Pinn (Interplay of Things), a professor of religion at Rice University, and Braxton (Open), a pastor and professor of public theology at Chicago Theological Seminary, explore their “deep differences” regarding an array of moral and social issues in this open-minded offering. Structured as a dialogue between Braxton, a Christian, and Pinn, a secular humanist, the authors aim to “expose the assumptions undergirding” the arguments of both traditions while envisioning a better, more just world. Topics of discussion include the Black Lives Matter movement, whether suffering can be redemptive, and Black “nones”­—the “growing group of religiously unaffiliated people”­—whose close commitment to social justice work, Pinn opines, “raises questions concerning the... meaning of religiosity as a guiding orientation for ‘good’ living.” Elsewhere, the two tackle the role of hope in social movements (Braxton considers it essential, while Pinn advocates instead an attitude of resistance), and religion’s place in public life (Braxton views religious communities as key drivers of social change, whether they’re registering voters or supporting climate change initiatives; Pinn calls for a “public arena that... doesn’t privilege the claims of any particular faith”). The authors’ obvious rapport keeps the conversation from lagging despite its theological heft, and their rejection of “Pollyannish call[s]” for simple agreement is appealing. This gives readers a lot to chew on. (July)

Reviewed on 04/28/2023 | Details & Permalink

Pastor Chuck Elliott and wife Ashley Elliott, a mental health counselor, coach readers through psychological soul-searching sparked by loss in this sensible debut guide. Drawing on their own moments of grief, the authors explain that “our view of ourselves often changes because of our loss,” as “unmet needs are exposed,” triggering shame or vulnerability. To heal, it’s important to define the loss (when Ashley miscarried, the couple grieved the absent “life and... our hopes and dreams”) and address the often unpleasant labels that come with it (Ashley balked at “sterile medical terms” including “spontaneous abortion”). Readers are encouraged to rework language they find triggering (the couple opted for saying “our baby died,” which they found more empowering) and neutralize unwanted labels, such as “unemployed” or “divorced,” by “increasing... awareness of [the] strong emotions” they inspire. TheElliots also distinguish positive coping mechanisms (crying, seeking community) from negative ones (self-medicating, “shutting God out”) and recommend drawing strength from Scripture. Aided by reflection questions and bite-size prayers, this resource charts a manageable route through grief recovery, with especially useful tools for communication during moments of emotional fragility. Those seeking faith-based healing will find it a balm. (Aug.)

Reviewed on 04/28/2023 | Details & Permalink

Journalist Schiess (The Liturgy of Politics) presents an erudite history of both America’s “proper application” and “deep misuse” of scripture during pivotal events, from the Revolutionary and Civil wars through the Cold War and 9/11. Among other topics, Schiess examines politicians’ invocations of biblical blessings and the idea of America as a nation “uniquely covenanted with God.” Citing 1960s civil rights activists’ references to the exodus from Egypt, she explains that the Black church community recognized itself in “the plights of Israel” and looked to the Bible for “a divine mission for justice,” making for powerful oratory, while segregationists drew on hazy, misapplied “appeals to the unmistakable natural order of God’s creation.” Schiess sets out a new vision for biblical language use: instead of “plucking passages out of their context” and retrofitting them for predetermined political agendas, those combing the Bible for present-day insight should consider “the larger context of God’s redemptive story.” Buttressing her claims with impressive close analysis, Schiess sets out a nuanced look at America’s legacy of scriptural language, and readers will find especially useful her guidelines for responsible biblical interpretation when engaging in political discourse. This is a boon for activists looking to the Bible for inspiration. (Aug.)

Reviewed on 04/28/2023 | Details & Permalink

Country music artist Smith debuts with a sensitive and moving recollection of his path through grief recovery after his three-year-old son, River, accidentally drowned in 2019. Beginning with a paralyzing account of finding River facedown in a pool, Smith details the “slideshow” of grief that repeated on loop in his brain in the days afterward: River “purple and limp like a rag doll,” and, later, “in the hospital with breathing tubes in his nose”; Smith’s other son, then–five-year old Lincoln, placing his fingers on River’s casket at the funeral. Smith went through the motions at concerts and sought relief in self-help books and his weed pen, until a moment months later when, listening to devotionals in his car, he was “blown away” by a sudden awareness of God’s unconditional love: “I knew of God before, but now I understood something far greater... he knew me.” Smith explains how he abandoned a false sense of control and placed his trust in Jesus, and found a measure of purpose within the pain by using trauma as fuel to spread God’s message. He also offers readers strategies to navigate their own grief, such as surrounding themselves with like-minded believers. In stark, intimate prose, the author candidly renders the realities of suffering while articulating a moving message of renewal. Those seeking a faith-based path through grief will find this instructive and affecting. (Aug.)

Reviewed on 04/28/2023 | Details & Permalink

In this dark, unsparing debut, musician Okamoto recounts leaving behind his Christian faith while teaching at an evangelical university. Okamoto grew up firmly “indoctrinated into conservative fundamentalism” and consumed by the “euphoria” of worship songs at Christian retreats, but his faith began to wane in college, and when he landed a job teaching writing at an unnamed “flagship evangelical university,” he vowed to challenge students’ conservative worldviews. But many didn’t come to such places to have their views interrogated, he learned—only to be more “in love with Jesus”—and the on-campus culture was rife with homophobia, obsession with the prosperity gospel, and blatant racism, including a surreal moment in which a student’s mother argued against interracial marriage in the Japanese American author’s classroom. Okamoto stayed because he hoped to help those trying to “reconcile the irreconcilable values of evangelical Christianity,” but the 2000 presidential election spurred the collapse of his faith and his gradual transformation into an agnostic. Though his caustic tone sometimes becomes grating (“I walked around campus muttering under my breath, ‘Fuck you. You there, praying by the coffee shop.... Fuck you’ ”), Okamoto’s perspective on being Asian American in a white, insular Evangelical environment is fascinating and candidly expressed. Readers who can get past the off-putting narration will unearth some sharp insights. (Apr.)

Reviewed on 04/21/2023 | Details & Permalink

The late Carr (The House of Napolitano, as Martin Lea ) paints a moving yet incomplete portrait of his mother, Esther Singer Kreitman (1891–1954), the little-known novelist sister of Yiddish writers I.J. Singer and Isaac Bashevis Singer. Carr describes growing up in London during WWI under the threat of German bombs, and listening to his mother’s stories about her gloomy Warsaw childhood: she was neglected by her mother, who left Kreitman in the care of a wet nurse who stored baby and crib beneath a table. Despite chronic sight problems, Kreitman devoured Yiddish fiction and wrote short stories from a young age. She later had an unhappy marriage with Carr’s “gallivanting” father, but persevered to publish three novels in Yiddish, which Carr eventually translated into English. Kreitman’s relationship with her brothers was frequently strained, writes the author, and while Isaac eventually dedicated a book to her, her name was misspelled in the dedication. There are some worthy insights into Kreitman’s psyche (“With the elusive [Isaac] my habitually overeffusive mother is at a loss for words”), but Carr’s tendency to weave in less intriguing recollections from his own life make for a scattershot narrative that does little to restore Kreitman to her place in 20th-century Yiddish literature. The definitive account of Kreitman’s life remains to be written. (July)

Reviewed on 04/21/2023 | Details & Permalink

Artist Valeria (Moon Witch Oracle) offers an eclectic mix of recipes, spells, and rituals intended to “heal your body and mind” in this fun compendium. Entries range from garden-variety tips, including using an aloe mask “for an extra glow,” to the less expected, such as healing spiritual and emotional issues with the help of elderflower ice pops. Elsewhere, she prescribes a nasturtium pesto “for manifestation” and recommends readers “write what you would like to attract” on the leaves before adding them to the food processor with basil leaves and pine nuts, and promises a shortbread cookie recipe can restore one’s “zest for life” thanks to its inclusion of bright blue cornflowers, which symbolize the “passion of youth.” Despite a few weaker entries—among them an “energy bath for empaths” that essentially entails getting into a tub with a crystal and letting the water work its healing “magic”—Valeria’s voice is chummy and lighthearted (of the pesto: “If making your own pasta sauce from scratch using flowers isn’t an act of self-love, I don’t know what is”), and readers will appreciate how her modern approach casts self-love rituals as an opportunity to “carve some time out just for yourself.” This is delightful. (July)

Reviewed on 04/21/2023 | Details & Permalink

In this enlightening entry, meditation teacher Holecek (Dream Yoga) introduces readers to the practice of reverse meditation, so called because it entails “revers[ing] our relationship to unwanted experiences, which means going directly into them.” Holecek opens with the concept of “contraction,” or the tendency to “retreat from reality... when things start to hurt,” positing that “super contractors” such as anger and aggression trigger this reaction to protect the self amid crisis. As a corrective, Holecek outlines three meditation types, beginning with referential meditation (which involves a “hitching post” such as breath or a mantra) and nonreferential meditation (the removal of the hitching post for “formless” mindfulness), followed by reverse meditation. Reverse meditation is broken into four steps: practitioners can observe their pain; be with the pain “without commentary”; analyze the nature of the pain; and finally “yoke or unite with” the pain. In so doing, the author suggests, readers can transform contractions into opportunities to generate compassion for the self and others. Despite drawing on a host of sources in way that can feel rather kitchen sink—within a few pages he cites T.S. Eliot, Jewish scholar Zvi Ish-Shalom and British scientist John Wren-Lewis—Holecek’s plan is grounded in an intuitive logic, and the principles are outlined clearly enough for nonspecialists to grasp. Those looking for a more freeing meditation approach will want to take a look. (July)

Reviewed on 04/21/2023 | Details & Permalink

Business coach Worthington (Standing Strong) addresses Christian readers struggling through motherhood in this down-to-earth guide. Studies reveal 56% of moms experience “mom guilt” more than once a week, she writes, but the solution isn’t better managing one’s children—it’s better caring for one’s own emotional health. Worthington dispels parenting myths, including that “good moms’ kids are obedient” and that good moms can “do it all,” and lays out “non-negotiables” that readers should prioritize, including sleep and prayer or breathwork. As well, she urges forging friendships with other moms, though it’s crucial to maintain boundaries, especially when it comes to others’ judgments: “If someone is trying to get you to stop being yourself... that person is toxic for you” and should be avoided. While the messaging can get repetitive, readers will be heartened by the counsel not to “sacrifice yourself at the altar of motherhood” and charmed by the author’s accounts of her own parenting disasters, whether nearly “pesto-poisoning” her son or the time her toddlers killed a neighbor’s koi fish. This is ideal for Christian moms seeking encouragement, understanding, and a laugh or two. (Aug.)

Reviewed on 04/21/2023 | Details & Permalink

Writing instructor Kempton (Wabi Sabi) outlines in this wise guide a creative practice inspired by Buddhist philosophy. In a departure from advice that centers on “painful effort,” Kempton contends that becoming a “fearless writer” requires embracing three principles derived from Buddhism’s Gates of Liberation: “desirelessness” teaches writers to “serve the writing, not the ego”; formlessness encourages them to freely “spill” their words onto the page before fashioning them into a shape; and “emptiness” urges writers to see “through [their] fixed ideas about separate selves” so as to write without fear of critique. Kempton weaves abstract musings with practical suggestions; in discussing desirelessness, for example, she suggests “it’s the [writing] process that’s sacred, not the individual words” and cautions readers against becoming “too attached to what lands on the page.” Readers should carve out writing rituals, and once finished, “come back to your day and carry on, as if you haven’t just traveled to other worlds and back.” Kempton mixes Buddhist principles with writing advice in a seamless, down-to-earth prose, and the prompts, such as emptying one’s pockets and writing about “what you carry,” are more innovative than the usual fare. Writers seeking a freeing approach to their craft should give this a look. (July)

Reviewed on 04/21/2023 | Details & Permalink