Buddhism redux

(h/t to Deip for the title!)

So why has the possibility of "cutting a deal" with a religious or spiritual group even arisen? I've talked before about how much I loved the sense of community I felt when I was going to synagogue regularly. And it didn't come from debating the finer points of Jewish law. It came mostly from ordinary conversations about jobs and families. I felt valued as a human being.

And I don't feel that way in the freethought groups I've hung out with (if any of you are reading this, sorry). In those groups I feel like a stack of ideas, if that makes any sense. When someone new comes in, they're asked the typical getting-to-know-you questions, but usually the only real interest is in the person's deconversion story. I don't feel like there's much interest in me (or anyone else) as a person. In fact, one day when I was venting about a personal problem that had nothing to do with religion, it was clear they had no interest. If anything, I got shamed a little because I wasn't handling it like a hyper-rational being. (Edit: I don't think it was anyone's intent to shame me. It was probably just an unintended consequence of less-than-stellar people skills. But that was cold comfort at the time. 10/27/09)

So would it be possible to make nice with the Buddhists? Unfortunately, the closest group to my home is affiliated with the zendo I had the bad experience with. While it's possible that a lot has changed in the last ten years, I wanted to check my alternatives first. Fortunately, there are many groups within a reasonable distance. I also wanted to check out some Buddhist websites so I could see what actual practitioners had to say about their practice. In too many cases, it amounts to, "My practice can beat up your practice!"

There's a term that describes the whole thing beautifully: spiritual materialism. Ironically, this term was coined by a Buddhist author (Chogyam Trungpa, if you care). It refers to the tendency of people to pursue spiritual practices in order to build their egos--the Dharmic version of "holier than thou." And unfortunately, when so many people are convinced that they are on the one true path that the Buddha intended all those years ago (stop snickering! Of course there's such a thing! </sarcasm>), it tends to stifle real dialogue.

Most people at some point in their lives go through a stretch where they keep breaking up with and getting back together with the same person. But they almost always end up breaking up again over the same issues (yes, I've learned this the hard way). Generally, people don't change much over time. This is neither good nor bad in itself.

Regardless, it would be really arrogant of me to expect a person or group to change its habits for me. If I thought for a second that I could find a Buddhist community that resembled the ideals in Rahula's book, I'd probably join up in a heartbeat. But I just see way too much of the "look at how enlightened I am" vibe (and have even been guilty of it myself at times) to go down that road again.

Fortunately, Buddhism does not have a monopoly on meditation. In fact, I've previously discussed forms of meditation that aren't specific to any religion. Living close to a major city, I have a lot of options. In fact, I think I might have found one that I could live with. But since I try to stick to one topic per post, I'll save that for another post.

The religion that got away, Part 2

Just as I discovered the Buddha's teachings in Germany, I began to pursue my study of Judaism in an equally unlikely place--Hawaii. My husband at the time was stationed at Pearl Harbor, so I had many occasions to visit the base. I'd noticed that near the main clinic was something called the Aloha Jewish Chapel. On most military installations, the Jewish community has to be content with taking its turn at the regular base chapel for its services like everybody else. But AJC was a dedicated synagogue.

I attended a Friday night service on what happened to be the first night of Chanukah. My initial welcome consisted of this very sweet old lady who insisted I fill up a plate with various goodies from the potluck they were having for the occasion. Despite not knowing a word of Hebrew, the service leader and the congregation made great efforts to make me feel welcome and help me keep up with what was going on in the service.

Within a few weeks I was attending Hebrew lessons before the services and conversion classes during the week. Since there was no rabbi at AJC, my conversion classes were with a nearby Reform congregation. I mentioned in Part 1 how Judaism struck me as practical (in the sense that behavior is emphasized more than theology), and the things I learned in conversion class seemed to confirm this. While Kabbalah has been big in some circles, note that many of these circles tend not to have many Jewish people in them, not entirely unlike Buddhist groups with no Asians. ;) Hashing out the details of regular Jewish living is enough to keep most people occupied! You may have heard that some traditions refer to Jews as "People of the Book." After just a few weeks of study, I began to think "People of the Library" was more accurate! That was something I loved about Judaism--that you could dedicate your life to studying it and still not know all there is to know.

I also liked the emphasis on debate and discussion. For example, if you look at an untranslated page from the Talmud, you'll notice right away that you can't read it like a typical book. The core concept under discussion is in the center of the page, and the various commentaries (which don't always agree with each other!) surround it, often going into the margins of the page.

The support I felt from the military community motivated me in ritual observance, too. I lit Shabbat candles every week, attended a Passover Seder, and even fasted for Yom Kippur. I really felt like I was meant to be Jewish. Unfortunately, the Reform rabbi had to step down due to health problems before I could make my conversion final.

And truth be told, there were other issues. I encountered a lot of resistance at home, and in retrospect, I can't blame my husband for his reaction. I'd shown no signs of this interest before we got married. But that acceptance was so important to me that I stuck with it. Eventually, he learned to sort of tolerate it and even managed to acquire a taste for matzo ball soup. But once we came back to Texas, we never could settle on a congregation. And by the time we divorced, I'd pretty much had it with organized religion.

However, I'll always be grateful to that community in Hawaii for supporting me through some very tough times in my life. If I had to pick a religion for some reason, Judaism would probably be it. Although my actual beliefs may line up more with various Eastern religions, I never felt the sense of community with them that I did in the synagogue.

As you've probably guessed, the community issue is really important to me. But I think that deserves its own post, so the details on that subject will have to wait for another time. I've rambled enough for now.

The religion that got away, Part 1

I've mentioned previously how I had to take two theology classes at Texas Lutheran. The first one pretty much made me into what most people would call agnostic, although I didn't yet think of myself as one. That experience did not put me in a great hurry to take that second class, and I wanted to be as far away from Christian teachings as I could get. Being at a Lutheran college and all, that wasn't very far, but they did offer a course on Judaism that was taught by a rabbi. I figured that was my best bet.

I learned that in many cases, Jewish and Christian interpretations of the same scriptures are often radically different. This is due in part to some differences in translation. The commandment cited by Christians as, "Thou shalt not kill," is cited by Jews as, "Thou shalt not murder." The verse in Isaiah that talks about a "virgin" conceiving is translated in Jewish Bibles as a "young girl" conceiving.

Sometimes the disagreements are over interpretation. The biblical story where Abraham is told to sacrifice Isaac is viewed by many Christians as God's way of testing Abraham's faith. But a common Jewish interpretation of that passage is that it was God's way of telling Abraham that there would be no human sacrifice in this new religion Abraham was founding.

As you may have guessed, these experiences tore away whatever shreds of Christian faith I might have had left. I didn't leap right into Judaism, but after I decided Buddhism wasn't for me, it was something I decided to give a shot. The religion I learned about in class struck me as practical (I'll expand on this in Part 2), and I liked the idea of a religion that was more focused on action than belief.