Sunday, October 21, 2018

“Covenant and Conversation: Leviticus: The Book of Holiness” by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

This is the third book in Sacks’ series of commentaries on the Hebrew Bible. Sacks, in the past, has made much of the mirror imaging of scripture, so, as the middle book in the Torah, Sacks sees Leviticus, or as he calls it Vayikra, as the pinnacle in the ABCBA format of the Bible. Sacks describes Vayikra as the book dedicated to the priesthood. Unlike the kingly and prophetic traditions, Sacks sees priesthood as representing the eternal, the seasonal, the reoccurring, and the constant. The role of the priest is to be a returning reminder of the obligations of the original Covenant. Vayikra has relatively little action, taking place in only one month, and all of that stationary, near Mount Sinai. The word Vayikra, itself, means “to call, beckon, or summon in love.” Sacks sees this as an entreaty by God, rather than as a command. It starts the willing relationship between one another, which will include holy sacrifice and the Sabbath. Vayikra moves beyond the role ascribed to the priesthood to all the Jewish peoples with the destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans. No longer were the Jews to have a single sanctuary, priestly rites, and animal sacrifice. The destruction of these formal rituals of a peoples could have led to their eventual demoralization and disintegration. Instead, the Jews turned tragedy into a blessing- a democratization of the holy: with every person transforming into the roles and obligations of the priesthood, with the sanctuary replaced by synagogues wherever Jews may live, and with the Torah being the civil law uniting the people until the eventual return to political power in the Holy Land. In these essays, Sacks interweaves the spiritual with the moral and political and evokes the freedom and responsibility of personal choice while living in a community of others in covenant with God.

Sunday, October 14, 2018

“Stories of Your Life and Others” by Ted Chiang

This is a collection of short science fiction stories. Most are not “traditional” science fiction, as they are not set in the future, but in an alternate past that is very true to actual history, except for one or two fantastical tweaks. Chiang’s most famous story is “Story of Your Life”, which was adapted for the film “Arrival”. The linguistics, physics, and philosophy of time aspects of the story are riveting. Chiang flips back and forth between technical science and a loving narrative between mother and daughter. You get lost in the past, present, and future. It is spellbinding and does not lose its potency after you figure out what is going on. Technical science and math play a role in a lot of Chiang’s stories. “Division by Zero” is about a former math prodigy who discovers a proof that 1=2 and the resulting crisis that that inspires within her. A couple of Chiang’s stories also contain Biblical elements. “Tower of Babylon” is inspired by the Tower of Babel, but as Chiang writes, “the characters may be religious, but they rely on engineering rather than prayer. No deity makes an appearance in the story; everything that happens can be understood in purely mechanistic terms.” In “Hell is the Absence of God”, on the other hand, angels make frequent visitations to Earth, souls can be seen either going up to Heaven or down to Hell after death, and occasionally humans can even see down into Hell, like a glass bottom boat. It makes for a surreal tale set amidst an otherwise present-day America. This is Chiang’s rift on the Book of Job. One of the best features of this collection is that Chiang includes his “Story Notes”, a short paragraph on each story where he explains his thoughts and inspirations. My favorite story was “Understand” about a man awoken from a brain-dead coma, whose neuron synapses are improved by medical injections into his spine. It combines philosophy of mind, technical science, the role of language, the role of culture, philosophy of self, arguments for altruism, and thoughts on the purpose of life in a magical tale. I have not read science fiction in many years, but this book has me researching for similar works in the genre.

Sunday, October 7, 2018

“Family Lexicon” by Natalia Ginzburg (translated by Jenny McPhee)

This book, published in 1961, was written by Ginzburg after she had moved from Italy to London, following the Second World War. It is a blend of a memoir and a novel, detailing Ginzburg’s childhood in Turin, her marriage to an anti-fascist conspirator, and her family’s plight as Italian Jews, forced to live in a village in Abruzzi while in internal exile during the war. She states up front, “I haven’t invented a thing…. If read as a history, one will object to the infinite lacunae…. One should read it as if it were a novel, and therefore not demand any more or less than a novel can offer.” The book blends her humor, the intrigues of Italian politics, her family’s playful use of language, and the deeply personal inner-workings of her tight-knit family. There are familial phrases, whose meanings are only known to the members of her clan, that become themes that return to her life as she ages. Describing her father, “For him someone stupid was a “nitwit.”… In addition to the “nitwits,” there were also the “negroes.” For my father, a “negro” was someone who was awkward, clumsy, and faint-hearted; someone who dressed inappropriately, didn’t know how to hike in the mountains, and couldn’t speak foreign languages.” Ginzburg’s mother had her own peculiar sayings too. “Returning to Freiburg after the war, the bookseller [an old family friend] had exclaimed, “I don’t recognize my Germany anymore!” It was a saying that remained famous in our family and every time my mother didn’t recognize someone or something she would repeat it.” As for Ginzburg’s paternal grandmother, ““For you lot everything is a bordello. In this house you make a bordello out of everything,” my grandmother always said, meaning that for us nothing was sacred. The saying became famous in our family and we used to repeat it every time we found ourselves laughing over a death or a funeral.” As for her maternal grandmother, who died before Ginzburg was born, “Because he [her grandfather] always packed the house full of socialists, my grandmother Pina used to say bitterly, in dialect, of their daughter, “That girl’s going to marry the gasman.”” Ginzburg’s father ended up being a biologist, however.

Growing up under the rule of Mussolini, politics pervaded the life of the Ginzburg family. They were all committed anti-fascists, with Ginzburg’s future husband, father, and male siblings all having been arrested or going into exile. “At the time, my father didn’t really have a well-defined opinion about the communists. He didn’t believe there were any conspirators in the new, younger generation, and if he had suspected that there were, he would have thought them crazy. In his opinion, there was nothing, absolutely nothing to be done about fascism…. My mother went out in the morning saying, “I’m going to see if fascism is still on its feet. I am going to see if they’ve toppled Mussolini.”” Of Ginzburg’s own husband, “Leone was arrested now and again. They arrested him as a precautionary measure every time some notable politician or the king visited Turin. They kept him in jail for three or four days, letting him go as soon as the political figure had left.” Leone was eventually captured in Rome, operating an illegal printing press, and killed by the Nazis towards the end of the war. All that Ginzburg writes about this incident is “Leone had died in prison, in the German section of the Regina Coeli prison one icy February in Rome during the German occupation.” She recounts their friend Pavese as saying, “When someone goes away, or dies, I try not to think about him because I don’t like to suffer.” After the war, people once again had to adjust to their new lives and transform into their new selves. “The postwar period was a time when everyone believed himself to be a poet and a politician…. In one way or another, everyone felt deceived and betrayed, both those who lived in reality and those who possessed or thought they possessed a means of describing it.”