Have You Ever Really Wanted to Say, "I told you so?"
WARNING: THIS POST MAY BE INTERESTING TO YOU. IT MAY JUST BE A THERAPEUTIC THING OF ME TRYING TO RECONCILE MY YEARS OF PHILOSOPHICAL DISSONANCE WITH MY CLASSMATES IN HIGH SCHOOL. TAKE IT FOR WHAT IT IS
We are all aware that I do like to read. One of my favorite books is The Chosen, by Chaim Potok. Today, I tell you something about my love for this book. My disclaimer is this: If you have never read this book, and would like to read this book, I might spoil parts. I promise nothing.
So, in high school, I was once reading it for the third-or-so time during lunch. Some of my friends came up to me, saw what I was reading and said, "That's a great book!" I told them that I agreed and that it was one of my favorites. They then said, "Really? I don't know how someone as religious as you could love a book about someone realizing the falseness of religiosity!" This began a very intense debate between us, as I don't think that is a theme of the book. As in, not at all. In fact, I do not feel the book reject religiosity at all.
For those who haven't read the book, and don't care if I spoil it, the story revolves around two Orthodox Jewish boys in WWII New York. One of them, Reuven, is a plain Orthodox Jew. A very Orthodox one, but still a regular one. The other, Danny, is a Hasidic Jew. And he's not just a Hasidic Jew. His father is a tzaddik--basically Rabbi 2.0. His father is his community's absolute leader. Religious, political, everything. He is also expected to take on the pains of his community and "listen to the world cry." This is an inherited role, that Danny does not want. Eventually, Danny tells his father that he does not want to be a tzaddik and goes to college to become a clinical psychologist. At the end of the book, Danny does this, cutting off his Hasidic earlocks, shaving his beard, wearing normal clothes and tucking in his fringes.
My friends said that he was abandoning his faith. I argued (with textual support from the novel, I may add) that Danny was not abandoning his faith, had not rejected his faith and had not lost his faith. He still believed in Judaism, and really even Hasidic Judaism. He was just sending his tzaddikate to his younger brother and abandoning outward expressions of Hasidic Judaism. It's not the same thing. They told me that I didn't know what I was talking about. They were insistent that he was escaping repression and all this stuff. I held that it was a lot more complicated than that.
So, last week before Molecular Biology, I was again, re-reading The Chosen. It's something I do with books I love from time to time. A person sat down in the seat next to me and saw what I was reading. "Oh, I love that book!" they said. I agreed that it was a wonderful book. "Have you read the sequel?" they asked. I responded that I didn't know there was one. "Yeah, it's called The Promise. It's really good."
Part of me was excited. There was a sequel? On the other hand, I've always been a little bit skeptical of sequels. Too often, I read it and then like to pretend the sequel was never written because I liked the way it was before, or I liked the after-story I concocted for myself better. But, I decided to read it anyways.
I didn't like it as much as The Chosen. I will just say that. But, I like The Chosen even more after having read The Promise. Very odd, I know.
Anyways, here's the kicker. Atheistic friends of high school in Seattle that glob onto anything you can construe as being critical of religion: Maybe you saw Danny as abandoning Judaism. Apparently, Chaim Potok doesn't. Because, Danny is every bit as Jewish in the next book. Evidence:
1) "He's still very much a Hasid, isn't he? Except for the beard and the clothes."
2) "Does Mr. Saunders always wear a skull-cap?" "He does," I told Michael.
3) "How did you do it? How did you get him to go on a date with you? Hasidim consider dating an absolutely dangerous and lustful activity... I see, the wily female in pursuit. You tricked him, didn't you?"
4) "Twentieth-century sophisticate. Daughter of college professors. And I am in love Danny Saunders. Isn't that crazy? I love him. He's so gentle and kind and so deeply and honestly religious...and so stubborn about some things. He won't touch me. He won't hold my hand. The second time we dated he asked me outright--but in a somehow beautifully gentle way--if I was a virgin."
5) (To Reuven in regards to Danny) "I think he might even be more religious than you are."
5) "'You are having a Hasidic wedding?' I said in a tone of mock despair. 'I will have to dust off my caftan and fur-trimmed cap.' ...'Yes,' Danny said, suddenly serious. ' But it's my world, best friend. And I haven't seen anything outside that is better.' 'Nothing?' I said. 'Nothing I can't use and still stay inside.'"
6) "I...felt suddenly drained and hollow with the realization that the months of seesawing between the two worlds had finally ended for me this night with nothing but an awareness of how deep the separating chasm really was and how impossible it seemed to bridge it--unless you were Danny Saunders and were rooted deeply enough in one world to enable you to be concerned only about the people of the other and not about their ideas."
7) "He was doing very well in his studies, and his phenomenal memory was the subject of much conversation in the psychology department at Columbia. He was finding it somewhat difficult to make friends. The nonobservant Jewish students in the department were embarrassed by his skull-capped presence; the two other Orthodox Jewish students in the department were easier for him to talk to but not interesting enough for him to want their friendship; and the non-Jewish students treated him as some kind of holy man, an Alyosha Karamazov thrown suddenly into their midst, a Jew with the mind of an Einstein and the soul of a Schweitzer, someone to talk to perhaps about a sticky experiment, someone to use as a resource person when they needed a reference ... But Danny did not really care about his nonexistent social life. As a matter of fact, he would not have gone anywhere to eat even if he had been asked, for he was holding rigidly to the laws of kashruth and he ate only those foods he prepared by himself in his apartment or at his father's home."
8) Danny uses Hasidic philosophy in his psychotherapy techniques. Consistently throughout the book. Reuven even notices it. Including the "raising in silence theories" that Danny did not understand and disliked so much.
9) When Reuven is angry with Danny, he will sarcastically say things such as, "That's what I love about you Hasids." or things like that.
10) On the weekends, Danny returns to his father's house and even speaks in his father's synagogue. And he is technically still a rabbi and at one point is called "Rav Saunders" and he does not object.
11) Danny eventually gets one of Reuven's teachers to stop harassing him about something (which needn't be spoiled because some may wish to read it) through vicious use of Talmudic rhetoric. He knows what he's doing.
So, I kind of want to say, "I told you so!" I was right. He wasn't abandoning Judaism. He sounds pretty Jewish to me.
I guess this post was really just for me, because I was having a triumphant moment.
We are all aware that I do like to read. One of my favorite books is The Chosen, by Chaim Potok. Today, I tell you something about my love for this book. My disclaimer is this: If you have never read this book, and would like to read this book, I might spoil parts. I promise nothing.
So, in high school, I was once reading it for the third-or-so time during lunch. Some of my friends came up to me, saw what I was reading and said, "That's a great book!" I told them that I agreed and that it was one of my favorites. They then said, "Really? I don't know how someone as religious as you could love a book about someone realizing the falseness of religiosity!" This began a very intense debate between us, as I don't think that is a theme of the book. As in, not at all. In fact, I do not feel the book reject religiosity at all.
For those who haven't read the book, and don't care if I spoil it, the story revolves around two Orthodox Jewish boys in WWII New York. One of them, Reuven, is a plain Orthodox Jew. A very Orthodox one, but still a regular one. The other, Danny, is a Hasidic Jew. And he's not just a Hasidic Jew. His father is a tzaddik--basically Rabbi 2.0. His father is his community's absolute leader. Religious, political, everything. He is also expected to take on the pains of his community and "listen to the world cry." This is an inherited role, that Danny does not want. Eventually, Danny tells his father that he does not want to be a tzaddik and goes to college to become a clinical psychologist. At the end of the book, Danny does this, cutting off his Hasidic earlocks, shaving his beard, wearing normal clothes and tucking in his fringes.
My friends said that he was abandoning his faith. I argued (with textual support from the novel, I may add) that Danny was not abandoning his faith, had not rejected his faith and had not lost his faith. He still believed in Judaism, and really even Hasidic Judaism. He was just sending his tzaddikate to his younger brother and abandoning outward expressions of Hasidic Judaism. It's not the same thing. They told me that I didn't know what I was talking about. They were insistent that he was escaping repression and all this stuff. I held that it was a lot more complicated than that.
So, last week before Molecular Biology, I was again, re-reading The Chosen. It's something I do with books I love from time to time. A person sat down in the seat next to me and saw what I was reading. "Oh, I love that book!" they said. I agreed that it was a wonderful book. "Have you read the sequel?" they asked. I responded that I didn't know there was one. "Yeah, it's called The Promise. It's really good."
Part of me was excited. There was a sequel? On the other hand, I've always been a little bit skeptical of sequels. Too often, I read it and then like to pretend the sequel was never written because I liked the way it was before, or I liked the after-story I concocted for myself better. But, I decided to read it anyways.
I didn't like it as much as The Chosen. I will just say that. But, I like The Chosen even more after having read The Promise. Very odd, I know.
Anyways, here's the kicker. Atheistic friends of high school in Seattle that glob onto anything you can construe as being critical of religion: Maybe you saw Danny as abandoning Judaism. Apparently, Chaim Potok doesn't. Because, Danny is every bit as Jewish in the next book. Evidence:
1) "He's still very much a Hasid, isn't he? Except for the beard and the clothes."
2) "Does Mr. Saunders always wear a skull-cap?" "He does," I told Michael.
3) "How did you do it? How did you get him to go on a date with you? Hasidim consider dating an absolutely dangerous and lustful activity... I see, the wily female in pursuit. You tricked him, didn't you?"
4) "Twentieth-century sophisticate. Daughter of college professors. And I am in love Danny Saunders. Isn't that crazy? I love him. He's so gentle and kind and so deeply and honestly religious...and so stubborn about some things. He won't touch me. He won't hold my hand. The second time we dated he asked me outright--but in a somehow beautifully gentle way--if I was a virgin."
5) (To Reuven in regards to Danny) "I think he might even be more religious than you are."
5) "'You are having a Hasidic wedding?' I said in a tone of mock despair. 'I will have to dust off my caftan and fur-trimmed cap.' ...'Yes,' Danny said, suddenly serious. ' But it's my world, best friend. And I haven't seen anything outside that is better.' 'Nothing?' I said. 'Nothing I can't use and still stay inside.'"
6) "I...felt suddenly drained and hollow with the realization that the months of seesawing between the two worlds had finally ended for me this night with nothing but an awareness of how deep the separating chasm really was and how impossible it seemed to bridge it--unless you were Danny Saunders and were rooted deeply enough in one world to enable you to be concerned only about the people of the other and not about their ideas."
7) "He was doing very well in his studies, and his phenomenal memory was the subject of much conversation in the psychology department at Columbia. He was finding it somewhat difficult to make friends. The nonobservant Jewish students in the department were embarrassed by his skull-capped presence; the two other Orthodox Jewish students in the department were easier for him to talk to but not interesting enough for him to want their friendship; and the non-Jewish students treated him as some kind of holy man, an Alyosha Karamazov thrown suddenly into their midst, a Jew with the mind of an Einstein and the soul of a Schweitzer, someone to talk to perhaps about a sticky experiment, someone to use as a resource person when they needed a reference ... But Danny did not really care about his nonexistent social life. As a matter of fact, he would not have gone anywhere to eat even if he had been asked, for he was holding rigidly to the laws of kashruth and he ate only those foods he prepared by himself in his apartment or at his father's home."
8) Danny uses Hasidic philosophy in his psychotherapy techniques. Consistently throughout the book. Reuven even notices it. Including the "raising in silence theories" that Danny did not understand and disliked so much.
9) When Reuven is angry with Danny, he will sarcastically say things such as, "That's what I love about you Hasids." or things like that.
10) On the weekends, Danny returns to his father's house and even speaks in his father's synagogue. And he is technically still a rabbi and at one point is called "Rav Saunders" and he does not object.
11) Danny eventually gets one of Reuven's teachers to stop harassing him about something (which needn't be spoiled because some may wish to read it) through vicious use of Talmudic rhetoric. He knows what he's doing.
So, I kind of want to say, "I told you so!" I was right. He wasn't abandoning Judaism. He sounds pretty Jewish to me.
I guess this post was really just for me, because I was having a triumphant moment.
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