by Lance Moore ‧ RELEASE DATE: Dec. 14, 2019
A lucid if ultimately limited account of a historically vexing problem.
A pastor attempts to broker a détente between religion and science by urging believers to embrace the paradoxes of Christian theology.
According to Moore (End of the World Propheteers, 2015, etc.), we live in a “jaded era,” or “a period of disillusionment.” While the extraordinary progress of science has given humanity unprecedented knowledge and power, it has also ushered in debilitating skepticism and a cynicism regarding religious truth. Surprisingly—for an ordained Methodist minister who believes the Bible was divinely inspired—the author largely places the blame for this diminishment of faith on the staid inelasticity of a biblical orthodoxy that stubbornly resists adapting to our ever evolving times. In place of that orthodoxy, Moore recommends that we “Embrace Paradox,” or the ways in which a rigorous reflection on an apparent contradiction can yield a deeper appreciation of the truth and lead to a more complex understanding of it. In fact, religion should emulate quantum physics, which has demonstrated that “paradox is woven into the very fabric of the universe.” That practice could bring about a more profound understanding of “the mysteries of a quantum-acting, infinite, complex God.” Moore considers a number of paradoxes in Christian theology: for example, that Scripture is “authoritative” but also “imperfect”—given that different versions of the Bible can suggest different meanings—to show that Jesus used paradox to convey the wisdom in recognizing the irreducible mystery of human life. Moore makes a philosophically accessible case for a more rationally nimble understanding of religion, though he presents his argument as specific to Christianity. He largely rejects the historical tension between hyperbolic expressions of science and religion—he sees only “occasional conflicts” rather than a war. However, his account of that tension, in comparison to the rich tradition of literature available, is less than philosophically searching. And while he concedes his study isn’t really about quantum physics, he refers to it as frequently as he does ambiguously. The author shows a commendable intellectual ambition and recognition that religious faith and science needn’t be adversaries, but many others have developed a similar idea and have done more with it.
A lucid if ultimately limited account of a historically vexing problem.Pub Date: Dec. 14, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-78904-254-2
Page Count: 208
Publisher: Circle Books, UK
Review Posted Online: Jan. 30, 2020
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
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by Stephen Batchelor ‧ RELEASE DATE: Feb. 18, 2020
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
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BOOK REVIEW
by R. Crumb ; illustrated by R. Crumb ‧ RELEASE DATE: Oct. 19, 2009
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
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