It's Really All About God: Reflections of a Muslim Atheist Jewish Christian
by Samir Selmanovic
(Jossey-Bass, 2009)
Everything Is God: The Radical Path of Nondual Judaism
by Jay Michaelson
(Trumpeter, 2009)
A particular school of Jewish mysticism holds that the world exists by virtue of the absence of God. Rabbi Isaac Luria, the semi-legendary 16th-century kabbalist, taught that in order to make room for the cosmos, the Godhead, which permeated all space and time, had to contract itself—an act known in Hebrew as tzimtzum. The result is a spiritual paradox; a universe of creatures yearning for a Power whose unmitigated presence would obliterate them.
This cosmology is a good metaphor for the complicated relationship between religions and God, something not nearly as straightforward as fundamentalists, whether of the believing or disbelieving variety, may imagine it to be. Though, nominally, religion can be understood as a human social form organized around the worship of a deity, it seems to operate quite often in the absence of the divine. Skeptics would argue that this is because God, in Woody Allen’s phrase, “is an underachiever.” But even some committed religious functionaries have suggested, often in the light of scientific insight, that supernatural claims be deemphasized in favor of the salvific power of the people themselves; God, in the traditional sense, experiences a tzimtzum, so as to engender a new burst of cultural creativity.
But everything goes in cycles, even celestial semantics. One concept that emerged in the wake of Luria’s theory is known as ratso v’shov (literally “running and returning”), a term adapted from a description of the prophet Ezekiel’s psychedelic visions. How can we mediate between communing with God and the persistence, whether needful or desired, of material reality? Through an alternating current of attachment and separation. Similarly, while there may be moments militating for a “return from” God toward a more productive religious mundanity, they oscillate with a “running” in the opposite direction; the suggestion that religion without God is either stale or corrupt, a rogues gallery ranging from the strawman Pharisees of the New Testament to Ivan Karamazov’s Inquisitor. The reintroduction of God, however, as Luria would tell us, leads to nothing less than the obliteration of the known world.
God-Management Systems?
Two new works of progressive theology, whose nearly identical titles both appear to advocate an undoing of the tzimtzum, might therefore be greeted with trepidation: It’s Really All About God by Samir Selmanovic, and Everything is God by Jay Michaelson. Beneath the covers of these books, which are also remarkably similar in design (the word “God” swelling up against a solid white background to dwarf all of the other characters) lie two overlapping but distinct arguments. The first is a passionate apologetics for a platform of interfaith unity and the second a metaphysical treatise, blending traditional Judaism with the wisdom of the East.
Both authors fit within the demographic of Generation X, though with widely differing biographies. Selmanovic, in his early forties, is Croatian by birth, the son of a secular Muslim family who came of age in communist Zagreb and embraced Christianity during mandatory service in the Yugoslav army; a transformation that led to a schism with his family and his immigration to America for seminary training. He is the founder of Faith House Manhattan, “an experiential interreligious community” that attempts to establish a common space for devotion and social action, though by trade he is a Seventh Day Adventist minister. Michaelson, in his late thirties, is a freelance teacher of Jewish spirituality, known particularly as the leader of Nehirim, an organization fostering spiritual consciousness among GLBT Jews. A poet and prolific essayist, he is also co-founder of the literary journal Zeek, and a regular voice in the Jewish press (and lately the Huffington Post), whose writing challenges the ethnic and mythological components of Jewish identity for the sake of an atomized Judaism composed of an array of “spiritual practices.”
Michaelson admits the insurgent nature of his project in the subtitle of his book—“The Radical Path of Nondual Judaism”—which also introduces the intertwining terms that preoccupy his thought. “Nonduality,” he explains, “is found at the summit of nearly every mystical tradition in the world… according to the nondual view, the phenomena, boundaries, and formations which constitute our world are fleeting, and empty of separate existence.” This concept should be familiar to even a casual student of Buddhism (the notion that all distinctions are illusory and ultimate reality an unfathomable oneness), and Michaelson stands in a proud line of Jews who have been anything but casual students. Everything is God represents one of the more erudite attempts to situate nondualistic insights in Jewish material. At its core lies the fact that Judaism, being a “theistic” tradition, makes use of the word “God,” which, following certain esoteric doctrines of the Kabbalah, Michaelson associates with the essential unity of nondualism. “To be sure,” he writes, “this is a God very different from the ordinary one… neither a paternalistic judge nor a partisan warrior, but Ein Sof, Being and Nothingness, without end or limit.”
Selmanovic’s argument for the centrality of God operates on the level of social relations rather than metaphysics, but his subtitle is equally indicative: “Reflections of a Muslim Atheist Jewish Christian.” The provocative immodesty of this assertion (though Selmanovic can claim secular and Muslim pedigree he has quite clearly made his home in Christianity, and his Jewish bona fides are unapparent) is precisely the author’s point. An obsession with purities of doctrine and identity, he argues, renders religions into what he cleverly terms “god-management systems,” preoccupied with contentions of their own supremacy and bereft of the living God. “I have been questioning the certainty of my religious insider-outsider worldview,” he writes. “Such certainty had a tendency to divide my world and isolate me from the ‘outsiders’ who… I believed, could not teach me, bless me, or correct me in the matters of God.” His remedy is to postulate a deity beyond any one particular faith, orienting the seeker in the direction of the other.
Tags: buddhism, god, islam, judaism, myth, nondual, religion, ritual








I very much enjoyed the review of these two texts; I'm very much intrigued by them for having read it.
However... ;) If there exists -or there is traceable- in either project, a "syncretistic constellation" such a thing is not an unworthy goal, and "yearning for a more palatable God" suggests, wrongly I believe, a human attempt to remake God in our own image; whereas the essence (even as the reviewer has shown) of the works is really more along the lines of teasing out the core objectives and crux of a given "tradition" which has indeed veered away from origins and been added to already by human doctrine.
There is a universality to this, a la Frithjof Schuon, who renders it as the tension between the exoteric and the esoteric within a given religious system. On the level of the exoteric, people are excommunicated, burned at the stake, and wars are fought. Above the esoteric threshold, the language used to express the inexpresable becomes an almost shared vocabulary, regardless of the tradition of the aspirant.
But I digress... What a given tradition, it's existence thus threatened, does in response is basically an irrelevant question (they'll do what they've always done in any case), and the arguments -not mustered, but revived- for refusing an "easy universalism" will also be the same prosaic, time-worn ones (perhaps with new window dressing befitting the zeitgeist).
These titles, and this review of them itself, demonstrate quite clearly that there is nothing "easy" at all about universalism. What is easy, what people love and cling to the world over, is the facile complacency of falling back on tradition...
As far as Buddism is concerned it's in a class all its own and certainly the other religions of the world can learn much from it.
The scriptures (Written Torah and Old and New Testaments, Book of Enoch and books of Adam and Eve) however, speak of a deity with a unique personality. Unique in the respect that He transcends time and space and all things familiar. If you try to make God fit human ideas of what you think a deity should be like, you can easily twist the scriptures and produce an atomaton God. Why not let Him tell us what He's really like!
“Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." (Matt. 5:3)
"...But on this one will I look: on him who is poor and of a contrite spirit, and who trembles at My word." (Isaiah 66:2)
"God is a spirit" (John 4:24)
a spirit is a 'metaphysical' essence, therefore, these verses about the poor 'in spirit' are speaking about a spiritual state.
Jesus told the rich young man to 'sell what you have':
"No, lest there should not be enough for us and you; but go rather to those who sell, and buy for yourselves." (Matt. 25:9)
"Buy the truth, and do not sell it, also wisdom and instruction and understanding." (Proverbs 23:23)
The phrase 'sell what you have' sounds exactly like the man who found the treasure hidden in the field (Matt. 13:44) who 'went and sold all that he had', and the merchant seeking beautiful pearls (Matt. 13:46)who 'sold all that he had and bought'. Likewise the five foolish virgins (Matt. 25)are instructed in this manner also, ‘go rather to those who sell and buy’.
I have many more examples than this but it's plain to see the scriptures previously (both Old and New Testaments) are speaking in a figuative sense and the result is quite different from a literal interpretation.
Interpret correctly and we will see an entirely different God than religion has portrayed.
Wow. As a New Atheist, I am so NOT Playing This Little Game.
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