As a cultural attaché, I have always believed that introducing Iranian culture requires a profound understanding of the host country’s culture and the discovery of shared cultural foundations. Books and scholarly articles are certainly valuable, and in our university and seminary studies in Iran, we have studied Buddhism. However, nothing can replace direct, unmediated listening. This is precisely what the Qur’an emphasizes in the verse “Sīrū fi al-arḍ”—“Travel through the earth.” One must go, see, and hear the beliefs of nations from their own voices in order to avoid superficial judgments.

In this meeting, I had the honor of being accompanied by the esteemed researcher Hujjat al-Islam wal-Muslimīn Sadaqati. His presence—given his mastery of theological and comparative religious studies—added a precise scholarly dimension to the dialogue. Our destination was the main temple, where we were to meet the monk Ven. Kalupahana.

After a warm reception, we sat in a serene space filled with the scent of incense. As the host, I initiated the discussion:

“Venerable Kalupahana, thank you for the time you have given us. Our aim is to gain a deeper understanding of your teachings. If you permit, I would like to begin with the most fundamental question: What is the status of the Buddha in your tradition? Is he regarded as a ‘god’?”

With a calmness that seemed to emanate from the essence of the temple itself, the monk replied:

“No. The Buddha is not a god. He was a human being.”He paused, then added:

“A human who attained complete awakening (Bodhi). We call him ‘the Awakened One.’ He is a teacher who discovered the path—not a creator who brought the world into existence.”

I asked: “If he is not a god, then how should we understand the acts of bowing and prostration before his statues that we see throughout the temple?”

The monk responded:

“I know that in Islam you also have acts such as rukūʿ and sujūd.”I found it interesting that he had a good understanding of Islamic practices. He continued:

“Our act is not a form of ‘worship.’ It is the highest form of ‘veneration.’ We bow before his ‘wisdom’ and the ‘path’ he revealed (Dharma), not before his person as a creator.”

At this point, Hujjat al-Islam Sadaqati—who had been attentively listening—entered the conversation:

“Venerable Kalupahana, you mentioned the concepts of ‘the path’ and ‘salvation.’ This leads us to deeper questions: What exactly does ‘salvation’ mean in Buddhism? Can the Buddha ‘save’ his followers? And how do you understand concepts like heaven and hell?”

The monk replied:

“The Buddha is not a ‘savior’ who takes someone by the hand. He says: ‘This is the path I have walked, and I have attained liberation. If you seek liberation, you must walk it yourself.’”

Sadaqati nodded: “This emphasis on individual responsibility is quite profound. It reminds us of the Qur’anic verse: ‘No soul bears the burden of another’ (lā taziru wāziratun wizra ukhrā). In Islam too, the prophets are guides, not bearers of our individual deeds.”

He continued:“But liberation from what? In Islam, we speak of liberation from eternal punishment in hell and attaining everlasting bliss in heaven and divine satisfaction. What do you mean by liberation?”

The monk answered:“Liberation from saṃsāra.” He explained that although heaven and hell exist in their worldview, they are not eternal. They are merely temporary stations within the great cycle of suffering and rebirth. The ultimate salvation is complete release from this endless cycle.

I then asked:“This ‘rebirth’ you refer to—does it mean the transmigration of a fixed and eternal ‘soul’ into another body?”

He replied: “No. We do not believe in a fixed soul (what is called ātman). Instead, we uphold the doctrine of ‘non-self’ (anattā). What is reborn is not an independent soul, but a ‘stream of consciousness.’”

This point marked one of the deepest philosophical differences between us and Buddhism.

Sadaqati continued:

“If there is no fixed soul, then what links one stage of this ‘stream of consciousness’ to the next? And what determines whether the next birth is in the body of an animal or a human?”

The monk replied:“Karma. The law of action and consequence.”

I said:“Subḥānallāh. How similar this concept of karma is to jazāʾ al-aʿmāl in Islam. The Qur’an tells us:‘Whoever does an atom’s weight of good shall see it, and whoever does an atom’s weight of evil shall see it.’Although we understand this recompense as occurring in the Hereafter, the principle of the inseparable link between action and result is shared.”

I then asked:“Venerable Kalupahana, how long does this cycle continue? Is there an end to this suffering and rebirth?”

He looked at us deeply and said: “Yes. When one attains Nirvana.”

I asked with great curiosity:“What exactly is Nirvana? Is it a place? Is it in this world or in another realm?”

He responded:“Nirvana is not a place. It is a ‘state’—a state of extinguishing.”

Sadaqati asked:“Extinguishing of what?”

The monk answered:“The extinguishing of the three fires: the fire of greed, the fire of hatred, and the fire of ignorance. The Buddha attained this extinguishing through following the Noble Eightfold Path and struggling against the defilements of the self.”

Sadaqati softly murmured: “This struggle against the self reminds us of the concept of al-jihād al-akbar (the greater jihad) in our own tradition…”

The discussion had reached a particularly delicate point. Both of us were deeply immersed in these profound concepts and their subtle similarities and differences with Islamic teachings. At that moment, Ven. Kalupahana rose and motioned for us to follow.

He said:

“Now, if you are willing, I would like to take you to the main sanctuary of the temple to show you something…”

The continuation of this audible conversation and what we observed in the heart of the temple opened the discussion to more amazing horizons, which I will discuss, God willing, in the next section.

End of Part Two