Nothing Sacred: The Truth About Judaism
by Douglas Rushkoff
I picked the book off the Religion shelf on the third floor of Jurong Regional Library, a place which has by now achieved an iconic significance. Did so with a dire determination to never leave the library until the book had been finished, because withering away in front of Wikipedia screens seems to me now a hell of boredom.
The Religion shelf and the Philosophy shelf are separated by a pillar, creating a void through which the book spines of the constituent literature confronted each other like trench soldiers. I wished they were closer together.
But before I waste precious space rambling about shelves, and before I get lured away again to waste precious time on YouTube watching the antics of Ryan Stiles and associate comedians, I must tell you that I am very impressed after reading this book: Impressed by the tenacity and character of the people, their sense of reality and justice, and their philosophy of living religion.
Rushkoff attributes the versatility, in the "evolution" of Judaism, to the Jewish spirit of open inquiry and discussion among all Jews. Religion to the Jews is not a closed book, it was an open one, and one with quite a lot of blank pages for every thinking person to fill in. This spirit of knowledge of inquiry permeates much of a truly Jewish life, even in praying, reading, discussing the scripture and eating with seemingly whimsical and arbitrary habits.***
However, Rushkoff comes worryingly close to dismissing religiousity from the Jewish religion, and at times favours the entrepreneural, creative Jew over the religious and faithful Jew. He seems to discard being religious as an unfortunate adjective untrue to Judaism, which should be expanded to become an idea, a way of life.
Many of the problems that Rushkoff deems pertinent to the preservation to the Jewish idea actually are also pertinent to Christianity. The onslaught of fundamentalism and New Age marketing appeal threatens to turn a complete religiousity into blind faith, or a façade behind which a mystic fetishism rules; Judaism is not the only religion here threatened by such things.
I'm wondering whether we, the Christians, could take a leaf off the Jewish book by reinvigorating our inquisitive, philosophical spirit that ferried the church across the Dark Ages, this enthusiasm and realism that is inevitably present in every real religion.
(On Rushkoff's Site)
(On Zeek.net) this one's better must read
(Something I think is equally important)
*** Jews are not allowed, say, to eat milk with meat, as it was a sign of respect to the animal sacrificed to not "cook the lamb in its mother's milk". If this is to be branded as superficial, it's only because the practicioners don't understand why they're doing this.
Ministry of Defence
Owing to my newfound and refreshing joy in going out I wasn't about to end the day by taking the bus straight home. For those who take service 176 regularly, you may have noticed some seriously breathtaking scenery towards the west; beautiful especially around 4pm. It was a large space, marked thinly with a few trees against a distant backdrop of a forest.
I dropped off there and walked into the field, for it was a thing I had wanted to do for around one year without realising it. Walked quite a bit into it, then realised that I have to take off my earphones in order to really immerse myself into anything. Along a line of trees that were almost befeft of leaves, sparrows receded and expanded territories amid vehement warcries. Further to the south, it was the mynahs that lubbed the ground.
The landscape rolled generally, but it seemed to conform to a flatness that chopped up slopes into terraces. Otherwise it was adulterated only by a network of drains that laced the grassland. There was a sign at the far end, right up the slope, which I went up to see for the sake of seeing.
The sign said various stuff that generally mean "No Trespassing", which was expected. But on the other side, things were much more interesting:
After reaching the outer premises of the Ministry of Defence, as it turned out to be when a service 177 bus whirred by ten mintues later, I diverted my course due north, down the slopes and towards the road running across the ministry. First the ground got a bit wet, and squished cheerfully under my feet; later it got quite intimidating, and I resigned to walking the bit of dry concrete along the drain, one foot on each edge.
It was lifting to witness the liveliness below the grass blades, where you'd find cicadas and communities of juvenile grasshoppers. Occasionally something would dash away from somewhere in front of me, though all I'd notice would be the rustling and a swinging leaf.
At the end of my journey I was attracted to a patch of forest that stood out. On a closer look there was a path, leading to another sign. The sign warned of a possible occurrence of a terrible pissed-off canine. There was another path leading along the barbed-wire fence, so I went in, out of a spirit of genuine curiosity and stupidity, or possibly the empirical evidence that there were no dogs around.
It turned out to be both a curious and stupid venture, because when you stopped the mosquitoes swarmed around you. The way out seemed to be nowhere, even if I knew somewhere along the fence it would, and should be clear. The path was sandwiched precariously between a forested slope and the fence, and at times I had to hold on to the fence for support. When I finally got out, the swarm followed for a short distance, as if reluctant to let go of such a scrumptious gift.
Felt quite stupid for a while, and left the place I now call Hillview Park, for dusk was coming and I needed dinner.
