There is always transformation over time in the way practitioners of a religion experience and continue practicing that religion. Some of this change comes simply through gradual processes, adjustments in the day-to-day goings on in the church (the congregation and the physical structure in which the religious gather). Some of this change comes from more deliberate alterations, those made by refugees or immigrants coming to a new country and finding themselves quite significantly a minority where once they were the majority in their homeland, those made by new generations supplanting the old and finding new ways to practice that fit more conveniently (or more comfortably) with new lifestyles. Still, they hold onto religion, hold onto its cultural aspects, the identity that they bring along with them from their old homes.
Immigrant parents, “wishing to transfer their native heritage to their offspring, educate them about the history, culture, language, values, and religion of their homeland” but “the later generations are frequently more American than their parents usually want”[1] and may fight such education. Similarly, finding themselves in smaller, local groups of followers-as opposed to their homeland where their religion might have been quite popular, even the first generation immigrants may find their practice waning… but not their belief, their faith. By building, once they have the numbers to necessitate it, new temples (or with Sikhs, gurdwaras), they can strengthen their religion locally by gathering again with like-minded individuals, be it other immigrants or even local converts. The key is continuity even in the transformation. Even in a new country, even isolated from others who share their beliefs, they hold to what they can, keep as much of the old practices permanent, ongoing.
These immigrants won’t have the physical permanence of a church like the Old Ship Meetinghouse in Hingham, Massachusetts, with more than 300 years of ecclesiastical use, but they will bring permanence of belief into a new House of Worship and work with what they have. For Hindus, in particular, before they are able to build local temples here in America, their “homes are more than the primary sites of religious teaching, rituals, and ceremonies” They are “the gathering places for religious groups.”[2] Contrary to the integral nature of temples in, say, the Buddhist immigrant’s experience, there seems, in reality, an obvious importance not on physical structures or even traditional rituals but on the people themselves, a vital import on the cultural identity those people share. Religion becomes part of who they are, like the Hispanic women in Bednarowski’s The Religious Imagination of American Women who could not detach from their Catholicism no matter how strained their relationship with the religion became; it was part and parcel of their culture, of who and what they were.[3] Even with deliberate change—take, for example, the design of Beth Sholom Synagogue, specifically designed to not resemble other synagogues, to set a new standard for American synagogues in the post-Holocaust world—the people remain, inasmuch as they are able, the same.[4]
Taking the structure out of it, even taking some of the ritual away—for example, the Sikh community kitchen shifting to American food[5] and only keeping part of what had been previously the ritual of it—one might find these immigrants gravitating toward something like the Unitarian Church. As more and more of the unique qualities of a given religion get left behind—at least, temporarily—upon immigration, it would seem a simple enough step—looking at it from outside the process—to turn toward universalism[6], the aspects that many religions share, but that would involve foregoing the cultural identity aspect of the religion. And, that would fall right in line with the “immigrant generation fears that its offspring will forget their past.”[7] If the parents let it go, there will be no hope at all that the next generation will have it. And, then you would not get the situation like at Wat Dhammaram where the teenagers come to see the temple as “not [just] a place of worship, but a place where we have made lifetime friends.... We will always come back to it because at one time or another, it was our second home.”[8] What is it, is the home of a fundamental part of what they have left of the place from whence they came, a piece of their culture and their identity, their home in[1] Mann, Gurinder Singh, Paul David Numrich, and Raymond B. Williams, Buddhists, Hindus and Sikhs in America: A Short History, 12… note: page numbers are from the eBook version on my nook, so will differ somewhat from the paperback.
[2] Mann, 64.
[3][3] Bednarowski, Mary Farrell, The Religious Imagination of American Women, 34.
[4] Contrary to this are congregations like that of Robert Schuller at the Crystal Cathedral. Here, instead of a distinct continuity, even in people, everything is shiny and new to attract newer and newer audiences in a multimedia-saturated world.
[5] Mann, 105.
[6] It would even seem beneficial, no matter where these immigrants turn, if one considers the research of Andrew Newberg (www.andrewnewberg.com), the notion that “active and positive spiritual belief changes the human brain for the better” but it doesn’t really matter what faith one has, or if one even subscribes to a religion at all. Afterall, his site goes on to say that “atheists who meditate on positive imagery can obtain similar neurological benefits.” But, then again, if one trusts in the research—or at least the conclusions gained there from—of Dean Hamer (http://rex.nci.nih.gov/RESEARCH/basic/biochem/hamer.htm) and his “god gene” then perhaps we do all “inherit a set of predispositions that make [our] brains ready and eager to embrace a higher power” and maybe we are stuck. Of course, in this context of immigrants trying to maintain their religious beliefs in a new country, the effort is conscious, so “stuck” may be a bit problematic (or at least biased).
[7] Mann, 12.
[8] Ibid, 35.
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