WHY I AM A JU-BU

Humans in this time are paradoxically becoming either more or less insular in their world outlook and practice.  Some are becoming more orthodox in one, particular tradition and seeing it only from that perspective.  Others, such as myself, are becoming more eclectic, choosing practices and ideas not just from one tradition, but perhaps from a few.  I know a Catholic nun in her 80’s who practices a form of Zen Buddhist meditation every day.  I myself consider myself a Ju-Bu, or Jewish-Buddhist.  I draw strength and wisdom from both traditions and find that they don’t conflict with one another.  To the contrary, I think they complement and enrich each other.  Here’s what I get from each and the two together.

Judaism is the religion of my family.  It connects me, through blood and family tradition, to a community that goes back 5,000 years.  And the narrative of that community, passed down ‘dorot v’dorot’, generation to generation, has themes that resonate with and formed my values: remember that we were the outsider, the down trodden and thus, be kind and helpful to those who are the outsiders and the downtrodden.  In fact, more than just being kind, it is an obligation to show justice and mercy and, in the words of the prophet Isaiah:

"Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?  Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?? (Isaiah, 58.6-10)

Another major theme in Judaism that speaks to me is the idea of being in relationship to ‘The Other,’ traditionally called G-d.  I may not believe in the traditional Jewish idea of a G-d that intervenes in human history, but like the Reconstructionist branch of Judaism, I believe there is an energy that is the source of life, love, spirit. When we recognize that this energy force, while inside us, is also beyond us we are forced to step outside of our ego-centered view and be in an I-Thou relationship with the world and beyond.  We need to listen with love to ‘The Other’ who is both transcendent and also in the person next to us.  “Hear, Oh Israel, the Lord your G-d, the Lord is one.”

There are also the holidays that literally bring home – because most of them are done in the home – the messages of the tradition.  Friday nights, when we light the candles and say the prayers over the wine and the bread before we have a special Shabbat meal reminds us to appreciate the gifts of the earth that sustain us as food.  And the symbols represent the power of transformation.  Because it’s not just grapes or wheat that we eat, or the waning light of the day that we use.  It is things that have been transformed from what they were to something new and beautiful: wine, bread and candlelight.  And, with a day of rest we too will be transformed into something new and beautiful, ready to deal with the rest of the week as transformed beings.  Rosh Ha-Shanah, Yom Kippur and the 10 days in between remind us of the swiftness of life from birth to death and the need to make meaning and forgiveness important parts of the journey between. 

Passover is a way to remember all of the themes in Judaism.  We bring the family together, giving the children a part to play so that they will be part of the stories continuum and pass it down to yet another generation.  We say in the seder:  “You shall not oppress the stranger, for you know the heart of a stranger, seeing that you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 23.9).  We thank a force far greater than us for transforming us – like the matzah and wine we use – from slaves into a free nation.  And we recognize both the importance of the past and the hope of the future as we sit in our homes and recount the tale dorot v dorot, from generation to generation.

The Dalai Lama, head of a form of Tibetan Buddhism, once asked a group of Jews how they managed to keep their religion and culture alive over so many years of living in diaspora, a problem that he and the Tibetans are facing now.  The answer was that the religion had become home-centered and child-centered rather than a hierarchal, top down synagogue centered religion.

So what wisdom and strength do I get from Buddhism?

The historical Buddha was a human being, not a god, who went from one extreme of pampered wealth to the other extreme of aesthetic punishment until he heard a musician tell his student “If you make the strings too tight they will snap.  But if you make the strings too loose, they won’t make a sound.  It was then that the Buddha, the Awakened one, realized the importance of balance and moderation.  From his experience of meditation, sitting, breathing and emptying his mind of the distracting chatter, that  he came to articulate four ideas for living that appeal to me greatly.  They are: the importance of compassion, the acceptance of change, the awareness of things as they are, and the interconnectedness of all life.

The Metta Sutra, believed to be a saying of the historical Buddha, says to treat every living creature “with a boundless heart” as if they were your child, your only child.  Practicing that unconditional love is hard.  And yet, I have found that when I pretend that someone who really bothers me is my child, my only child, something shifts in the way I see and act toward them.  They may be like a child who needs to be corrected or disciplines, but there is a concern and love for them that makes my approach toward them different and more positive.  This also changes how they respond to me, and our relationship invariably improves.

 The idea that everything changes, that nothing is permanent, allows me to stop clinging to my desire – or fear – that things are going to stay as they are.  Buddhism teaches us what quantum physics is beginning to teach us: that what seems tangible is really more like clouds, amorphous, moving, and nonsubstantial.  This material and personality which is me has come together for a period of time and, like a cloud, it will dissipate and become part of something else when I die.  This recognition helps me to understand and accept my death – or change – into some other form of energy.  My children, who were such cute little baby boys, have become adult men.  And no amount of my wishing they were still toddlers kept them from becoming who they are and eventually the old men they will be. Nor can I stop summer from becoming fall which becomes winter and turns to spring. I cannot control life.  It is alive because it changes.  So I need to breathe in and out – without even holding on to the breath -- and let change, and thus life, happen.

With the acceptance of change comes awareness: seeing things as they really are, not my preconceived notion of things as I wish they were.  Instead of forcing a relationship (say with a friend, a daughter, or my spouse) to fit into my expectations or desires, I see them and the relationship as it really is.  Furthermore, I become aware of the feelings and responses that I and others have rather than deny or ignore them.  As a result, I can see more clearly and respond more genuinely.  There’s a great deal of freedom and honesty in that view (when I can really live up to it!)   

In Buddhism the focus is how to live a compassionate life in the here and now.  By treating all creatures as if they are your child, recognizing that everything is change, becoming aware of things as they are, one begins to see how all life is interconnected.  The words that I use, the actions that I do have an impact on others around me, and they have an impact on others, and that’s how we get the butterfly effect.  Further, if the material and energy that is me now becomes something else later, then all energy and matter is kin. 

This last idea, that everything is one in the universe, is the opposite of Judaism which separates sacred time from everyday time, sacred space from everyday space, and the Holy one, God, from the rest of us.  And yet, I like the paradox.  It’s sort of like Schrodinger’s cat or the wave/particle duality.  We are both everything AND there is a higher power beyond us.

Judaism then gives me the responsibility and obligation to act with justice and mercy, to help others, and to be part of a community that is in conversation with others and the transcendent.  Buddhism gives me a way to live calmly, act with compassion, and breathe more easily.  Both are important.  Both help me to be a better person.  That’s why I am a Ju-Bu.