A sweeping yet nuanced intellectual history of the rise of millennialism in Protestant Christianity. Popkin (Philosophy and Religion/Univ. of Calif., Los Angeles) and Katz (History/Tel Aviv Univ.) begin their story in an unusual place. Rather than tracing millennialism from its most popular 19th-century manifestations (William Miller’s followers tarrying for the return of Christ, for example), Katz and Popkin begin with the European Renaissance, finding apocalyptic themes in 15th-century hermeticism and alchemy. They carefully wend their tale through the Reformation, discussing how millennialist fervor spawned the English Civil War and the creation of the Fifth Monarchy, which they call “the first organized millenarian political movement.” The Enlightenment period favored empirical truth and scientific rationalism, but as the authors show, millennialism did not fall by the wayside; championed by esteemed philosophers such as Isaac Newton, it only grew more vigorous. The Enlightenment did shift millennialism’s focus away from personal piety, toward a quest for verifiable knowledge about precisely when Christ might arrive and what an apocalypse would entail. This obsession with dates and other specifics carried over into the 19th and 20th centuries, most obviously in the Millerite movement, but also among its descendants (Jehovah’s Witnesses and Seventh-day Adventists, as well as the descendants of the latter, the Branch Davidians). The authors weave their way expertly through intricate terminology, such as “Darbyite dispensational premillennialism,” defining terms by example. One surprising thread among these millenarian groups, stretching across seven centuries, is their fascination with the Jews’ role in bringing about the apocalypse (though, as the authors show, philo-Semitism can easily morph into its ugly opposite, as it has in the Christian Identity movement). The book is well written and, for an intellectual history, fairly straightforward, but the historical connections are sometimes tentatively drawn (e.g., “possibly Columbus knew something” of the views of one apocalyptic contemporary). In all, a superior attempt at a broader view of millennialism, uncovering some intriguing recurrent motifs.
Pub Date: April 1, 1999
ISBN: 0-8090-6885-0
Page Count: 287
Publisher: Hill and Wang/Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 15, 1999
A very welcome instance of philosophy that can help readers live a good life.
A teacher and scholar of Buddhism offers a formally varied account of the available rewards of solitude.
“As Mother Ayahuasca takes me in her arms, I realize that last night I vomited up my attachment to Buddhism. In passing out, I died. In coming to, I was, so to speak, reborn. I no longer have to fight these battles, I repeat to myself. I am no longer a combatant in the dharma wars. It feels as if the course of my life has shifted onto another vector, like a train shunted off its familiar track onto a new trajectory.” Readers of Batchelor’s previous books (Secular Buddhism: Imagining the Dharma in an Uncertain World, 2017, etc.) will recognize in this passage the culmination of his decadeslong shift away from the religious commitments of Buddhism toward an ecumenical and homegrown philosophy of life. Writing in a variety of modes—memoir, history, collage, essay, biography, and meditation instruction—the author doesn’t argue for his approach to solitude as much as offer it for contemplation. Essentially, Batchelor implies that if you read what Buddha said here and what Montaigne said there, and if you consider something the author has noticed, and if you reflect on your own experience, you have the possibility to improve the quality of your life. For introspective readers, it’s easy to hear in this approach a direct response to Pascal’s claim that “all of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” Batchelor wants to relieve us of this inability by offering his example of how to do just that. “Solitude is an art. Mental training is needed to refine and stabilize it,” he writes. “When you practice solitude, you dedicate yourself to the care of the soul.” Whatever a soul is, the author goes a long way toward soothing it.
A very welcome instance of philosophy that can help readers live a good life.Pub Date: Feb. 18, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-300-25093-0
Page Count: 200
Publisher: Yale Univ.
Review Posted Online: Nov. 24, 2019
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Dec. 15, 2019
BOOK REVIEW
An erudite and artful, though frustratingly restrained, look at Old Testament stories.
The Book of Genesis as imagined by a veteran voice of underground comics.
R. Crumb’s pass at the opening chapters of the Bible isn’t nearly the act of heresy the comic artist’s reputation might suggest. In fact, the creator of Fritz the Cat and Mr. Natural is fastidiously respectful. Crumb took pains to preserve every word of Genesis—drawing from numerous source texts, but mainly Robert Alter’s translation, The Five Books of Moses (2004)—and he clearly did his homework on the clothing, shelter and landscapes that surrounded Noah, Abraham and Isaac. This dedication to faithful representation makes the book, as Crumb writes in his introduction, a “straight illustration job, with no intention to ridicule or make visual jokes.” But his efforts are in their own way irreverent, and Crumb feels no particular need to deify even the most divine characters. God Himself is not much taller than Adam and Eve, and instead of omnisciently imparting orders and judgment He stands beside them in Eden, speaking to them directly. Jacob wrestles not with an angel, as is so often depicted in paintings, but with a man who looks not much different from himself. The women are uniformly Crumbian, voluptuous Earth goddesses who are both sexualized and strong-willed. (The endnotes offer a close study of the kinds of power women wielded in Genesis.) The downside of fitting all the text in is that many pages are packed tight with small panels, and too rarely—as with the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah—does Crumb expand his lens and treat signature events dramatically. Even the Flood is fairly restrained, though the exodus of the animals from the Ark is beautifully detailed. The author’s respect for Genesis is admirable, but it may leave readers wishing he had taken a few more chances with his interpretation, as when he draws the serpent in the Garden of Eden as a provocative half-man/half-lizard. On the whole, though, the book is largely a tribute to Crumb’s immense talents as a draftsman and stubborn adherence to the script.
An erudite and artful, though frustratingly restrained, look at Old Testament stories.Pub Date: Oct. 19, 2009
ISBN: 978-0-393-06102-4
Page Count: 224
Publisher: Norton
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2009
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
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