Another Queer Jewish Buddhist

Jubu Review: Recent Web Activity

I'm always on the lookout for others who write about the Jewish Buddhist phenomenon.  An article that recently appeared  on Ground Report notes that:

A majority of the board of directors of a leading Buddhist magazine, Tricycle: A Buddhist Review, are ethnic Jews. Half of the 10 Buddhist abbots to take charge of the Zen Center of San Francisco over the last 40 years were of Jewish ancestry. 

This quantifies what has been reported anecdotally, and certainly has been much of my experience. And not unlike the the story in Chaim Potok's classic novel The Chosen, where two Jewish boys (one Hasidic and one not) not only become friends but eventually trade places in their relationship to the faith, the article tells the story of Rabbi Alan Lew and his friend Norman Fischer. In the 70s both of them studied Zen together under Berkeley Zen Master Sojun Mel Weitsman (who also grew up Jewish). Everyone thought that Lew would follow in his teacher's path and become a Buddhist priest, while Fischer would become a rabbi. The opposite happened. Though Lew's books, much influenced by his Zen practice, bring meditation to the tribe in ways that work for those who might find the practice somewhat suspect — placing it firmly within the tradition. In fact, Lew's book on the High Holiday's "This Is Real And You Are Completely Unprepared" has to be one of the finest books on the subject. And today Fischer is a high-ranking (there's an interesting Buddhist concept) Buddhist priest going under the name of Zoketsu. Check out the article — there is much more of interest there.

Meanwhile, over at didJEWknow, it is reported that while most American Buddhists are of Asian descent, approximately 30% of converts (another peculiar concept that does not really apply to Buddhism unless one would consider taking refuge conversion) are/were Jewish. In this story Rabbi Lew makes another appearance, along with Jubu regulars Jock Kornfeld and Ram Dass (who is really a HinJew but since he is also quite queer he's a Queer Jubu Hero — and why quibble over the HinJew title, since I consider Buddhism a Protestant reformation of Hinduism anyway). This post also covers the dramatic story of Buddhist nun Aya Khema, who was born Jewish in pre-war Germany, escaped the Nazis only to be interned by the Japanese. She was ordained in the 70s in Sri Lanka. One quibble I have with the author of this blog however is that he consistenly refers to Jubus as Bu-Jews, which is certainly in currency. But like any Lilliputian, I am ready to go to war over this stubborn insistence on a divergent locution (may I be free of anger and ill-will....).

Last, somewhat tangentially, over at the Indwelling Spirit Blog, a site that covers LGBT Christian concerns, queer Lutheran Pastor Dan Hooper writes about some other locutions — recent colloquial phrases current in the queer religious community (including Jubu) along with their definitions. Some of them are quite funny and sad at the same time, such as this entry:

gay church, n. jocularly, a gym. Editorial Note: Popularized by, if not originated by, the American television sitcom Will & Grace. Occasionally, in various nonce uses as in the 2004 citation, the term is applied to other places or activities stereotypically associated with homosexuals.

Now I never really watched Will & Grace (heresy! burn him!) so this is a new one on me and pretty funny. But of course, it led me for the first time to consider another meaning for the title of the show. The definition also reminded me of a phrase from an affirmation satire book from the 90s I love: I Am My Own Best Casual Acquaintance:

My body is a temple.
Want to come over for midnight mass?

And that's the Jubu webweek review.
 

Underwear Advertising You Won't See In Gay Magazines

We are supposed to be witty — that's one stereotype of gay men. A legacy from St. Oscar, or Paul Lynde. However one would never know this looking at ads in gay men's magazines. Advertisers in this venue must believe that all we're interested in are hot bodies, since the underwear ads are all about hot bodies. And why not? Except in advertising the point is to stand out, be remembered, promise a benefit. And in a gay magazine, one hot body after another is just too much of a good thing. And I'm never going to look like the guy in any of those ads. Hell, I don't expect to go out with anyone who looks like those guys.

Which brings me to this print ad for McAlson boxer shorts. This ad did not appear in any gay magazines to my knowledge. And of course, in a straight men's magazine, homo-erotic ads for underwear don't make much sense. Though amazingly, with the "metrosexualization" of today's men, there are many such ads to be found there. Still, this ad for McAlson is visually witty and promises a benefit it can deliver. Which is more than the ads for 2x(ist) can do.

Unfortunately this ad doesn't convince me to change from my underwear of choice (which is indeed one of those brands that advertises in the gay magazines and websites) because I much prefer the feel of briefs and hate the feel of boxers.

Homophobic Stereotypes in Politics: The Obama Statement

This from the Obama campaign today on the LGBT community:

Part of the reason that we have had a faith outreach in our campaigns is precisely because I don't think the LGBT community or the Democratic Party is served by being hermetically sealed from the faith community and not in dialogue with a substantial portion of the electorate, even though we may disagree with them.

So people in the Obama campaign believe we are hermetically sealed from the faith community? Gee, uh, has anyone heard of Soulforce? Metropolitan Community Church? QueerDharma? Congregation Sh'Ar Zahav? I mean, there are queer congregations all over the country. Not to mention whole denominations in meltdown over whether we can be ordained — and I'm not only talking about the Episcopalians.

The very idea that queer people are not members of mainstream faith communities — or for that matter, highly present in the black church — is a gross ignorance at best. And such ignorance on the part of a national campaign of a domestic issue suggests that this organization isn't up to dealing with the complexities of international politics.

I urge all queer people of faith, all queer people who are members of faith communities to write the campaign and let him know that the only ones who are hermetically sealed are the candidate and his staff, living in a bubble that is disconnected from the lives of queer people across America.

Aural Sex: Queer Music

New Yorkers can be rather chauvinistic about the city. It offers so much. But for queer folk, because we think we have it so good, we actually miss some of the truly amazing things done in city's many New Yorkers might not think to visit. Consider Houston for example: once a month on local Texas radio you can listen in to the Queer Music Heritage Project - the heart's work of J D Doyle.

When I got to the website I just broke out laughing to see an album cover I hadn't seen since I lived in North Carolina in 1975: the first album of gay country band Lavender Country. Doyle's website includes playlists from every show and copious historical information about singers and musicians going back to the early 20th Century. He is a national resource — a treasure. And no New York, he doesn't live here.

Monday Morning Curmudgeon: Metro/AM New York in the Subway

I hate the free papers in the morning. Notice I don't dignify them by calling them newspapers. Let's be clear about one thing, they are just  waste paper that blows across subway platforms, stairwells and sidewalks. They create fire hazards on the tracks, and slip hazards on the stairs.

The hawkers block subway entrances on the street, and some even stand in the stairwells, blocking people from efficiently going in or out. The narrow stairways are bad enough on a good day, but on rainy days, with wet papers on the ground, people trying to open umbrellas, and some guy in an orange vest blocking your way as he thrusts an excuse for advertising at you — it's simply offensive. Except it is worse than that.  Their piles of papers and wire racks create a hazard — they're a disaster waiting to happen should there be some reason to evacuate a station quickly (not like there aren't a dozen reasons to claim there's a disaster waiting to happen). Except that this dangerous blocking of the entrances at rush hour must be illegal.

Call your councilperson to complain. Write your newspaper. Write the fish wrap they give out at the subways. It's an outrage!

Poisoned Toys from China: The Week in Paranoia

I was an early subscriber to National Lampoon when it came out in 1970. It had many of my favorite artists from the science fiction world — Vaughn Bodé and Gahan Wilson among them. Every issue had a theme, and #5 was Paranoia, with a great Wilson cover. But that's not what interests me today. No. The centerfold of this issue was a Paranoid's Map of The World, complete with every hateful stereotype imaginable, made howlingly funny in its democratic fashion of tarring the whole world with this brush.

However, besides people as a source of paranoid fantasy, there was nature, and for that matter, the products people make. You will notice in this detail blown up from the map, one of the dangers from China is poisoned toys. Paranoia? Or prescience?

This very same map shows melting polar ice caps and mideast jihadists. No. This was not a paranoid fantasy. It was National Lampoon's secret message to the future, coded, as Nostradamus had to do because no one would believe it.

My love affair with Japanese monster movies (and Japanese men)

I was 5 years old when Rodan opened in New York City. I saw a commercial for the film on TV and I was riveted. I knew I had to see this movie. Of course 5 year olds can do nothing if a parent doesn't take him or pay for the film so I asked my folks to take me to the movie. Now I went to lots of movies. I saw The Wizard of Oz when I was 3 years old — the first film I ever saw, when it started its revival circuit before CBS got their hands on it. But my folks didn't look kindly on a monster movie (like Margaret Hamilton isn't enough to scar a child for life) since it might keep me up at night in fear. So my dad figured he could give me a little test that I couldn't pass so that he'd have an excuse not to take me. He posed a vocabulary question, assuming that I didn't understand some of what was said in the commercial. He never made that mistake again. And I got to see Rodan. And from that moment on I saw every Japanese monster movie I could. Little did I know it then, but I was also hooked on Japanese culture — and in love with Japanese men.

All this is a roundabout way of saying that all of this comes together tomorrow night at the Japan Society in New York, where there will be an evening lecture on Godzilla and Japanese Culture, with Dr. William Tsutsui, Professor of Modern Japanese History and Department Chair at Kansas University as well as author of Godzilla on My Mind, Fifty Years of the King of Monsters.

Of course, it wasn't until I lived in Japan that I saw the original Godzilla, without Raymond Burr. Sitting with my Japanese boyfriend, watching scenes of Tokyo destroyed by fire in a film made not ten years after we firebombed the city was a harrowing experience. And the intense anti-nuclear and pacifist message of the film, which was missing in the US version, hit hard. I can only imagine how it affected Japanese audiences at the time. First released in 1954, with American troops still in Japan, and war in Korea raging, it seems almost secretly subversive. And an example of how American culture can blindly pick up something without any understanding of its origins or deeper meaning and make another kind of entertainment out of it entirely — an entertainment with an American at the center.

And now we pause for the Peanuts and their rendition of the Mothra theme song:

Where Jewish Mysticism, Christian Mysticism and Queer Mysticism run headlong into Buddhism

Today at one of the closing sessions at the Nehirim Conference on Queer Jewish Spirituality there was a guest speaker from outside the Jewish tradition, Michael Kelly, author of Seduced By Grace and The Erotic Contemplative. What great fun. He read from St. John of the Cross, and then a passage from Pseudo-Dionysius the Aeropagite that was beautifully mind-blowing in its Jewish and Buddhist approach to the Divine. Just as in the Kaddish, Jews affirm everyday that the Divine is beyond language and description (which includes the entire idea of a gendered character) and as the Buddhists define Nirvana only by what it is not, so too this passage read today was a radical statement of the experience that cannot be described but can only be experienced. An experience shared by all humans in all traditions.

The dialog that began in this workshop was delicious. So was the performance of the juggler Sara Felder on Friday night. As you would expect in a conference of queer folk, she crossed boundaries in so many ways — and all of them designed to elicit laughter, which erupted in gales. Her introduction to the brilliant lecture by Naomi Seidman explicating Sholem Asch's 1906 Yiddish play God of Vengeance included...well, I shouldn't say because should she do it again the surprise would be ruined.

Didn't get there this year? There will be a Nehirim conference on the west coast — and then back east next spring. So if you're a queer jew, or queer jewish-buddhist, -pagan, -taoist etc don't miss it.

 

Erev Black Monday: 20th Anniversary of the Oct '87 Crash

I left Japan after almost 7 years of residency in Tokyo working at an ad agency in July 1987. The plan was to travel across Asia, India, North Africa and Europe before coming home to NYC. Since I would be out of contact in a number of places, including almost 25 days in silent retreat in Igatpuri, I told my stock broker to do whatever he thought needed to be done while I was away.

I spent the day of the Harmonic Convergence on the grounds of the Shwedagon Pagoda in Rangoon, in the company of one Frederic Lustig, an Estonian refugee from the Soviets who had become a monk in Tibet only to become a refugee from the Chinese, thus settling in Burma where he taught English and translated Burmese epic poetry into English. I wasn't really reading the daily news.

Eventually I got to Europe tho, visiting my old friend, the artist Maic Asti, in Copenhagen, along with a dear old friend Annie Schmidt. Then I made my way to London where I saw Diana Rigg in Follies and the English Light Opera company production of Pacific Overtures, which was dizzying after all that time in Japan. Then I got on a jet to head back to NYC.

I arrived in New York City on October 19th, 1987 in the late afternoon. When I got to my old apartment (sublet all those years) I heard the news. The stock market had dropped 500 points. I'm not that much of a narcissist (or a pessimistic narcissist at that) to believe it had anything to do with my return, but I did think it was an ominous return. My broker however, had anticipated something going awry and had sold everything weeks before I returned. All I had saved overseas was safe. At least until I got my hands on it.

Twenty years later no one still really understands what happened that day and why the Dow tumbled. And today things look so much more precarious. I think I'll spend tomorrow in bed.

His Body For Sale

John Derek is an actor best remembered today for the beautiful women he married — Bo Derek, Ursula Andress and Linda Evans. But in 1951 he made a film that, as advertised here in this Spanish advertising flier that I picked up in a Barcelona flea market, capitalized on his beauty. The flier trades in a whiff of homoerotic scandal with the slogan His Body For Sale plastered across his rather buff pecs.

The movie itself, known in the US as Saturday's Hero, was about a high school athlete of no great scholarly ability, who gets a scholarship at the behest of an older man who gambles on the team. Today one could have a film with the "His Body For Sale" slogan about the baseball gay porn scandal of Kazuhito Tadano. But this 1951 film is just as up to date — only the subject of how money has corrupted both the game and education in college athletics. And this old movie shows it's nothing new. For those of you who think you have never seen a John Derek film, if you've seen Heston's Moses, then you've seen Derek's Joshua in The Ten Commandments. As for his acting ability, well,  he got regular work, but Humphrey Bogart is reputed to have said to him "You look great kid, but looks are not enough." Nevertheless, posters and slogans like this always bring in audiences.