Vipassanā Meditation: Emptiness, Insight, and Meaning

By some measures, I might be considered a failure in Vipassanā circles. I’ve found myself drawn to a narrative framework that diverges from the profound emptiness Vipassanā reveals—or perhaps my interpretation is incomplete. Regardless, my experience with Vipassanā meditation—guided by the teachings of S.N. Goenka—remains one of the most transformative practices I’ve encountered.

Goenka taught that Vipassanā is not meant to strip away faith or true identity but rather to deepen understanding and clarity. A devout Christian who practices Vipassanā remains a Christian but may come to embody Christ’s character more fully. This perspective resonated deeply with me as I navigated the practice.

A Leap of Faith into the Unknown

I went into my first Vipassanā retreat blind—a profound leap of faith. I overcame countless fears and anxieties, both my own and those planted by others: “This is a cult.” “You’re going to be brainwashed.” “You’re going to lose your mind.”

I didn’t dive into theory or philosophy before attending. All I knew were the practicalities: 10 days, 10 hours of meditation daily, no speaking, no eye contact, no reading, no writing and a strict schedule for eating and resting. I expected difficulty, but I wasn’t prepared for how profoundly it would strip away layers of my being.

At the time, I wasn’t a practicing Christian. However, I had grown up in a Christian household, was baptized, and was exposed to the Bible early in life. These early influences shaped me in ways I didn’t fully recognize until the retreat.

Some in Vipassanā circles might suggest that I simply shed enough sankhāras (mental formations) to arrive at another “Christian sankhāra” after the retreat. But I don’t accept that interpretation. Instead, I see meaning in where I’ve arrived. I do not believe I just “happened” to end up here. My return to Christianity is not merely a residue of old patterns—it is a conscious choice, one I view as divinely guided.

The Core Concepts of Vipassanā

Vipassanā rests on foundational principles, many rooted in the Pali language. These concepts serve as tools to navigate the practice and understand the self:

• Anicca (impermanence): Recognizing that all phenomena, internal and external, are transient. (Everything changes. Accept it.)
• Dukkha (suffering): Understanding that attachment to transient things leads to dissatisfaction. (Clinging to the impermanent guarantees misery.)
• Anattā (non-self): Realizing the absence of a permanent, unchanging self. (The “self” you’re so attached to? It doesn’t exist.)
• Sankhāra (mental formations): The conditioned reactions that perpetuate cycles of craving, aversion, and misery. (There are layers of conditioned responses you have accumulated that are burying who you really are.)

Through Ānāpāna (mindfulness of breathing meditation), I became intimate with my vedanā (sensations). Every itch, ache, and flicker of discomfort—impermanence made flesh. Through Vipassanā (insight meditation), I experienced not only vedanā (sensations) but observed and re-lived sankhāra (mental formations). This practice forces you to sit with it all, watching as cravings, aversions, sensations, and mental formations burn themselves out. It’s liberation by fire.

But here’s the rub: once the fire dies down, you’re left with ashes. Vipassanā is a demolition crew, not an architect. It reveals the void at the heart of existence, then shrugs and says, “Your move.”

The Space Vipassanā Creates

Vipassanā strips you down, layer by layer. It reveals the patterns—taṇhā (craving) and dosa (aversion)—that fuel your reactions and distort your perception. Over time, equanimity (upekkhā) emerges as a natural response to this awareness. You begin to let go, not through force, but through understanding.

But Vipassanā offers no narrative to fill the emptiness it reveals. After dismantling much of what you thought constituted “you,” it leaves you with a question: What now?

Vipassanā creates space without prescribing what to do with it. This is both its beauty and its limitation, and why I find the practice so valuable. It doesn’t impose a worldview, only experiential truth.

Parallels and Divergences: Christianity and Vipassanā

As a Christian—baptized but not practicing at the time—I found unexpected harmony between Vipassanā and my faith. The pañca-sīla (five precepts) observed during the retreat mirror the ethical foundation of Five of the Ten Commandments:

1. Abstaining from killing parallels “Thou shalt not kill.”
2. Abstaining from stealing parallels “Thou shalt not steal.”
3. Abstaining from sexual misconduct echoes “Thou shalt not commit adultery.”
4. Abstaining from false speech reflects “Thou shalt not bear false witness.”
5. Abstaining from intoxicants safeguards clarity of mind, aligning with the spirit of “Thou shalt have no other gods before me”—a rejection of dependencies.

Both frameworks cultivate morality (sīla) as a foundation for deeper spiritual practice. In Vipassanā, morality supports samādhi (concentration) and paññā (wisdom), ultimately leading to nibbāna (liberation from suffering). In Christianity, ethical living is the path to embodying Christ’s teachings and seeking salvation through God’s grace.

While the ethical parallels are striking, the objectives of the two traditions differ. Vipassanā (rooted in Theravāda Buddhism) aims for nibbāna, the extinguishing of suffering and the ending of the cycle of saṃsāra (birth, death, and rebirth). Christianity seeks salvation—eternal life in communion with God through Jesus Christ.

Nibbāna emphasizes dissolving the self and detachment from craving and aversion. Salvation emphasizes relationship: a redeemed self reconciled with the Creator. Both paths involve profound transformation, but they diverge in ultimate goals.

Fear, Misunderstanding, and the Fragility of Belief

One reflection from my Vipassanā experience puzzled me: the fear and misinformation among some Christians about meditation. The Bible repeatedly says Christians should not live in fear. In 2 Timothy 1:7, Paul writes, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”, Proverbs 29:25 says “The fear of man brings a snare, But whoever trusts in the Lord shall be safe.” Yet fear and catastrophization dominate many Christian discussions about meditation.

The idea that sitting quietly, observing the mind, could somehow sever one’s connection with God is ridiculous. To me, this reflects an insecurity of faith rather than actual spiritual risk. Vipassanā clarified my understanding of impermanence and attachment but also created space to rediscover my faith at a time in my life where I was profoundly lost and filled with despair.

God’s power is not so fragile that a meditation technique could undo it. On the contrary, such practices can deepen appreciation for His creation and create room for His work in you.

From Emptiness to Meaning

Vipassanā excels at tearing down illusions, illuminating the mechanisms of sankhāra. It taught me to observe cravings and aversions in my waking life without identifying with them. But it doesn’t tell you what to build in place of the illusions that have been torn down. That’s not a flaw of the practice; it’s the purpose. Vipassanā is a scalpel, not a salvation.

Once everything is stripped away, you need something to hold onto. For me, that was not a philosophy or a technique—it was a person: Jesus Christ.

Christianity resolves the paradoxes Vipassanā exposes:

• If I cannot trust myself, who can I trust? — God.
• If all human systems fail, what system prevails? — God’s system.
• If emptiness brings clarity but no meaning, where do I find meaning? — Scripture and prayer.

Reconciling Vipassanā and Faith

Vipassanā was not an endpoint for me but a vehicle. It dismantled illusions and prepared me to rediscover God. It taught me equanimity and to let go of false attachments. Christianity filled the space Vipassanā created, offering a narrative grounded in divine wisdom.

Through Vipassanā, I learned to see. Through Christianity, I learned to walk. Together, they form a path that honors introspection, humility, and purpose.