Reviews for Faith Finding Meaning: A Theology of Judaism

The average rating for Faith Finding Meaning: A Theology of Judaism based on 2 reviews is 4 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2016-05-30 00:00:00 Richard Branch This book was highly recommended by the new young rabbi at my synagogue whose special interests are Jewish spirituality and mysticism, and so a consensus to read it arose in my book study group. But for me it was like pulling teeth. I have a thing about self-help books, and anyway the recommendation was so high that I developed a resistance. He said it was the best single book on Jewish spirituality and even offered to refund the purchase price to any of us who didn't like it. As it turned out, there are parts of the book that did grate on me--parts that took a negative or haranguing tack, such as description of a controlling mother said to be responsible for the ills of her family members, or the claim that "spiritual deadness is a habit." Does blame work as a method of change, or, rather, will one do the good--the right thing--if one can only see it? I'd say the latter; in that way, I'm Socratic. Think of Harry Potter at the train station trying to get to wizarding school. He has to go to Gate 9 3/4. But as far as he can see there is no Gate 9 3/4. How, then, to get to Hogwarts? People don't get on that train because, as far as they know, there is no such train. The author redeems himself in my eyes when he acknowledges feeling anger instead of empathy toward two friends involved in a conflict, the reason being that he feels responsible for doing something about their situation. The more he feels responsible, the more angry he is. That's how I take the parts of the book where he's scolding or blaming--that he's feeling over responsible for fixing people (or the reader). Those negative aspects faded for me as the book went on, outweighed by the positive. As my positive regard kicked in, I got a picture of the author as a dog working a herd, nipping at the heels of his charges whether they like it or not. The negative aspects became less aggravating as they merged into the overall positive texture. The book's overriding emphasis is on radical self acceptance. We are not perfect but we can give up defensiveness and live our lives fearlessly. It is your life's work to turn evil into good. It is your life's work to find the white dots buried within the blackness -- and the melody these dots make. This is the melody you were born to dance to. This is the background music for the real life you are living. Listen to it. What was wrong with my father, for example, was that he couldn't play basketball. He was a poor working stiff, an immigrant without the American graces, and while this may not have been a sin of the magnitude of meanness or infidelity, it was a weakness, and my father did not forgive himself for weaknesses easily. But what was right with him was that he loved his son so much that he managed not to care about this one. He was even willing to forgive himself for his son's sake, and that is the most difficult thing a person can do. It's impossible, in fact, without the help of heaven. I can see him now, in the throes of self-forgiveness, pushing that ball toward the basket, eyes wild and shining, mouth like a fish's, arms akimbo, a foolish grin on his face, dancing with happy abandon between heaven and earth. (P. 136 in the paperback; my italics) In most areas we are in decline after early adulthood, but we don't have to give up, even in the face of death. The author gives us a picture of salmon who've made it upstream and spawned, but they don't accept that they are done. They keep leaping and leaping, life reaching upward. Similarly, ...my children now have risen up in the world. What kind of world will they live in? I worry about these things, and meanwhile, I have already begun to fall away myself, although I still rage on, making long speeches and writing, writing, furiously writing (p. 187). With its emphasis on fearlessness and on impediments as gifts that make us stronger, this book shows us the reverse of a philosophy in which triggers and microaggressions are the evils to be fought. I already mentioned Gate 9 3/4; looking at impediments as making us stronger reminded me of Johnny Cash's "A Boy Named Sue." The book was full of cultural touchstones for me. The author's summary of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha made me think of Kazantzakis' (and Martin Scorcese's) The Last Temptation of Christ. The parable of the prince who, believing he was a turkey, got naked and wouldn't come out from under the table reminded me of The Fifty-Minute Hour. Anybody remember that one? Published in 1955, it was a classic by the '60s. And Alan Lew looking lovingly at his congregation in a story from the end of the book was The Velveteen Rabbit all over again. How do we change? Through suffering? Through confrontation? Through being loved? Responding to challenges? Encountering life--even tragedy--and rising to the occasion? Maybe all of the above, but don't disregard the power of ideas. In the same way as the author writes and thinks and makes connections, so must we. No one can do all our thinking for us, and we can't just go around emoting and experiencing catharsis in the absence of ideas. In fact it's probably we who draw the distinction between feeling and ideas, which could be two sides of the same coin. In the absence of an idea our emotions lack shape and direction. From experience and emotion arise to guide me my interpretation and understanding of what's happening. So read, study, think and talk. Alan Lew, the author, takes the Jewish High Holidays and uses the sequence of events and liturgy as a lens through which to look at life and make the experience real and transforming. Therein lies the bitterness of the pill he wants us to swallow in the reading of this book. Often enough, life itself is confronting and challenging us, so if at any particular moment it's not doing so, we prefer to retain our equanimity. True, the Jewish High Holy Days are more confronting than, for example, Christian holidays. This isn't another biased comparison; the Christian woman of The Faith Club trio said as much. So if one is inclined to be unnerved, than the book could provide a helpful framework. The author, on the other hand, seems to think most people are overly-defended and in need of being shaken and stirred. If that's you, whatever your religion, or even if you aren't religious, taking the plunge could be worth it. He doesn't want the truth of our lives at their end to be that we failed to live them. However difficult it may have been for me to dive in while at a point where life itself hadn't pushed me over the edge--to dive in, that is, on somebody else's initiative--I'd say that, once I'd done so, this book is good medicine. Rabbi Lew is sometimes called the "Zen rabbi." He was a couple years older than me, but he died unexpectedly in 2009--the same year my mother died. He first published this book (one of several he wrote) in 2003. It just came out in paperback earlier this year. Amazon apparently underestimated the demand and ran out, causing consternation for some of our book study group who had trouble getting it. Maybe lots of rabbis were recommending it all at the same time.

Review # 2 was written on 2016-12-23 00:00:00 Shirley Carr Jews always look at me funny when I say the high holidays are my favorite of all Jewish rituals. To be honest, it has something to do with the fact that it always falls around my birthday when my thoughts naturally turn again to the fact that I continue to survive my long dead twin sister, whose life recedes further and further into the past with each passing year. This book explains why the high holidays are, or should be an incredible time of reckoning. It probably took a rabbi steeped in Buddhism like Alan Lew to get to the heart of why the "Days of Awe" should take an entire community through the most intense process of coming to grip with their lives. A process so huge, that as Lew admits, you can't possibly do it all in the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. You can't even do it in the month leading up to Rosh Hashanah. The high holidays serve as a reminder to continue the process of coming to grips with your own mortality and learning to be aware and present in your life throughout the year. Anyhow, yes this is one of those self-help type spiritual books that I usually can't stand reading. But this particular book was right on target at a time when I was really thinking about which book we were all going to get inscribed in for this coming year. Now, if I could only find a rabbi steeped in Buddhism, I might start going to schule...