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Let's Be Honest
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Good morning, Menlo Church. My name is Brett, and I'm the campus pastor at our Mountain View campus. We continue our journey through the series called Let's Be Honest, where we're looking at some of the world's largest and most influential faith traditions. Our hope is that we're approaching this with respect, with honesty, and with a fair view of what they believe — so that we can know our neighbors more and love our neighbors more.
As we talk about these religions, we also want to ask: what is it that Jesus offers that's different than these other faith traditions? Today, we are looking at Buddhism.
I grew up in a small town in East Tennessee, a state that is less than 1% Buddhist. All I knew about Buddhism growing up was what I saw on TV or in movies — and in case you're wondering, the worst source of theological education is TV and movies.
Some of you may feel Buddhism is too different, too mysterious. Others of you have a deep history with it. And some of you are what I like to call the dabblers — you wouldn't call yourself Buddhist, but you enjoy incorporating practices like meditation or mindfulness into your life because they help you feel centered without asking you to follow another God.
I want to caution you here. This can lead to an idea called syncretism — blending two different religious belief systems into one. As we'll see, while Christianity and Buddhism share some similarities, they ultimately take us in opposite directions.
Buddhism is practiced by nearly 500 million people worldwide and is remarkably diverse. Today we'll focus primarily on Theravada Buddhism, which is most closely related to what the Buddha taught in the fifth century BCE. (The other major branches are Mahayana Buddhism, common in East Asia, and Vajrayana Buddhism, associated with the Dalai Lama and the Himalayan region.)
One day, a sixth-century prince near modern-day Nepal named Siddhartha Gautama left his palace walls to see the world beyond him. There he encountered a dead man, a sick man, and an old man — and came face to face with the frailty of life. This led him to ask the questions many of us ask: Why is life like this? Why do I experience pain? Why do people suffer? And then: How can I fix this?
For years he traveled, studied under various teachers, and practiced extreme self-denial, but he continued to be left searching for answers. Then, one day while meditating under a tree, he had an experience that made everything clear. This moment became known as the enlightenment, and from then on he was known as the Buddha.
The Buddha rejected both the luxury of his upbringing and the extreme self-denial common in religious practice at the time. Instead he taught what is called the middle way — a disciplined set of practices avoiding both extremes.
Buddhism is a non-theistic religion — it does not believe in an all-powerful creator God who oversees creation. Buddhism does believe in spiritual beings, but they, like us, are mortal. Even the Buddha was simply human, and he attributed all his realizations to his own work and intelligence.
Buddhism is ultimately a faith tradition rooted in the belief that within all of us is the ability to reach enlightenment through hard work and intelligence. It takes suffering seriously, refuses shallow answers, and tells you that you have the ability to achieve peace on your own — which is part of why it can be so compelling in a culture where many people feel anxious, distracted, or exhausted.
The first noble truth is dukkha, often translated as "suffering," but its meaning goes deeper — it speaks to the impermanence and imperfection of life. Everything in life is temporary; everything changes, and something that changes is not complete or whole. Therefore it suffers.
Imagine a glass representing life. Right now it's full — but that won't last. Life is a series of constant changes, moment to moment. Since everything is impermanent, everything is dukkha.
Interestingly, Scripture names a similar observation about life:
"What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then it vanishes." — James
"Everyone is but a breath, even those who seem secure." — Psalm 39
In Buddhism, this truth even applies to the self — the concept of anatta, or "no soul." There isn't a permanent "you"; you are just a collection of inputs from one moment to the next.
The second noble truth moves toward why life is this way: our cravings and attachments. Deep within us is a desire to feel whole, and we try to fill that void with things that are also temporary.
You get the promotion, but the goalpost moves. You craft the perfect image, but then you have to keep it up. As a new dad, I've caught myself comparing my one-year-old's milestones to other babies on Instagram — the craving for more never stops.
Going back to the glass: even as it starts to empty, it craves being full again, so we keep pouring more in, always needing more to feel complete. This ties to the concept of karma — the cause and effect of our actions, which are neither good nor bad in themselves but which keep us cycling through life after life.
Scripture speaks to this same craving:
"All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing... I have seen all the things that were done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind." — Ecclesiastes
We live our lives chasing something always just outside our reach — like trying to catch the wind.
The third noble truth moves toward the solution: give up your cravings. This is nirvana — the removal of all cravings and attachments. Nirvana is not nothingness or annihilation; rather, once craving is gone, what you experience is total peace.
Think about the last time you couldn't sleep because your mind was spinning — likely because something in your life felt out of your control, and you wanted to control it. Buddhism says you can't actually control anything, because life is impermanent. So you must release the craving to control, and only then will you find peace.
Going back to the glass: life is always shifting, nothing stays full, but craving keeps telling us we must stay full. Buddhism says: let go of that craving. Empty yourself, and only then will you experience peace from suffering. Notice — Buddhism has no answer for making suffering stop; it only offers a way to find peace within it by emptying yourself of craving.
The final noble truth is the path forward — the Eightfold Path. Think of it like a full-body training plan focused on three areas:
Together, the Eightfold Path helps us notice desire without obeying it, observe suffering without being consumed by it, and eventually let go of our attachments to move toward nirvana.
When we step back, the Four Noble Truths name reality, explain why it is the way it is, give a goal, and tell you how to get there. There is real wisdom here. If you've ever tried to find completion in something that didn't last, or clung to something for comfort only to have it crash down with one phone call or one doctor's appointment — you see the wisdom in this.
Even as Christians, we can affirm much of what Buddhism observes: our world isn't the way it should be, our cravings can lead to suffering, our desires can become disordered, and we experience pain when we make temporary things ultimate things.
But the Bible answers the questions of why and how very differently.
The story of humanity, according to Christianity, doesn't start with suffering — it starts with wholeness. In the opening pages of the Bible, God creates the world and declares it "very good." Creation was made with purpose. Your emotions, your need for relationship and belonging, even the whole concept of you being a unique person made in God's image with inherent dignity — this was intentional design, not an accident to escape from.
Our problem isn't that we have cravings or desires — it's that our desires become disordered. After God creates the world and calls it very good, Adam and Eve are deceived into believing that eating the forbidden fruit will make them like God:
"When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it."
Sin entered the world. Sin makes us believe our cravings will satisfy us, that our success will make us feel worthy, that what we have will make us feel secure. The root problem in the world, according to Christianity, isn't suffering — it's sin. Suffering is the reality of a world fully impacted by sin.
Buddhism's answer to how is self-emptying. Christianity offers something entirely different. Centuries before Jesus, the prophet Isaiah wrote:
"Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering... he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed."
Isaiah spoke of someone who would not teach us how to escape suffering, but who would enter into our suffering so that we could be healed. About 500 years later, Jesus was born — fully God, fully human. Paul wrote of him:
"Jesus, who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used for his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death — even death on a cross!"
Christianity has an emptying too — but it's not a requirement placed on us to earn our freedom. God emptied himself to enter into our suffering and take it upon himself, so that we could be made whole.
Jesus said, "Whoever comes to me will never go thirsty. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry." He said, "Come to me, all who are weary, and I will give you rest."
Buddhism looks at the glass and says: your way to freedom is to empty yourself — of cravings, attachments, even the idea of self. Jesus looks at the same glass and says: "You can't free yourself, but that's okay, because I emptied myself for you. Come to me. I have come that you may have life, and have it to the full."
This is the message of the gospel: God emptied himself for us so that we could have life to the fullest. Buddhism and Christianity look at the same questions of why and how, but arrive at very different solutions. One says: you must empty yourself to find peace. The other says: I have emptied myself for you — come to me, and I will make you full. The choice is yours.
First, as you interact with people in your life who practice Buddhism, approach those relationships with respect and understanding. Remember they're coming from a completely different worldview. Consider asking: In a world full of suffering, how do you find peace? Then simply listen.
Second, if you're one of the "dabblers" who enjoys meditation or mindfulness practices, I'm not saying delete every app off your phone. But be a thoughtful consumer — ask yourself, Is this leading me toward emptying myself, or is it helping me be filled by Jesus? If it's the former, consider replacing it with something that refocuses your mind on Jesus.
Finally, if you are here and you are Buddhist, I hope what you heard today was a fair representation of what you believe. And I hope you hear this: there is a God who made you on purpose. He gave you your desires, your personality, your gifts — and he wants you to experience a full life in him.
The passage we keep returning to each week says that the full life God offers is "not by our own doing. It is by grace through faith in Jesus Christ." It's a gift — not because we've earned it, but because he loves us.
The invitation of Jesus is not "empty yourself, and then maybe you'll be free." The invitation of Jesus says: "Come to me. Bring your suffering. Bring your striving. I'll make you full."
