The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possibleby A. J. Jacobs
From the bestselling author of The Know-It-All comes a fascinating and timely exploration of religion and the Bible. A.J. Jacobs chronicles his hilarious and thoughtful year spent obeying―as literally as possible―the tenets of the Bible.
Raised in a secular family but increasingly interested in the relevance of faith in our modern world, A.J./i>… See more details below
From the bestselling author of The Know-It-All comes a fascinating and timely exploration of religion and the Bible. A.J. Jacobs chronicles his hilarious and thoughtful year spent obeying―as literally as possible―the tenets of the Bible.
Raised in a secular family but increasingly interested in the relevance of faith in our modern world, A.J. Jacobs decides to dive in headfirst and attempt to obey the Bible as literally as possible for one full year. He vows to follow the Ten Commandments. To be fruitful and multiply. To love his neighbor. But also to obey the hundreds of less publicized rules: to avoid wearing clothes made of mixed fibers; to play a ten-string harp; to stone adulterers.
The resulting spiritual journey is at once funny and profound, reverent and irreverent, personal and universal and will make you see history’s most influential book with new eyes.
Jacobs’s quest transforms his life even more radically than the year spent reading the entire Encyclopedia Britannica for The Know-It-All. His beard grows so unruly that he is regularly mistaken for a member of ZZ Top. He immerses himself in prayer, tends sheep in the Israeli desert, battles idolatry, and tells the absolute truth in all situations—much to his wife’s chagrin.
Throughout the book, Jacobs also embeds himself in a cross-section of communities that take the Bible literally. He tours a Kentucky-based creationist museum and sings hymns with Pennsylvania Amish. He dances with Hasidic Jews in Brooklyn and does Scripture study with Jehovah’s Witnesses. He discovers ancient biblical wisdom of startling relevance. And he wrestles with seemingly archaic rules that baffle the twenty-first-century brain.
Jacobs’s extraordinary undertaking yields unexpected epiphanies and challenges. A book that will charm readers both secular and religious, The Year of Living Biblically is part Cliff Notes to the Bible, part memoir, and part look into worlds unimaginable. Thou shalt not be able to put it down.
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As I write this, I have a beard that makes me resemble Moses. Or Abe Lincoln. Or Ted Kaczynski. I've been called all three.
It's not a well-manicured, socially acceptable beard. It's an untamed mass that creeps up toward my eyeballs and drapes below my neckline.
I've never allowed my facial hair to grow before, and it's been an odd and enlightening experience. I've been inducted into a secret fraternity of bearded guys -- we nod at each other as we pass on the street, giving a knowing quarter smile. Strangers have come up to me and petted my beard, like it's a Labrador retriever puppy or a pregnant woman's stomach.
I've suffered for my beard. It's been caught in jacket zippers and been tugged on by my surprisingly strong two-year-old son. I've spent a lot of time answering questions at airport security.
I've been asked if I'm named Smith and sell cough drops with my brother. ZZ Top is mentioned at least three times a week. Passersby have shouted "Yo, Gandalf!" Someone called me Steven Seagal, which I found curious, since he doesn't have a beard.
I've battled itch and heat. I've spent a week's salary on balms, powders, ointments, and conditioners. My beard has been a temporary home to cappuccino foam and lentil soup. And it's upset people. Thus far, two little girls have burst into tears, and one boy has hidden behind his mother.
But I mean no harm. The facial hair is simply the most noticeable physical manifestation of a spiritual journey I began a year ago.
My quest has been this: to live the ultimate biblical life. Or more precisely, to follow the Bible as literally as possible. To obey the Ten Commandments. To be fruitful and multiply. To love my neighbor. To tithe my income. But also to abide by the oft-neglected rules: to avoid wearing clothes made of mixed fibers. To stone adulterers. And, naturally, to leave the edges of my beard unshaven (Leviticus 19:27). I am trying to obey the entire Bible, without picking and choosing.
To back up: I grew up in an extremely secular home in New York City. I am officially Jewish, but I'm Jewish in the same way the Olive Garden is an Italian restaurant. Which is to say: not very. I attended no Hebrew school, ate no matzoh. The closest my family came to observing Judaism was that paradoxical classic of assimilation: a Star of David on top of our Christmas tree.
It's not that my parents badmouthed religion. It's just that religion wasn't for us. We lived in the twentieth century, for crying out loud. In our house, spirituality was almost a taboo subject, much like my father's salary or my sister's clove-cigarette habit.
My only brushes with the Bible were brief and superficial. We had a next-door neighbor, Reverend Schulze, a kindly Lutheran minister who looked remarkably like Thomas Jefferson. (By the way, Reverend Schulze's son became an actor and, oddly enough, went on to play the part of the creepy priest on The Sopranos.) Reverend Schulze told great stories about college sit-ins during the sixties, but whenever he started talking about God, it just sounded like a foreign language to me.
I attended a handful of bar mitzvahs where I zoned out during services and spent the time trying to guess who had bald spots under their yarmulkes. I went to my paternal grandfather's funeral, which was, to my surprise, presided over by a rabbi. How could the rabbi eulogize a man he'd never met? It was disconcerting.
And as far as childhood religion, that was about it.
I was agnostic before I even knew what the word meant. Partly, it was the problem of the existence of evil. If there is a God, why would He allow war, disease, and my fourth-grade teacher Ms. Barker, who forced us to have a sugar-free bake sale? But mostly, the idea of God seemed superfluous. Why do we need an invisible, inaudible deity? Maybe He exists, but we'll never know in this life.
College didn't help my spiritual development. I went to a secular university where you were more likely to study the semiotics of Wicca rituals than the Judeo-Christian tradition. And when we did read the Bible, it was as literature, as a fusty, ancient book with the same truth quotient as The Faerie Queene.
We did, of course, study the history of religion. How the Bible has been the force behind many of humankind's greatest achievements: the civil rights movement, charitable giving, the abolition of slavery. And how, of course, it's been used to justify our worst: war, genocide, and the subjugation of others.
For a long time, I thought that religion, for all the good it does, seemed too risky for our modern world. The potential for abuse too high. I figured it would slowly fade away like other archaic things. Science was on the march. Someday soon we'd all be living in a neo-Enlightenment paradise where every decision was made with steely Spock-like logic.
As you might have noticed, I was spectacularly mistaken. The influence of the Bible -- and religion as a whole -- remains a mighty force, perhaps even stronger than it was when I was a kid. So in the last few years, religion has become my fixation. Is half of the world suffering from a massive delusion? Or is my blindness to spirituality a huge defect in my personality? What if I'm missing out on part of being human, like a guy who goes through life without ever hearing Beethoven or falling in love? And most important, I now have a young son -- if my lack of religion is a flaw, I don't want to pass it on to him.
So I knew I wanted to explore religion. I just needed to figure out how.
The germ of the idea came from my own family: my uncle Gil. Or ex-uncle, to be exact. Gil married my aunt and divorced her a few years later, but he remains the most controversial member of our family. If the rest of my relatives are ultrasecular, Gil makes up for it by being, quite possibly, the most religious man in the world. He's a spiritual omnivore. He started his life as a Jew, became a Hindu, appointed himself a guru, sat for eight months on a Manhattan park bench without speaking, founded a hippie cult in upstate New York, turned into a born-again Christian, and, in his latest incarnation, is an ultra-Orthodox Jew in Jerusalem. I may have missed a phase -- I think he was into Shinto for a bit. But you get the idea.
At some point along his spiritual path, Gil decided to take the Bible literally. Completely literally. The Bible says to bind money to your hand (Deuteronomy 14:25), so Gil withdrew three hundred dollars from the bank and tied the bills to his palm with a thread. The Bible says to wear fringes on the corners of your garment (Numbers 15:38), so Gil bought yarn from a knitting shop, made a bunch of tassels, and attached them to his shirt collar and the ends of his sleeves. The Bible says to give money to widows and orphans, so he walked the streets asking people if they were widows or orphans so he could hand them cash.
About a year and a half ago, I was telling my friend Paul about Gil's bizarre life over lunch at a sandwich shop, and I had my epiphany. That's it. I needed to follow the Bible literally myself. I needed to do it for several reasons.
First, since the Bible requires me to tell the truth (Proverbs 26:28), I must confess that part of the reason is to write this book. A couple of years ago, I came out with a book about reading the Encyclopaedia Britannica, all of it, from A to Z -- or more specifical, from a-ak (East Asian music) to Zywiec (a town in southern Poland known for its beer). What could I do next? The only intellectual adventure that seemed a worthy follow-up was to explore the most influential book in the world, the all-time best seller, the Bible.
Second, this project would be my visa to a spiritual world. I wouldn't just be studying religion. I'd be living it. If I had what they call a God-shaped hole in my heart, this quest would allow me to fill it. If I had a hidden mystical side, this year would bring it out of the closet. If I wanted to understand my forefathers, this year would let me live like they did, but with less leprosy.
And third, this project would be a way to explore the huge and fascinating topic of biblical literalism. Millions of Americans say they take the Bible literally. According to a 2005 Gallup poll, the number hovers near 33 percent; a 2004 Newsweek poll put it at 55 percent. A literal interpretation of the Bible -- both Jewish and Christian -- shapes American policies on the Middle East, homosexuality, stem cell research, education, abortion -- right on down to rules about buying beer on Sunday.
But my suspicion was that almost everyone's literalism consisted of picking and choosing. People plucked out the parts that fit their agenda, whether that agenda was to the right or left. Not me. I thought, with some naïveté, I would peel away the layers of interpretation and find the true Bible underneath. I would do this by being the ultimate f undamentalist. I'd be fearless. I would do exactly what the Bible said, and in so doing, I'd discover what's great and timeless in the Bible and what is outdated.
I told my wife, Julie, my idea, and warned her it might affect our life in a not-so-minor way. She didn't gnash her teeth or tear out her hair. She just emitted a little sigh. "I was kind of hoping your next book would be a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt or something."
Everyone -- family, friends, coworkers -- had the same concern: that I'd go native. That I'd end up as a beekeeper at a monastery, or I'd move into my ex-uncle Gil's spare room in his Jerusalem apartment.
In a sense, they were right to worry. It's impossible to immerse yourself in religion for twelve months and emerge unaffected. At least it was for me. Put it this way: If my former self and my current self met for coffee, they'd get along OK, but they'd both probably walk out of the Starbucks shaking their heads and saying to themselves, "That guy is kinda delusional."
As with most biblical journeys, my year has taken me on detours I could never have predicted. I didn't expect to herd sheep in Israel. Or fondle a pigeon egg. Or find solace in prayer. Or hear Amish jokes from the Amish. I didn't expect to confront just how absurdly flawed I am. I didn't expect to discover such strangeness in the Bible. And I didn't expect to, as the Psalmist says, take refuge in the Bible and rejoice in it.
And he shall read in it all the days of his life...
-- Deuteronomy 17:19
On the admittedly random day of July 7, 2005, I begin my preparations. I pull out a Bible that is tucked away in the corner of my bookshelf. I don't even remember where I got it, but it looks like the Platonic ideal of a Bible. Like a Bible they'd use in a fifties Western to stop a bullet from piercing the hero's chest. On the front, it says "Holy Bible" in faded gold embossing. The tissue-thin pages remind me of my beloved encyclopedia. The black leather cover smells exactly like my parents' 1976 Plymouth Valiant. It feels good, comforting.
I crack open the Bible. The title page says, "This Bible is presented to..." and then, in handwritten bubble letters, the name of my ex-girlfriend. Huh. Somehow I had inadvertently pilfered my ex-girlfriend's childhood Bible. I hope inadvertently. It's been a decade since we broke up, and I can't remember. Regardless, that's not a good sign. At the very least, I need to return it when I'm done.
I've read bits and pieces of the Bible before, but never the whole thing, never straight through from Genesis to Revelation. So that's what I do for four weeks, five hours a day. Luckily, I'm used to marathon reading from my Britannica project, so it felt pleasantly nostalgic.
As I read, I type into my PowerBook every rule, every guideline, every suggestion, every nugget of advice I find in the Bible. When I finish, I have a very long list. It runs seventy-two pages. More than seven hundred rules. The scope is astounding. All aspects of my life will be affected -- the way I talk, walk, eat, bathe, dress, and hug my wife.
Many of the rules will be good for me and will, I hope, make me a better person by the end of the year. I'm thinking of: No lying. No coveting. No stealing. Love your neighbor. Honor your parents. Dozens of them. I'll be the Gandhi of the Upper West Side.
But plenty of other rules don't seem like they'll make me more righteous at all. Just more strange, more obsessive, more likely to alienate friends and family: Bathe after sex. Don't eat fruit from a tree planted less than five years ago. Pay the wages of a worker every day.
And a good number of the rules aren't just baffling, but federally outlawed. As in: Destroy idols. Kill magicians. Sacrifice oxen.
This is going to be a monster project. I need a plan of attack. I need to make some decisions.
1. Which version of the Bible should I use?
The Bible I pulled from my bookshelf is called the Revised Standard Version, which it turns out is a well-respected translation, an offspring of the famed King James Version from 1611, but stripped of most of the "thee"s and "thou"s.
It's a good start. But it's just one of many, many versions -- an estimated three thousand of them in English alone. One of my goals is to find out what the Bible really says, so I decide I can't rely on any single translation. I want to compare and contrast at least some of those three thousand.
I go to a Bible bookstore in midtown Manhattan. It's a huge Wal-Mart-sized store with fluorescent lighting and a long counter of cash registers at the front. My salesman is named Chris, a soft-spoken guy with the body of an Olympic power lifter. He shows me tables covered with Bibles of all shapes, sizes, and linguistic slants -- from the plain-spoken English of the Good News Bible to the majestic cadence of the Jerusalem Bible.
He points out one Bible I might want. It's designed to look exactly like a Seventeen magazine: An attractive (if long-sleeved) model graces the front, next to cover lines like "What's Your Spiritual IQ?" Open it up and you'll find sidebars such as "Rebecca the Control Freak."
"This one's good if you're on the subway and are too embarrassed to be seen reading the Bible," says Chris. "Because no one will ever know it's a Bible." It's an odd and poignant selling point. You know you're in a secular city when it's considered more acceptable for a grown man to read a teen girl's magazine than the Bible.
I leave the store with two shopping bags packed with Scripture. But my buying spree isn't over. When I get home, I click on Amazon.com and get several Jewish translations of the Bible, and a half-dozen Bible commentaries. To be safe, I order The Bible for Dummies and The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Bible -- anything aimed at those with a sub-80 IQ.
That's not to mention the Bibles sent to me by friends. One gave me the waterproof Outdoor Bible so that I could study the Scripture even during floods and other Old Testament weather patterns. Another sent me a hip-hop version, where the Twenty-third Psalm reads "The Lord is all that." (The more traditional translation is "The Lord is my shepherd.")
In short, I've got the proverbial stack of Bibles, almost waist high.
2. What does it mean to follow the Bible literally?
To follow the Bible literally -- at face value, at its word, according to its plain meaning -- isn't just a daunting proposition. It's a dangerous one.
Consider: In the third century, the scholar Origen is said to have interpreted literally Matthew 19:12 -- "There are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven" -- and castrated himself. Origen later became a preeminent theologian of his age -- and an advocate of figurative interpretation.
Another example: In the mid-1800s, when anesthesia was first introduced for women in labor, there was an uproar. Many felt it violated God's pronouncement in Genesis 3:16: "I will greatly multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children." If Julie and I ever have another child, would I dare get between her and the epidural needle? Not a chance.
It's a good bet that, at some time or other in history, every single passage in the Bible has been taken as literal. I've decided I can't do that. That'd be misleading, unnecessarily flip, and would result in missing body parts. No, instead my plan is this: I will try to find the original intent of the biblical rule or teaching and follow that to the letter. If the passage is unquestionably figurative -- and I'm going to say the eunuch one is -- then I won't obey it literally. But if there's any doubt whatsoever -- and most often there is -- I will err on the side of being literal. When it says don't tell lies, I'll try not to tell any lies. When it says to stone blasphemers, I'll pick up rocks.
3. Should I obey the Old Testament, the New Testament, or both?
Many, perhaps most, of the teachings in the two testaments are similar, but some are significantly different. So I've decided to split up my quest.
I will devote most of my year -- eight months or so -- to the Old Testament, since that's where you'll find the bulk of the Bible's rules. The Old Testament consists of thirty-nine books that mix narrative, genealogy, poetry, and lots and lots of laws. The first five books alone -- the books of Moses -- have hundreds of decrees, including the crucial Ten Commandments, as well as some of the more seemingly atavistic ones about executing homosexuals. That's not to mention divinely inspired advice in later Old Testament books. The Proverbs -- a collection of King Solomon's wisdom -- offer guidance on child rearing and marriage. The Psalms tell you how to worship. I'll be abiding by everything. Or trying to.
Being officially Jewish, I feel much more comfortable living and writing about the Old Testament. (Or, as many Jews prefer to call it, the Hebrew Bible, since old implies "outdated," and new implies "improved"). But in the final four months of my year, I want to explore -- in at least some way -- the teachings of the Christian Bible, the New Testament.
To ignore the New Testament would be to ignore half of the story. The evangelical movement and its literal interpretation of the Bible hold enormous sway, both for the good (they were powerful advocates for aiding Darfur) and, to my secular mind, the not-so-good (far-right fundamentalists are driving the creationism movement).
Naturally, there's the most famous of all Christian literalists -- the conservatives in the Jerry Falwell/Pat Robertson mold. I plan to meet them later this year. But I also want to look at evangelical groups such as the "Red-letter Christians," which focus on what they see as literal adherence to Jesus's teachings about compassion, nonviolence, and the redistribution of wealth.
It's debatable whether the New Testament even has a legal code -- it depends on your definition of "law" -- but it has many teachings that have been followed with varying degrees of literalness, from Jesus's "turn the other cheek" and "love your enemy" to the Apostle Paul's decree that men should have short hair. Frankly, I haven't hammered out all the details of my New Testament plan but hope to figure it out once I get my spiritual footing.
4. Should I have guides?
The Bible says, "It is not good for the man to be alone." Plus, I'm flying blind here. So over the course of a couple of weeks, I assemble a board of spiritual advisers: rabbis, ministers, and priests, some of them conservative, some of them one four-letter word away from excommunication. Some are friends of friends, some are names I stumbled upon in Bible commentary books. I'll be talking to them as much as possible.
Plus, I make a pledge to get out of the house. I'll visit a bunch of groups that take the Bible literally in their own way: the ultra-Orthodox Jews, the ancient sect of Samaritans, and the Amish, among others.
My guides will give me advice and context. But they won't be the final word. The Bible will. I don't want to follow any single tradition exclusively. As naïve or misguided as it may be, I want to discover the Bible for myself, even if it entails trekking down some circuitous paths. "DIY religion," as my friend calls it. Perhaps I'll find the beauty of a particular tradition fits me best. Or perhaps I'll start my own sect of Judeo-Christianity. I don't know.
As I expected, not everyone thinks my project is a great idea. My aunt Kate -- who has remained an Orthodox Jew even after her divorce from the controversial Gil -- told me I was, as our people say, meshuga.
I first floated the idea by Kate in early August. We were at my grandfather's house sitting around his big dining room table. Kate had just finished changing after a dip in the pool. (She won't wear a bathing suit for modesty reasons, so she plunged in with her long, black billowy dress, which impressed me. The thing looked heavy enough to sink a lifeguard.) When I explained the premise of my book, her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "Really?" she said.
Then she laughed. I think part of her was happy that someone in our godless family was showing some interest in religion.
After which she got concerned: "It's misguided. You need the oral law. You can't just obey the written law. It doesn't make sense without the oral law."
The traditional Jewish position is this: The Bible -- known as the written law -- was composed in shorthand. It's so condensed, it's almost in code. Which is where the oral law comes in. The rabbis have unraveled the Bible for us in books such as the Talmud, which are based on the oral teachings of the elders. When the Bible says to "rest" on the Sabbath, you need the rabbis to tell you what "rest" means. Can you exercise? Can you cook? Can you log on to drugstore.com?
Without the rabbis, I'm like the protagonist of the early eighties TV show The Greatest American Hero -- he found a bright red suit that gave him all these superpowers, but he lost the instruction manual, so he was always flying into walls.
Some conservative Christians were also baffled by my undertaking. They said I couldn't truly understand the Bible without accepting the divinity of Christ. They said that many of these laws -- like the ones about animal sacrifice -- were nullified by Jesus's death.
And I did start to have doubts. These were good points. I felt torn, anxious about my approach, my monumental ignorance, my lack of preparation, about all the inevitable blunders I'd make. And the more I read, the more I absorbed the fact that the Bible isn't just another book. It's the book of books, as one of my Bible commentaries calls it. I love my encyclopedia, but the encyclopedia hasn't spawned thousands of communities based on its words. It hasn't shaped the actions, values, deaths, love lives, warfare, and fashion sense of millions of people over three millennia. No one has been executed for translating the encyclopedia into another language, as was William Tyndale when he published the first widely distributed English-language edition of the Bible. No president has been sworn in with the encyclopedia. It's intimidating, to say the least.
Fortunately, I got a couple of pep talks from two of my favorite advisers. The first was Reverend Elton Richards, my friend David's father, who just retired as minister of his Lutheran congregation in Des Moines, Iowa. He calls himself a "pastor out to pasture." I told him about the doubters.
"You just have to tell them that you have a hunger and a thirst. And you may not sit at the same banquet table as them, but you have a hunger and thirst. So they shouldn't judge you."
I love the way he talks. By the end, perhaps I'll be able to speak in majestic food metaphors like Reverend Richards.
I also had breakfast with Rabbi Andy Bachman, a brilliant man who heads up one of Brooklyn's largest synagogues, Congregation Beth Elohim. He told me a midrash -- a story or legend that is not in the Bible proper, but which deals with biblical events. This midrash is about the parting of the Red Sea.
"We all think of the scene in The Ten Commandments movie with Charlton Heston, where Moses lifted up his rod, and the waters rolled back. But this midrash says that's not how it happened. Moses lifted up his rod, and the sea did not part. The Egyptians were closing in, and the sea wasn't moving. So a Hebrew named Nachshon just walked into the water. He waded up to his ankles, then his knees, then his waist, then his shoulders. And right when water was about to get up to his nostrils, the sea parted. The point is, sometimes miracles occur only when you jump in."
So I did. And here is what happened.
Copyright © 2007 by A. J. Jacobs
Meet the Author
A.J. Jacobs is the author of the New York Times bestsellers The Know-It-All, The Year of Living Biblically, and The Guinea Pig Diaries. He is the editor at large of Esquire magazine, a contributor to NPR, and has written for The New York Times, The Washington Post, and Entertainment Weekly. He lives in New York City with his wife and kids. Visit him at AJJacobs.com.
- New York, NY
- Date of Birth:
- March 20, 1968
- Place of Birth:
- New York, NY
- Brown University
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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The journey of Jacobs from an 'agnostic's agnostic' to a 'reverent agnostic' is a delight. It is light reading with numerous humorous asides that also serve to demonstrate the seriousness as well as frailties of two of the world's great religions. Only the ultra-wingers (left or right) will not be able to enjoy this book.
To coin a phrase, this book was much ado about nothing. As an attempt to highlight and follow the odd rules of the Bible, it was fine and moderately amusing. The book loses its way when the author discusses faith itself - which he does a lot. Since he begins and ends the book agnostic at best, it's not much more than a social experiment on his part. I didn't get much out of this book, and the author didn't really get much out of the Book either, so let's call it even.
"The Year of Living Biblically" is a brilliant, witty and incredibly well-written look into the Holy Bible. Author A.J. Jacobs, an agnostic with Jewish roots, candidly chronicles his 1 year endeavor to implement all the rules he gathers from the Bible. He begins his immersive journey by compiling 700 Biblical rules. Then, he seeks the guidance of various advisors such as rabbis, ministers and professors to help him with interpretation. Along his journey, he explores many religious factions and meets many fascinating individuals. Often, he finds himself in an intriguing adventure or a hilarious predicament. Mr. Jacob's writing style is utterly captivating. He writes with much humor, providing many laugh-out-loud funny scenes. As I read, I found myself very impressed by his sincerity and candor. He was respectful and non-judgmental when addressing diverse religious doctrines. The extent of his research and his total dedication were awe-inspiring. An enlightening read, this book greatly enhanced my understanding of what the Bible says. Also, I truly enjoyed the interesting information about other religions. I absolutely loved this entertaining book and I highly recommend it as a must-read for everyone!
At first glance, this book would seem to be a novelty. Applying as many "laws" from the Bible as possible, even the seemingly silly ones, can become a stand-up comedy routine. But A.J. Jacobs is never disrespectful and shows a willingness to really understand the origins, meanings, and practicality of these "laws." He is an equal opportunity seeker, and gives many schools of religious thought their fair share of time and research. This book is not just for believers and seekers. It is for everyone in between as well. And while Jacobs gives an extreme example of immersion learning, he is a great teacher of methodical study before blindly accepting things based on face value.
A. J. Jacobs, who says he is a Jewish as the Olive Garden is Italian, readily admits his only motivation for "living Bibically" was to do research for this book. He cannot tell a lie without breaking one of the Ten Commandments. He cannot steal, be envious or wear clothing with mixed fibers either. He has us laughing as he goes about trying to make sense of and find the reasons behind and, at the same time, respectfully observe hundreds of Bibical laws, first from the Old Testament and then from both the Old and the New Testament. Wonderful to see the written word and be able to understand (sometimes) the why behind the Bibical law.
There are some people who have the talent of being able to take any situation and turn it into a great story (like the guy from "Supersize Me", Morgan Spurlock). A.J. Jacobs is another such engaging individual. He is smart, witty, and charmingly neurotic. His latest project is to pull every single commandment from the Bible he could find (over 700) and try to live each one as literally as possible for an entire year. So not just the 10 Commandments (which are pretty tough to get right all the time anyways) but ALL of them, even the ones most people think are crazy and don't understand. What follows is an almost day-to-day account of Jacobs' successes and failures (it's hard to conquer lust when you work for Esquire magazine) in a very real, very personal way. In his quest to better understand the Bible and its' rules, he meets with various individuals including deep-south snake handlers, Creationalists, and Samarians while in Jerusalem to name a few. Perhaps my favorite interview was when he met with a Jehovah's Witness - whom he actually ended up out-talking. The man finally begged leave when his wife called him at 10:30pm wondering when he was going to come home. As a side note, one reason why I liked this book so much is becuase he is constantly including lists - lists of rules, various Biblical interpretations, things he wants to work on, etc. I love lists and I like other list-makers, so thank you. Surprisingly, although humorous, this book also constantly had me thinking about my own personal spirituality - which I don't think is necessarily intended, but a logical extension. Most likely it was due to Jacobs' honesty - if he could be so brutal in self-examination, why not me? But that doesn't mean I would only recommend it to someone religious - I think just about anyone would enjoy this engaging book. And to A.J.'s dad: if you're reading this, I hope you click 'yes' that this review was helpful to you. seemichelleread.blogspot.com
This book is greatly entertaining. I am a religion major, and I found it interesting to see how someone with little to no knowledge of the Christian or Jewish bible besides the basics would react to having to immersing himself completely in the rules of both. The book helps the secular understand those who are religious, and helps the religious understand how a secular person might see their traditions without attacking them. It is at times truly hilarious, and I have a list of 3 friends who all waiting to borrow my copy because it is so good.
This was a very enjoyable read. I think everyone can get something from this book - Christian, Jew, atheist. It gives you an appreciation and understanding of a key piece of religious literature in our culture, as well as an understanding and fuller appreciation of the diversity Christian and Jewish landscape (conservative, liberal, fundamentalist, which many of us tend to oversimplify and therefore misunderstand). Plus A.J. Jacobs is an excellent writer with a great sense of humor and humility - it's hard not to like him as the protagonist in this story.
This book was hysterical - also a good way to brush up on all things Torah/ Bible. Definitely worth reading and lending to a friend when you are done.
I love this book. Both humorous and informitive, I couldn't put it down!!! I've told everyone I know about it but refuse to let anyone borrow my copy. In my permanent library without a doubt!
This is a very funny book which you would not guess from its title. I loved it and learned a lot. The situations that he got into throughout the year were amazing, and through great writing, he conveys them to the reader in an interesting, interesting, and funny way. I recommend it highly. I don't think that I have ever laughed so hard reading a book.
Just finished reading the book! Although I have some reservations about the material, overall it provides an insight into the different variations of beliefs and interpretations. It was very fulfilling for me to observe through the book the author's journey to find the answers he was seeking, but also his acceptance that the answers may not be in black and white or easily interpreted. I must admit I was anticipating a different ending that kept me on the edge of my seat, bath, bed, or couch, but not all books are going to have a complete happy ending in accordance with me. Nevertheless, it was worth it. Loved the sense of humor, it made me smile, and I must admit that I did giggle on some portions that I feared a giggle should have not been warranted out of the fear of it being interpreted as laughing at the words in the Bible or various religious beliefs, which is not the intent, but I'm only human. I especially loved the people introduced in the book. I know people who fit the exact personalities of those mentioned in the book and that made it more amusing and close to home. Favorite Line: 'No President has been sworn in with the encyclopedia. It's intimidating, to say the least.' -A.J. Jacobs
It's incredible to me that AJ Jacobs was able to take such an open-minded approach to the rules of the Bible. As an agnostic you would expect him to be closed off to any discourse regarding religion. However, AJ learned something new from every Christian, Jew, and atheist he met. After reading the book I was in awe of the task that the author completed. I could never delve so deep into the Bible and not only question why it was written the way it was but also earnestly seek the answers and equate how the Bible does and does not apply to modern life.
By taking the Bible as literally as possible, Jacobs took an approach to gaining a sense of spirituality in a way that I never would have thought. The only thing that upset me was the fact that Jacobs viewed the rules as the only way to finding a spiritual connection, which is only a small portion of the big picture. Overall, however, his focus on these rules gave me a newfound respect for the more disciplined faiths such as the fundamentalists and Orthodox Jews. He even made a few points that gave some Old Testament rules more meaning than I gave those rules at first glance. Overall I enjoyed following Jacobs on his journey and am glad that I read the novel. -Sarah F.
A great find and a good read from start to finish. My ladies Lutheran book club read this book and everyone loved it. I found personally found it an inspiration and all the while it kept me smiling, with the intelligent good humor.
A thoughful and interesting read. Definitely worth it!
Jacobs is truly a witty man. If you are a Christian, read it, step back, and look at your self (oddly enough there is a spiritual challenge in this book) If you are Jewish, do the same. If you are Atheist, please realize that what he focuses on is LITERALIST. My only wish is that he had spent a little more time diving deep into the New Testament. Never the less, incredible book. Due to my vagueness in the review, I'd like to end with a simple summary: BUY THE STINKIN' BOOK!
...it seems this is possible, though the results are sometimes humorous and always fascinating. His research was wonderful, and the bibliography itself is a great read. I appreciate that he checked with scholars of several modalities who all use parts of the Bible as 'their' book, and tried to give equal credence to as many interpretations as possible. I did not view the book as anti-faith, but it does point out the paradoxical issues which arise when attempting to follow any one interpretation of a story -- which one to follow? Is any One Way the Truth? Of course people all over the world live as if they have discovered the One Way, but even within those groups people disagree. Now we can only hope that your wife has the patience of Job with whatever your next book is about!
AJ Jacobs has written a book that any humorist would be proud of, but that is only the beginning of what makes this book so enjoyable and satisfying to read. His 'humble quest' to follow the Bible literally may at first glance seem like a stunt, but it soon becomes clear that we are in the hands of someone with the capacities--intellectual, domestic (he has a very patient wife), and, yes, spiritual--to take this stunt quite seriously and to follow it to lengths that are at once thought provoking and highly entertaining. Many of his exploits and his 'solutions' to the problems presented by living a literally Biblical life are quite absurd (I particularly love the image of him toting his portable chair), and that is part of the point. One man's sacred cow (or chicken) is another's sight gag. That is the world we live in, and while we must treat each other's beliefs with respect, we must also recognize that we will never all understand, let alone share, each other's faiths (or lack thereof). In his innocent, goofy, but--when he needs to be--sharp-eyed way, Jacobs shows us this truth quite vividly. And with no shortage of laughs.
I don't know what book the other reviewer read, but I don't think it was the same one I read. As a religious person, I enjoyed sharing Jacobs' spiritual exploration and his attentive study of Holy Scripture. This book is very thought-provoking without being heavy-handed. I believe in a God who seeks us out and who can handle all of our questions. Humor is an important componant of any Spiritual journey and introspection. I found nothing offensive here. In the end, I hope that Jacobs will continue his spiritual exploration and journey towards our Creator. This book gives us all a boost along that way.
I found this book to be witty, thought provoking, and extremely engaging ¿ I couldn¿t put it down. The book chronicles Mr. Jacobs¿ quest over one year to adhere to the rules and rituals of the Bible (he found at least 800 to follow). The reader easily gets drawn into Mr. Jacobs¿ escapades and wild experiences trying to follow all of these rules, which proves to be not only entertaining but also enlightening on issues of family, religion, tradition and spirituality. While it is a book about the Bible, and deals seriously with many facets of religion, it does not treat the subject in a heavy-handed or an overly forceful manner. Jacobs tells how his wife was not always supportive of his quest over the course of the year, and as a result she plays the often humorous and necessary counterpoint to the seriousness of the tasks he undertook. The back-and-forth between the two of them, and the effects of his quest on their family life, were some of my favorite parts of the book (she must be a saint to have put up with him for the year). I cannot recommend this book more highly. Based on my enjoyment of this book I eagerly await his next one.
I thoroughly enjoyed this hilarious, yet informative, memoir by A.J. Jacobs. In it, he chronicles the year he spent trying to adhere to the teachings of the Bible as closely as possible -- trying to literally live by its commandments and also its more arcane rules (no wearing mixed fibers or tassels on clothes, no trimming his beard, etc.). Jacobs completely commits to this journey with an open-minded view and meets fascinating people of all religious backgrounds (including Orthodox Jews in Brooklyn, Christian fundamentalists, the Amish, and Jehovah¿s Witnesses) during his travels to learn more about different interpretations of the Bible and to seek spiritual guidance. Far from poking fun at these individuals, Jacobs treats them seriously and objectively with the utmost respect, and as a result I learned a great deal about many different religious teachings. Jacobs has a marvelously witty way with words, and much of the book is laugh-out-loud funny (the consequences of not telling a 'little white lie' to his toddler son when he wanted a bagel instead of an English muffin, building a prayer tent in the middle of the living room, and almost all his interactions with his long-suffering and alternately bemused/annoyed wife, Julie.) His daily attempts to live according to Biblical laws in today¿s modern world end up influencing his life in more ways than he expects. The result of Jacobs¿ year of living Biblically is an honest, insightful, funny and ultimately inspiring story that is also highly entertaining.
This delightful memoir of a year spent living by all of the rules of the good book took me by surprise. Jacobs finds the funny in his quest, but he also finds the heart and soul. After reading this book I thought about my own spirituality in a new light, and I was also entertained and uplifted--a rare combination. Bravo!
In 'The Know It All' Mr. Jacobs gave us an appreciation of his endearingly quirky approach to the task then at hand, i.e plowing through the Encyclopedia Britannica from aardvark to Zyrian. In the process we came to know his family members who, long sufferingly, lived through it with him. Now he brings that same approach to his attempts to live for a year, in the metropolis of New York City, while scrupulously observing the tenets of the Bible, many of which are familiar and many arcane and archaic. It was especially refreshing to learn from him, again with his own brand of humor and wisdom, how much he came to appreciate the heritage of the Bible and its teachings. Recommended to all, regardless of race, creed, national origin or gender identity!!