Whoever recommended that I read
The Promise by Chaim Potok, thank you. Once I began reading the novel, I could hardly put it down. A major theme in the story is the age-old conflict between fundamentalists, who read the Talmud literally, and those who engage in critical reading of the sacred texts - a conflict which continues throughout the history of Judaism and Christianity until the present day. The people who adhere strictly to a literal reading of the sacred texts, Jewish and Christian, do so in the face of contradictory passages that appear impossible to reconcile. Other passages in the text don't really make sense unless one assumes the possibility of a mistake in copying a manuscript and explores different wording that make the passage understandable.
The story unfolds through the voice of the narrator, Reuven Malter, an Orthodox Jew, who is very much a part of the narrative. The principal characters - Reuven's father, David, a well-known teacher in a Jewish school, Danny Saunders, Reuven's good friend, a Hasidic Jew who chooses to study psychology rather than follow in the footsteps of his father and become a rabbi, Michael Gordon, a troubled adolescent, and Reuven's nemisis, his Talmud teacher, Jacob Kalman, a survivor of the Nazi death camps - are well drawn and believable and come to life in the course of the novel. The fine writing throughout drew me into the story made me care about what happens to the characters.
The book was written in 1969, and I wonder whether the Freudian-influenced extreme type of treatment of the very ill young Michael would be used today. If the experiment suggested by Danny and undertaken with the approval and supervision of Michael's psychiatrist as a last resort, does not work, the two believe the young man will very likely be institutionalized for the rest of his life. Of course, today many more drugs are available to treat mental illness than back then, so perhaps this sort of treatment would no longer be acceptable.
Religious fundamentalists seem to paint themselves into a corner without a way out, except by pretzel-like reasoning that makes no more sense to me than the original contradictions or mistakes. I understand that the texts are sacred to them, as they are to me, but humans were created with the ability to reason, and why would God expect us not to use the gifts? With certain Jews and Christians, it seems that to allow that passages in the Bible may not be literally true or that the Scriptures may contain mistakes in transcription would result in the collapse of their entire faith edifice.
Abraham Gordon, father of the mentally ill Michael, a Jewish scholar, who no longer believes in a personal God, but who continues to observe the rituals of the Orthodox tradition:
"Of course, that's the problem,"he said to me once. "How can we teach others to regard the tradition critically and with love? I grew up loving it, and then learned to look at it critically. That's everyone's problem today. How to love and respect what you are being taught to dissect."
One great benefit from reading the book is that I came away with the reminder that no one is "other" and that no matter how deep and broad the disagreements, our opponents are human, like us, and deserving of respect because of our common humanity and, if we are people of faith, because we are all of us God's creation and beloved of God. In that sense, the novel was life-giving in a way that was completely unexpected. I heartily recommend the book.
