On Altars, Multicultural Yoga, Inclusion, and Pluralism

I was recently alerted to a letter in the May 2013 Yoga Journal in which a Jewish yoga practitioner complains about the photographs in an article depicting Hindu and Buddhist dieties in meditation rooms, saying that she finds them "offensive." The writer could have simply asked that secular or multi-religious meditation rooms be represented in their photographs as well and left it at that; instead, she is claiming that the photographs of Hindu and Buddhist dieties on altars *offend* her, as if a yoga magazine is wrong to publish such images at all. 

It's awfully hard to be "inclusive" if there are people who are fundamentally opposed to pluralism. The writer of that letter asked for inclusion, but calling statues of deities "offensive" is not an inclusive act; it is a condemnation of "idolatry."

Growing up as part of a non-majority religion in several highly Christian areas, I am no stranger to phobias of the mainstream regarding non-Judeo-Christian-Islamic beliefs and no stranger to exclusive environments either. In the mainstream, even people who are agnostic and secular are schooled through osmosis to believe that there is no inherent meaning in an image--that it may ultimately be deconstructed to nothingness. This is a Judeo-Christian-Islamic belief, but it is not everyone's belief. People in the mainstream culture are often horrified when they witness people apparently imbuing images and statues and other objects with meaning. People who put murtis on their altars and relate with them beyond artistic appreciation or philosophical insight--as vehicles for accessing the divine--often bend over backwards to explain why their form of prayer is not as "foreign" a practice as it appears.

The first time that I shared a home with people who encouraged me to set up my altar over the fireplace in the living room, I was shocked. None of my housemates were Indian, and they added objects that they themselves considered sacred; one added feathers and stones, another an painting of a ship that had sentimental meaning to her. In some cases, our practices contradicted each other, but I chose to merge my altar with theirs rather than to have a more traditional altar in my own space. At one point, someone who did not resonate with altars at all moved in, which led to conflict and conversation--which, once again, was all about navigating what an inclusive space means, balancing the house's existing cultural practices with the needs of a newcomer, and attempting not to jump into offense and understand each other instead.

My own worldview does not conflict with the idea of simply including other paths or practices as different manifestations of the same divine force(s). Somehow, I managed to maintain this worldview while growing up despite having friends who believed I was going to hell. I didn't turn into Bobby Jindal and adopt my environment's mainstream religious and political views; nor did I turn cliquish by associating only with those who agreed with me.

I suppose I'm suggesting that there is a way in which multicultural communities may be navigated without needing to strip them of the diverse expressions of various devotional and non-devotional practices.

Before yoga became mainstream in the US, it was regarded as cultish and fringe. Many yoga teachers attempted to shift the focus of yoga to fit the cultural needs where they lived, and while this is understandable, it is sometimes questionable; I can find marketing that strips Indian philosophical and spiritual roots from yoga in an attempt to make yoga appealing to the masses just as distasteful as outright cultural appropriation/exoticization.

Speaking of appropriation, there can also be a case made for people who set up altars with the hope that yoga students will find "ethnic" statues "cool" and "foreign." A shallow or superficial approach to altars may have been assumed by the letter writer--but I challenge that assumption. Many yoga practitioners of varying backgrounds and religions relate to deities displayed on altars--and there are certainly Hindu, Buddhist, and other practitioners of yoga who create altars as a cultural practice.

Of course, cultural sensitivity is important. I know both Indian and non-Indian teachers who have taught yoga in culturally sensitive ways with varying degrees of spirituality or aspirituality: in Italy and Afghanistan; in corporate settings and communes; in schools and shelters and temples and parks. Yogic teachings can be accessible to everyone, no matter what religious or non-religious beliefs they hold.

I'm also pleased to recognize that yogic practices evolved in India and that many people include elements of various Indian religions, whether metaphorically or spiritually, in their practice and teachings. Not everyone may resonate with a spiritual approach towards yoga, but there are many who cannot imagine practicing yoga without a spiritual foundation.