older I get, the harder it becomes to dismiss the pursuit of world peace as dorky. But kosen rufu is composed of millions of individuals' hopes, desires, and intentions, many of which are much easier to make fun of. Because my parents have resolved to see evidence of their prayers wherever they look, they do. In Buddhist speak, this evidence is called 'actual proof' or 'benefits,' and recognizing benefits is a way to maintain an energetic practice.

My parents and I agree that some benefits -- such as their successful marriage, the impulsive beginnings of which have now become the stuff of family legend -- truly do indicate larger forces at work. My father decided he wanted to get married, so he asked two girls to a Buddhist meeting and proposed to the one who was moved to tears. My mother prudently told him she needed at least a week to decide, dreamed prophetically that my father would be a good match, and now, 30 years later, they are happily married, living in the suburbs, with two kids, two cars, a golden retriever, and many reasons to be thankful. Other declared benefits, like when the guy at the doughnut shop runs out to the parking lot to give my father the eyeglasses he forgot on the counter, are not so clear-cut.

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