This slim book, a relatively fast read, documented an interesting dialogue between staunch atheist Sam Harris and former Muslim radical Maajid Nawaz. This slim book, a relatively fast read, documented an interesting dialogue between staunch atheist Sam Harris and former Muslim radical Maajid Nawaz. Nawaz offers us a fascinating and nuanced view of how radicalism develops (making this an interesting book to read in tandem with Memoirs of a Jewish Extremist: An American Story) as well as various Muslim communities' relationships with their heritage and with radical views.
I only gave it three stars, though, because I found Nawaz's sections lengthy, rambling, and hard to follow at times (this could just be me) and ultimately, I'm not sure what I'm really walking away with. This book feels to me like a nice beginning rather than a comprehensive addressing of the various issues, which I guess is to be expected given its short length. That being said, I think it's a worthwhile read with much to discuss....more
Whenever I read celebrity memoirs, I usually don't know much about the celebrity and am simply judging the memoir on its own merits. The question Meh.
Whenever I read celebrity memoirs, I usually don't know much about the celebrity and am simply judging the memoir on its own merits. The question of whether I would have liked the book more (or possibly less) if I were better acquainted with the celebrity's persona lingers in the background, so take this from who it comes.
This celebrity memoir is arguably a little different from the usual how-I-got-famous-and-the-dysfunction-I-suffered-along-the-way genre because of the Scientology angle. I was fascinated by Going Clear: Scientology, Hollywood, and the Prison of Belief and curious to read a more personal account of someone's experience with Scientology. Well, if I wanted sensationalist gossip this memoir didn't disappoint, even if the gossip mostly centered around Tom Cruise. That being said, this could just be me but I had a bit of a hard time tracing the path of Leah's disenchantment with Scientology; I get that there was some friction for her at Tom Cruise's wedding to Katie Holmes but wasn't exactly sure how the whole 180 happened as a result.
Otherwise, this memoir hit a lot of the same self-absorbed celeb memoir notes -- how I got my big break, name-dropping, more detail than I wanted at times, etc. Since it was readable and interesting at times despite this (and as I said, despite my never having heard of Leah Remini), I'll go ahead and give it three stars....more
I think many people can benefit from a rigorous, scholarly analysis of why people leave Orthodox Judaism. Sociologists anDisappointing on many levels.
I think many people can benefit from a rigorous, scholarly analysis of why people leave Orthodox Judaism. Sociologists and anthropologists can study self-reinvention and the "coming-out" process for individuals who are reinventing themselves in a variety of social contexts. Orthodox educators and leaders who are concerned about disenchantment and disengagement from the religion would do well to study rigorous and enlightening research about some of the contributing factors to this phenomenon as opposed to some of the tawdry memoirs and hand-wringing and free-association around Shabbos tables and in blogs. I was hoping this book would represent such a contribution. Sadly, it didn't.
This book is largely composed of selected excerpts from 40 interviews Lynn Davidman conducted with formerly Orthodox Jews. The narratives she includes are frequently repetitive and sadly, not especially enlightening. One of Lynn's main and recurring themes, the fact that leaving Orthodoxy is frequently manifested in "bodily practices" (e.g., the way you eat and dress), is not particularly profound or ground-breaking. She also fails to distinguish nuances among the social contexts of her interviewees, who include 38 formerly Hasidic Jews (Satmar as well as Lubavitch, which any insider would know are very different contexts) and two formerly Yeshivish/Litvish Jews (again, very different from Hasidic as well as at least one woman who clearly grew up in Israel though this is unacknowledged. A great many of them hail from dysfunctional families, but no effort is made to distinguish between the personal family dysfunction and communal/religious influences. While I can't blame Lynn's informants for blurring these boundaries, I would expect more nuance, sensitivity, and intellectual honesty from Lynn as a researcher.
Also disturbing is the description of one of her "Yeshivish" informants, a man who allegedly never saw a television or entered a library but was sent to a yeshiva in Baltimore (clearly Ner Yisrael), which Lynn describes as "one of the best Haredi yeshivot in the United States." Ner Yisrael is actually one of the most open-minded of the "Haredi" yeshivot (I'm not even sure the word "Haredi" is accurate as a descriptor, although the students there do wear the uniform). The attitude toward college is far more open in Ner Yisrael than in any other "Haredi" yeshiva; they even facilitate the students' attending college classes. It's highly, highly unlikely that a family who elected not to have a television and never brought their child to a public library would choose Ner Yisrael, where he would clearly be attending college, as opposed to one of the many truly Haredi yeshivot where he would be more cloistered. In describing this individual Lynn is clearly either misinformed, disingenuous, or sloppy, which casts some doubt on the credibility of her research in general (there were a few other narratives that hit some false notes as well).
Finally, Lynn's intermingling of her own experience as someone who left Orthodox Judaism together with her various narratives is a bit troubling. On the one hand, her position as someone with similar experiences to her informants should certainly be acknowledged and may enhance the book's power in some ways. On the other hand, she is clearly lacking in objectivity and actually acknowledges that she is drawn to this material for emotional reasons, which may make her a less-than-ideal candidate for studying this phenomenon in a neutral, all-encompassing way.
This is certainly a topic that needs to be studied, and I imagine that any researcher who chose to do so would have some biases. Still, I hope the next researcher who chooses to tackle this topic will be more committed to thoroughness and intellectual honesty and write a book that actually contributes to understanding this phenomenon....more
This book is intelligent, well-researched, and clearly written, and makes some interesting points. Unfortunately there were a few things that put me oThis book is intelligent, well-researched, and clearly written, and makes some interesting points. Unfortunately there were a few things that put me off and precluded my giving a higher rating that the book arguably deserved.
First, the title promises a heck of a lot more than it actually delivers. The limits of Orthodox theology sounds like an edgy and compelling subject for religious and non-religious people alike. Unfortunately, a more accurate (though far less seductive) title would have been: Maimonides' Thirteen Principles of Faith and Some Scholars' Quibbles with Their Finer Points.
Marc Shapiro explains that many Jews have come to believe that Maimonides's Thirteen Principles of Faith are almost a Jewish catechism. Those who accept these principles are believers; those who do not are heretics who should be banned from the community. But Shapiro is here to tell us that a careful examination of history reveals that this is not actually the case. Not only did many scholars dispute aspects of Maimonides's principles but, Shapiro claims, Maimonides himself later made statements which could be interpreted as contradicting the Principles, which he wrote earlier. Additionally, it's debatable whether contesting some of the aspects of some of the Principles unequivocally mark one as a heretic under Jewish law.
Shapiro has clearly done a great deal of research and identified a number of dissenting opinions and views, but there are some problems. For example, Shapiro argues that if the principles were that important, Maimonides would have repeated them as a unit in his later writings. "It certainly seems that Maimonides was not as closely tied to his youthful formulation of the Principles as is often assumed," Shapiro asserts with confidence. Well, maybe, maybe not. Shapiro himself acknowledges that the Principles are found in Maimonides's later work, just not as a unit. One can speculate on a number of possible reasons that Maimonides might not have chosen to reiterate his Principles, which had already been published as a unit elsewhere. This proof, like some of Shapiro's other statements, strikes me as weak and drawing the target around the arrow.
Another issue I had was Shapiro's lack of discrimination when it came to citing scholars and thinkers as if all of them had the same degree of influence and weight. He frequently cited Rabbi Nahman of Breslov, a figure who is not accepted in mainstream circles as an authority of Jewish law or even theology. Many of the other figures he cited were individuals who were unfamiliar to me. Which is certainly to be expected given that Shapiro is a scholar and I'm not, but if you're going to cite various scholars as proof that mainstream, widely accepted views conflicted with those of Maimonides, then at least some of those figures should be more familiar to a reader who's had sixteen years of Jewish education.
Shapiro's final point in his conclusion supports my contention that he wrote this book with an agenda:
"Together with the turn to the right on Orthodoxy, which has led to increasing stringency in many areas of halakhah, an ever-increasing dogmatism in matters of belief is also apparent."
My sense is that, in his eagerness to argue against this "dogmatism," Shapiro made much of relatively minor differences with the finer points of Maimonides's views, some (though admittedly not all) of which were attributed to more marginal figures. I happen to agree with Shapiro that many prevailing Orthodox views are becoming increasingly dogmatic and stifling of intellectual honesty. I share his concern, and have read some good historical books and articles which also address this (Strictly Kosher Reading: Popular Literature and the Condition of Contemporary Orthodoxy as well as articles by S. Leiman and J. J. Schachter). Certainly Marc Shapiro's book is not bad, but my sense is that his eagerness to prove his agenda overrode his commitment to scholarly rigor....more
I've shared feelings on this site before about the "off-the-derech memoir," i.e., memoirs written by individuals who grow up Orthodox Jewish and leaveI've shared feelings on this site before about the "off-the-derech memoir," i.e., memoirs written by individuals who grow up Orthodox Jewish and leave, and share their experiences. My feelings about these memoirs have been ambivalent at best. By and large, I've found them bitter, one-dimensional, sensationalist/exhibitionistic/TMI, and blurring the boundaries between struggling with the demands of the religion and the experience of growing up in what seems to have been a highly dysfunctional family (though who knows, really; we're only getting one person's perspective and the specter of James Frey haunts me whenever I read a melodramatic memoir). I've questioned a lot of these authors' credibility, sometimes because of exaggerations, gaps, and inconsistencies in their narratives (to which I'm sensitive as someone who comes from a similar background) and sometimes because there was absolutely no attempt to be fair to the other characters inhabiting the memoir who came across as evil caricatures rather than as complex human beings.
This memoir was different.
First of all, Shulem Deen is a good writer. He is reflective, three-dimensional and, as far as I can tell, an accurate reporter for the most part -- at least, I didn't spot a lot of gaps or inconsistencies (there were possibly a few, which I'll try to address later). But more importantly, he acknowledges many complexities that are sorely neglected by other off-the-derech memoirists.
Shulem spent the first part of his adult year in New Square among the Skverer Chassidim. He's candid about the fact that this is an extremist sect, more cloistered than even the mainstream Chassidim and certainly far more cloistered than most typical Orthodox and modern Orthodox communities. Unlike other off-the-derech memoirists, he makes this point clearly rather than allowing the reader to suppose that his context was typical. When I read goodreads reviews of off-the-derech memoirs, it rankles me to read lines like, "a window into a hidden community" and other reactions that suggest that people think they now know what it's like to grow up Orthodox or Chassidic. No, people, you don't. What you know is what this memoirist perceived, filtered, and chose to share from their unique context, with questionable fidelity (sensationalism sells a lot more books than honesty). Shulem's genuine acknowledgement that his community was extremist allows the reader to recognize this.
But here's what impressed me the most. I loved Shulem's afterword. After reading this highly readable and compelling memoir, I was completely taken by Shulem's acknowledgement of the inherent unfairness of penning a memoir from one's perspective. Shulem writes in this afterword that, although he tried to be fair, he's sure this memoir would sound very different had it been written by one of the other characters in his life, particularly his ex-wife. How refreshing to read this in a memoir, any memoir, but particularly one of leaving Orthodoxy. And it makes me a lot more inclined to believe Shulem's narrative when I witness his humility and acknowledgement of limitations to his perspective.
Now, as I said, there were some possible gaps. It was interesting to me that Shulem's parents were both returnees to the faith who did not grow up Orthodox and, upon becoming religious, embraced a lifestyle that was pretty intense and extreme. While many people who become Orthodox tend to adopt religiously strict practices rather than a more moderate approach (within Orthodoxy there's quite a spectrum), I believe it's pretty unusual to become Chassidic. In that sense, Shulem's childhood was also not typical as many families in the Chassidic community have been Chassidic for generations, making it likely that Shulem's upbringing may have been distinctive and that his parents may have been different in a lot of ways. When I read that Shulem's father taught classes to people of diverse Jewish backgrounds, and perhaps more relevantly, embraced a series of unusual practices in the name of spirituality that eventually compromised his health, it suggested to me that there were factors in Shulem's background that may have been influential but were not discussed. Of course, Shulem has every right to filter what he wants to tell us, especially with regard to his family members and the need to respect their privacy (this, too, was refreshing in an era of tell-all memoirs, as was Shulem's sensitive handling of sexual matters) but it also means that we may be placing an unfair share of the responsibility for Shulem's eventual disenchantment on the community and the Skverer Chassidic context when there were probably some unusual aspects to growing up in his family.
A friend of mine pointed out that Shulem's decision to feed his children machine matza when they visited him on Passover, depicted as largely innocent, was something he must have known would greatly upset his ex-wife. Similarly, charging non-kosher food to their credit card while they were still married when he knew his then-wife would see the bill also feels like a desire to throw his non-observance in his distraught wife's face. While Shulem is arguably a victim of his circumstances in some respects, he also made a lot of choices which raise some questions about whether he may have been deliberately provocative at times and contributed more to their relationship difficulties than he acknowledged.
Shulem's ex-wife, incidentally, was arguably the most sympathetic character in the story. She comes across as an innocent, mainstream Chassidic young woman who was blithely following the script set out for her and was thrown a curve ball. She also comes across as someone who tried very hard to preserve her marriage, even making compromises that must have been very uncomfortable for her (it may be hard for a secular reader to appreciate the difficulty of her sacrifices, but trust me on this) but my sense is that, ultimately, it was Shulem who wanted to end the marriage even though it's depicted as a mutual decision. Of course, I couldn't possibly know for sure what went on between them but this was one of the areas where I questioned Shulem's objectivity. But since he himself acknowledges his limitations as a reporter, I'm okay with it as opposed to other memoirs where I felt the author was misleading me, perhaps even consciously.
So ultimately, I found his book compelling and painful by equal measure. New Square doesn't look pretty, but in truth I was never a big fan and neither are most of my Orthodox compatriots. I felt horrible for Shulem as I read about his children's eventual estrangement from him, although again, I suspect there are relevant parts of the story that aren't being shared which might make us see things differently. All memoirs should be taken with a grain of salt and with the understanding that they represent a particular perspective, and this one is no exception. But unlike other memoirists, Shulem acknowledges that and I respect him for it....more
Like Hitch, Sam is a fantastic writer and brilliant thinkerWell, it didn't surprise me to learn that Sam Harris and Christopher Hitchens were buddies.
Like Hitch, Sam is a fantastic writer and brilliant thinker who's no fan of religion. In this compelling book, he shares his views on spirituality and consciousness, discussing meditation as a means of achieving spirituality which is entirely independent of religious belief and ritual.
Obviously, as a practicing religious person, Sam and I are not on the same page. I also struggled to understand his chapter on meditation; he lost me at several points which almost cost the book a star. And I was hoping he would discuss the connection between temporal lobe stimulation and transcendent spiritual experiences; something I heard about briefly once and would love to know more about.
That being said, this was a provocative and enjoyable book which was worth reading (although it demands focus). As a psychologist, much of his information about our power to influence the way we think and the impact this has on our experiences was highly relevant to the work that I do. I especially enjoyed his chapter on religious gurus, where he brilliantly articulated the dynamic that frequently takes place between religious leaders and idealizing sycophants.
Overall, my religious beliefs and practices notwithstanding, I think it's fascinating to contemplate what spirituality means and whether true spirituality can exist independent of religion. Sam's views, though different from my own, are impressively expressed and worth contemplating....more
In a comment on the back of this book, Stephen King tentatively labels it the Catch-22 of dentistry. Not a bad stab at trying to describe it. But althIn a comment on the back of this book, Stephen King tentatively labels it the Catch-22 of dentistry. Not a bad stab at trying to describe it. But although I wasn't able to finish Catch-22 (it's on the very short list of abandoned books I really feel I should reattempt), I was (mostly) able to overlook a certain frenetic, Woody Allenish quality and be charmed by this book.
This very creative book touches on a lot of interesting psychological and existential themes. We spend a lot of time in the head of Paul O'Rourke, a neurotic, self-conscious, and highly conflicted but surprisingly successful dentist. Paul is forced to rethink a lot of his assumptions when someone begins impersonating him online. Initially, Paul's impersonator creates a website for his dental practice which unnerves Paul but is actually received positively by Paul's long-suffering staff. However, the impersonator then begins posting all sorts of odd, pseudo-biblical references, gradually drawing Paul into the richly imagined story of the descendants of the Amalekites, who create a tribal religion around the need to doubt God's existence. I found this alternative biblical narrative very cleverly done, and the delicate dance between the past and present doubters and Paul's struggles in his relationships was well-executed.
I took off a star because the main character's navel-gazing got excessive and draining at times, and I'm not sure how I feel about the book's style overall. Still, though, an enjoyable and very interesting novel. Well worth the time I spent with it....more
It's challenging to write a memoir of your marriage while still married to your husband, ostensibly happily, and wanting to keep it that way.
In this mIt's challenging to write a memoir of your marriage while still married to your husband, ostensibly happily, and wanting to keep it that way.
In this memoir, Krista describes her transition from all-American young woman to wife and mother, married to a Muslim man, and even visiting his relatives in Libya at one point for the culture shock of her life. Krista is a decent writer who is thoughtful and introspective in my view, though others called her whiny and self-centered. My issue with this book wasn't so much the alleged narcissism (memoirs are inherently narcissistic, aren't they?), especially since Krista in fact had an interesting story to tell as the American wife of a Muslim man, making all sorts of cultural adjustments. My issue was more that I never really got a feel for her husband, Ismail.
My sense was that Krista didn't want to embarrass or criticize Ismail in the memoir, which is understandable I suppose. But the result of that is that we never really get to know him, and a lot of his behavior and various incidents are confusing. We learn through the backdoor that Krista and Ismail go to couples therapy, which I guess was predictable given the culture clash, but I never really got a full sense of the particular issues that would drive them to seek help.
I was also super confused during the visit to Libya. Feeling smothered by Ismail's vast extended family, Krista asks if they can stay in a hotel. This request would be highly offensive to Ismail's family, a fact Ismail had to have known. And yet, he makes this request of his family and knowingly offends them in order to stick up for Krista. But wait a second. Did Krista and Ismail not discuss sleeping arrangements before the trip? And wouldn't it have come out at some point during these discussions that requesting to stay in a hotel would not be well received? It just didn't make sense. But what was even crazier was when Ismail's relatives asked him how Krista liked their country, and Ismail horrified all of them by stating frankly that she hated it. Did he not know that this would offend them, and not be a revelation Krista wanted to share? Was he that socially clueless? Krista also later reported that she learned to lie to Ismail and to pretend she liked Libya more than she did. So with the Libya trip, lots of inconsistencies and holes that didn't hang together.
I get why Krista would want to leave certain details out to protect Ismail's privacy, which may explain some of the confusing moments and inconsistencies as well as the reader's having trouble getting a feel for his personality. That being said, if the whole point of the book was to share her experience of marrying a Muslim as a culture clash and struggle toward mutual accommodation, I would have gotten that far more had she offered more detail and been clearer about things that were going on.
On the other hand, I give Krista credit for some honest introspection re. aspects of the culture clash between them which were expressed more openly in the book. I also admire Krista's commitment to working on her marriage with this guy, which by her own admission was no easy task, even if we hear that in an offhand way more than we actually see it.
So, three stars. Definitely readable, lots of interesting moments. While the book had the potential to be more enlightening and stimulating than it was, it was a decent read with some food for thought....more
I'm deliberately not rating this, in part because I didn't finish it and in part because I'm a bit conflicted about how to rate it.
It's certainly wellI'm deliberately not rating this, in part because I didn't finish it and in part because I'm a bit conflicted about how to rate it.
It's certainly well-written and readable, very engaging. But this review kind of spoiled things for me. I'm not enough of an expert to critique this account of Jesus's life, but Allan Nadler is and it's hard to continue reading a book which is likely to misinform.
For those who are mildly curious about the critique I'm referring to but not sufficiently motivated to read Nadler's whole review, I'll cite a few points:
1. Aslan's contentions in the book reveal that he ignored some important scholarship on Jesus.
2. While Aslan claims that there were "countless messianic pretenders" among the Jews of first-century Palestine, there were really only six.
3. Aslan alternates between insulting the credibility of the New Testament and relying on it for source material.
4. Aslan's view of Jesus is completely unnuanced, failing to integrate valid material that runs counter to his thesis. He draws the target around the arrow.
As soon as I started the book, I quickly realized that it was written for a popular rather than an academic audience. That's fine with me. A book which ends up being more entertaining than educational is okay, as long as it doesn't misinform or mislead. Cleopatra: A Life was a readable book which carefully avoided making unsupported claims. Unfortunately, Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth apparently didn't succeed in this regard.
I might have continued reading it simply for entertainment, but I'd rather live without knowing a lot about Jesus than walk around thinking I know more than I actually do....more
I want to start this review with an aside about the author. Fear not, goodreads -- what I have to say is positive.
Years ago I applied for a research I want to start this review with an aside about the author. Fear not, goodreads -- what I have to say is positive.
Years ago I applied for a research grant for a study on newly Orthodox Jewish women. I put together a proposal and wanted feedback. I happened upon Yoel Finkelman online, who went on to write this book. We didn't know each other at the time and haven't interacted since, but Yoel was kind enough to thoroughly read my proposal and offer detailed feedback which greatly improved it. I hope that by writing this review and publicizing his book, I'm in some way repaying the kindness he did for a total stranger.
So maybe I'm a little biased when it comes to Yoel Finkelman, but the topic of this book is one that fascinates me. The basic question of the book, as I understood it, is how American Haredi [ultra-Orthodox] popular literature -- be it books for lay Haredi audiences on parenting, history, theology, fiction, etc. -- paradoxically creates a symbolic boundary between the Haredi community and the outside world, denying influences from the larger community or at least wrestling with their existence, while at the same time incorporating elements of the outside world into contemporary Haredi culture. It's an academic book that's heavily footnoted but the language is accessible and the book is not a particularly difficult read.
The book begins with background on the Haredi community and its relatively new development of popular books. According to Finkelman, until the 1970s Jewish books tended to be didactic. My sense is that many if not most of these books were written in Hebrew and meant to be studied rather than read for enjoyment or entertainment. Since the 1970s, Jewish books have become more accessible and genres have proliferated, moving beyond theology (although this is still a genre, if written in a more user-friendly style) into history, parenting books, fiction, cookbooks, and other genres that you might find in any bookstore.
This change in Jewish publishing reflected changes in the Orthodox community. After World War II, the formerly waning American Orthodox community experienced a resurgence which may be attributed to a variety of factors -- the arrival of European Holocaust survivors with a closer connection to tradition, 1960s-1970s countercultural movements making it cool to be ethnic and different as opposed to the previous "melting pot" ideal of American homogenization, etc. Orthodox Judaism evolved from a dying movement to a vibrant way of being Jewish, subdividing into several different communities which Finkelman categorizes as Hasidic, Haredi, and modern Orthodox.
Finkelman focuses on the Haredi community which he describes as paradoxical in certain ways. According to Finkelman, the Haredi community is both isolationist and acculturated -- defining itself as isolated from and superior to the surrounding culture while unavoidably integrating and influenced by elements of the surrounding culture. The Haredi community is also both voluntary and authoritarian -- although there is no centralized formal or legal authority, informal community norms wield a great deal of power over individual decisions. Conformity to these norms is strongly reinforced, and departing from them is deeply unpleasant and threatening. Finkelman examines these tensions and their various manifestations through analyzing the community's popular literature, a research method close to my heart for a variety of reasons and relevant to my own dissertation.
Finkelman describes three ways in which Haredim, as mirrored by Haredi popular literature, attempt to negotiate Haredi paradoxes, mainly the one of isolation vs. acculturation. The first strategy is "coalescence" -- combining the Jewish with the American, e.g., Haredi music with lyrics from traditional Jewish texts and tunes that imitate contemporary popular music; self-help books that integrate contemporary American cultural ideals like personal happiness and self-esteem while couching these ideals as existing within the tradition of mussar, or classical Jewish self-improvement. The second strategy is filtering, i.e., embracing aspects of general culture which are viewed as desirable and consistent with Haredi ideals (e.g., aspects of psychological theory and research) while rejecting other, unwanted aspects of general culture (e.g., excluding any aspect of sexuality from popular texts). The third strategy is monopolizing -- creating a culturally endorsed version of the attractive aspects of secular culture so that Haredim need not look outside the community for it. Haredi cookbooks and nutrition guides would fall into this category.
Are Haredi authors self-aware as they are doing this? Or is the process unconscious? Finkelman writes about the range of responses among Haredi authors to the cognitive dissonance of simultaneously rejecting and incorporating aspects of the surrounding culture. One response is denial, stating overtly that one's ideas are traditional and ancient and not a reflection of the surrounding culture. This approach maintains the dogma that everything comes from the Torah but is often inauthentic and lacking in self-awareness, which can lead to internal contradictions and diminished author credibility for the critical reader. A second response is acknowledgement, stating that secular sources and ideas have been incorporated and defending the decision to do so. Certainly this honesty makes the author and the text more credible, but it also raises questions about what makes the author's ideas uniquely Jewish. The third response, more rare, is to suggest that contemporary secular approaches might actually be superior to traditional ones. This is usually not stated explicitly but rather implied. Finkelman describes these strategies in a variety of Haredi popular genres, including parenting books, self-help, and fiction.
Finkelman then turns to Haredi popular history, which tends to be polemical and to emphasize inspiration over historical accuracy and three-dimensionality. He describes the emphasis on Eastern European Jewish life, described idyllically and one-dimensionally and held up as a model for contemporary Haredi orthodoxy. Aspects of this period such as infighting in yeshivot and secularization remain unacknowledged in a homogenized picture of blissful yeshiva attendance; Religious Zionists are unrepresented; maskilim (Jews who were influenced by the Enlightenment) are painted with a broad brush as pernicious influences attempting to destroy Orthodoxy even though maskilim as a group were actually far more heterogeneous in their levels of secularization and relationships with religiosity. These books are consciously intended to be inspiring, and are therefore selective in what they include. They work to create a collective memory for Haredi Jews which is less about an accurate picture of their origins and what they are ostensibly modeling themselves after, and more about reinventing that picture to serve an ideal that they have constructed.
Haredi popular theology is similarly agenda-driven and at times disingenuous. Haredi books have a complicated relationship with science, denying its validity while simultaneously using it to buttress their positions. Like the aforementioned works of history, some Haredi works of theology and Jewish law attempt to present a unified picture that leaves out any complexity or dispute. Notions of truth are painted as absolutist in many contemporary Haredi books, though this is in contrast to some more classical Jewish sources. A more unified picture of the ingroup strengthens the symbolic boundary between the ingroup and the outgroup.
Finkelman's final topic is that of Haredi internal criticism. Finkelman discusses the conflict for writers, and more so editors, of the need to acknowledge and address criticism and imperfection on the one hand, and the need to promote the prevailing ideology on the other. Using several examples from popular Haredi magazines, Finkelman writes about the careful selection of criticism to acknowledge and the cautious ways in which this criticism is framed. I related to this chapter in particular, having attended a religious girls' high school which consciously prided itself on "open-mindedness" and "encouraging questioning" but was really quite narrow and limited in terms of the spheres in which this was the case. In general, authorities often think of themselves, and/or present themselves, as far more open than they actually are. Finkelman discusses the internet as an uncontrollable counterpoint where Haredi internal criticism is expressed in unfiltered and unstructured ways.
Overall, Finkelman challenges the Haredi idea that their way of doing things is a direct continuation of ancient, or at least more recent Eastern European, religious norms. Haredi Jews are actually far more acculturated and contemporary than they want to acknowledge, a fact which is highly threatening to their identity. Finkelman, through the lens of Haredi popular literature, explores the way in which Haredim strive to maintain a symbolic boundary between themselves and the outside community in order to preserve their fragile sense of self. Although this boundary is porous, Haredim place a high priority on maintaining their integrity which is legitimately threatened by the attractions of a society with a far less restrictive lifestyle. ...more
When I was a kid I read Confessions Of A Jewish Cultbuster, which told fascinating tales of a man who wrestled young adults out of the thrall ofScary.
When I was a kid I read Confessions Of A Jewish Cultbuster, which told fascinating tales of a man who wrestled young adults out of the thrall of various cults. This was my first time revisiting the cult concept as an adult, and quite disturbing.
In this detailed book, Lawrence Wright describes Scientology and the experiences of some of its believers. He writes in detail about the life of Scientology's founder, L. Ron Hubbard, who may be described with words like highly creative, prolific, delusional, narcissistic, manic, depressed, abusive, charming, engaging, etc. Words that would probably apply to many cult of personality leaders. Wright also discusses some of the controversies Scientology found itself embroiled in, such as whether (for tax purposes) it's a non-profit religion or a profit-making industry, whether it's a religion or a cult, whether various abuses were or weren't perpetrated on many of its members, etc. Although Wright's details on alleged abuses are frequently footnoted with "The Church denies...," it's hard to imagine that all of this is invented. Wright goes on to discuss some of the celebrities who lend their aura and power to Scientology, particularly Tom Cruise.
This book gave me pause on a number of levels. As a psychologist, it was fascinating to think about the appeal of Scientology and how it works with our cognitive biases and vulnerabilities. More disturbingly, as a religious person, I recognized the power of a spiritual belief system and how it can potentially give rise to irrational and destructive behavior.
There were some problems with the book. Wright's copious research was both his strength and his weakness; his claims are certainly well-supported but sometimes the structure of the narrative was hard to discern under the piles of detail. For example, the chapter about L. Ron Hubbard's life included many salacious details about his personal misbehavior which were concurrent with the development of the Scientology movement, narrative threads which sometimes got tangled and lost.
With that said, there was a ton of fascinating information here. Beyond the history of Scientology and the stories of many involved individuals, which were highly readable in their own right, Wright includes some stimulating discussions on brainwashing (is there in fact such a thing?), the differences between a religion and a cult, etc.
Wright described some horrifying tactics Scientologists apparently use on those who defect from their ranks or criticize them. I can only hope Wright isn't subjected to similar treatment. Although the Scientology higher-ups issued many flat denials of Wright's findings, their sporadic rebuttals were unconvincing at best. And the freedom that allows Scientology to flourish amid all its controversy should also protect those who would criticize Scientology. I might even argue that the treatment of its critics and dissenters is an important factor distinguishing a religion from a cult. ...more
I'm giving this four stars even though it was admittedly kind of putdownable for me, and I really wavered about reducing my rating to three. UltimatelI'm giving this four stars even though it was admittedly kind of putdownable for me, and I really wavered about reducing my rating to three. Ultimately, though, four won out because of the book's haunting quality and stimulating questions which stayed with me after I closed it.
An unsuspecting nun about to leave for her errands finds a suitcase on the doorstep of the convent and discovers a sleeping baby. The mother superior instantly takes the baby as her own, and we soon discover her psychological reasons for doing so. Other nuns react as well, and the social structure of the convent slowly erodes.
This quiet book evoked convent life in a way that was atmospheric and believable. The characters were interesting and the conflicts were set up in a natural way. Various incidents arose that seemed like cheap ways for Panos to create drama, but happily Panos never took that easy way out, instead choosing to develop things in a more complex, subtle, and realistic way. The whole issue of religion and deprivation vs. the responsibility to this baby; religion vs. petty politics; etc. etc.; all of these were explored in a subtle way that kind of creeps up on you.
I usually reserve four-star ratings for books I have a hard time putting down. I can't really say that about this book, unfortunately. Its quietness and subtlety made for a more contemplative read but certainly a less exciting one. With that said, it was short and gave me a lot to think about when I closed it. Really better than a three-star. So four stars it is....more
I recently visited Boston for the first time (what a great city!) and took my kids to the Salem Witch Museum. Although I vaguely remembered brushing oI recently visited Boston for the first time (what a great city!) and took my kids to the Salem Witch Museum. Although I vaguely remembered brushing over this episode at some point in my education, visiting museum stimulated my fascination with this phenomenon, which inspired me to grab some relevant books on my next visit to the library. This was the first one.
The book is readable, and spins a vivid narrative about the events surrounding the witch trials. The author has clearly done a great deal of research, although she does not appear to have an advanced history degree and I have to reserve judgment about her ability to criticize academic sources as a historian might. I was also concerned about what appeared to be the injection of value judgments and assumptions about people's motivations which are truly unknowable. Although it made for a juicier read than a dry academic text would have, I wasn't sure whether the author might be blurring the lines between established facts and her own interpretation.
Certainly this is an interesting book and probably not factually wrong overall, although my sense after reading an additional book on the same topic is that some information was omitted that might have offered a different picture....more
Meh. I'm sure this is a truly deep and profound book, and all those smarter goodreaders who contributed to its 4+ average rating saw something that I Meh. I'm sure this is a truly deep and profound book, and all those smarter goodreaders who contributed to its 4+ average rating saw something that I missed. But it just didn't work for me.
A Tale for the Time Being has two narratives, or maybe you could say two and a half. The more interesting, though highly flawed, story is that of Nao (listening to this on audio brought home the point that her name sounds like "Now" -- just too cute, with this book's theme of the mysteries of time), a young Japanese teen who spent her formative years in America and is now adjusting to her abrupt repatriation in Japan. Nao is being cruelly bullied by her peers, and the violence is truly over the top. If this story is at all believable in its Japanese context, it does not make Japanese culture look good. From my ethnocentric viewpoint, it required a great deal of suspension of disbelief for me to believe that all of Nao's classmates AND her participating teacher(!) were entirely conscienceless and sadistic to the point of psychopathy, and that this was never discovered or intervened with by anyone. To add bleakness to misery, Nao's father is compulsively suicidal and repeatedly attempts to take his life, while her mother is preoccupied with supporting the family and doesn't say or do much throughout the novel. The one redemptive individual in Nao's life is her grandmother, Jiko, a Buddhist nun.
That narrative, though over the top in many ways, had its redeeming features, particularly the voice of Nao which rang true if a bit overly preoccupied with body parts and bodily functions (and yes, I know she's an adolescent, but I still thought this was excessive and perhaps an overzealous attempt on the author's part to make her sound like an adolescent). The second narrative is that of Ruth, an author suffering writer's block, who discovers Nao's diary washed up on the shore near her island home. It seemed that the sole purpose of Ruth's narrative was to create characters to tell you how fascinating Nao and her narrative were. That was just about all Ruth, and her husband Oliver, did in the book. At a certain point Ruth's cat disappears, which I suppose was meant to heighten the drama but did absolutely nothing for me. I couldn't care about Ruth, or Oliver who was always on his iphone, or about their cat, or their friends, or any of it. And I kind of resented what seemed to me like an attempt by the author to pat herself on the back. Instead of creating characters to tell me how great Nao's story is, why not just focus your energy on making Nao's story great? There was work to be done there, believe me.
The sort of half narrative was the story of Nao's uncle, a WWII kamikaze pilot. We're treated to his contrived-sounding diary entries alternating with Nao raving about how great and inspiring a person he is (am I detecting a pattern here?).
Another issue I had with this book was that I found it pretentious with its inserted didactic passages on Zen Buddhism, philosophy, quantum mechanics, etc. It reminded me a bit of The Elegance of the Hedgehog in that way, and we all know how I felt about that book. I'm all for a book that stimulates me intellectually, but if I want to be lectured about something I pick up some good nonfiction. When I'm reading a novel, what I really want is a good story. Interesting characters, a plot that moves, writing that's fluid if not lyrical and makes me forget that I'm reading a book. I've had the experience of learning information from novels and enjoying the experience, but when that happened it was far more seamless and didn't take me out of the story or threaten to put me to sleep.
It's not quite bad enough to be a one-star book, and I did manage to finish it, but that's about all I can say....more
Not quite as well-written as Turbulent Souls: A Catholic Son's Return To His Jewish Family but a similar story in many ways -- a woman who always thouNot quite as well-written as Turbulent Souls: A Catholic Son's Return To His Jewish Family but a similar story in many ways -- a woman who always thought of herself as Christian eventually comes to discover that she is actually Jewish and to connect with Judaism. In a sense, Tova Mordechai's story was a little more interesting than that of Stephen J. Dubner because Tova was not your run-of-the-mill Christian woman. At sixteen, Tova's preacher father placed her in a Pentecostal institution where Tova rose to a position of significant leadership and influence before eventually becoming disillusioned and moving toward Orthodox Judaism.
What I liked about this book was Tova's honesty. Rather than claiming that she immediately loved Orthodox Judaism and its constituents, Tova describes a great deal of struggle to adjust and back-and-forth which, she admits, is not entirely over even after all these years (although it doesn't sound as if she experiences any longing to return to the Church at this point). This was an important aspect of the book which saved it from being a sanctimonious Targum-Feldheim read and actually gave it some provocative moments. It was also interesting to read about the religious institution Tova was affiliated with and the spiritual appeal combined with the abuse of power.
What I liked less was the need for an editor. Tova's writing, while not lyrical per se, was certainly readable; at the same time, the book was a little long-winded and over-detailed. Sometimes I read a disclaimer at the beginning of a memoir which states that some events have been condensed or written as composites of several events in order to ensure the flow of the narrative. While I wonder whether that disclaimer grants the memoirist too much liberty with the truth (as in Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots), in this case I think it would have been advisable for Tova to either combine, condense, or simply eliminate several of the events she describes. Certainly the excerpts from her journal were unnecessary, and I think the book would have read better and been more enjoyable had some of the more trivial anecdotes been streamlined.
Overall, though, I'm not sorry I read it. Though a bit of a slog at times, the book mostly held my interest and raised some interesting questions for me about heredity vs. environment when it comes to spirituality....more
This was a very interesting meditation on what religion has to offer even to committed nonbelievers. Some original insights and creative ideas about wThis was a very interesting meditation on what religion has to offer even to committed nonbelievers. Some original insights and creative ideas about what religion gives the world and how that might be incorporated by the atheists among us. I found it very enjoyable to read, even if some of the arguments worked better for me than others....more
Some interesting insights and a relatively fast read, but overall didn't do much for me. Maybe it's because I've already read Angry Conversations withSome interesting insights and a relatively fast read, but overall didn't do much for me. Maybe it's because I've already read Angry Conversations with God: A Snarky but Authentic Spiritual Memoir which had a similar theme. Sarah writes about her life, some drifting and emotional angst, and her decision to become a priest followed by her rescinding that decision because of a loss of faith. Like I said, some interesting points to ponder and I can't complain about the length. Kind of forgettable, though, unfortunately and I suspect not only because I read it on a transatlantic flight....more
It's always a challenge for me to rate the books on my "Lord help me I'm just not that bright" shelf. This is an academic book. It sometimes felt dry It's always a challenge for me to rate the books on my "Lord help me I'm just not that bright" shelf. This is an academic book. It sometimes felt dry or turgid. I really had to concentrate on every page; when I found myself skimming, I had to force myself to go back so as not to lose my connection with the book. And this happened a lot.
But I still had to give it five stars. It was so impressive. It may sound paradoxical to say that this was a challenging read and that the writing was great, but both were true. So intelligent, so interesting. And though it's hard to give over a sense of the overarching thesis (and I probably won't do great job), I still feel like I got a lot out of it.
Apparently Freud's final book (which we never discussed in graduate school) was a departure from his usual writings, a historical book called Moses and Monotheism which offered a revisionist and psychoanalytic perspective on Moses and the Jews. According to Freud, the Jews didn't invent monotheism -- the Egyptians did. Moses wasn't Jewish; he was actually an Egyptian prince who ended up leading the downtrodden Hebrew tribe out of Egypt and teaching them the monotheistic religion. The Jews subsequently murdered Moses in the desert and returned to their polytheistic lifestyle, only to re-embrace monotheism later on. This was a kind of oedipal situation where the Jews murdered Moses as their father figure but later ended up identifying with his teachings (monotheism).
Yerushalmi uses Freud's book as a springboard for exploring Freud's Jewish background and attitudes, particularly his Jewishness growing up and his public and private personae vis a vis his Jewish identity. Yerushalmi brings evidence to suggest that Freud's upbringing was more religious than he admitted, and that Freud's conflicted feelings about his Jewish identity may have been misunderstood by other historians. I don't know whether this would interest everyone, but it was fascinating to me as a Jewish psychologist. I was particularly touched when I read about Freud's father's giving him a Bible for his 35th birthday with a Hebrew inscription begging him to return to Torah study.
Like I said, between the academic writing and the topic, this book probably won't interest everyone. The woman who recommended it to me described it as being "like candy." I have to admit that as I read it I was thinking, well, maybe jawbreakers. Definitely not M & Ms. But if this review doesn't scare you off and it sounds like something that would interest you, by all means give it a try. I should mention that although it is dense, it's not long -- about 100 pages. Not nearly as intimidating as the Moses Mendelssohn book.
I loved Through the Narrow Gate: A Memoir of Spiritual Discovery, Armstrong's memoir of her years spent in a convent and her decision to leave. Aside from offering an intriguing description of a nun's life in the '60s (Armstrong lets us know on several occasions that it's probably much different now with the changes of Vatican II), I found that I related to it personally as a religious person and graduate of religious institutions. Certainly my experiences were not nearly as oppressive as some of the stories Armstrong tells; at the same time, I definitely connected with a lot of it.
In The Spiral Staircase: My Climb Out of Darkness, Armstrong continues her story and recounts her slow adjustment to secular life after the convent, an adjustment which was severely hampered by unanticipated setbacks like undiagnosed physical illness and career disappointments. Initially I found myself fascinated by Armstrong's descriptions of needing to relearn how to think for herself after years of teaching herself to submit to others and how to feel compassion after years of being criticized for her undue "sensitivity."
Unfortunately the narrative frequently dragged and got bogged down in excess detail. Perhaps I was ultimately less interested in the details of Armstrong's life once it was no longer convent-based and bore a stronger resemblance to my day-to-day routines; I don't know. I also felt like the story gradually degenerated into "and then I wrote this book...and then I made that film...and then I did that interview..." While it's true that Karen showed a great deal of self-respect and dignity in not sharing the details of, say, her love affairs and other things that might be more fascinating on a voyeuristic level, the book got dry and boring after a while though punctuated by occasional interesting insights.
So I guess it really was more of a three, but I'm still giving it a four because it did speak to me on many levels and I think Karen's post-convent adjustment is as worthy a topic as her life in the convent....more
It's challenging to give a rating to this book, so I'll just stick with a nice neutral three. As an Orthodox Jew, it's hard to keep my own feelings ouIt's challenging to give a rating to this book, so I'll just stick with a nice neutral three. As an Orthodox Jew, it's hard to keep my own feelings out of it, feelings which fell all over the map. So I guess three is a fair rating, since love-hate is probably the best description of my reading experience.
I loved the writing. Some of the lines were laugh-out-loud funny ("Geographically speaking, Israel has only two seasons: Holy Crap It's Hot, and Holy Crap It's Cold."), and I loved a style he used which might almost be called poetic at times. And I should be ashamed to admit this I guess, but there are times when my relationship with God is not all that different from Shalom's. Sure, I'm a heck of a lot more committed to observing the commandments than he is, but I do find myself railing at God in low moments and wondering when He plans to drop the other shoe on me. Shalom gave voice to this in a way no author I've read has.
Here's what I didn't love and sometimes hated. Although I sympathized with Shalom's horrific family dysfunction and tried not to judge him, there were times when the self-pity and one-dimensional perspective got on my nerves. And although this may sound trivial, I didn't get the Slim Jims appeal. As I nibbled my anticlimactic kosher food while reading this I thought, do I wish I were eating a Slim Jim? The answer was, no, not particularly. Okay, clearly Shalom's rebellion went much deeper and the non-kosher food was merely symbolic, but I think he failed at getting me to see that. There was a line which I can't quote verbatim but came across to me as, why can't my family love me even though I love non-kosher food? To anyone who grew up Orthodox, this is a highly simplistic and facile understanding of what's going on here. I know it has to be more complicated than that, Shalom's parents could surely tell you it's more complicated than that, and I suspect even Shalom himself knows it. But you wouldn't know it from reading the book.
And that's where the book disappointed me, because he took a great topic with a lot of potential and ended up reducing it to the repeated theme of God as the angry, vengeful father who will damn you if you do and damn you if you don't. It was a good theme, and he did it well, but the book could have been so much better had he depicted his family and his life and his rebellion in a more nuanced manner and not simply resorted to repeating his chorus.
It's a good try, Shalom, and you're a good writer. I hope your next book will be better. And I hope NCSY ropes in your kid. That would be so God....more
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