3 Book Reviews

 

From Eden to Exodus: A Journey into Hebrew Words in Bereshit and Shemot (Kodesh Press, 2024), by Mitchell First

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

Mitchell First, a New York City injury attorney with a strong background in Jewish scholarship, began his career as an author by focusing on Jewish History. However, his more recent books reflect his growing interest in Hebrew etymology. From Eden to Exodus is his sixth book, and it continues his exploration of the Hebrew language through a unique lens.

This book offers two or three essays on each Torah portion in the books of Genesis and Exodus, each essay standing alone and focused on a particular Hebrew term in the relevant portion. Mr. First examines the semantic range of each word, exploring cognates and related terms to attempt to uncover the original meanings and source languages of these key words. He deftly uses traditional rabbinic sources, including the Midrash, Talmud, and Targumim, along with medieval commentators and exegetes, to ground his insights in established scholarship.

Notably, Mr. First also brings modern scholarship into the discussion, referencing invaluable resources like the Brown-Driver-Briggs (BDB) dictionary, Menachem Zvi Kaddari’s Dictionary of Biblical Hebrew, and Mossad HaRav Kook’s Da’at Mikra series (which blends traditional and academic approaches). Like anybody serious about Hebrew etymology, Mr. First also draws on Rabbi Ernest Klein’s etymological dictionary of Hebrew, reflecting his appreciation for a wide range of perspectives on language. Special mention goes to the author affinity for Solomon Mandelkern’s Biblical concordance, a key tool for his in-depth linguistic investigations.

One of the most engaging aspects of First’s writing is his willingness to share his opinions on different interpretations, openly stating which explanations resonate with him and which he finds less compelling. His conversational tone and sense of humor make this a surprisingly light read for a subject as profound as Hebrew etymology. As a regular reader of Mr. First’s weekly articles in The Jewish Link (many of which are republished in this volume), this reviewer is already familiar with his characteristic style that balances depth with accessibility. This book is a valuable addition for anyone interested in exploring the nuanced meanings of Hebrew words in the Torah, as well as for students of Jewish history and language.

Order as Meaning: Chronology, Sequence, and Juxtaposition in the Bible (De Gruyter, 2024), by Isaac Gottlieb

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

In this book, Dr. Isaac Gottlieb (professor emeritus at the Zalman Shamir Department of Bible in Bar Ilan University) delves into the importance of order, sequence, and placement in the structure of the Bible. His analysis recognizes such ordering on multiple levels—from the broad juxtaposition of entire books (macro-level) to the positioning of individual verses (micro-level). In doing so, the author examines how the arrangement of many specific passages and ideas, which may reveal layers of meaning and intention beyond the surface narrative.

One chapter addresses the perspectives of the Talmudic sages and Midrashic literature, exploring how the rabbis of antiquity justified seemingly unrelated or abrupt juxtapositions within the biblical text. In this context, Gottlieb underscores the Midrashic tendency to add extra scenes or details as interpretive tools, aiming to bridge textual gaps and clarify relationships between adjacent, but otherwise seemingly disconnected, events.

The book then shifts to the medieval commentators, dedicating individual chapters to Rashi, Ibn Ezra, and Nachmanides. Gottlieb discusses each commentator's approach to sequence and order, revealing unique perspectives on whether and how to consider chronological or thematic unity in biblical interpretation. Ibn Ezra’s stance, for instance, is particularly nuanced: while he holds that individual commands may maintain thematic independence, he also posits that they should ultimately align with an overarching unity of the relevant pericope. Notably, Ibn Ezra’s views are often shaped by his polemics against Karaite exegetes, who favored a more literal interpretation and strict adherence to chronological sequence as part and parcel of their rejection of Rabbinic Judaism. Gottlieb includes an appendix by Daniel Frank, which delves deeper into Karaite approaches to narrative sequence.

A chapter dedicated to modern scholarship discusses the methodologies of Shadal (Samuel David Luzzatto) and Umberto Cassuto, both of whom brought new, systematic approaches to the topic. That chapter also explores the approaches taken by various contemporary Bible scholars like Alexander Rofé, Robert Alter, and Yair Zakovitch. Gottlieb explores the tension between modern and classical interpretations of sequence, especially as they pertain to the question of whether the Torah should be read as a chronological document or if certain passages are arranged non-sequentially for thematic or pedagogical reasons.

The issue of ein mukdam u’muchar ba’torah (“there is no ‘before’ and ‘after’ in the Torah”) is examined in depth, with Gottlieb analyzing the conditions under which different commentators may accept this principle. A recurring question Gottlieb addresses is the exact definition of what constitutes pshat (“plain meaning”) and in what ways Midrashim can be compatible with a literal or literary interpretation. He explores differences in approach between Rashi and his grandson Rashbam, particularly on whether contextual and literal readings should take precedence over homiletic/exegetical interpretations.

Overall, Order as Meaning is a rigorous, thoughtful work that engages deeply with foundational questions in biblical interpretation. At times, the book carries a somewhat stilted “translated” feel, a reminder that it was originally written in Hebrew, which occasionally interrupts the flow of its otherwise thorough analysis. Nonetheless, Gottlieb’s systematic and serious analysis makes it a valuable resource for readers interested in the complexities of biblical sequence and structure, as well as the interpretive philosophies that have influenced Jewish exegesis through the ages.

The Haftarah and its Parsha (Jonah Press, 2022), by Richard W. Golden

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

Richard W. Golden's book The Haftarah and Its Parsha (Jonah Press, 2022) is a thoughtful and inspiring work that delves into the unique relationship between each weekly Torah portion and its corresponding Haftarah read from the Prophets (Neviim). After retiring from a nearly thirty-year career with the New York State Attorney General's Office, Golden dedicated himself to Torah study and his photography hobby. This book is a testament to that commitment, featuring some of his own photographic works at the start of each of the Five Books of Moses, which adds a personal and artistic touch.

Golden begins with a clear, informative introduction to the concept of Haftarah, explaining when and where it was instituted, as well as surveying the various reasons given for its enactment as a standard part of the weekly Jewish liturgical practice. This section provides helpful historical context for understanding the Haftarah’s significance.

The book is organized as a series of essays, each dedicated to a weekly Torah portion. Golden examines how each Torah reading connects to its Haftarah portion, skillfully weaving together insights drawn exclusively from classical Jewish sources like the Babylonian Talmud, Rashi, Radak, Ralbag, and Malbim. His style is simple and accessible, yet it brings out profound lessons through the juxtaposition of the Torah and Haftarah, revealing how these passages together communicate meaningful and often timeless ideas.

In every chapter, Golden’s ability to draw out inspiring messages from these pairings reflects a “simplistic elegance,” as he distills complex ideas into easily understood takeaways. This quality makes The Haftarah and Its Parsha both intellectually and spiritually enriching, and allows it to appeal to readers across a spectrum of backgrounds — from beginners to those well-versed in Jewish texts. Overall, Golden’s short work (clocking in at a mere 209 pages) offers a refreshing look at the weekly Haftarah, making it more accessible and meaningful for those who seek to connect the messages of the Prophets with the weekly Torah portion.

Divine Doppelgängers: YHWH’s Ancient Look-Alikes

Divine Doppelgängers: YHWH’s Ancient Look-Alikes, edited by Collin Cornell (Eisenbrauns, 2020)

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

As Bible scholars, archeologists, and historians learn more about the Ancient Near East, they increasingly paint a picture wherein various ancient nations understood their own deity/deities as uniquely powerful and potent in similar ways that the Bible describes God. The book under review deals with the theological consequences of this view of history, questioning if and how the Bible’s God differed from all the other gods of the Ancient Near East. It also addresses what the possible theological consequences of these scholarly findings might be for the contemporary religious community. It is an edited volume with contributions from thirteen different scholars, each of whom touches on these questions from a slightly different angle.

THE PROBLEM OF LOOKALIKES

To better state the problem, the Bible presents God as different in kind from all the other so-called “gods” of the ancient world. Yet, many of the same descriptions used in the Bible in reference to God — including claims of His uniqueness — have parallels in other texts from the Ancient Near East in describing those other gods. For example, just as the Bible depicts God as aiding the Israelites in conquering the Holy Land, so does the Mesha Stele similarly depict Chemosh as aiding the Moabites in freeing Moabite lands from the Israelites. The attentive reader may even catch whiffs of these parallels in passages like Jephthah’s assertion that Chemosh gave the Ammonites/Moabites their land in the same way that God gave the Israelites their land (Jud. 11:24). Additionally, scholars have pointed to the struggles between Marduk and Tiamat in Babylonian mythology as reminiscent of the battle between God and the Leviathan in the Bible (Isa. 27:1, Ps. 74:14). In fact, there is even some evidence that the God of the Bible was recognized in ancient non-Biblical sources as a legitimate entity — just not as the One God, rather as one of a multitude of deities. So what makes Him different?

For secular non-believers who do not view the Bible as theologically binding, these parallels and lookalikes pose no problems, as it is simply a historical oddity that the writers of the Bible claimed the same things about their God that the writers of other ancient literatures claimed about their god(s). In fact, to such people these parallels merely reinforce their unfavorable conceptions of religion and the Bible. But religious Jews and Christians believe in the revelatory message presented by the Bible of a Single God who created the world, guides history, and gives laws (to name but a few of His roles). For us, these parallels in extra-Biblical texts are not a mere oddity, but may pose a theological problem. How can God be described as unique and unlike all other gods, if in fact the Bible’s descriptions of Him are not all that different from the ways ancient pagans described their respective gods? All of the essays in this book try to address this question in one form or another.

THE COMPARATIVE APPROACH

The first essay featured in this book is written by Patrick D. Miller Jr., who approaches the issue at hand from the point of view of comparative religion. He, like many of the other contributors to this volume, focuses on how God as depicted in the Bible is both similar to and different from the gods of the neighboring peoples (“convergence and differentiation”). In that paradigm, Miller follows Frank Moore Cross’ understanding that the Bible’s conception of the One God stems from the Israelite’s Canaanite milieu, seeing that One God as the merging of the ancestral God (often referred to with El epithets) and YHWH. These similarities to Canaanite divinities are tempered by the ways in which God in the Bible differs from other gods in the neighborhood (for example, in His lack of female consort, His aniconic worship, and the meaning of His name as a conjugation of the verb “to be”), which mark the Bible’s God as different from the rest.

Brent A. Strawn similarly finds it too simplistic to argue that the One God of the Bible is simply just another one of “the gang.” Yet, he also finds it unsophisticatedly-apologetic to argue that parallels between the Bible’s God and other ancient deities are actually the results of a Biblical polemic that sought to clarify that whatever epithets or events idolaters attributed to other gods should actually be attributed to God. That happens to be the approach championed by Shadal, and is described by M. E. Indik as the prophets of the Bible “trolling” idolaters. But in rejecting this approach, Strawn (like Miller) chooses to affirm that there are similarities and dissimilarities between God and the other ancient gods, which he justifies by way of various arguments from Christian theology. I freely admit that I did not quite follow the fine points of his arguments.

Another contributor, J. Andrew Dearman, offers a similar discussion that centers on the nomenclatures (i.e., names/epithets) used by the Bible to describe God, and how they compare and contrast with those applied to other deities.

The problem with this line of discourse is that talking about influence and/or differentiation implies a conception of the Divine that is wholly manmade. In other words, if Israelites’ conception of God was formed as a result of their interactions with other peoples like the Canaanites — whether to imitate them or obviate them — as opposed to pure direct Divine revelation, then those theological conceptions were created by people and do not necessarily reflect any actual ontological/metaphysical reality. While this approach might satisfy students interested in the “history of religion,” an approach that focuses too heavily on the comparative aspect cannot solve any theological problems for an orthodoxically religious person. Some of the contributions to this book raise this issue, but do not offer a compelling answer to the quandary.

NEW THEOLOGIES

Robert Goldenberg — one of only two Jewish contributors to this edited volume — follows a self-styled “Midrashic” approach that argues that Biblical statements about God’s uniqueness reflect rhetorical exaggeration aimed at swaying Israelites away from worshipping other gods and remaining within the covenantal fold of worshipping only the God of Israel. While Goldenberg devotes much space to showing how the rabbis in the Midrash would sometimes interpret individual passages in the Bible against their prima facia reading, he fails to realize that his reading totally upends the Bible’s overall monotheistic message; he is not simply downplaying the impact of select passages.

Goldenberg also neglects to flesh out what sort of theological viewpoint he is ultimately advocating. Does Goldenberg mean that the Bible maintains that other deities besides for the One God exist and are potent, but that Israelites should simply not worship them due to their covenant with the One God? Are non-Israelites then free to worship whomever and however they want? What does this mean for the possibility of a universalist message in the Bible?

In some ways, Goldenberg’s essay is similar to the point made by Jon D. Levenson — the other Jewish contributor to this volume. Levenson argues that the Bible purposely reduced its presentation of idolatry to a ridiculous sort of fetish with no coherent theology in order to preclude its possibility as a viable alternative to the worship of God. He implies that the prophets of the Bible would really admit that alternate, equally-potent gods exist, but that they downplayed that reality as a way of rejecting Canaanite paganism out of a sort of racist anti-Canaanite ideology. The bulk of his essay draws parallels between the Israelite rejection of Canaanite paganism and the Christian rejection of Judaism.

Othmar Keel’s essay is explicitly built on Levenson’s perspective. It deals with the issue of the aforementioned parallels by emphasizing how Judaism and Christianity could learn from the pagan mindsets with which they broke by renewing the pagan celebration of nature and eroticism that has been downplayed by Judeo-Christian thought. This particular essay does not actually answer the problem of lookalikes, but rather seeks to partially reconcile Biblical religion with paganism. Essentially, it turns the question on its head and instead of problematizing the similarities between ancient deities and the God of the Bible, he seeks to use those similarities as a springboard for reintroducing some of the previously-rejected pagan ideals into organized religion. This reviewer is left unsatisfied with Keel’s approach because instead of offering a descriptive resolution to the established, normative theologies, the essayist simply proposes a radically-new theology that may or may not be compatible with the old.

Bob Becking reacts to the issue that this book raises by noting that there are three theological models broadly found in the Bible: “intolerant monotheism,” which views the worship or acknowledgement of other gods as abominable; “conditional acceptance,” which acknowledges the existence of other deities, but calls for exclusive worship of God (often called monolatry); and “lending deities,” which is a pluralistic perspective whereby one’s theological affiliations can be more fluid and one can be loyal to multiple gods at the same time.

The implication of Becking’s presentation is that the problem at the heart of this book is only significant if one follows the first approach, but if one followed the latter two approaches, parallels between God and other ancient deities pose no theological issues. However, this resolution too is insufficient because the Bible overwhelming favors the first approach and that has become the normative theology. In fact, the “conditional acceptance approach” is only mentioned in the Bible when being rejected, and the syncretic “lending deities” approach is only really seen in post-Biblical sources (like the Elephantine Papyri, to which Becking refers). So like Keel, Becking is essentially evading the issue by calling for the acceptance of an alternate theology.

CONTINUITY AND SURVIVAL

In his contribution to this volume, M. Patrick Graham offers a learned compare/contrast essay between God and the Moabite god Chemosh using Moral Foundations Theory as a framework. Ultimately, he deals with the question of Divine lookalikes by noting that only God continues to survive and be the center of worship for a living community, while other ancient deities — no matter how similar to God they might have been in ancient times (like Chemosh) — are outdated and barely remembered nowadays. This approach very much resonates with me, as the related phenomenon of Jewish continuity and survival has maintained a prominent place in Jewish Thought (or apologetics, if you prefer).

MANMADE REVELATION

The book’s editor Collin Cornell penned an essay that outlines and rejects two approaches, before proposing a third view. Firstly, he cites the idea that the deities of old appear to resemble God due to demonic trickery meant to entice man towards the sin of idolatry. He rejects this idea on the grounds that it remains unsupported within the text of the Bible itself. Secondly, he cites and dismisses the idea that God and (all or some of) the pagan deities of the ancient world reflect “rays of truth” and could all be subsumed within a greater Deity above them all. This idea is rejected because it essentially admits that He is but one of many similar gods who are all part of a greater truth, which runs counter to the Bible’s claims of God’s incomparability. As I will explain below, I believe that we can tweak Cornell’s second approach to come up with a perspective that jibes with traditional sensibilities.

The third approach — which Cornell seems to adopt — argues something along the lines that all gods described by ancient texts including the Bible are simply made up by people (which is why they resemble each other in so many ways), but by dint of His own Divine decision, the One Real God chose to reveal himself precisely as depicted in the Bible.

The problem with this idea is that it aligns too closely with the secular or atheist perspective that God and religion are merely man-made phenomena. Moreover, overly stressing the notion that God uses human-created conceptions and languages to reveal Himself could lead to a problematic relativism. In other words, if any human conception or language could be seen as a revelation of God, then it becomes difficult to discern which religious texts or beliefs genuinely reflect Divine Truth and which do not, leading to a potentially circular and unreliable understanding of theology.

Perhaps some of this criticism of Cornell’s approach may be alleviated by appealing to the idea often taught by R. Dr. Dovid Gottlieb (in his updated version of the Kuzari Principle) that no other God besides the One depicted in the Bible has ever been claimed to have revealed Himself in a mass revelation to people who survived. This might be the “smoking gun” that makes Him different from all the other gods,  but does not resolve the problems with Cornell’s proposal.

A TRADITIONAL APPROACH

As an Orthodox Jew, I asses the problem that this book attempts to address and the various approaches taken therein from a traditionalist perspective. Instead of looking for a new theology that obviates the problem, I would instead seek out a resolution that respects the accepted contours of Jewish theology, but still answers as much as possible. Some might consider this apologetics.

My favored approach draws on Jewish traditions about an Urmonotheismus that existed before the advent of idolatry. In the time of Adam, it was abundantly clear to mankind that there is only One God, and that He alone is all-mighty and worthy of man’s worship. However, subsequent to Adam’s death — in the lifetime of his grandson Enosh — the worship of multiple deities was introduced (for various theological, political, sociological, and/or psychological reasons). Essentially, these early pagans balkanized the powers and purviews of the One God into independent deities, each of whom was limited to a specific role. Some of those gods were said to rule/represent elements of nature (like war, fertility, weather, wisdom, or death), while other gods were said to function as guardians of specific nations, cities, or geographic regions.

Despite the spread of polytheism and paganism, there always remained a few stalwart monotheists who recognized the uniqueness of the One God. We are familiar with such characters in the Bible as Noah, Melchizedek, and Abraham who preserved that early tradition and became the earliest heroes of Judaism which continues in that vein. Perhaps the most famous Jewish source which formulates this view of history is Maimonides’ Laws of Avodah Zarah (ch. 1).

In the pagan conception of divinity, “the gods” are always limited by something that the Greeks called Fate and the Romans called Fortune. Those limitations on the Divine may be tacit admissions that there really is One God under whom all the other gods reign, much like some Eastern Religions claim that their multitude of gods are really inflections of a single god. Indeed, the Talmud (BT Menahot 110) claims that even idolaters recognized God as “the God of gods,” which might be an allusion to this paradigm. Yehezkel Kaufmann dubs this pagan conception the “primordial realm,” wherein the ancient deities were said to not have final say. This often plays out in the ancient mythologies when the gods’ plans are ultimately thwarted by a power above them. Some of these points are made in Stephen B. Chapman’s essay in this volume, which argues that the God of the Bible differs in kind from all the other deities in the ancient world in that He was not understood to be subservient to fate, but instead controlled it.

In light of this understanding, parallels to Biblical depictions of the One God in extra-Biblical pagan literature may be rooted in earlier descriptions and conceptions of the One God that predated the advent of idolatry. Idolaters used those expressions and ideas for their own purposes, mythologizing various aspects of God in the tales they told about the trials of their deities.

Yet, the Bible preserves those verbiages as reflecting their original monotheistic intent. Indeed, although rabbinic tradition ascribes the Book of Psalms to King David, it also states that he included in the book psalms written by pre-Mosaic monotheists Adam, Melchizedek, and Abraham (BT Bava Batra 14b). Thus, even if some of the verbiage used in Psalms resembles notions that contemporary pagans were saying about their gods, it could be argued that Psalms was not simply mimicking them but rather harkening back to a tradition that predated them and restoring their original intent. If this could be said about Psalms, the same could be said about other parts of the Bible. That could explain, for example, why Isaiah depicts the One God as riding on a light cloud (Isa. 19:1), which very much resembles Ugaritic descriptions (that seemingly predate Isaiah) of Baal doing the same.

Moreover, there is ample room in Jewish theology to view the ancient pagan deities as real entities in ways that do not detract from God’s potency and uniqueness. In this view, those ancient deities would function much like Satan, angels, demons, astrological forces, or the like — as cogs in a sort of neo-Platonic system that God uses to administer the world. These characters or forces are differentiated from God by their lack of freewill. They cannot make decisions on their own and may not be worshipped; they simply function like tools used to carry out God’s will (this has been studied by Jewish scholars like Benjamin D. Sommer). Some might take this idea a step further in viewing those ancient deities as parts of the Divine whole, or at the very least imperfect reflections of the Divine. This is a more polished version of the second approach that Cornell rejected. Such views are advocated by Jewish Universalists in the mold of Benamozegh and Christian thinkers like Schlimm (whose iteration of this idea is explicitly rejected in Strawn’s essay).

FAKE NEWS

Perhaps the simplest approach to the questions at the heart of this book might be to revive a controversial idea proposed by Jan Assmann known as the “Mosaic Distinction.” He argued that the Bible introduced a new way of assessing the deities of the ancient world that was totally inconsistent with the more liberal polytheistic milieu: the Bible differentiates between the One God and all other gods by simply labelling the latter as false. All the literary or poetic parallels between Him and other deities cannot sidestep the simple assertion that those deities are merely false, non-entities, while only the God of the Bible actually exists. To put it in contemporary terms, assertions along the lines that Chemosh gave the Moabites their land are simply “fake news” because there is no such thing as Chemosh outside of the imaginations of its worshippers and other tolerant polytheists who were willing to go along with them. Yet those people who came up with these lies have a vested interest in making them sound believable, hence the similarities between the fake gods and the Real God.

Ultimately — as Josey Bridges Snyder writes in the conclusion to her essay — no data unearthed from the ancient world could prove or disprove the existence of God. That is why belief in Him is called “faith.” Yet, God gave us brains and He fully expects us to use them. The fact that ancient lookalikes existed does not detract from our belief and devotion to God, it is simply an interesting historical tidbit that can potentially help us better understand the religio-cultural milieu in which our ancestors lived and with what outside temptations the Ancient Israelites had to contend.

CONCLUSION

Many of the contributions to this fascinating volume touch on my concerns, but do not fully flesh them out. This book is addressed to believing Jews and Christians who are bothered by the above-described questions from a theological perspective and seek to square the findings of Biblical studies and archeology with their own religious beliefs. Because of that, I — as an observant Jew — am within the book’s target audience, and I therefore felt that my responses are fully warranted.

Essentially, this book presents a thought-provoking exploration of the relationship between the God of the Bible and the deities of the Ancient Near East — a topic that is both challenging and essential for those of us who take our faith seriously, but also interact with the scholarly world. While some essays may not have fully addressed my concerns, the diversity of perspectives offered here is invaluable. All in all, I found most of the essays to be quite scholarly and erudite, and even those which only tangentially touched on the issues at the core of this book contributed to the discussion.

The contributions encourage readers to engage deeply with the material and to confront these theological questions with both intellectual rigor and spiritual introspection. As an Orthodox Jew, I appreciate the respectful and scholarly manner in which these thorny issues are handled, even if the answers are not always clear-cut or even acceptable to me.

Critiques of Theology: German-Jewish Intellectuals and the Religious Sources of Secular Thought

 

Critiques of Theology: German-Jewish Intellectuals and the Religious Sources of Secular Thought (SUNY Press, 2023), by Yotam Hotam

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

The ubiquitous concept of critique refers to an ostensibly objective and systematic analysis of a given work or idea in order to offer a detailed evaluation of it. It goes beyond mere “criticism” in the colloquial sense to include constructive examination of the strengths, weaknesses, underlying assumptions, methods, and conclusions of the subject of one’s study. The goal is often to engage deeply with the subject matter, fostering understanding and improvement — rather than simply pointing out flaws or rejecting a certain supposition. In many ways, critique is the bedrock of academia, but as Professor Yotam Hotam’s book shows, its historical origins and original uses have often been misunderstood or misrepresented.

Conventional wisdom maintains that critique as an analytic tool was fashioned as a way of rebelling against the religious orthodoxy that had dominated Western civilization until the Enlightenment. It was introduced as a way of paving the path for scientific inquiry and rational thought to replace the theological dogmas and catechisms of organized religion. Contrary to that view, Dr. Hotam argues that, in fact, critique originally also functioned in the service of religion/theology, and was not simply a means of rebelling against the religious establishment.

Hotam develops his argument by looking at the work of four secular Jews, whose research and writing have helped shape academic discourse. Each chapter of this book is dedicated to a different figure and delving into how they understood the role of critique.

The first chapter discusses the work of Sigmund Freud (1856–1939), who is considered one of the founders of contemporary psychology. Although Freud himself was personally an irreligious Jew, his understanding of critique shows that he did not see it as something totally anti-religious or anti-theological. The author consciously chose to analyze a lesser-known work of Freud that treats the concept of jokes partially because that work is viewed as Freud’s “most Jewish” output.

In that work, Freud characterizes jokes as a means of critique against the prevailing norms, be they legal or social. Jokes work by pointing out the foibles, difficulties, inconsistences, and hypocrisies inherent in the practice of such nomianism. The main characteristic of jokes is thus that they serve as "antinomian instruments" against prevailing norms (i.e. they are "critical" of the establishment). At the same time, Hotam shows that the purpose of jokes for Freud is not only to serve as an antinomian instrument for undermining or upending the prevailing norms, but rather also to induce pleasure on the part of the listener so that they will experience “comic relief” of the sort that will allow them to continue living under the established norms. In other words, jokes are also made to "ventilate" the antinomian moments in order to allow the living under the existing norms.

In this way, critique is not only against religion or theology, on the contrary, it actually can also provide some support for those devoted to (or at least living under) those norms. Both statements are right and the compound relations between these two objectives shed light on a critique that working against the normative world in which we live actually preserves it (a unique operation that for Freud relates more generally to the question of what it means to "live by the law").

In the second chapter, Dr. Hotam looks at the Jewish philosopher and cultural critic Walter Benjamin (1892–1940), specifically focusing on Benjamin’s writings related to the concept “youth/youthfulness.” Practitioners of critique are expected to exercise restraint on their own partiality and are therefore supposed to purge subjective dross from their repertoire to express only that which is objective. Yet, as human beings mature and become more and more entrenched in material worldliness, their ability to tap into the objective becomes weakened and obfuscated by everything else that they experience and/or want to experience.

For Benjamin, youthfulness is a metaphorical way of denoting the ideas of transcendence, eternity, and divinity — all concepts which lie beyond This World and almost intrinsically have a theological connotation. Hotam thus shows how in Benjamin’s thought youthfulness, which represents the ideal conditions for engaging in critique, is almost synonymous with the Divine. By pointing this out, Hotam provides a poignant example of how critique and theology are certainly not mutually exclusive, but are rather both means of impelling a person towards something out of This World.

I read the next chapters, but I understood even less. I had never even heard of Theodor Adorno before, and I only had a vague inkling about Hannah Arendt’s work. From what I gathered from those chapter, the point is that Adorno understood critique as somehow translating theological terminology into a secularized versions of metaphysics in a way that both rejects the basic tenets of theology, but still preserves its content. A similar phenomenon is seen Arendt’s work, which focuses on how critique relates to tradition by rejecting some aspects of tradition in order to overall preserve some of its basic tenets.

In conclusion, this book presents a challenging and intricate exploration of the relationship between modern critique and theology, deploying dense arguments that may leave the uninitiated, non-expert reader (such as myself) struggling to keep up. While I found certain sections informative and thought-provoking, much of the text remains inaccessible without a deeper familiarity with the field. The author’s essential argument maintains that critique originally used theological concepts to simultaneously reject and embrace religion — adds a unique overall frame to the work, though the significance of some aspects, such as the bizarre and intriguing artwork on the cover, goes unexplained. Ultimately, the book suggests that modern critique, even in its most secular forms, remains intertwined with theological roots. It demands careful, deliberate reading, far beyond what casual academic consumption might allow.

The Long Ascent: Genesis 1-11 in Science and Myth Trilogy

The Long Ascent: Genesis 1-11 in Science and Myth Trilogy [3 volumes] (Wipf and Stock Publications, 2019–2023), by Robert Sheldon

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

This work is a trilogy that promises to bridge the gap between the ancient and the modern, the mythical and the scientific. Written by a trained physicist with a strong Christian background, the series attempts a line-by-line interpretation of the first eleven chapters of the Bible. The author's proficiency in both the hard and soft sciences, as well as his deep understanding of ancient mythologies and the midrashic tradition of the rabbis, positions this work as a kind of scientific midrash or "technical exegesis."

The author's approach is meticulous, integrating recent scientific discoveries with linguistic analysis of Hebrew texts and ancient mythologies. He differentiates between semantic and visual coding within these texts, offering original insights based on linguistic tools and dictionaries. This method allows for a nuanced understanding of the original intent of the Hebrew words, adding a layer of depth to the interpretation of these foundational Biblical chapters.

One of the most striking aspects of the trilogy is the author's ability to read ancient mythologies as coded information, integrating them into his theories. This is particularly evident in his discussions on the location of Eden, which he intriguingly posits lied in the Mediterranean seabed (“Med bed”), using — among other things — bathymetric analysis to support his claims. Mr. Sheldon draws connections to Egyptian elitist wisdom and the ancient Greek legend of Atlantis, suggesting a technologically-advanced society in Eden, complete with portable nuclear power.

The author also tackles the origins of humanity, distinguishing between Cro-Magnons and the descendants of Adam, and offers a controversial take on the flood as a divine punishment for engaging in genetic editing. These interpretations are highly original and engaging, presenting a fresh perspective on well-worn biblical narratives.

The book is commendable for its presentation, featuring numerous tables, maps, and pictures that enhance the reader's understanding. The prose is easy to read, making complex ideas accessible without overwhelming the reader with citations. However, the interspersed short narratives of prose fiction (which resemble and draw upon ancient myths), may not appeal to all readers. Personally, I found these sections less engaging and tended to skip them.

Despite its many strengths, the trilogy's ambitious integration of science, myth, and theology may raise some skeptical eyebrows. The author's conclusions, while well-argued and supported by various forms of evidence, often venture into speculative territory. The idea of Eden as a technologically advanced society or the flood as a reaction to genetic manipulation, for instance, might be seen as a stretch by some readers. Additionally, the book's reliance on a mix of scientific and mythical sources could be perceived as selective, potentially leading to confirmation bias.

Overall, these books comprise a highly original and thought-provoking series. They offer a compelling read for those interested in the intersection of science, religion, and ancient mythology — even if it requires a healthy dose of skepticism. The author's passion and expertise shine through, making this a noteworthy contribution to the ongoing dialogue between faith and reason.