Finished with the last book and desperate for something as enlightening, if not disturbing, I settled on Jacob Needleman's What is God? It is turning out to be a good choice. Right from the beginning we learn something new - or really, something old that many of us have forgotten. Needleman was born in 1935 and grew up in Philadelphia near the big park that I know well, as my brother lived there for 20 years. My brother's wife was Jewish (they have since divorced) and his neighborhood a tightly-nit Jewish community that often rubbed me the wrong way. I felt so excluded; not insulted, really, but out of the flow. Had my brother been able to see it, or so it seemed to me, he, too, would have found that he was only being tolerated. It was surprising to me, as I had not had that feeling of exclusion since I was a kid and we had just moved into an old Yankee farm enclave in New England (it would become the most wonderful place in the world to me, but that is another story).
There are reasons for this, as for everything. Needleman, a Jew himself, tells us of being chased by tough Catholics after school who wanted to "beat up the kike." It brought up my own memories of life as a kid before the late 60's, the era when all this changed. In my town, the most despised had formerly been the Irish Catholics, but by my time they had been reluctantly accepted, not as part of the elite, but, heck, passable. Instead, it was the Polish and Italian kids who got hit with the mean jokes about stupidity and greasy hair, respectively. Nothing really bad, but some bad memories, I suspect, and some resentment must still reside with some of these grown-up kids.
Jews, traditionally, got it much worse from everyone, and such experiences die hard and linger long, but it is surprising to note how things have changed. No one talks of "pollacks" and "wops" or "mics" anymore (at least not in a derisive way), and it's been decades since I've heard - in this case, read - the word "kike." All mean stuff, and if one thinks society has gone to hell in a hand basket, we have to remember how it was in this country for those not of the primary Old English elite. (In all fairness, they, too, were mocked as emotionally frigid "Wasps." We were all part of the social pyramid).
But many other things have gotten worse. Because of his background, and his times as a college student in post WWII America, Needleman happily forgot the harsh rule of Jewish Law his parents meted out, and continued to avoid Christian thought like the plague. Christianity was so reviled in his house that the word "Jesus," he claimed, would have gotten anyone who said it thrown out into the cold.
And so he became a philosophy student, studying first at Harvard, then at Yale for his higher degrees, avoiding most religious thought besides an occasional foray into the superstitions of primitive-minded people. I myself, having gone through advanced training in the social sciences, can vouch for that: religion to my professors, with one exception, was a study in myth that had practical side-effects, but did most certainly not describe anything actual, like gods or, heaven forbid, a God. Needleman read Kierkegaard, for instance, thinking that he understood him, but ignored the fundamentally religious tone of the arguments. A product of his time, Needleman could not fathom that a great mind, one that was not buried in the superstitions of antiquity, could possibly take the notion of God seriously. Such it is still, for those who are more educated and, we might assume, wiser.
Fortunately for him - so he himself says - the only job he could get after grad school was at San Francisco State teaching the history of Western thought, which, until the last few centuries, was entirely based upon the nature of God. Hating every minute of it, he forced himself to read Jewish mysticism and, most hated of all, The Confessions of St Augustine, a book that informs much of Christian thought to this day. And with that, like a child who is forced to do something "good" against his will, he found that there was truth in the old religions. Not only truth, but layers and layers of truth that spoke to each person as he became more aware, leading the attentive student closer and closer to the ultimate reality we call God. And so, an abiding feeling that he had had as a child was reborn in the realization of the wisdom of the ancients, and of the mystics and saints.
And so we are today, better in some ways, but worse in others, for as we escape from some injustice, whether obviously real like bigotry, or something associated in our minds, like Catholicism and nasty nuns, we often throw out the baby with the bath water. For those of us of the intellect, we wish to throw away the annoyances of petty, family religion, doing so before we understand the wisdom behind the centuries of gifted men and women who have gone before us, and who have given us more than we could ever find ourselves. It was, I have to say, much the same for me: it has only been in recent years that the fathomless depth of the sacred religious texts have begun to show themselves to me. Before then, I read French philosophy and thought I was smart; now I read the religious texts, or those who have studied them better than I could, and have come to realize how little I really know.
Needleman and I were just a few of so many other well-educated 'ants' that could not see beyond their own little ant hill, because of their own life stories, stories that would have told them (us) more if they had waited until maturity to examine them. But, in the way of wisdom, we do not live in mature times. We have corrected the comparatively petty and forsaken the great. I thank Needleman for making this so painfully clear, and am eager to read more. FK
There are reasons for this, as for everything. Needleman, a Jew himself, tells us of being chased by tough Catholics after school who wanted to "beat up the kike." It brought up my own memories of life as a kid before the late 60's, the era when all this changed. In my town, the most despised had formerly been the Irish Catholics, but by my time they had been reluctantly accepted, not as part of the elite, but, heck, passable. Instead, it was the Polish and Italian kids who got hit with the mean jokes about stupidity and greasy hair, respectively. Nothing really bad, but some bad memories, I suspect, and some resentment must still reside with some of these grown-up kids.
Jews, traditionally, got it much worse from everyone, and such experiences die hard and linger long, but it is surprising to note how things have changed. No one talks of "pollacks" and "wops" or "mics" anymore (at least not in a derisive way), and it's been decades since I've heard - in this case, read - the word "kike." All mean stuff, and if one thinks society has gone to hell in a hand basket, we have to remember how it was in this country for those not of the primary Old English elite. (In all fairness, they, too, were mocked as emotionally frigid "Wasps." We were all part of the social pyramid).
But many other things have gotten worse. Because of his background, and his times as a college student in post WWII America, Needleman happily forgot the harsh rule of Jewish Law his parents meted out, and continued to avoid Christian thought like the plague. Christianity was so reviled in his house that the word "Jesus," he claimed, would have gotten anyone who said it thrown out into the cold.
And so he became a philosophy student, studying first at Harvard, then at Yale for his higher degrees, avoiding most religious thought besides an occasional foray into the superstitions of primitive-minded people. I myself, having gone through advanced training in the social sciences, can vouch for that: religion to my professors, with one exception, was a study in myth that had practical side-effects, but did most certainly not describe anything actual, like gods or, heaven forbid, a God. Needleman read Kierkegaard, for instance, thinking that he understood him, but ignored the fundamentally religious tone of the arguments. A product of his time, Needleman could not fathom that a great mind, one that was not buried in the superstitions of antiquity, could possibly take the notion of God seriously. Such it is still, for those who are more educated and, we might assume, wiser.
Fortunately for him - so he himself says - the only job he could get after grad school was at San Francisco State teaching the history of Western thought, which, until the last few centuries, was entirely based upon the nature of God. Hating every minute of it, he forced himself to read Jewish mysticism and, most hated of all, The Confessions of St Augustine, a book that informs much of Christian thought to this day. And with that, like a child who is forced to do something "good" against his will, he found that there was truth in the old religions. Not only truth, but layers and layers of truth that spoke to each person as he became more aware, leading the attentive student closer and closer to the ultimate reality we call God. And so, an abiding feeling that he had had as a child was reborn in the realization of the wisdom of the ancients, and of the mystics and saints.
And so we are today, better in some ways, but worse in others, for as we escape from some injustice, whether obviously real like bigotry, or something associated in our minds, like Catholicism and nasty nuns, we often throw out the baby with the bath water. For those of us of the intellect, we wish to throw away the annoyances of petty, family religion, doing so before we understand the wisdom behind the centuries of gifted men and women who have gone before us, and who have given us more than we could ever find ourselves. It was, I have to say, much the same for me: it has only been in recent years that the fathomless depth of the sacred religious texts have begun to show themselves to me. Before then, I read French philosophy and thought I was smart; now I read the religious texts, or those who have studied them better than I could, and have come to realize how little I really know.
Needleman and I were just a few of so many other well-educated 'ants' that could not see beyond their own little ant hill, because of their own life stories, stories that would have told them (us) more if they had waited until maturity to examine them. But, in the way of wisdom, we do not live in mature times. We have corrected the comparatively petty and forsaken the great. I thank Needleman for making this so painfully clear, and am eager to read more. FK
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