February 2007

Jewish Word
Jewish Roots, Buddhist Wings

In the early 1980s, San Francisco ophthalmologist Marc Lieberman decided to give Buddhist meditation a try. His fiance practiced it and, as Lieberman now recalls, “being—and remaining—a Type-A Jewish guy, anything that could slow me down couldn’t hurt, right?” His interest grew to the point where, in 1990, he led a band of American Jewish luminaries across the ocean to Asia to meet with the Dalai Lama and learn about Tibetan Buddhism. Their physical and spiritual journey is chronicled by Lieberman’s childhood friend, Rodger Kamenetz, in his 1994 bestseller, The Jew and the Lotus: A Poet’s Rediscovery of Jewish Identity in Buddhist India. Early in the book, Kamenetz describes Lieberman as “the first person to ever describe himself to me as a JuBu—a Jewish Buddhist.” In spite of Lieberman’s more lyrical description of his dual faith—“I have Jewish roots and Buddhist wings”—it was the four-letter word that stuck.

Kamenetz wasn’t the first to put JuBu to paper and Lieberman wasn’t the first to use it, but media references all point back to The Jew and the Lotus. “It probably appeared in some obscure Buddhist periodical,” says Kamenetz. “But I definitely put it on the map.” Whatever its origins, Kamenetz’s timing was just right. When his book came out, American Jews were turning to Buddhism in droves, often while continuing to think of themselves as Jews. Today, it’s estimated that over a million Americans practice Buddhism; and of these, as many one-third may be people of Jewish descent, looking for meaning that they have not found within Judaism.

The term JuBu is now commonly used—a quick Google search comes up with 39,500 pages of references in English—especially by Jewish Buddhists with a sense of humor. It is less of a mouthful, than say, the “oy vey school of meditation,” which was promulgated by the late Beat poet and Jewish Buddhist Allen Ginsberg, and it can just be plain fun. One anonymous author, for example, compiled the 13 Tenets of JuBu, including: “There is no escaping karma. In a previous life, you never called, you never wrote, you never visited. And whose fault was that?”

Nevertheless, many American Jewish Buddhists shun JuBu, which sounds an awful lot like the hip-hop ghetto brand FUBU, “for us, by us,” meant to be a reference to African Americans. “For whatever reason, some people do seem to resent the word,” says Kamenetz. “I don’t know why. I guess they think they are being made fun of.” Although he doesn’t mind it, Marc Lieberman says the term can come across as “a little condescending, a little snotty.” Whatever the reason, no one so much as whispers JuBu in the 1999 award-winning documentary film, Jews and Buddhism: Belief Amended, Faith Revealed, which looks at the preponderance of Jews in the leadership of the American Buddhist movement. But “we use it internally,” admits director Bill Chayes. “As in ‘Someone wants 10 copies of JuBu.’”

Rabbi Alan Lew, a Buddhist for more than a decade, finds JuBu particularly infuriating. “I wish people would stop using that word,” says Lew, the spiritual leader of Congregation Beth Shalom in San Francisco who recounts his journey back to Judaism in his 2001 book One God Clapping. “What does it mean? Does it mean someone involved in both, a Buddhist who returned to Buddhism or someone like me who was born a Jew and returned? These are three very different kinds of experiences.”

Certainly, the term JuBu—or any other word describing a Jewish Buddhist—raises crucial questions: Can one be a Jew and a Buddhist at the same time? Is Buddhism, centered as it is around compassion and meditation, in conflict with Judaism? Sylvia Boorstein, who teaches Buddhism and observes Shabbat, carefully avoids the term in her bestseller, That’s Funny, You Don’t Look Buddhist: On Being a Faithful Jew and a Passionate Buddhist. But she thinks the two practices can coexist. She wandered away from Judaism before she found Buddhism through mindfulness meditation. And it was meditation that helped her sit still long enough to be touched by Judaism. “I am a Jew because of my parents,” she writes. “I am a prayerful, devout Jew because I am Buddhist.”

As it did for Boorstein, Buddhism led Lew back to Judaism, which he has since learned possesses a spiritual depth—including meditation practice—of which many American Jews are ignorant. But he doesn’t find Buddhism and Judaism compatible: It’s “not a particularly good idea” to practice both, he declares. “One would have to be superficial about both. To be involved in either one, you need to make a clear commitment.”

Montreal professional viola player Pemi Paul makes no such distinctions. On his MySpace page he blithely describes himself as a Jewish Buddhist who had an Orthodox bar mitzvah, meditates, reads a lot of Kabbalah and feels comfortable going to synagogue. He doesn’t find JuBu offensive. “But personally,” he quips, “I prefer BuJu.”
—Rachel Safier