Thoughts from a Jewish Buddhist

Sitting down again, and the more I hear people are enjoying the blog the more pressure I feel; yet I will do what I always do, exactly what I tell my 8th graders to do, I will just write.

Today I do have the excuse that I was up at 3 a.m to make the trek to Tiger Hill to watch the sunrise. Though we couldn't see the highest peaks, or the borders of the 4 or 5 neighbouring countries, I was looking down over other, lower mountain peaks, and the clouds (without being in an airplane) as the sun peaked through the far off clouds on the horizon. It was pretty spectacular and I was grateful. I can now also say I have seen the sun rise from the lowest point on earth (the Dead Sea) and a pretty high point (though not the highest) and once again I am grateful.

As my colleagues previously reported (thanks to them for keeping everyone updated too) yesterday was quite an awesome day. Luckily for me, I suffered from very little queasiness (I have other issues) and so for me the drive was spectacular....I was in the back of the jeep (reminiscent of those days we used to ride in the back-back of the station wagon) peering out the window the whole time. Except for the occasional bump (head or elbow) I was smiling and singing to myself the whole time and it was awesome. Our driver was also super courteous and careful, especially in the rain, in fact he was one of the most courteous drivers I have ever seen....something I hope to remember as I am swearing at drivers on Winnipeg roads after the first snowfall.

After the Gandhi Ashram school, which was inspiring we went up the hill to a Buddhist monastery and for me the experience was powerful...to say the least. We arrived in the middle of the afternoon and a bunch of monks were sitting around a long table chanting and praying. Though I wasn't sure we were supposed to be there at all, nobody said anything as we took off our shoes and silently sat down at the long row of tables behind the monks' tables.

I took a seat in front of a pillar, which acted as a prop (I thought of it as kind of like a yoga block) so I didn't have to work too hard to keep my back straight. As soon as I sat down I felt a feeling of peace wash over me and I felt myself become quieter from within; I found it was very easy to still my mind and just breathe. I don't know why it was so easy in that moment, in that place, but it just was. I didn't understand any of the words (obviously) but the sounds of the chanting, together with the music, bells, drums and shells, resonated within me, through my body, and especially through my heart (though when they all played at once my fist thought was that it reminded me of the opening music of the Shrine Circus). I closed my eyes, listened and breathed and again I felt this almost overwhelming sense of gratitude for my life. It was awesome. It also made me think, both there as I sat and watched everything going on around me, and during the 3 hour journey back to Darjeeling in the back of the jeep, and still now.

I wonder where it is that this feeling came from and why I found this connection in this monastery and why it is I don't find it in a synagogue.....and that perhaps I am wrong and limiting myself in my perspectives.....and so this is what I have been thinking about.....and while I am not going to write a lot right now (again always relative) I am going to share some thoughts.....and I do feel some pressure here because I am running out of time before our next destination.....

When we first met Father Kinley, the Rector of Saint Josephs, he introduced himself as a Buddhist Catholic, having converted to Catholicism to become a Jesuit Priest. He did not tell the whole story of his conversion (mentioned by my colleagues in a previous blog), when asked he simply said something along the lines that we (as humans) often look outside of our upbringing to find our spiritual meaning. To this I can certainly relate, but I think he was purposefully over-simplifying things in that moment, and I also believe this is too simple an answer for me as well.

And so I have been thinking.....I grew up with a very strong sense of both Jewish identity and faith. In high school and youth groups I actually loved the praying part....the singing and the community. Through university I began to question the language; the words and prayers I didn't understand (why say them?) and the ones I did understand didn't hold any particular meaning. I didn't like praying with other people's words.

Then I moved to Israel where my Jewish identity was a given; I didn't have to do anything at all, I lived in Israel. There I also found a new path and a new spirituality...I found the god of my own understanding, with whom I built a relationship that I continue to work at and maintain today through prayer (my own words and other fairly standard prayers I can relate to) and meditation (I can see some people's eyes rolling now, but this is me). In Jerusalem I lived in a spiritual community of friends and family and it was a part of who I was....as it still is a part of who I am today.

In my life in Winnipeg tooday, I continue to find my spirituality through prayer, meditation and my yoga practice. I maintain my Jewish identity through family celebrations, teaching Hebrew and my connection to Israel (friends and the longing to go back....knowing the second I do I'll probably stay...sorry mom). Had I ended up teaching in the Jewish community this may have been (likely would have been) different and I would have been involved in other aspects of Jewish community life, but this was not the case (for better or worse).

But yesterday as I sat in the monastery, in peace and silence, I found myself wondering (and I was certainly surprised by the thought) about my own Jewish identity and my connection to the synagogue.....and the thought that came was maybe I am wrong. Maybe if I can find god in a Buddhist monastery just like that, I can find him in a synagogue too.

Now don't get me wrong, I am not saying I am going all "religiouso" (as we say), nor am I giving up bacon cheeseburgers, I am just thinking that perhaps I need to give the prayer of my youth and upbringing another chance. It could be that I was right all along and the politics and hypocrisies I thought I felt in the past are true....but again I could be wrong....and maybe just as god was in the monastery, and the mountain top at sunrise this morning, and everywhere I go, I will find him in a synagogue too......

(and just as a side I use the he for god for simplicity sake...easier than he/her/it/whatever, and the lowercase just because.....)