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Resource guides for the modern Jew? [The Godblogger]

Thursday, December 1st, 2011

Are there resource guides for modern Jews, or on the subject of modern Judaism for others?

My bookshelf is loaded with theology. Make that bookshelves—three of them, crammed with as much Waskow, Armstrong, Schachter-Shalomi, Kaplan and Michaelson as I can fit into one three-room apartment. When non-Jewish friends ask me for a book about Judaism, I balk. It’s not that I don’t have plenty to offer. I do. But a lot of these books are for the already-initiated (except, perhaps, for Karen Armstrong). I only have a few texts that can appeal to my voracity for study as well as offer a crash course in the basics for others.

Enter “A Guide to Jewish Practice, Volume One – Everyday Living,” published by RRC Press, the publishing arm of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College. Coming in at a whopping 636 pages (not including contributor biographies and an extensive index), there’s probably nothing quite like this book in the liberal Jewish sphere.

A quote on the book’s jacket from Moses Pava, director of Yeshiva University’s Syms School of Business, designates “Everyday Living” a kind of “Shulkhan Aruch for Reconstructionist Jews,” and it is easy to see why, though this book will appeal to many, regardless of affiliation. Compiled by the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College’s Rabbi Dr. David Teutsch — a graduate of Harvard University and the Hebrew Union College — the book is the first of a three-volume guide to Jewish ritual, theology, ethics and philosophy as it exists in the modern age. Teutsch has previously edited the Reconstructionist movement’s “Kol Haneshema” siddurim.

Culled from a variety of sources and highlighting the diversity of practice across a broad spectrum, traditional and progressive, “Everyday Living” is noteworthy, if only for its sheer size and ambition. From keeping kosher to communication ethics, it offers a wide variety of voices on each subject. In fact, this is both the greatest strength and the greatest weakness of “Everyday Living.” The book has so much information, much of it displayed in the lower margins of each page, that the sheer weight of the information is overwhelming at first.

Organized to present perspectives within each of the major Jewish streams, the main body of the text is supplemented by commentary from learned scholars. This makes it an extraordinarily thorough read. While it acts as a pure encyclopedia of progressive Jewish thought, it also serves as a sort of study guide to approaching each of these topics spiritually. Quotations from Jewish leaders offset the main text, giving a warm touch to heady material. It renders the tome both clinically educational and surprisingly thoughtful. Be warned, however: the data overload is surprising.

For example, on the book’s section titled, “Truth, Lies, and Advertising,” some twelve separate paragraphs are spread out on the bottom half of about three pages: quotes from scholars and thinkers. The commentaries themselves are almost disproportionate to the main body of the text, which offers a concise presentation on the role of truth-telling in ethics. While this presentation isn’t inherently bad—if nothing else, it renders “Everyday Living” an exhaustive source of modern rabbinic thought—the page layout itself could be confusing at first. Use it for a while, however, and the logic presents itself.

The commentaries themselves range from thought-provoking (a comment on existing in the tension between honoring one’s parents and being a survivor of abuse is particularly poignant in a section on “Obligations of Children to Parents”) to unnecessary or repetitive (a reminder of the perpetual presence of the Divine Voice in a section on “Torah Study”). This isn’t a fault, per se, but it keeps the book from being as concise as it could have been, without sacrificing a thorough approach. Praise should be given to the fact that “Everyday Living” approaches the personal and the intimate with the same affection as Serious Matters of Great Theological Significance.

The central question of any undertaking such as this becomes: Is it really necessary? To offer a text exploring a particular idea of Jewish thought, ideally with the author’s unique spin, seems reasonable. Most books of theology fall into this category. However, to codify a faith that already seems to have its fair share of codified reference guides seems superfluous. A careful reading of “Everyday Living” immediately puts those doubts aside, however. This book works because of its accessible language as much as its theologically diverse offerings. It is a work for lay people as much as rabbinic students, an attempt to unify the academic and the plain.

It hasn’t been finished yet, but when Tuetsch’s three-volume Guide is fully published, it may stand as one of the crowning achievements of modern Judaism—a collection of Jewish thought on par with Mordecai Kaplan’s “Judaism as a Civilization” or Joseph Telushkin’s “Code of Jewish Ethics.” It already succeeds as one of the most complete records of the progressive Jewish world, and the best book I’ve acquired all year.

Jewish atheism? What’s up with that? | The Godblogger

Thursday, November 3rd, 2011

headshotx100Today’s question comes from a variety of people, names excluded. Suffice it to say that more than five have approached me in conversation with this burning question:

Jewish atheism? What’s up with that?

While some people have articulated their curiosity more eloquently, most have cut right to the point: “What is Jewish atheism? Isn’t that a contradiction of terms?” Their question is well-founded, as Judaism is one of the world’s only communal faiths that has adapted enough ambiguity in its language and practice to allow for the possibility of atheists among its adherents.

However, before we elaborate on the distinctions, reasons, and rationale of Jewish atheism, as well as atheist contributions to the Jewish people, it is perhaps important to clearly define our terms. Atheism is the belief that no god exists. There are obviously debates as to the nature and scope of atheism—after all, exclusive belief in one god usually means one doesn’t affirm all the rest. (Sorry, Vishnu). So, are we all mini-atheists in one form or another? For clarity and brevity, let’s just agree for now that an atheist is someone who disbelieves in the existence of any and all supernatural entities.

The second distinction to be made is the difference between atheists who are Jewish on one hand, and Jewish atheism or humanism on the other. This distinction is important; while many atheists are born Jewish or choose to become Jewish, only to affirm atheism at a later stage in their journey, others argue that some forms of atheism and some forms of Judaism are completely compatible. In other words, they actively practice both.

I can hear you scratching your head.

It seems a bit of a puzzle, no? Judaism is rooted in a revelation that occurred on a holy mountain. In the myth, HaShem spoke to Israel through Moses and gave us a code of ethics to follow. So where do the atheists come into the story? Moses wasn’t a motivational speaker with a magic stick. Aaron and Miriam weren’t, as one version goes, a secular philosopher and his proto-feminist sister.

While not initially apparent, it’s the code of ethics part of the tale that has led to the synthesis of Judaism and atheist thought. This stems from understanding Judaism as a series of actions, rituals and practices. While the belief and mindset of the practitioner is important in the process, that the ritual was performed is usually where the emphasis lies. After all, a Chabadnik asks, “Have you laid teffilin today?” not, “How do you feel about God today?”

There have been many atheistic–or at the very least humanistic–Jewish organizations, from the Jewish Labor Bund of Poland in the late 1800s to the Society for Humanistic Judaism of today. Beyond that is the understanding that within more traditional, theistic sects of Judaism (any of the big five: Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, and Renewal), Jewish atheists may both affirm their belief in the human origin of the Torah and the importance of participating in their Jewish identity.

There are more contradictions in this understanding of the world the closer one moves toward Orthodoxy. Orthodox Judaism makes no bones about its belief in the divine origin of Jewish life, summarized in the phrase “the Yoke of Heaven.” The Yoke is an affirmation that every Jew is asked to make. This creates a sense of responsibility—to each other, to Torah, to HaShem and to Jewish continuity—as each act is seen as a fulfillment of Hashem’s word. It is the Yoke of Heaven that Orthodox rabbinic authorities often argue is the deciding factor in the validity of conversions: Has the prospective convert accepted the Yoke of Heaven? (In addition, of course, to the completion of halachic conversion requirements.)

Outside of Orthodoxy, and the majority of Jews find themselves here, there is greater flexibility for this ambiguity of belief. As Jews travel along in their journeys, many find themselves questioning the existence of a divine presence. This line of thought has been accented by tragic moments in Jewish history, such as the Shoah (the Holocaust).

Within the framework of much Jewish practice—which emphasizes the doing rather than just the believing—it is possible for some Jews to retain both their atheistic worldview and their belief in the Jewish ethical code. While statistics on the number of Jewish atheists vary, given that such a study is difficult to conduct, many Jews among us find themselves affirming the words of the late Golda Meir who, when asked about her religious beliefs, stated, “I believe in the Jewish people, and the Jewish people believe in God.”

John Wofford is a junior at Aquinas College in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He is the current editor of an upcoming interfaith arts hub, a Neo-Hasidic nerd and music journalist of five years. His column, The Godblogger, appears here on alternating Thursdays.

God vs. Gay? Really? | The Godblogger

Thursday, October 20th, 2011

The Torah commands us to love our neighbor and treat them compassionately. But it also condemns the act of “man [lying] with man as with a woman.” How do we reconcile Judaism with LGBT issues? Also, what about women “lying” with women? – LB, Florida, U.S.

headshotx100There’s a lot to unpack in this question: what the Torah says, what the Torah has been interpreted as saying – even the assumption that this discussion must be had in the first place deserves some attention. Suffice it to say this probably won’t be the most detailed analysis of the question, but it will be a jumping off point for further study. I’ll try to be as detailed as possible along the way.

Vayikra (Leviticus) 18:22 says, “Do not lie with a man as one does with a woman; it is an abomination.” This passage is widely understood to reference gay sexuality, particularly the act of anal sex. The text doesn’t mention lesbian sex in any form, though if an individual interprets this passage as has been done traditionally, it follows that women would also need to reserve their sex lives for heterosexual intercourse. After all, if men must be with women according to the word of God, then women must also willingly participate in the social heteronormativity.

Underscoring this interpretation of Vayikra is the story of the city Sodom in Bereshit (Genesis) 19:1-11, where two visiting angels are threatened by violent men of the city. These men demand that the angels (who they simply recognize as ordinary men) be sent out to them “so that we may know them” — in essence, to rape them. Spoiler alert: the men are eventually struck with blindness by the power of God through the angels. The city, along with neighbor city Gomorrah, is destroyed by God’s wrath. The passage is often used as a demonstration of the spiritual “blindness” created by engaging in gay or lesbian sex, where LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender) persons are compared to animals, rapists, or perverts, like the men of the story.

These are the Torah’s most cited references to homosexuality. Clearly, they’re not among the cheeriest of Torah passages. For years, the discussion about LGBT persons within Judaism (or any religion or public sphere, really) was a slow, mostly hidden process. However, with the current political climate engaging the question of marriage equality, gays and lesbians are beginning to participate openly in their own life journeys, candid about their sexuality. This means that outside the “closet” of never telling anyone about one’s sexual orientation, LGBT persons wish to be treated with equal respect in the workplace, the religious sector, and the political process, as they marry, have children, and simply live alongside everybody else.

However, it is difficult for many to reconcile biblical passages that clearly condemn… well, something… with the knowledge that a brother, a friend, a co-worker—or even a fellow Torah scholar—may be LGBT. As the debate about how inclusive to be in the synagogue rages on, that level of inclusiveness operates on a spectrum, where Orthodoxy is typically less inclusive, and Reform and Reconstructionism are typically the most inclusive. Notice I say “typically” — there are trends in every movement to be more or less accepting of the LGBT Jews in our lives.

One sphere in which this discussion has taken hold is that of Torah scholarship. While much scholarship has acted as a defense of the traditional marriage/sexuality model, scholars like Jay Michaelson, whose earlier work Everything is God explored the concept of unity in Chasidic mysticism, have taken on the cause I like to call “LGBT apologetics.”

Jay Michaelson | Image from jaymichaelson.net

Jay Michaelson | Image from jaymichaelson.net

In Michaelson’s new book, God vs. Gay?: The Religious Case for Equality, he lays out a compelling case. What sets Michaelson’s book aside from other texts published on the subject is that he rarely strays outside the biblical and rabbinic texts themselves to make his argument that, yes, LGBT persons should be free to love and marry their partners. He spends most of his time debunking the myths and stereotypes surrounding sexual orientation, and how many of them are rooted in misinterpretations of our sacred texts.

For example, Michaelson argues that the sin of the people of Sodom wasn’t homosexuality the orientation. It was attempted rape, a crime against human dignity. He cites the prophet Ezekiel, who declared, “Sodom’s sins were pride, gluttony, and laziness, while the poor and needy suffered outside her door” (Ezekiel 16:49). And besides, when a heterosexual rape occurs, it isn’t seen as indicative of the dangers of straight sex. Quite the opposite—rape itself is the abomination, not orientation

Even Vayikra’s condemnation of “lying with man” takes on a different tone when it is seen as a prohibition against ritualized sex, a common practice at the time of the canonization of the Torah. The problem then, Michaelson purports, isn’t that LGBT persons are coming out about their sexuality, or that they express that sexuality. It’s that sexuality itself has been misunderstood almost completely, and that the weight of that misunderstanding has unfortunately fallen on the Torah.

Moreover, Michaelson argues for a sexual ethic that sees the act of two monogamous, consenting adults as inherently holy, which then spirals out and makes sacred the process of discovering one’s own sexuality. In this model, the coming out process becomes an act of Kiddush Hashem, whereby we affirm the goodness of God’s name through our choice to be honest about our sexual orientation, and life-affirming in how we express that orientation. Michaelson is elevating the discussion, making it about far more than “dos and don’ts.” Under his perspective, simply being a sexual being is holy, even if that sexuality is never expressed. To express it, however, is to participate in God’s story, to enjoy God’s gift of love.

God vs. Gay is an excellent resource for those struggling to reconcile their sexual feelings — or those of a loved one — with being a person of devout religious faith. Michaelson never panders, attempts to set aside all biases and simply lets the text speak for itself. What happens when he clears the smoke of punditry and bigotry is a beautiful thing, and the discussion over equality and human diversity is elevated because of Michaelson’s willingness to have faith in the words of the Torah — and in human dignity.

John Wofford is a junior at Aquinas College in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He is the current editor of an upcoming interfaith arts hub, a Neo-Hasidic nerd and music journalist of five years. His column, The Godblogger, appears here on alternating Thursdays.

Is Non-Orthodox Judaism Chillul Hashem? | The Godblogger

Thursday, September 22nd, 2011

“There seems to be a lot of talk that non-Orthodox Judaism is Chillul Hashem. Is Hashem angry?”

–D.B., London, U.K.

That’s a great question—and one with a messy answer.

The Godblogger by John Wofford

First off, let’s come to an understanding about what Chillul Hashem actually means. In Vayikra (Leviticus) 22:31-33, following an extensive legal document that dictates the terms of the relationship between God and Israel, God explains through Moses that Israel is not only to adhere to specific commandments, but is to avoid certain actions as well—chief among them the profaning of God’s name, either by word or by deed.

In essence, God’s name and honor become tied to the integrity of Israel, so that if one is compromised, the other is likewise compromised. The reverse is equally true: Kiddush Hashem is the elevation of God’s name and, by association, the people with whom God made a covenant. Good so far? Excellent.

How does one desecrate God’s name? Since the commandment comes toward the conclusion of Leviticus (22 chapters into a 27-chapter document), it’s safe to say that God has essentially tied the glory of God’s name to the acts of holiness outlined in the agreement. These acts permeate all the spheres of life: sexual, psychological, healthful, ethical, political, and social. In short, God’s name remains holy as God’s people maintain the stipulations of the social contract. To deviate is to profane the sacred.

In that case, what of reforms? Has Israel abandoned its initial contract to the detriment of God’s name?

If so, this is a phenomenon across the historical and denominational board, as Jewish history has shown us a wide range and scope of liturgical, theological, philosophical and practical changes in Judaism throughout the centuries. While fundamental elements of Jewish life remain intact after ages, one generation’s heresy is another’s dogma. From Maimonides to the advent of Chasidism, entire lines of thought have been rejected as dangerous and volatile, compromising the integrity of Torah, Israel—and by default, God—only to be embraced in subsequent years. Maimonides, whose “Moreh Nevuchim“ (“The Guide for The Perplexed”) and “Sefer haMadda” (“Book of Knowledge”) were once burned by fellow Jewish scholars, is now among the most respected thinkers in history; his work is well-regarded within and without Orthodox Judaism. The early Chasidic Jews (a largely poor and uneducated rural group) was placed under cherem (ban of excommunication) by the Mitnagdim (literally, the Opponents, a more wealthy and better educated group with more presence in urban areas) is now one of the most widely recognized forms of Jewish practice.

But this in itself doesn’t answer the question, which is specifically related to the liberal Jewish movements (Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, Renewal, etc.). Let the record show that the ideas espoused by many of these movements may not be so radical. Many have in fact renewed interest in ancient, traditional Jewish philosophy and deed. However, other changes—from a different perspective on mitzvot to, in some cases, the reimagining of human sexuality, gender and the family model—have many concerned that liberal Judaism has gone too far.

Whether or not the liberals have collectively failed to understand some of the fundamental tenets of Judaism—if it can even be said that these various factions think collectively—doesn’t automatically indicate that Chillul Hashem has occurred. From certain Jewish legal perspectives, Chillul Hashem takes place when a Jew leaves his or her religion for another, engages in unethical sexual practices or commits murder. For Maimonides, Chillul Hashem occurs when a Jew fails to recite the Shema. Other more modern commentators argue that Chillul Hashem can be produced from even the smallest of offenses, like being rude to a neighbor or getting caught in a white lie, to the greater offenses catalogued above. In a broader sense, it can probably be agreed that Chillul Hashem occurs when the presence of God, or God’s honor, is somehow reduced or wounded through the actions of Jews.

Do the liberal streams commit this last interpretation through their modernized, often liberalized mode of Jewish expression?

The short, easy answer is no, as precedents for exploring, questioning, or even changing the Jewish legal code exist in great numbers.

The long answer is maybe. If reevaluating Torah and Jewish law means disregarding Torah and Jewish law entirely, then that is certainly tragic and could fit the traditional definition of Chillul Hashem. To wrestle with God as Jacob did, to grapple with the places where traditional Judaism and new observations about our world intersect, is consistent with the very spirit of Israel itself. However, to take ritual, liturgical or spiritual shortcuts from lack of sincerity, to avoid wrestling with God at all, and instead take a different path through the night, is very much Chillul Hashem.

But the fault doesn’t lie with the existence of liberal Judaism itself, but with the attitudes of individual Jews across imaginary denominational lines. From a legal perspective, I can’t find an instance where an entire group of people commit Chillul Hashem by virtue of existing in tandem together, nor through merely attempting to better understand the covenant. Individuals commit the sin, not denominations. Yes, a cherem has in the past been made on a sect or movement, but that act is tied more closely to how individual sects relate to one another, a process of distinction-making, not necessarily a desecration of the name of God. Moreover, this excommunication process has almost entirely been discontinued, even among the staunchest of Jewish legal experts. (The occasional, unfortunate conversion revocation notwithstanding.)

To answer your question more simply: God’s name is honored when we engage with God. Ignoring God, or disregarding Torah, or failing to fulfill an individual’s sincere understanding of ritual: These are shameful, and far lesser offenses have been designated Chillul Hashem. But it also doesn’t mean that adapting Jewish law is an inherent sin either. I don’t believe Hashem gets angry at the first sign of social change, or by our attempts to secure greater equality for others, often a central premise of liberal Judaism. If so, Hashem has been angry since the beginning of time. But this perspective sells God short.

Moreover, to unfairly accuse another Jew of Chillul Hashem, or to propose a cherem unjustly, is itself a grave sin, as Maimonides reminds us. For Jews on the journey, particularly as the Diaspora learns and celebrates Jewish identity anew following one of the darkest periods of our history, love and patience should be the order of the day, not inter-denominational feuding.

Hopefully that helps. As an independent Jew myself, with a non-traditional background, I understand the deep-seated emotions that often come into play when discussing something like this. Continue to explore the answers, and feel free to ask another question.

John Wofford is a junior at Aquinas College in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He is the current editor of an upcoming interfaith arts hub, a Neo-Hasidic nerd and music journalist of five years. His column, The Godblogger, appears here on alternating Thursdays.

If you have a question you’d like answered in the next column, post it in the comments below for consideration.

Conversion Bills Be Damned! Be Your Own Jew — The Godblogger

Thursday, September 8th, 2011

Over the last few weeks, a discourse has taken place between Rav Shlomo Riskin—chief rabbi of Efrat—and Rabbi Andrew Sacks—the director of the Rabbinical Assembly of the Masorti (Conservative) movement in Israel. The conversation started when Riskin wrote in the Jerusalem Post about the conversion controversy in Israel.

headshotx100

For the not-yet-up-to-speed: Debates have surged in the past year about the Rotem Bill, a proposed Israeli law that would consolidate authority into the seat of the Chief Rabbinate of Israel.  This would jeopardize the status of conversions deemed invalid or unacceptable by the Chief Rabbi, including the entirety of non-Orthodox conversions (and the rabbis who perform them), and even some corners of the Orthodox world.

There have been plenty of articles about what the bill means, particularly for Jews in the Diaspora. Supporters of the bill argue a power consolidation will unify the vision for Judaism in Israel. Others say it will exclude the majority of Jews in the world–most of them non-Orthodox–from the Jewish homeland.  The bill’s status is particularly relevant for those considering aliyah.

Riskin claimed in his original piece that Diaspora Jews were needlessly worried about a bill that, if law, would in no way challenge their converts’ statuses, which have already been declared legally acceptable by the State of Israel. In his reply, Sacks pointed out that supporters and those responsible for the bill have expressed an interest in redefining the state’s legal definition of “Jewishness.”

Riskin, in return, said that an Israeli Orthodox convert’s status would only be called into question if it was discovered that some element of the process was fraudulent. Sacks retorted that the bill contained no such stipulation, and that it appears all in-State conversions would be “subject to the approval of the Chief Rabbi.” Moreover, Sacks points out that the Knesset does have the authority to overturn Israeli Supreme Court rulings, even calling into question the status of Diaspora converts who make aaliyah.

He said, he said.

What does any of this mean for the Jewish people, particularly those whose conversions would be called into question?

Suffice it to say that Jewish communities, like all communities, have the right to self-define. Each denomination has the autonomy and freedom, within their walls, to decide who is a part and who has yet to join. The Orthodox are free to exclude Reform Jewish converts (even those who follow halakhic conversion rituals); non-Orthodox Jews are free to accept or decline Orthodox converts should they ever see fit. This won’t change within the private communities themselves, even if the laws do.

However, this bill and the discussions surrounding it are particularly telling of the willingness of some Orthodox rabbis—even those like Riskin, who have not always agreed with the decisions of the Chief Rabbinate in the past—to unify against the non-Orthodox, despite their own internal tensions with the current leadership. This debate won’t subside any time soon, and with each group feeling as if their territory is being encroached upon, discussions are a nightmare of politics and theological contrasts.

Regardless of its outcome, the Jewish people, in their various subgroups and clusters, will choose to find converts who always had a Yiddishe neshama (a Jewish soul) inside them, and those groups will express these processes of conversion in ways that are personally meaningful and spiritually consistent with their worldviews. As I told someone who asked about the conversion crises and the who-is-a-Jew debate: “Just be a Jew. Find other Jews who recognize your identity, welcome you with open arms, and who love to sing, pray, and be with you. Let the bureaucrats and politicians argue till they’re blue in the face.”

John Wofford is a junior at Aquinas College in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He is the current editor of an upcoming interfaith arts hub, a Neo-Hasidic nerd and music journalist of five years. His column, The Godblogger, appears here on alternating Thursdays.

UK Chief Rabbi Wrong on Secularism — The Godblogger

Thursday, August 25th, 2011

headshotx100British Religious leaders of every stripe have weighed in on the devastation caused by London rioting. Some, like Rabbi Anna Gerrard of the United Kingdom’s Liberal Jewish movement, took a moment to offer words of comfort. Others, like the Church of England, provided liturgical supplements praying for a stop to the violence.

In the case of Sir Jonathan Sacks, chief rabbi to most of the UK’s Orthodox Jewish population, it was an opportunity to remind everyone that perhaps this could all have been avoided. It is time, Sacks proclaimed in a Wall Street Journal op-ed, to realign with our world’s faith traditions and let them show us the way to civility. Because, after all, religion and violence are as far apart as the east is from the west.

Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks (by On Being @ Flickr (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0))

Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks (by On Being @ Flickr (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0))

Sacks writes, “In virtually every Western society in the 1960s there was a moral revolution, an abandonment of its entire traditional ethic of self-restraint. All you need, sang the Beatles, is love. The Judeo-Christian moral code was jettisoned. In its place came: whatever works for you.” Following this logic, Sacks touches on everything from single parent households to the reimagining of the Ten Commandments as the “Ten Creative Suggestions.” The problem, he concludes, is that we as a people need the ethics and community provided by our great religious institutions.

What’s so distinctly amusing about Sacks’ argument is that it comes on the heels of news about violent Orthodox protests in Israel. Given the tensions between the various faith communities worldwide, and the violence that springs from them, it would be just as easy to argue against religious belief. Even Sacks’ argument that traditional religion has pragmatic usefulness is a modern one.

For centuries, belief in Torah or Quran or the New Testament wasn’t about being pro-social or useful to a wider community—it was about tribalism and obedience. It hinged on the belief that observance was an end in itself. That traditional faith leaders must appeal to a wider social context is evidence aplenty that modernity has also colored them as much as it has seculars. To dismiss the complexity of subsequent modern periods—like the 60s—with off-handed references to free love and the Beatles is laziness.

Modern violence won’t be quelled by forgetting the last 75 years ever happened. And given Sacks’ own struggle to reconcile tensions between the Orthodox and non-Orthodox segments of the U.K. Jewish community, pretending that those of us who are religiously observant are more amiable than our counterparts is a condescending fantasy.

People are people, and religion is a medium for expressing the human experience. That the last century has seen both an influx of fundamentalism and a widening disillusionment with religious practice is a testament to the complex issues at the heart of being a religious person in the modern age. Sacks ignores the issues and parlays them into a weak lecture about how this all could be prevented with a little more religion. Swing and a miss.

John Wofford is a junior at Aquinas College in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He is the current editor of an upcoming interfaith arts hub, a Neo-Hasidic nerd and music journalist of five years. His column, The Godblogger, appears here on alternating Thursdays.