by A. J. Jacobs
purposeful
in the Zeus variations
Shakespeare, William, coaching uplifted by
Shanghai Knights (movie), factoid accompaniment of
Shaw, George Bernard
Shortz, Will, as puzzlers’ coolest
Siberian explosions, unexplained
siblings, lessons on sharing for
silver lining, see positive side
sitcoms:
Brady Bunch, later doings of
guest stars on
64, Hawthorne’s inexplicable attraction to
sleep, Kamchatka vs. Tajal view of
snoring, in ethical case study
Some Truths of History: A Vindication of the South against the Encyclopaedia Britannica and Other Maligners (Oglesby)
speech making, rhetorical devices in
sports:
fact checking EB article on
how to sound knowledgeable about
IQ and tennis
nicknames in
records in
sportshirts, Lacoste’s disputed reptilian on
Starlight Express (Lloyd Webber)
Star Spangled Banner, The, melody of
Star Trek, Mensans intrigued by
stereotypes, of snails
Sternberg, Robert J.:
on crystallized intelligence
on IQ tests
on Operation Britannica
stinginess scale:
AJ’s position in
or Henry Hudson, who does not do well in
stories, inspiring
success:
of homo sapiens
on Jeopardy
know-it-all
in overcoming hurdles
suicide:
literary
writers drawn to
syphilis:
in lucky conquistador
recurring theme of
tachycardia, as Valentine’s Day sentiment
Taiping Rebellion, rational worldview challenged by
taxonomy, world ordered by
tears, onion-caused
Teddy bear, TR linked with
tennis:
how to talk about
Magnus effect in
nice shot by Master of the Natural Laws of
parabola of the lob and Coriolis effect as concern in
Piss-Poor Backhand effect as determinant in
terrorism, worrying about
35, author’s age at this writing
thirty years, life span in 1700s as
thoughts, great, specific vs. general
ticks, patience of
time:
aging and acceleration of
in ancient civilizations
of earth’s rotation
expansion of
less as better
light speed and
skipping of
years, how they feel
TiVo, past posting with
toilet, flush, who to thank for
Tolstoy, Leo
Trebek, Alex
knowledge showdown expected with
trends, quantitative minimum for
trivia:
AJ quizzed on
about Bird in Space (Brancusi)
English-language
in Millionaire greenroom
Oscar
in Schott’s Original Miscellany
tennis
trivia contest, Mensan
Trivial Pursuit
twins:
Balinese
Siamese
Vietnamese (fudged)
twirling, dizziness prevented in
two:
number of letters in French crossword-favored towns
swallowing in pairs of
Tyler, John
universe, end of
Van Buren, Martin, Peggy Eaton befriended by
ventriloquism, Eskimo-Zulu link in
Vieira, Meredith
Vietnam ploy, twin marriage in
Vilna Gaon (Elijah ben Solomon)
Wall Ball, non-Oedipal aspects of
Wall Street, “Witch of”
war, warfare:
absurdist
retroactive declaration of
warm water, sex change caused by
Washington, George, not actually first president
weeping, canned
weights and measures
Wendy’s, philosophy read daily at
Western thought, fetishes in
West Indies, California mistaken for
Who Wants to Be a Millionaire
AJ chosen for
outcome of
preparing for
tryingout for
WickedBible, adultery advocated in
Willy (Beryl’s husband)
wine, where to send
wisdom:
in AJ’s “sentences”
Bob’s sentence as
to come with Ws
of Ecclesiastes
facts vs.
intelligence and
intelligence vs.
forJasper Jacobs
in Judaism
necessity for
from Operation Britannica
Tolstoyan
winning victory for humanity as
Woodhull, Victoria
word games
Boggle
at Mensa convention
scoring system of
Scrabble
words:
last
longest
Scrabble-bound
words and phrases, origins of
“bedlam”
“Buffalo, N.Y.”
“cappuccino”
“chauvinism”
“dog days of summer”
“essay”
“going berserk”
“Grateful Dead”
“Greenland”
group insults in
“Houdini”
“mad as a hatter”
“mesmerize”
“Oscar”
“Quaker”
You could also hunt around
World Series game (1977)
worldview:
of EB, as rational
focusing on right things needed for
of Vilna Gaon
see also wisdom
World War II
Londoner diet in
writers, suicide of
writing, in boustrophedon style
writing class, AJ’s advice to
Yale, notable nonfinishers of
Yellow Lightning, recipe for
Zabar’s, dating daughter of
Zs, additional
“Zywiec” (The End)
About the Author
A.J. Jacobs is the editor of What It Feels Like and the author of The Two Kings: Jesus and Elvis and America Off-Line. He is the senior editor of Esquire and has written for The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, New York magazine, New York Observer, and other publications. He lives in New York City with his wife, Julie.
Praise for THE YEAR OF LIVING BIBLICALLY by A. J. Jacobs
“A. J. Jacobs has written about the Bible in a manner that is brilliantly funny but unerringly respectful, learned but goofy, deeply personal yet highly relevant. I am covetous and wish him smited.”
—Mary Roach, Bestselling author of Spook and Stiff
“A book that is at one and the same time delightfully readable and profoundly memorable is a wonder! The Year of Living Biblically is exactly that. A. J. Jacobs has perceived the distinction between the wisdom of the Bible and its absurdities. It is a shame that so many of both our clergy and our politicians seem incapable of making that distinction.”
—John Shelby Spong, Author of Jesus for the Non-Religious and former Episcopal bishop
“As a man incapable of developing any facial hair aside from a really amazingly cruddy moustache, I would have bought this book for the astonishing big beard chronicle alone. That The Year of Living Biblically grows, beardlike, into a long, hilarious
, tangled, and ultimately moving story of spiritual growth is all the more astonishing. But why should I continue to be surprised at what springs from A. J.’s head? He is a brilliantly hilarious writer who truly lives up to that oft-misused adverb/adjective combination and then some. Plus: HE IS GOING TO HEAVEN. So how can you not afford to tithe your salary to his cause and buy this book?”
—John Hodgman Daily Show correspondent and author of Areas of My Expertise
“Seeing that most people violate at least three of the ten commandments on their way to work—even people who work from home—says a lot about the scale of A. J.’s feat. The fact that you need to buy six copies of this book to unlock the code to save all humanity…well, that’s just pure genius.”
—Ben Karlin, cocreator of The Colbert Report and coauthor of America: The Book
“Setting out to explore the consequences of strict adherence to biblical laws, A. J. Jacobs encounters a series of experiences that are as hilarious as they are thought-provoking. Along the way he teaches us both the fallacies of modern day religious fundamentalism and the joys of discovering the transcendent and timeless truths of faith.”
—Francis S. Collins, M.D., Ph.D., director, Human Genome Project, author of The Language of God:
A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief
“Throughout his journey, Jacobs comes across as a generous and thoughtful (and yes, slightly neurotic) participant observer, lacing his story with absurdly funny cultural commentary as well as nuanced insights into the impossible task of biblical literalism.”
—Publishers Weekly (Starred)
“Impressive and often tremendously amusing…. The author’s determination despite constant complications from his modern secular life (wife, job, family, NYC) underscores both the absurdity of his plight and its profundity. While debunking biblical literalism—with dinner party–ready scriptural quotes—Jacobs simultaneously finds his spirituality renewed…. A biblical travelogue—and far funnier than your standard King James.”
—Kirkus Reviews
ALSO BY A. J. JACOBS
The Know-It-All
Simon & Schuster
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 2007 by A. J. Jacobs
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
SIMON & SCHUSTER and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Index by Sydney Wolfe Cohen
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jacobs, A. J., 1968–
The year of living biblically / A. J. Jacobs
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Bible—Criticism, interpretation, etc.
BS511.3.J33 2007
220—dc22 2007009573
ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-5322-9
ISBN-10: 1-4165-5322-3
ISBN-13: 978-1-4516-6837-7 (eBook)
Visit us on the World Wide Web:
http://www.SimonSays.com
To Julie
The Year of Living Biblically
Introduction
As I write this, I have a beard that makes me resemble Moses. Or Abe Lincoln. Or Ted Kaczynski. I’ve been called all three.
It’s not a well-manicured, socially acceptable beard. It’s an untamed mass that creeps up toward my eyeballs and drapes below my neckline.
I’ve never allowed my facial hair to grow before, and it’s been an odd and enlightening experience. I’ve been inducted into a secret fraternity of bearded guys—we nod at each other as we pass on the street, giving a knowing quarter smile. Strangers have come up to me and petted my beard, like it’s a Labrador retriever puppy or a pregnant woman’s stomach.
I’ve suffered for my beard. It’s been caught in jacket zippers and been tugged on by my surprisingly strong two-year-old son. I’ve spent a lot of time answering questions at airport security.
I’ve been asked if I’m named Smith and sell cough drops with my brother. ZZ Top is mentioned at least three times a week. Passersby have shouted “Yo, Gandalf!” Someone called me Steven Seagal, which I found curious, since he doesn’t have a beard.
I’ve battled itch and heat. I’ve spent a week’s salary on balms, powders, ointments, and conditioners. My beard has been a temporary home to cappuccino foam and lentil soup. And it’s upset people. Thus far, two little girls have burst into tears, and one boy has hidden behind his mother.
But I mean no harm. The facial hair is simply the most noticeable physical manifestation of a spiritual journey I began a year ago.
My quest has been this: to live the ultimate biblical life. Or more precisely, to follow the Bible as literally as possible. To obey the Ten Commandments. To be fruitful and multiply. To love my neighbor. To tithe my income. But also to abide by the oft-neglected rules: to avoid wearing clothes made of mixed fibers. To stone adulterers. And, naturally, to leave the edges of my beard unshaven (Leviticus 19:27). I am trying to obey the entire Bible, without picking and choosing.
To back up: I grew up in an extremely secular home in New York City. I am officially Jewish, but I’m Jewish in the same way the Olive Garden is an Italian restaurant. Which is to say: not very. I attended no Hebrew school, ate no matzoh. The closest my family came to observing Judaism was that paradoxical classic of assimilation: a Star of David on top of our Christmas tree.
It’s not that my parents badmouthed religion. It’s just that religion wasn’t for us. We lived in the twentieth century, for crying out loud. In our house, spirituality was almost a taboo subject, much like my father’s salary or my sister’s clove-cigarette habit.
My only brushes with the Bible were brief and superficial. We had a next-door neighbor, Reverend Schulze, a kindly Lutheran minister who looked remarkably like Thomas Jefferson. (By the way, Reverend Schulze’s son became an actor and, oddly enough, went on to play the part of the creepy priest on The Sopranos.) Reverend Schulze told great stories about college sit-ins during the sixties, but whenever he started talking about God, it just sounded like a foreign language to me.
I attended a handful of bar mitzvahs where I zoned out during services and spent the time trying to guess who had bald spots under their yarmulkes. I went to my paternal grandfather’s funeral, which was, to my surprise, presided over by a rabbi. How could the rabbi eulogize a man he’d never met? It was disconcerting.
And as far as childhood religion, that was about it.
I was agnostic before I even knew what the word meant. Partly, it was the problem of the existence of evil. If there is a God, why would He allow war, disease, and my fourth-grade teacher Ms. Barker, who forced us to have a sugar-free bake sale? But mostly, the idea of God seemed superfluous. Why do we need an invisible, inaudible deity? Maybe He exists, but we’ll never know in this life.
College didn’t help my spiritual development. I went to a secular university where you were more likely to study the semiotics of Wicca rituals than the Judeo-Christian tradition. And when we did read the Bible, it was as literature, as a fusty, ancient book with the same truth quotient as The Faerie Queene.
We did, of course, study the history of religion. How the Bible has been the force behind many of humankind’s greatest achievements: the civil rights movement, charitable giving, the abolition of slavery. And how, of course, it’s been used to justify our worst: war, genocide, and the subjugation of others.
For a long time, I thought that religion, for all the good it does, seemed too risky for our modern world. The potential for abuse too high. I figured it would slowly fade away like other archaic things. Science was on the march. Someday soon we’d all be living in a neo-Enlightenment paradise where every decision was made with steely Spock-like logic.
As you might have noticed, I wa
s spectacularly mistaken. The influence of the Bible—and religion as a whole—remains a mighty force, perhaps even stronger than it was when I was a kid. So in the last few years, religion has become my fixation. Is half of the world suffering from a massive delusion? Or is my blindness to spirituality a huge defect in my personality? What if I’m missing out on part of being human, like a guy who goes through life without ever hearing Beethoven or falling in love? And most important, I now have a young son—if my lack of religion is a flaw, I don’t want to pass it on to him.
So I knew I wanted to explore religion. I just needed to figure out how.
The germ of the idea came from my own family: my uncle Gil. Or ex-uncle, to be exact. Gil married my aunt and divorced her a few years later, but he remains the most controversial member of our family. If the rest of my relatives are ultrasecular, Gil makes up for it by being, quite possibly, the most religious man in the world. He’s a spiritual omnivore. He started his life as a Jew, became a Hindu, appointed himself a guru, sat for eight months on a Manhattan park bench without speaking, founded a hippie cult in upstate New York, turned into a born-again Christian, and, in his latest incarnation, is an ultra–Orthodox Jew in Jerusalem. I may have missed a phase—I think he was into Shinto for a bit. But you get the idea.
At some point along his spiritual path, Gil decided to take the Bible literally. Completely literally. The Bible says to bind money to your hand (Deuteronomy 14:25), so Gil withdrew three hundred dollars from the bank and tied the bills to his palm with a thread. The Bible says to wear fringes on the corners of your garment (Numbers 15:38), so Gil bought yarn from a knitting shop, made a bunch of tassels, and attached them to his shirt collar and the ends of his sleeves. The Bible says to give money to widows and orphans, so he walked the streets asking people if they were widows or orphans so he could hand them cash.
About a year and a half ago, I was telling my friend Paul about Gil’s bizarre life over lunch at a sandwich shop, and I had my epiphany. That’s it. I needed to follow the Bible literally myself. I needed to do it for several reasons.
First, since the Bible requires me to tell the truth (Proverbs 26:28), I must confess that part of the reason is to write this book. A couple of years ago, I came out with a book about reading the Encyclopaedia Britannica, all of it, from A to Z—or more specifical, from a–ak (East Asian music) to ?
