The Year of Living Biblically, by A.J. Jacobs

I’ve been looking forward to reading this book since I heard that A.J. Jacob’s was going to do another one of his projects. (When it came out, I read his book The Know-it-All and enjoyed it a lot.) The Year of Living Biblically is just what it sounds like: Jacobs decided to follow the rules of the Bible as literally as he could. He read the Bible, and made a list of everything that was considered a rule. He also assembled a spiritual guidance team–rabbis, preachers, scholars–who could help answer any questions he might have.

One of the first questions I had was, how do you separate religion from the Bible? It’s the holy book of several religions. The Jews have thousands of years of commentary (midrash) to draw upon and they and the Christians, Samaritans, etc., all have thousands of years of tradition and interpretation to draw on when they want to know how they should behave. Jacobs wanted to go beyond that, and get to what the Bible really said about how we should live.

I have a lot of problems with this, that Jacobs tends to gloss over in the book. I actually had to make notes as I read this to keep track of the things that bothered me. First, the Bible was written a long time ago, in a culture that was radically different from our own. One would think that there are rules that applied to them that are no longer relevant, simply because hygiene is easier for us. Jacobs does right that there is a separation between moral laws and ritual laws, and that a lot of the ritual rules are no longer followed by Jews or by Christians (for different reasons). But I have to wonder, does not cutting  your sidelocks really make you a better person? Also, as a corollary, I think that interpreting the Bible the way that Jacobs does is particularly hard, because he’s not living with a group of people that are also following the rules in the same way. I think this is part of where literalists go wrong: they expect other people to play by their rules.

Second, it was written by a bunch of different people at different times, who didn’t collaborate. Why should it be taken as a document with a coherent plan? After all, the various versions of the Bible (Hebrew, Catholic, Protestant, Samaritan, Ethopian, etc.) have changed over the years (see the Biblical canon). Third, we have to read the Bible in translation. Even people who can read Hebrew have a hard time with some of the words, because the meaning has changed over time or the word dropped out of the language entirely.

I freely admit that I am a relativist, and that I am probably agnostic. My experiences have turned me into a person who rejects literalist interpretations of the Bible. My approach to the Bible is a lot like what Jacob’s describes as “Cafeteria Christianity.” I pick and chose what I want to believe and which rules I want to follow.

It’s a derisive term used by fundamentalist Christians to describe moderate Christians. The idea is that the moderates pick and choose the parts of the Bible they want to follow. They take a nice helping of mercy and compassion. But the ban on homosexuality? They leave that on the countertop. (p. 327)

This is definitely how I treat the Bible. I exercise the free will that I was given to create my own moral compass. (Is it any wonder that Dr. Faustus is one of my favorite works of literature?) When Jacobs followed the purity laws and the penal laws, it really bothers me. I don’t think that women are impure for part of the month just because of our biology. And I don’t think that we have the right to judge others (unless we are actual sitting judges or are on a jury). We definitely don’t have the right to chuck stones at people.

There is one thing that Jacobs and I agree on. We have the same favorite book: the Book of Ecclesiastes.

Lamb, by Christopher Moore

I was feeling a little down at the beginning of this week, so I pulled out a book that I knew would cheer me up. I’ve read it at least five times before, but it never fails to make me laugh out loud. Also, every time that I read Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal, by Christopher Moore I get something new out of it.

This time, I was really struck by the way that Moore incorporated Buddhism and Taoism into the book in a way that was both highly entertaining and very educational. I only ever took one class in Asian philosophies, but I remember having a hard time wrapping my mind around how Buddhists and Taoists see the world. I’ve often joked about that fact that I’m not relaxed enough to be Buddhist, even though I see the value it in. But having read the descriptions of Buddhism and Taoism, I wish I could see things as clearly as the monks in this book.

Also, I am always affected by the ending of Lamb. Even though the first parts of the book are just packed with hilarity, the ending is so wonderfully bittersweet. It’s incredibly moving for a book that’s billed as comedy.

Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal, by Christopher Moore

I always seem to end up rereading this book around Easter. This is about the third time I’ve read the book, and the magic of it never seems to go away. Personally, I think it’s the best thing that Moore has ever written.

I’ve mentioned Moore before. He’s one of the few authors I read who can always make me laugh out loud at the madcap weirdness of their books, and who I can reread forever without ever getting bored.

In Lamb, Moore takes on the missing years of Christ’s life. Our narrator is Biff, a smartass who takes care of Jesus, or Joshua as he is known here, because Joshua is much to trusting and naive to take care of himself. This book is histerial from beginning to almost the end. The end, I think, is what makes this book really special. At the end of this book, Moore writes such a moving account of the Passion and death of Joshua that I felt deeply touched by this book for weeks after I finished reading it the first time. Even now, after I’ve read it three times, the ending still moves me.

There’s a lot to think about in this book, and the more you read it, the more you realize this. The jokes are still funny, but you really start to see how philosophical this book is. So you get jokes about trying to circumsize Greek statues, but you also get some meditations on the role of sacrifice in Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism, and Hinduism.

I adore this book, and it’s one of the few books I evangelize for (‘scuze the pun). Pick it up if you’re ready for an off-the-wall account of Christ’s life.