The writings of A.J. Jacobs fall somewhere between those of David Sedaris and Bill Bryson. To my knowledge, Jacobs hasn't hiked the Appalachian Trail or lived in France with a man named Hugh, but he has engaged in some quirky adventures of the mind. For Esquire, Jacobs has outsourced his life, engaged in Radical Honesty and lived as a hot woman, and in his last book, The Know-It-All, he read every word of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
At first glance this may sound trivial or silly, especially when paired with the faux-Moses book cover, but Jacobs takes his project seriously. He consults over 130 books with monk-like diligence, speaks with spiritual advisors who help him decrypt the Bible's more confusing laws, and, as the year progresses, immerses himself deeper and deeper in the Bible's traditions, following its rules as literally as modern-day Manhattan will allow.
In one year Jacobs learns more about the Bible than most followers do in a lifetime, and he does so starting from a blank slate. Jacobs was raised in a secular home and is “Jewish in the same way the Olive Garden is an Italian restaurant.” Previous to his year-long project, the highpoint of his Judaism was placing a Star of David atop a Christmas tree. In other words, his learning curve was straight up. To overcome this hurdle, he dives into the project headfirst and allows the Jewish and Christian faiths to take over every minute of his life.
Jacobs gives up (or tries to give up) lying, gossip, coveting, anger and clothes that mix wool and cotton. He says “fudge” when frustrated and keeps his libido under control while interviewing Rosario Dawson—not an easy task. He sets aside his encyclopedic, know-it-all trivia because Proverbs instructs him that “a prudent man conceals his knowledge.” And, through tithing, he gives away ten percent of his income, which has an epiphanic side effect:
When not frustrating his better half, Jacobs busies himself by visiting a creationist museum, moshing with the Hasidim, herding sheep in Israel, worshiping with West Virginian snake handlers and hanging out at the church of Jerry Falwell. Throughout the year, Jacobs's quest takes him new places—physically, intellectually and spiritually—and after following both the Old and New Testaments, Judaism and Christianity, Jacobs makes the following point regarding the religions' differences:
The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs, Simon & Schuster, October 9, 2007, 388 Pages
Photograph by Michael Cogliantry
For his new project and latest book, The Year of Living Biblically, Jacobs takes on a shorter, more-hallowed tome, the Bible. And this time he just doesn't read it, he lives it—for over a year he attempts to follow all its rules. Yes, all of them, even the weird ones. He doesn't shave, wears white clothing from head to toe and attaches tassels to the corners of his shirts. He even stones someone (with a pebble) and punishes his son with a rod (aka, Nerf bat). By the end of the year, his beard has its own zip code.At first glance this may sound trivial or silly, especially when paired with the faux-Moses book cover, but Jacobs takes his project seriously. He consults over 130 books with monk-like diligence, speaks with spiritual advisors who help him decrypt the Bible's more confusing laws, and, as the year progresses, immerses himself deeper and deeper in the Bible's traditions, following its rules as literally as modern-day Manhattan will allow.
In one year Jacobs learns more about the Bible than most followers do in a lifetime, and he does so starting from a blank slate. Jacobs was raised in a secular home and is “Jewish in the same way the Olive Garden is an Italian restaurant.” Previous to his year-long project, the highpoint of his Judaism was placing a Star of David atop a Christmas tree. In other words, his learning curve was straight up. To overcome this hurdle, he dives into the project headfirst and allows the Jewish and Christian faiths to take over every minute of his life.
Jacobs gives up (or tries to give up) lying, gossip, coveting, anger and clothes that mix wool and cotton. He says “fudge” when frustrated and keeps his libido under control while interviewing Rosario Dawson—not an easy task. He sets aside his encyclopedic, know-it-all trivia because Proverbs instructs him that “a prudent man conceals his knowledge.” And, through tithing, he gives away ten percent of his income, which has an epiphanic side effect:
And as I gave away my money, I think I might have felt God's pleasure. I know: I'm agnostic. But still—I feel His pleasure. It's a warm ember that starts at the back my neck and spreads through my skull. I feel like I am doing something I should have been doing all my life.Not all of Jacobs's actions have such nice repercussions, however—some just piss off his wife. To her chagrin, Jacobs cannot touch her for seven days after the start of her period; nor can he sit where she's sat. His wife becomes frustrated with what she calls “theological cooties” and gets back at A.J. by sitting on every chair in their apartment. He's forced to buy a portable stool.
When not frustrating his better half, Jacobs busies himself by visiting a creationist museum, moshing with the Hasidim, herding sheep in Israel, worshiping with West Virginian snake handlers and hanging out at the church of Jerry Falwell. Throughout the year, Jacobs's quest takes him new places—physically, intellectually and spiritually—and after following both the Old and New Testaments, Judaism and Christianity, Jacobs makes the following point regarding the religions' differences:
The emphasis on faith is a key difference between modern Judaism and current evangelical Christianity. Judaism has a slogan: deed over creed. There's an emphasis on behavior; follow the rules of the Torah, and eventually you'll come to believe. But evangelical Christianity says you must first believe in Jesus, then the good works will naturally follow. Charity and kindness alone cannot save you. You must, as the saying goes, be “justified by faith."With introspection and humor, The Year of Living Biblically educates and entertains. A.J. Jacobs mixes wit, silliness, seriousness and facts in way that creates a perfect balance and an enjoyable read. While many essayists fall prey to pretension or vacuousness, Jacobs avoids both pitfalls with grace, even while wearing sandals and carrying a staff. Not once does he trip over his beard.
The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs, Simon & Schuster, October 9, 2007, 388 Pages
