This is the time of year when I used to go on missionary trips during my late teenage years and early twenties. These missions were organized by the Legionaries of Christ network. Trips to poor and tiny rural towns in the state of Chihuahua.
We would visit them to do two things: evangelize them or spread the teachings of the Catholic Church, and help them in different ways, such as building something they needed, donating money, or bringing basic supplies.
We would camp inside an empty school, meet with the locals, cook meals for them, or sometimes we were invited to dine in their homes. We would organize a daily mass and reenact Jesus’ crucifixion. We would play games with little kids, walk around the forest, and have bonfires every night. It was fun.
The least fun part was evangelizing. We would go out in groups of 2 or 3, each with a route covering a section of the small town, and we would go knocking on doors. Most people were kind and welcomed us in because they were already Catholic. Others just asked us to stay away.
By that time, I was already doubting Catholic teachings; they didn’t make sense to me. And here I was, putting a smile on my face, preaching the word of the Lord, trying to make sense of what I said, and deep down just wanting to be out of there, done with the preaching, and on to the games, food, or helping.
Imagine a bunch of kids who didn’t understand what they were talking about coming into stranger’s homes to persuade those strangers to believe something the kids didn’t believe themselves. There were some awkward and uncomfortable moments.
All was great—the connection made with people, the opportunity to be part of their life for a full week, the chance to give a helping hand to people who needed it. But I didn’t like that, behind the noble acts of charity, there was an agenda.
It wasn’t just helping out of love, without expecting anything in return. It was, "I’ll help you, but you have to come join the church. Believe what we believe." If someone didn’t believe in the Catholic conception of God, the priests would ask us to insist and try to convert them. I just thought to myself “come on, let them be.”
The reason I love the Yogi philosophy is that it doesn’t go around the world trying to convert people.
It requires no formal allegiance from anyone. These teachings are meant to explain the nature of yourself and of everything around you.
And when the Yogis say these teachings, they don’t mean their particular presentation of universal truths, they mean the countless forms of these teachings which are taught by different schools of thought. All looking at the same thing from different perspectives.
The Yogi philosophy doesn’t demand worshipping of a higher power or practicing weekly ceremonies. It just reminds you to do the best you can with what you have. If you feel attracted to the teachings, great. And if you don’t, that’s great too.
