There Was Night and There Was Morning: A Memoir of Trauma and Redemption

by Sara Sherbill

Overview

A searing memoir about growing up in a fiercely loving, abusive rabbinical family in which the author’s father, the charismatic head of a splinter Orthodox religious community, demands unswerving loyalty—and a commitment to guarding terrible secrets.

Sara Sherbill was raised by a father who was both a representative of God and a broken man harboring an intricate set of secrets. Her riveting story explores what happens when a daughter is tasked with keeping those secrets, and the cost of keeping them. It asks: How do we live with suffering? What does it mean to heal? In the face of unspeakable harm, what can be reclaimed? Sherbill’s tale, written with grace and brutal honesty, reveals her struggle to reclaim her identity as a daughter, woman, and now mother. Most of all, it’s a story about learning to live alongside our traumas without letting them consume us—what some might call redemption.

Perfect for fans of Unorthodox by Deborah Feldman or other books about religious trauma, There Was Night and There Was Morning offers a nuanced exploration of faith, family, and the courage to reclaim one's identity. Sherbill's tale of survival and self-discovery sheds light on the often-unseen struggles within religious communities, and will resonate with readers navigating their own paths to healing from hidden abuse.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781454955313
Publisher:	Union Square & Co.
Publication date:	09/24/2024
Pages:	272
Product dimensions:	5.60(w) x 8.40(h) x 1.20(d)

About the Author

Sara Sherbill writes about mental health, domestic violence, and Jewish identity. Her work has appeared in Slate, The Forward, Tablet, and Kveller. She has worked as an independent editor for the past decade after beginning her career at Alfred A. Knopf. She lives in Washington, DC.

Read an Excerpt

EXCERPT
Chapter One: The Sabbath Queen
When I was young, I loved being a rabbi’s daughter. I loved the prayer books’ silken pages, the slightly raised ink of the letters. I loved baking challah with my mother on Friday mornings, leaving enough time for the dough to rise and the bread to bake before sundown. I loved my book of Bible stories with the pictures and the pictures in my head, which were more vivid and majestic than anything in a book could ever be: the Red Sea splitting, Moses descending the mountain with two stone tablets, God in his throne, listening to our prayers.
      I loved the synagogue’s red velvet seats, the men’s cream-colored wool prayer shawls, the cantor’s voice of supplication. I loved my mother’s Shabbat candlesticks with their melted, dried wax stuck in the silver handiwork, the weekly rush and quiet, the dishes and silverware, the guests and the chocolates they brought which we ate after the prayer over the wine, after the prayer over the bread, after the meal, after the singing, after dessert, but before the Grace After Meals.
     I loved the silver goblets filled with wine which everyone must sip from, the apples dipped in honey at the beginning of the new year, the fried potato pancakes during Hanukkah when it was cold outside and night came early, the Passover Seder when I got to stay up until midnight, my eyes closing as I sat on my father’s lap, exhausted from the hour and from the sweet dark wine my father permitted me to drink.
    When I was young, my teacher at Sunday school told us that God is everywhere and I believed that was true, but that was before I discovered that God can disappear, that God can turn His face, go into quiet hiding, and that even though He is everywhere, you may have to work the rest of your life to find a trace.

Editorial Reviews

"Searing new memoir."
—Daily Mail

"A haunting account of family, abuse, faith, and survival."
—Kirkus, STARRED Review

“Sherbill masterfully explores the fragile bonds of family and faith with courage and clarity. . . . She illuminates how darkness can coexist with compassion, how a father’s shadow cannot extinguish a daughter’s light.”
—Alyson Richman, internationally bestselling author of The Thread Collectors (with Shaunna J. Edwards) and The Lost Wife

"Revelatory and luminous . . . a spellbinding saga of domestic violence that shows us, with great precision and deep compassion, the lifelong aftershocks on an entire family. I couldn't put this book down, and now I can't stop thinking about it."
—Stephen Mills, author of Chosen: A Memoir of Stolen Boyhood (2022 Jewish Book Council memoir winner)

“This is an extraordinary piece of work. Powerful, beautiful, original. I am in awe of the command of voice. . . . A triumph.“—Mary Gordon, author of Pearl: A Novel

“Can prayers, if not well-kept, grow holes and spoil? What happens when rituals that keep us safe also betray us? After all our prayers have forgotten us, how can we learn to pray again? Sara Sherbill's There Was Night and There Was Morning is a spellbinding memoir that lays what is holy bare.“—Sabrina Orah Mark, author of Happily

“An unflinching, deeply affecting account of family, faith and abuse. This book brings us close to the devastating ways in which a family can come apart and, at the same time, is a testament to the redemptive power of telling your own story.”—Tova Mirvis, author of The Book of Separation

“Fiercely brave, eloquent, and brilliant in its evocation of a family teetering on the brink of catastrophe shrouded beneath religious devotion and the myth of perfection, There Was Night and There Was Morning is nothing short of a tour de force. Sara Sherbill has expertly crafted a harrowing story of truth and transcendence that will stay with me forever.”—Elissa Altman, author of Motherland

“Searing and vulnerable, this heartbreaking story reads like a pre-war memoir of Jewish life, its seasons and rituals and sensations. But at its center lies a dark and timely undercurrent, which coincides with our post–#MeToo moment. As the history of a father and rabbi’s hidden life of addiction and abuse emerges, Sara’s courage, honesty, and refusal to compromise her integrity as a daughter, mother, and writer, will leave you awestruck.”—Ariel Burger, author of Witness: Lessons from Elie Wiesel’s Classroom

“This book took my breath away. Sara Sherbill’s voice is clear, intimate, and fearless. There Was Night and There Was Morning is a brutal exploration of abuse and its aftermath, but it is also the story of a tremendous and evolving family, gorgeously written. I am so glad I read it and I won’t forget it.”—Hanna Halperin, author of I Could Live Here Forever

"In this mem­oir, Sara Sher­bill brave­ly tells the sto­ries no one else want­ed to tell. They hang in the air like wails of love-tinged grief, and it is up to us read­ers to make sense of them."—Jewish Book Council


 

From the Publisher

★ 2024-06-21
A haunting account of family, abuse, faith, and survival.

In her poignant debut memoir, Sherbill examines her childhood as the daughter of a rabbi who led his congregants with grace but terrorized his family with his temper. “Caught between the desire to live a holy life and the dark impulses that plagued him,” she writes, “my father was a man I both idolized and hated.” Her experiences of domestic abuse colored not only her relationship with family, as seen in the extremely close bond she shares with her younger siblings, but also her connection with faith. Sherbill writes intimately about the Sabbaths she shared with her family throughout her childhood and how Judaism touched every part of her life, especially the way she related to her father. “Sometimes people go looking for God because they have no mother or father,” writes the author. “What about us? We had a mother and a father, but our father had hurt us, and our mother had not protected us. We had a mother and a father, but still we felt like wanderers. That is where God comes in.” While the topics Sherbill discusses, including abuse and religion, may be difficult for some readers to approach, her narrative voice and honest characterization of herself and her family lend depth to the text. In describing her father, she writes, “He talks aboutahava andyirah, love and fear. ‘The two are linked together,’ he tells me, as though I don’t know.” Sherbill’s lyrical style gives just enough detail to keep readers grounded without overwhelming the narrative’s broad scope. The book may be a tough read for those who have lived through similar circumstances, but her reflective and redemptive voice will leave readers with hope.

A poetic story about one woman’s search for redemption of faith and family after abuse.

Kirkus Reviews