The world is on fire. The Doomsday Clock stands at 85 seconds to
midnight. We have not been this close to Armageddon since the clock began
ticking in 1947, in the aftermath of World War II.[i]
This moment feels, at least in part, like a religious war among Abrahamic
siblings.
I have been a keen student of the West Asian-Middle Eastern region - its
history, its people, its religions - for many years. Yet I continue to grapple
with fully understanding the complex interplay of politics, ideology and
economics at work.
Eighteen months ago, I was invited into a Jerusalem-based peace
initiative led by Jewish and Muslim social activists, supported by
intellectuals and conflict-resolution scholars in Canada. This experience
brought me closer to the heart of the situation. I participated in
conversations that openly acknowledged the enormity and difficulty of their
noble endeavor - situated at the epicenter of the crisis.
It inspired me to go deeper - to read more, to listen more. I was still left feeling both anxious and
confused - perhaps even more so because I was now part of the process. The
initiative has since stalled for various reasons - and as the war escalates in
the region, I find myself deeply concerned for those involved.
I decided to write this article as a way to make some sense of things for
myself - and perhaps to invite others into what I believe is a crucial
conversation, given the very real threat facing our world.
I write from a Buddhist perspective (which has Vedic origins) - an inquiry-based narrative grounded
in my current understanding. As such, I may be making incorrect assumptions or
misjudgments about what is unfolding.
It is just that the Buddhist teachings gives me a practice for an inwards gaze through meditation, self reflection and inquiry into the nature of life - making it my own journey - not dogmatically or ideologically constrained. By that - I am not attached to it as a "Buddhist practice" per say - as I have learned attachment brings suffering - but as a way to inquire objectively into what is happening in the world today.
I am also aware of the inherent contradiction in this stance. My roots
are Sri Lankan. I lived through the violence of insurgencies and the brutal
30-year war between the Tamil separatist movement and the Sri Lankan government
- conflict often framed through a Sinhala Buddhist narrative that stands in
stark contrast to the principles of ahimsa (do no harm) and compassion.
Is it part of the human condition to forget these principles in times of
perceived threat - real or imagined?.
I am acutely aware of the root causes of the Sri Lankan conflict: the
historical separation between Tamil and Sinhala communities, compounded by
post-independence “Sinhala Only” policies that alienated minorities - Tamil,
Muslim, Malay and Burgher communities. These policies, driven by a minority of extremist nationalist elements, eroded social inclusion
and psychological safety, fracturing what could have been a unified,
multicultural nation.
Having said that, I want to shift focus now - to us as earthlings facing
a shared and dire situation. This is a moment that calls for all of us to
engage, to reflect, and to speak - not as divided identities, but as fellow Homo
sapiens, sharing the same air, sustained by the same earth.
Breath, Pause and Reflect
Perhaps we can pause. Take a deep breath, say observe, and exhale.
In that pause, we may transcend the left hemisphere of our
survival-driven brain - where fear narrows perception and drives self-righteous
action - and allow the right hemisphere to open space for context, perspective,
and deeper understanding.
What are we really fighting for?
Part of this inquiry is to ask a more fundamental question: what is it
about the human mind that predisposes us toward violence at one end of the
spectrum, and unconditional love at the other?
Psychology
teaches us some foundational factors such as the human being is competitive
- men are driven by testosterone - need for power and to dominate - with a root cause being fear of losing power.
What allows us, at times, to access truth, beauty and goodness - and at
other times, to abandon them - especially by those few in power?
I am intrigued by the work of philosopher, psychiatrist and
neuroscientist Iain McGilchrist, author of The Master and His Emissary
and The Matter with Things. He
suggests that humanity may be overly dominated by the left-hemisphere of the
brain - predisposing us to react in linear, rigid, and often fearful ways,
particularly in the face of perceived threat.[ii]
While I acknowledge this neuroscience perspective - how the brain and
body mobilize under stress at an individual level - in this article I will focus primarily on the
religious dimensions of the crisis, in an attempt to make some sense of what is
unfolding.
My Approach
Having put things in perspective - I approach this as a citizen of the world working globally in business and education - in the way I understand the world as it is. It is not an academic thesis but an expression of how I see things.
What I am presenting here based on Buddhist teachings and practice may in years to come become a universal way of being in a world that is more peaceful and joyful. It is with that wish I write this.
Formative Years
This inquiry emerges from my formative years- spent among multiple
cultures and religions coexisting in relative harmony. That place was a village
on the outskirts of the hill capital of Kandy in Sri Lanka - Siyambalagastenne
(also known as Weerakoon Gardens, named after the landowners of the village).
It was a Catholic neighborhood, enveloped by the 100-acre grounds of St.
Anthony’s College, abutting the Mahaweli River; with St. Anthony’s Church at
one end, the Carmelite Convent at the other and a Buddhist temple at the center
- overlooking a scenic rice paddy field.
My parents were anglicized Sri Lankans, born as Buddhists, who strived to
live according to the Five Precepts - grounded in ahimsa (do no harm to
self and others) - and the Noble Eightfold Path (the Middle Path). This path
combines mindful concentration with the cultivation of right understanding - recognizing
the unsatisfactory and impermanent nature of life - while living ethically and
virtuously.
At the same time, I was deeply influenced by my neighborhood - the “love
thy neighbor” ethos - and by my education at St. Sylvester’s College and St.
Anthony’s College. Both institutions were founded within the Roman Catholic
monastic tradition, shaped by Franciscan and Benedictine influences.
Growing up in this catholic neighborhood, I came to appreciate the
importance of community life and
the schooling
instilled focus and discipline. As a child who roamed freely through the
village - my first ‘education’ - I was later confronted with rules and
boundaries, often enforced with a cane, when I entered St. Sylvester’s College
at age six.
 |
| St. Anthony's College, Kandy |
Moving to St. Anthony’s College at age nine, I encountered an education
shaped by spiritual and social formation. Looking back, it was a holistic education - imparted
by caring priests and teachers - where structured discipline supported our
moral and ethical development, balancing academics with character and shaping
us to be responsible citizens of the world.
In parallel, I was increasingly exposed to Buddhist teachings. My parents
were not ritualistic Buddhists who simply recited stanzas in temples - they
lived the Dhamma. Central to this
was a mindfulness-based, meditative and reflective practice grounded in
affirming the Buddha, the Dhamma and the Sangha. Along the way, I was
introduced to the foundational principles of Buddhism.
These teachings pointed me toward a practical path - one that sought to
understand the human experience and reduce suffering. It was presented less as
a system of belief or doctrine - unlike the “thou shalt not…” I often heard in
Christian contexts, or the structured rules I observed in Islam. At the time, I found myself confused about
Hinduism.
(Only later in life did I learn Hinduism's subtle, story-rich tradition that guides seekers toward self-realization through metaphor, myth and lived wisdom - beautifully embodied in texts like the Bhagavad Gita.)
Buddhist teachings espoused observation and deep inquiry into existence, where the Buddha
recognized that life includes stress, dissatisfaction, and suffering - expressed
in pain, anxiety, restlessness, and a sense of never being fully satisfied.
I began to see a distinction between Buddhism
and Christianity - particularly in the emphasis on personal responsibility for
one’s actions, governed by karma as a direct cause-and-effect
relationship.
I was also taught that there was a way out of this cycle of suffering - through
the Noble Eightfold Path.
The practice of mindfulness stood out to me, especially as a
twelve-year-old - overactive, impulsive and emotional. I began to experience the benefits of paying
attention to my mind, using the breath to steady it. It seemed to calm me.
This practice was not foreign to me. I had observed my father sitting in
meditation - his quiet, calm demeanor, a reflection of that discipline. I
rarely saw him angry. As I continued practicing into my teenage years, I began
to understand its importance in governing my thoughts and emotions.
This became even more tangible in my martial arts training at age fifteen
- the realization of the space between impulse and action and the importance of
that space in bringing perspective, especially when my mind tended towards
anxiety and fear.
As my understanding deepened, it became clear that suffering arises from
how we cling - to the body and mind, to identity, to loved ones, to possessions
- while knowing, at some level, that all of it is impermanent. In essence, craving (tanha) leads to
suffering (dukkha) and clinging - to ideas, identities, and possessions
- generates conflict both within and beyond the mind.
With this understanding, I sought to live ethically - continually
training the mind to become freer, calmer and more compassionate, rather than
endlessly searching for something beyond.
This orientation has helped me find relative contentment - to strive to
live in the present moment as fully as possible, even within this modern
techno-industrial-AI world, which often seems at odds with these teachings. The contradiction is not lost on me - especially
having spent significant time in the Christian West.
While I was exposed to Christianity, Islam and Hinduism in Sri Lanka, I
encountered Judaism for the first time as a teenager in Canada - through
meeting Jewish people and beginning to understand their traditions and
perspectives.
Jew–Bu Monks
I had not initially realized the curious connection of many Jewish people
being drawn to the Buddhist path. My
first indirect exposure came early in life - I knew of Venerable Nyanaponika
from about the age of six, only to later learn that he was a German Jew who had
fled Germany in the 1930s as Adolf Hitler’s fascism was rising. He eventually settled in Sri Lanka,
influenced by another German Jewish monk, Venerable Nyanatiloka, who had
arrived there as early as 1910.
In my early twenties, living in Toronto, I experienced this connection
more personally through a friendship with Bhikkhu Vannasaro - author of Wind
Not Caught in the Net - a British-born Jew who had given up an affluent
life in his twenties to become a monk.
Over time, I came to meet others like him. While only a minority of
Jewish people have turned toward Buddhism, those who have - often referred to
as “Jew-Bus” (Jewish Buddhists) - tend to be disproportionately visible. It
appears to be shaped as much by cultural and historical affinity as by religion
itself - though both clearly play a role.
Judaism carries a long tradition of questioning and debate - of textual
study, interpretation, and intellectual rigor grounded in inquiry. It fosters a
mindset that is comfortable asking “why?”, challenging assumptions, and
engaging deeply with ideas. Buddhism invites a similar approach, as reflected
in the Kalama Sutta, where the Buddha advises: do not believe something
simply because you are told - test it through your own experience.
In that sense, many Jew-Bus I have encountered remain culturally or
ethically Jewish, while adopting Buddhist practices - especially meditation -
as a path of inner inquiry that aligns naturally with the Jewish habit of
questioning.
This creates a unique synthesis:
Jewish - heritage, ethics and community;
Buddhist - practice, psychology and meditation.
There is also an ethical resonance between the two traditions. In Judaism, there is a strong emphasis on
justice, responsibility and the repair of the world (tikkun olam). In Buddhism, the emphasis is on compassion,
non-harming and awareness. Both traditions take human suffering seriously -
though they frame and approach it in different ways.
World War III Looms - Judaism and Zionism
Given the current conflict - one that threatens to engulf the world - I
find myself wanting to better understand the relationship between Judaism and
Zionism, as it appears to be one of the drivers of what is unfolding.
Judaism is, at once, a religion - rooted in beliefs, laws and a covenant
with God; a peoplehood- shaped by shared history, culture and ancestry and a
broader civilizational identity.
Zionism, by contrast, is a modern political movement. It draws on ancient Jewish connections to the
land, but it is not the same as Judaism itself.
In fact, Jewish perspectives on Zionism have always been diverse.
At its core, Judaism is grounded in the idea of a covenant between the
Jewish people and God - often associated with figures like Moses and the giving
of the Torah. It carries a deep
historical and spiritual connection to the Land of Israel.
Zionism, however, emerged in 19th-century Europe, most closely associated
with Theodor Herzl. It was a response to
rising antisemitism, the surge of nationalist movements and the desire for
Jewish self-determination and safety.
This movement ultimately culminated in the creation of Israel in 1948.[iii]
Zionism draws, in part, from religious narratives - the Babylonian exile
and return, the centrality of Jerusalem, the idea of a Promised Land and a
messianic hope of restoration. These themes, rooted in the Hebrew Bible, have
been reinterpreted in political terms.
For supporters, Zionism represented both a solution to centuries of
persecution and a fulfillment of historical longing. For others - both religious and secular Jews
- there have been significant reservations.
Some believe that a return to the land should not be forced before
divine redemption. Others hold that
Judaism is fundamentally a religion, not a nationality and that Jews should
integrate within their home countries.
In that sense, Zionism sits at the intersection of history and politics -
drawing selectively from religious themes while operating in a modern
geopolitical framework.
What I find particularly complex - and at times confusing - is the
intersection of Judaism, Zionism and evangelical Christianity, especially in
the United States. This fusion of religion, politics and theology is difficult
to fully grasp.
Christian Zionism refers to strands of evangelical Christianity that
strongly support the State of Israel, believing that the modern return of Jews
to the land fulfills biblical prophecy. This support is not merely theological
- it is expressed politically, financially and at times militarily. The U.S.
evangelical movement sits at the center of this dynamic.
This, in turn, appears to shape U.S. politics in profound ways. Christian Zionists represent a significant
lobbying and voting bloc, advocating for pro-Israel policies and aligning
American foreign policy with Israel’s interests - even when not all Jews agree
with those policies.
There is, however, a deeper tension here.
Traditional Judaism often views the covenant and any return to Israel as
something unfolding through divine will - independent of non-Jewish frameworks. Christian Zionism, on the other hand, tends
to interpret Jewish presence in Israel through an “end times” lens.
This creates a subtle but important unease: Jews can be positioned as
“actors” within a Christian eschatological narrative - rather than as a people
with their own independent agency and self-understanding.
This mix of political alliance and theological agenda complicates both
Jewish identity and diplomatic positioning.
There are many paradoxes at play.
While Jewish concerns often center on homeland, survival and
self-determination, Christian Zionist perspectives are anchored in biblical
prophecy.[iv]
Even where U.S. support for Israel is framed as strategic or political,
the underlying theological influences raise questions about the balance between
political leverage and true autonomy. At
times, it can feel as though Jewish identity and destiny are being woven into a
broader story that is not entirely their own.
All of this sits in my mind as a kind of quagmire - full of
contradictions and unresolved tensions. Perhaps this confusion - combined with
divided loyalties and a relatively superficial public understanding - creates
fertile ground for more jingoistic approaches, often reinforced by the
interests of the military-industrial complex.
In this context, while Christian Zionist movements in the United States
provide strong political and financial support to Israel, their theological
framing - seeing Jews as part of a prophetic narrative - may also complicate
the relationship between Judaism, Zionism, and genuine Jewish
self-determination.[v]
Abrahamic
Faiths: Conflict, Coexistence, and Hope
I am trying to make sense of this in the context of a generational-long
struggle among the Abrahamic religions. Why is it that these “siblings” -
Judaism, Christianity and Islam - find themselves in recurring cycles of
conflict, sometimes catastrophic, when they share such a deep common ancestry?
Looking past the recent history - there were long stretches where Judaism, Christianity and Islam lived in relative harmony under wise governance - referred to as the Islamic Golden Age or Convivencia (coexistence):
- Under the Umayyad Caliphate and especially the Abbasid Caliphate, cities like Damascus and Baghdad became centers of pluralistic learning - (c. 670–1258 CE).
-
In 10th to 12th century Al-Andalus - Jews, Christians, and Muslims collaborated in philosophy, science and medicine.
- Jerusalem itself - especially under early Islamic rule and later the Ottoman Empire - was administered with a multi-faith framework, where each community retained religious autonomy.
Even after the disruption of the Crusades, coexistence returned for centuries.
So what changed?
Was it when the colonial powers post the Ottoman Empire redrew the borders?
What role has western bred Zionism played in the recent cycles of conflict?
How have the oil and gas resources in the region played into the global power struggles dominated by Western economies?
That shared ancient history of coexistence gives us hope that a relative peace possible again.
The Foundation: Lineage to Abraham:
- Judaism → Isaac
→ Jacob → the tribes of Israel
- Christianity →
emerging from Judaism, following the line of Abraham → Isaac → Jesus
Christ (recognized as the Messiah)
- Islam → Ishmael
→ Muhammad, while also acknowledging Abraham and Jesus as prophets[vi]
Despite this shared origin, these traditions have come into conflict in history - over doctrine, resources, power and governance.
In a land where harmony is conditional - older wounds fester when there is outside influence and manipulation for power and dominance to divide and rule. They manifest into disputes over land (Jerusalem and the Holy Land), over
identity and legitimacy (who is the true covenantal community or final
messenger) and over differing
interpretations of scripture and law.
From a Buddhist standpoint, this begins to make a certain kind of sense.
As explored earlier, craving (tanha) leads to suffering (dukkha)
and clinging - to ideas, identities and possessions - generates conflict.
When applied to Abrahamic conflicts, this becomes visible in several
ways.
There is, first, the attachment to land and sacred sites - places like
Jerusalem, Mecca, Hebron and Bethlehem. These are not merely geographic
locations; they carry immense symbolic and spiritual meaning. Over time, that symbolic value can become
existential - something to be defended at all costs - fueling cycles of
violence.
There is also the attachment to identity - the deeply held conviction of
“We are God’s chosen” versus “We are the true community.” Religions, like individuals, can become
attached to being “right.” In Buddhist
terms, this is a form of ego-clinging - where suffering arises when identity
feels threatened.
Layered onto this is history itself. The schisms, conflicts, and violence across
generations have created what might be understood as a kind of “karmic chain”
of collective suffering - where past actions, rooted in attachment, continue to
shape present realities and future cycles, unless there is a shift in
awareness.
This dynamic is further compounded by attachment to power. Political leaders have often used religious
narratives to mobilize loyalty, justify conquest and maintain control. What begins as individual attachment becomes
collective, then institutionalized - interwoven with political, social and
economic systems.
At that level, greed and power begin to reinforce each other.
As we witness the current conflict, the stakes feel existential.
Nuclear weapons, terrorism and geopolitical rivalries now threaten not
just regions, but planetary survival. Each
side increasingly perceives the other as an existential threat - intensifying
attachment to territory, belief and identity.
From a Buddhist point of view, when attachment fuses with collective
identity and fear, suffering does not just persist - it escalates, often beyond
comprehension.
A Buddhist Path to Understanding (and Compassion)
I approach these principles not as a religious prescription, but as a
psychological practice - a way to understand the mind, its tendencies and how
attachment and fear shape human behavior -offering humble possibilities to
navigate and overcome the current quagmire.
1. Recognize shared
humanity – All three traditions are teaching systems aimed at addressing human
suffering. Different paths, yet with a common origin.
2. See attachment
clearly – Observe how ego, identity, land, and belief become triggers for
conflict.
3. Practice compassion – Even our
so-called enemies are beings clinging to craving, ignorance and fear, suffering
just as we do.
4. Let go of fixed
ideas – This does not mean passivity. It means reducing the mental attachment
that fuels cycles of retaliation and prolongs suffering.
5. Engage wisely – Work toward peace
and understanding, rather than insisting “we are right, they are wrong.”
The wars among Abrahamic siblings are not merely political - they seem to
be the fruits of collective attachment, fear and ego. Just as an individual suffers when clinging
to desires, societies suffer when clinging to land, beliefs and identity.
Conflict is predictable when attachment remains unexamined. True peace - whether personal or societal - is
possible only when suffering is understood and attachments are loosened.
A Practical Reflection for Leaders and Observers
While many participants in conflict may believe they are defending God or
justice - a battle often seen as noble - there is another possibility. If we
can reduce attachment to being “right” and cultivate wisdom and compassion,
could the current war transform toward peace?
A strategy for peace begins with inner clarity and purpose grounded in
what is truly human: empathy, compassion, and altruism. These qualities create
the space for forgiveness, understanding, and the possibility of
reconciliation.
The concept of Baraka fits beautifully into this reflection
because it offers a spiritual and ethical lens capable of unifying insights
from Buddhism, the Abrahamic traditions and the urgent need for wise,
transformative action.
What is Baraka?
Baraka is an Arabic term often translated as “blessing,” but its meaning
runs deeper than simple good fortune:
- It is a divine
presence or flow of grace that inspires growth, wisdom and positive
transformation.
- It is not
merely personal luck; it can be felt, cultivated and shared with others.
- In Islamic thought,
Baraka is linked to spiritual centers, righteous actions and people or
places of holiness.
- In Judaism, Baraka can be
seen as divine favor or blessing that flows from living ethically,
fulfilling mitzvot (commandments) and engaging in acts of justice and
kindness. It is connected to covenantal relationship with God, community
and the sacredness of life.
- In Christianity, Baraka
resonates with the concept of grace - God’s favor and presence that
transforms hearts, inspires virtuous living, and fosters love, mercy, and
service toward others.
Jerusalem as a Spiritual Pivot
Jerusalem occupies a unique position as a spiritual nexus, sacred to
Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike. Its long history of devotion - and
conflict - makes it both a flashpoint and a source of inspiration.
If ego and the desire for land and power dominate, the city remains a
source of suffering. Yet, if approached mindfully, Jerusalem’s sacred presence
can inspire prayers, pilgrimage, and meditation, offering vast potential for
transformative peace among the Abrahamic siblings.
The Bahá’í faith, emerging in the 19th century as a religion of unity,
also deeply honors Jerusalem and emphasizes the oneness of humanity. Its teachings reinforce the possibility of
reconciliation, interfaith harmony and ethical action across boundaries -
reminding us that even in a region scarred by centuries of conflict, there are
spiritual pathways toward collective flourishing.
From a Baraka perspective, Jerusalem can be seen as a wellspring of
blessing - flowing when human activity aligns with wisdom, compassion, and
ethical action.
Spiritual Integrity
- Focus on inner
purification: mindfulness, ethical conduct, compassionate intention.
- Leaders,
diplomats, and religious figures embody and model this integrity.
Wise Action
- Decision-making
guided by long-term benefit, not short-term gain or revenge.
- Policies,
education, justice and diplomacy serve as vehicles for Baraka.
Shared Blessing
- Interfaith
engagement recognizing Jerusalem as a spiritual center for all humanity.
- Projects that
promote life, learning and coexistence, rather than domination.
Ripple Effect
- Just as Baraka
flows from a righteous person or act, peaceful initiatives in Jerusalem
can radiate globally.
- Attachment
transforms into generosity, fear into courage and division into dialogue.
Why This Is Profound
Approaching the crises of our time through a Buddhist lens reminds us
that much of human conflict - individual or collective - arises from
attachment, fear and unexamined ego of the few who wield power. Mindful awareness of these patterns, even amid the most complex
struggles, opens space for reflection, compassion and wise action.
Jerusalem - sacred to Jews, Christians, Muslims, and deeply honored in
the Bahá’í faith as a religion of unity - offers a rare opportunity to
translate inner clarity into outer transformation. Seen as a wellspring of
Baraka - divine blessing, grace and ethical potential - it can inspire leaders
and communities to align actions with awareness, compassion and responsibility.
For me, this reflection is personal. Growing up amidst multiple faiths in
Sri Lanka, practicing mindfulness and witnessing both human suffering and
resilience has shown that ethical intention and inner awareness shape how we
respond to conflict.
My encounters with Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Bahá’í and Buddhist
practitioners and my engagement with peace initiatives in Jerusalem, bring this
vision of possibility from philosophy into lived experience.
From this alignment, Jerusalem can become a center where years of
attachment-driven conflict are softened and transformed, radiating coexistence,
wisdom and compassion for the world. There is historical precedent of peaceful periods to draw inspiration from.
It
is a humble hope - not ideological or superior, but a simple human wish: that
insight, ethical action and care for one another guide us away from destruction
and toward shared flourishing - .
This Begins with You and I
This journey starts with us individuals - to mindfully learn to temper our fear driven predatory nature while we focus on what is also inherent in us - loving-kindness, compassion, understanding, empathy and altruism - as we would have destroyed ourselves much earlier - if we did not have these noble attributes.
May there be the wisdom to find a path away from war. May we avoid World
War III. May we avoid nuclear annihilation.
May all beings be well and happy.
[i] https://thebulletin.org/doomsday-clock/
[ii] https://channelmcgilchrist.com/home/
[iii] https://israeled.org/topic/zionism-and-other-jewish-history/
[v] Controversy Over "Damaging Ideology": In January 2026, the Patriarchs and Heads of Churches in
Jerusalem issued a joint statement warning that "Christian Zionism"
is a "damaging ideology" that sows confusion and harms the unity of
their flock
[vi] https://www.britannica.com/topic/Abrahamic-religions
