Buddhism is, without question, one of the most noble traditions humanity has produced. Its followers are often recognized for their gentleness, their moral discipline, and their compassion toward all living beings. The principle of ahimsa (non-harm) reflects a profound respect for life, and the cultivation of virtues such as patience, equanimity, and self-restraint has inspired countless generations. The practices of meditation, too, reveal an extraordinary refinement of the inner life, a dedication to clarity, insight, and freedom from illusion that commands the respect even of those outside the tradition.
In addition to this, Buddhism and its later flowering in Zen have always held a deep sense of the poetic and the symbolic. They excel in parable, image, and gesture. Their myths of the Bodhisattvas, their tales of masters and disciples, their metaphors of awakening—all these have touched hearts with a beauty that is at once profound and simple. In this sense, Buddhism shows how myth can carry truth in a way reason alone cannot.
And yet, for all its beauty, something crucial is missing. Buddhism does not confess a Creator-God, nor does it preserve a myth of creation. Its myths are moving, but they are not ultimate. They speak of cycles of rebirth, of karmic law, of Buddhas appearing in many worlds, but they do not speak of the Origin of all things, nor of the divine purpose that gives creation its direction. In this sense, the path, however noble, ends in a blind alley. For myth without creation cannot finally answer the question of why anything exists at all, nor can it show the personal bond between Creator and creature that underlies our longing for consummation.
This absence has haunted Buddhism’s own self-understanding. For centuries, debate has raged within the schools: what exactly did the Buddha attain? Was Nirvana an extinction, a passing beyond, an ineffable silence, or something else altogether? No consensus has ever been reached. Without a Creator, the goal remains undefined, and the myths that do exist cannot point to a final fulfillment.
From the perspective of faith in God, one can see both the greatness and the limitation of this tradition. The compassion, discipline, and wisdom of Buddhists are real and admirable; they testify to the divine law written on the human heart. Their myths, too, testify to the human need for meaning and transcendence. But without the myth of creation—without the recognition of God as the Origin and End—all of these virtues and all of these stories remain suspended, beautiful but incomplete.
Thus, Buddhism and Zen show the heights of human striving, the beauty of moral character, and the poetry of myth. Yet without the Creator, their path cannot reach its destination. For myth without creation is myth without consummation, and discipline without God is a road that cannot finally lead beyond itself. Only when the myth of creation is joined to the living Creator can the virtues and visions of Buddhism find their true fulfillment in the fullness of truth and love.