Part 13 (1/2)

In her Meetings with Remarkable Women Meetings with Remarkable Women, an account of Buddhist teachers in America, Lenore Friedman concludes that, ”At best, then, Buddhism historically encompa.s.ses a grand ambivalence toward women. The dharma itself is beyond ambivalence, resting nowhere, shattering concepts. The teaching teaching of the dharma is another matter, since it arises from minds and from language conditioned by history and personal experience. This is true of all religions-how could it be otherwise? The more they become 'solid,' the more they betray their original transcendent inspiration or mystical core.... For many women practicing today, one of the greatest obstacles remains the absence of clear female role models and foremothers in Buddhist literature and scripture. It is still a truism that all major teachers, lineage holders, and masters down the ages have been men.” of the dharma is another matter, since it arises from minds and from language conditioned by history and personal experience. This is true of all religions-how could it be otherwise? The more they become 'solid,' the more they betray their original transcendent inspiration or mystical core.... For many women practicing today, one of the greatest obstacles remains the absence of clear female role models and foremothers in Buddhist literature and scripture. It is still a truism that all major teachers, lineage holders, and masters down the ages have been men.”

In Western Buddhism the solution to this discrimination seems to be coming about in part by women pract.i.tioners insisting on changes in language and teaching styles. There is also an active effort at rediscovering Buddhist ”foremothers”-as well as honoring Buddhist women teachers today.

Something similar has been happening in Judaism. One chief complaint, which cropped up among us in Dharamsala, has been the separation of men and women in prayer. Egalitarian prayer is commonplace in the liberal branches of Judaism and is gaining in popularity in conservative circles. Moreover, Marcia Falk and other Jewish scholars have pioneered in revising the language of prayer to avoid strictly masculine formulations of G.o.d, or to include feminine ones, all the while making use of traditional sources.

Yet much of the focus has been on the more formal exoteric factors, such as the movement in the more liberal branches of Judaism to ordain women rabbis and cantors. Some emphasis has been given to creating new life cycle rituals, such as the bat mitzvah and naming ceremonies for baby girls, to correspond to the traditional bar mitzvah and bris. These are all welcome developments in mainstream Judaism, and they show a creative appropriation of traditional practices. But such gestures sometimes seem merely subst.i.tutive, without truly acknowledging the uniqueness of women. They are in effect ”disembodied”; what's missing is a deeper acknowledgment of the body, and also of the body of literature in Judaism that might deepen the change.

This is why an opening to the esoteric could be very important in correcting the impression that Judaism is strictly patriarchal, or that its imagery of G.o.d is strictly masculine. For the door closed by mainstream Judaism on the esoteric is also a door closed to the body, and to the feminine. For instance, it's interesting to read the Zoharic commentary on the verse in Genesis, ”male and female He created them.” In Daniel Matt's translation, ”From here we learn: Any image that does not embrace male and female is not a high and true image.... Come and see: The Blessed Holy One does not place His abode in any place where male and female are not found together. Blessings are found only in a place where male and female are found, as it is written: He blessed them and called their name Adam on the day they were created. It is not written: He blessed him and called his name Adam. A human being is only called Adam when male and female are as one.”

On paper, at least, there are very fine things in kabbalah emphasizing the importance of women, the recognition of the feminine aspect of G.o.d, the spiritual importance of s.e.xuality in the context of marriage, the recognition of women's needs. But the problem for most Jewish women today is that all of this is very theoretical. On the fringes, in the Jewish renewal movement, there is a strong recognition of the power of the Shekhinah Shekhinah, and even an acknowledgment of what Zalman Schachter calls ”prepatriarchal Judaism”-that is, the G.o.ddess wors.h.i.+p of the Canaanites. But as a whole, Jews are very far from coming to terms with a feminine G.o.d, or its thoroughgoing implications.

Yet just below the surface are hints of new directions. Before reading the Torah, Jews pray to ”Av Harakhamim,” the ”Merciful Father.” The root of rakhamim rakhamim, or mercy, is rekhem rekhem-womb. Av Harakhamim could be translated, our Wombly Father, our Motherly Father.

That phrase came back to me when to my surprise, I saw a thangka thangka depicting a depicting a dakini dakini, or G.o.ddess, dancing next to a large Jewish star. In tantric Buddhism, the six-pointed star is a symbol of the cervix. This is a coincidence worth meditating on. In Judaism, the star is proudly displayed on the flag of Israel. It represents the magen david magen david, the s.h.i.+eld of King David. A s.h.i.+eld is the outermost layer of protection, what one thrusts out to the world as a mark of ident.i.ty and a sign of G.o.d's protection. A cervix is in a sense an esoteric part of the body, hidden within, a mystery, the neck of the womb, the channel through which all life emerges. It is purely and uniquely feminine.

In part, this coincidence shows once again that Jewish and Tibetan culture have common historical influences. The six-pointed star originated in ancient Mesopotamia as a symbol of fertility. It did not become a specifically Jewish symbol until the late Middle Ages. The same symbol came into India with the Aryans, where it represented Shakti, the Mother. It entered Tibet along with the teachings of the Hindu tantric tradition.

The s.h.i.+eld of David was not always a symbol of Judaism, nor was it always Jewish, nor is it solely Jewish now. Perhaps Judaism can put down its defensive s.h.i.+eld and reflect more on its inner mysteries. There, at the heart of revelation, one finds female images of G.o.d. That indeed is what the Zohar Zohar makes explicit in its commentary on the revelation at Sinai. ”It was the makes explicit in its commentary on the revelation at Sinai. ”It was the Shekhinah Shekhinah who manifested Herself at the giving of the Law.” who manifested Herself at the giving of the Law.”

The conversation Blu Greenberg had with the Dalai Lama did not touch on these esoteric matters, but she did show the importance of women in preserving Jewish values through family life. The Dalai Lama thanked her for her presentation. He had some questions of his own-actually very familiar questions that Jews often hear from those who know just a little bit about us-flattering questions, though stereotyped. He understood better now how synagogue and the family helped Jews to survive in exile in different countries where there were many obstacles to religious practice. But Jews have done more than merely survive, they have thrived, competed, and excelled. Why, he wanted to know, are Jews leaders in ”economy, education, scientific research, and other fields?”

Several answers were offered to this familiar question, though the religious one-that G.o.d had blessed the Jewish people-was omitted. Moshe Waldoks stressed that Jews lived on the edge and were risk takers. Zalman Schachter answered with genetics. ”The people who are studying and practicing are also marrying and having children.” He added pointedly-and I saw Yitz turn red-that ”where the best people of the society don't get married, then the factors that contribute to excellence don't get transmitted genetically.”

Blu Greenberg thought Jews have excelled in the Diaspora because they are intelligent, a quality she also found among the Tibetans. ”All the people we have met this week have such an extremely high level of intelligence and forethought that I kept having this feeling during every conversation, these are just like Jews.”

Robert Thurman also commented. ”If I can make a suggestion as a Gentile,” he said, ”there is something very famous in America-the Jewish Mother.” Alex Berzin, swept up in a burst of Jewish pride, added that ”in Judaism there is great deal of emphasis on the creativity of life and the joy of life. This gives a great inspiration to people to be creative-in education and upbringing, everyone is encouraged to come up with new ideas.”

Yitz Greenberg added a footnote, which continued the conversation we'd had after seeing the kuten kuten, about the spectra of the two religions. He said one reason for the appeal of modernity at the expense of traditional religions was ”that it affirmed life and improved the conditions of life. To the extent that traditional Judaism resisted this, it lost ground.”

Therefore, the challenge for modern Judaism is to stress something already in the Torah-the religious significance of daily life-while making sure this emphasis doesn't become a materialism for its own sake. Jews have achieved because they consider secular achievement a religious excellence. Rabbi Greenberg turned the question back to the Dalai Lama. ”How would you propose to deal with this? Because in some ways Buddhism, even more than Judaism, has tried to move people beyond their daily lives to a higher plane. But then how do we manage to give religious purpose and achievement to daily life?”

The Dalai Lama found Yitz's question complicated. I suspect this is because we were in an area where the spectra of the two religions did not match up very well. The Torah, with its admixture of homely narrative and specific law, is deeply rooted in daily life, and the Talmud even more so. Because the Jewish covenant was made through a family and a nation, Jewish religion is Jewish culture is Jewish family is Jewish history. In contrast, the Dalai Lama continually stressed a separation between culture and religion, between religion and nationalism, and between religion and daily life.

He mentioned some individuals who concentrate solely on individual practice. ”For example, a few pract.i.tioners on these mountains,” he gestured out the window, ”are almost like hermits, completely withdrawn.” They spend most of their time on meditation. In that case, he felt that this was one time Chairman Mao Zedong had a point when he compared religion to opium, because if Buddhist faith is utilized in the wrong way, sometimes it could become a hindrance to the development of people.

Therefore, he advises the general Tibetan public to be ”half half”; that is, ”They should spend only 50 percent of their time on religious practice, and 50 percent on their own life. Because this is concerned with national survival. If every Tibetan went to the mountain [like the hermits], we would starve.”

The Buddhist leader made a distinction between long-term and temporary benefits. He said religious practice is necessary for achieving the long-term benefit of nirvana. But to achieve the temporary benefit of worldly life pleasure, it is equally necessary to work. With this distinction in benefits kept in mind, there is no reason to be negative toward worldly progress or development.

”So,” Yitz concluded, ”you are able to give religious meaning and responsibility to worldly work?”

”Yes,” the Dalai Lama answered and explained through Laktor that although usually in presenting religious discourses it was stressed ”that in order to be a successful pract.i.tioner you have to renounce life, there were other teachings, which lay emphasis on the possibility of combining practice with practical involvement.”

Returning us to the original topic, Blu Greenberg wanted to know if there might be a different level of practice for the Tibetan Buddhist family in exile, as opposed to previously?

He thought a moment and said, ”I don't know.” The Dalai Lama felt it was too soon to tell. He commented that the Tibetans were holding on to their practices because of the Chinese persecution. ”The Chinese activities are so negative. So it makes a tremendous reaction.”

The Jewish experience was a.n.a.logous. Yitz Greenberg pointed out that persecution makes a stronger Jew, to which Moshe Waldoks added, ”It's a terrible way to be strong.”

Rabbi Greenberg rejoined that modern cultures are more difficult to resist, because they are so kind and accepting. ”Because of persecution you get stubborn, but when you are kissed and hugged, you relax.”

This recalled to Nathan Katz the situation of the Jews in China. ”That community went out of existence because the Chinese never practiced discrimination against the Jewish people. The Jewish people would take examinations and enter into the service of the emperor. As a result they vanished.”

To which the Dalai Lama, laughing, commented, ”That is ancient ancient China. Not this.” China. Not this.”

Robert Thurman made clear that the ”Tibetans have not accepted that they will be for long outside of Tibet. So the thought is not how to settle down and survive for, say, five hundred years in exile. They expect to return.”

Instead, most of the Dalai Lama's creative thinking has to do with how to change things in Tibet. ”He has adopted democracy and a const.i.tution. He told me once he had a very clever, devilish idea-to have monks in monasteries in Tibet learn to make electronic things, to do some kind of skillful production. I can see thousands of monks sitting there making computers in His Holiness' Monastic Computer Factory.”

However, if exile would be of a longer duration, the Tibetans would turn their attention to family and then-addressing Blu-”your kind of strategies would be very valuable.” Thurman imagined the Dalai Lama composing a poem of grace for lay families to say at meals, or that a book of ceremonies might be published in Dharamsala for families to use in India or Switzerland. ”Don't you think?” he asked, turning to the Dalai Lama.

”Yes,” he said, and through Laktor added that ”for example, His Holiness has composed a prayer called the Word of the Truth, on the fate of the Tibetans, the need for the development of the Tibetan situation, the progress of the dharma.”

”When the geshes geshes were with us Friday night, they recited this prayer,” Zalman noted. Clearly, the Dalai Lama's hope for a brighter day is very strong. He is inspired by Jewish persistence in the face of an unimaginably long exile-nearly two thousand years-but for his own part, he hopes to see the Tibetans return in his lifetime. were with us Friday night, they recited this prayer,” Zalman noted. Clearly, the Dalai Lama's hope for a brighter day is very strong. He is inspired by Jewish persistence in the face of an unimaginably long exile-nearly two thousand years-but for his own part, he hopes to see the Tibetans return in his lifetime.

Blu had raised the issue of the family very directly, but it was clear from the response that not a great deal of thought had yet gone into it on the Tibetan side. The issues of simple survival are still too pressing.

But at least, through Joy and Blu, the Jews had broached the subject and communicated the importance of family and children to Jewish survival. In the last minutes of our encounter, we also asked for and received a secret of survival from the Dalai Lama. It was a dramatic moment of the exchange.

18.

One Last Question.

Ever since Sat.u.r.day night, Nathan Katz had come down with a serious case of the JUBU blues. Despite Zalman's comforting vision of a dancing circle of Jews and JUBUs and Buddhists, Katz still felt troubled. His intense dialogue with Chodron and his respect for her and Alex Berzin made him feel acutely the quality of loss to the Jewish community they represented. He consulted with Yitz and Blu Greenberg. They encouraged him to address his concerns to the Dalai Lama. When Nathan Katz spoke, it was heartfelt, direct, and sincere-a dramatic moment of the dialogue.

In reconnecting with dharma people, Katz was encountering the road not taken. Like Alex Berzin, whom he'd met fifteen years earlier, Nathan had been seriously attracted to Buddhism as an academic and personal path. He had partic.i.p.ated in the latest chapter of the fitful history of Buddhism in the West, one in which Jews have played a significant and disproportionate role.

When I started asking why this was so, I heard a lot of stereotypes at first. In Dharamsala, for instance, both Tibetans and Jewish Buddhists a.s.sured me that Jews are a highly intelligent group who, therefore, could learn and appreciate the teachings of Buddhism. This struck me as self-serving flattery. Another explanation: Jews tend to be affluent and ”dharma is a rich man's game.” A third is that Jews are ”spiritually minded people.” These stereotypes don't run very deep. After all, there are plenty of intelligent, affluent, and spiritually minded goyim goyim running around. running around.

I offered myself the consolation that in raw numbers, at least, the loss to the Jewish people is not great. But then again, since fewer than 5 percent of American Jews define themselves at all religiously, Jewish Buddhists do represent an abnormally large percentage of a precious pool of energetic, talented, and spiritually committed Jews.

To Moshe Waldoks, the loss is very real. He told me, ”People who have a good experience from a meditative life or the life of insight have a lot to offer to the Jewish community. We have done so little to develop that side of life. It's a double loss. Not only are these people not part of the Jewish community, but all they've learned they're not giving back.”

But though Nathan Katz had come back to Judaism, he knew most other Jewish Buddhists wouldn't. So when he turned to face the Dalai Lama, after Blu's presentation on Jewish family, this loss was on his mind.

”Your Holiness,” he began, ”this is not an easy point to raise. But in this dialogue, which we take so much to heart, we must be totally frank about our feelings. There is one issue, in terms of relations between our peoples, that for some of us causes pain.

”You see our sense of family. We are connected to each other in very deep ways. And when someone might leave our family, we feel pain. I can see very clearly that Jewish people who adopt the Tibetan path benefit greatly as individuals. Their practices, their peace, their intellect, are elevated greatly.

”But we suffer something of a brain drain. Because, as Rabbi OmerMan was saying, our mystical esoteric teachings are not so accessible-and that's our fault-many of our finest people are leaving our family.

”I have no question. I have no request. But this issue is in the heart of everyone in the delegation. I know it's in my heart, and with the encouragement of my co-religionists, I felt compelled to put this issue before you.”

The Dalai Lama listened quite intently and paused to reflect. The room grew quiet-I could hear the magpies whistling outside.