In the past, I would post only book reviews pertinent to worship, music in the local church, or general Christian leadership and discipleship. Recently, I've been studying many more general topics as well, such as history, economics and scientific thought, some of which end up as reviews here as well.
Monday, February 27, 2012 at 12:38PM 
“I and Thou” is a translated work, originally in German, written by author, scholar and professor Martin Buber. Explaining and exploring this book in a review would be very difficult as an exercise of structure, since the book is not, in any sense, a structured narrative. It is actually a kind of artful, linguistic treatise, the purpose of which seems to be to reveal the folly of language itself (and thought to some degree) to properly frame reality. Buber’s main contention is that our language and our modern world drive us from the childlike assumption of relationship (the I and Thou) to the “mature” and felonious way of life that objectifies myself (I), people (others) and the world into the frame of I and It. Changing the Thou to an It, according to Buber, is done through many ways- but all of them break the powerful reality that the true Thou (God) intended. According to the author, we are meant to see the world through relational connections, not simply as objects and experiences.
As experience, the world belongs to the primary word I-It. The primary word I-Thou establishes the world of relation.[1]
More than any other part of the book, these two sentences scope the understanding of the entire text. I/It is a way to think about the world as objects and components. I/Thou is a way to think about the world that is relational. One compartmentalizes and dehumanizes others (I/It), the other makes everything possible and valuable by relation and connection not assignment of value.
By way of example, history is one way in which Thou changes to It. Buber clarifies that when we objectify (even living things) to describe them as details in the past, we remove them as living beings from our relational language (and hence our responsibility of personal direct relationship) to them. I and Thou is about the differentiation we place in understanding things as "it" and real beings as "thou", both of which are outside of "I". Everything outside of "I" is a way of seeing the world and defining both the "thou" and "it" as well as the "I". The whole concept sounds silly as I write it here, but becomes clear about 40 pages in to his book. For me, the writing is prose/poetry that helps extract us from the trappings of language that we are blind to. Think of Buber's challenge to writing this book-- imagine trying to help people see something that causes assumptions from the use of language. But in order to communicate the fact that language is problematic (or perhaps assumptive) in how we see the world, Buber must use language (the book) to deconstruct how people see their world. Buber does this with language (long before postmodernism had stolen this trick from the rationalists, believe it or not)- he doesn't use argument to deconstruct our assumptions- he uses writing style itself. So in using language (style) to deconstruct language (understanding) he accomplishes a dual purpose of deconstructing and constructing his new (though, not new, but just always missed due to our worldview) clarity to the characters of "I", "thou" and "it". By the time you get into the book deep enough to see his core concepts flourish into fully developed "results" you get some of the most riveting statements, such as this four sentence deluge of brilliance--
Feelings are "entertained": love comes to pass. Feelings dwell in man; but man dwells in his love. That is no metaphor, but the actual truth. Love does not cling to the I in such a way as to have the Thou only for its “content,” its object; but love is between I and Thou.[2]
The problem is, you can't get to that statement until you pass through Buber’s prerequisite points made through the first 40 pages of his book. I am learning a ton just reading this book, but it is likely I will have to re-read it a few times to start to mine its treasures well.
Still, the book contains dozens of succinct and poignant truths, the chief among them may be:
Love is responsibility of an I for a Thou.[3]
Another particularly astute observation he makes about all humanity
(This “fancy” does not in the least involve, however, a “giving of life to the universe”: it is-the instinct to make everything into Thou, to give relation to the universe, the instinct which completes out of its own richness the living effective action when a mere copy or symbol of it is given in what is over against him.)[4]
Speaking of infants/unborn children in the womb, Buber brilliantly explores their psychological reality. Here we see the idea that people try to create I and Thou relationships out of everything in life from the earliest age, because our first connection in existence is the I/Thou with the womb and person of our mother. Perhaps a bit Freudian, but ultimately a brilliant perception.
But my favorite parts of the book are that you can actually find practical nuggets of help for real life. This seemed surprising in such a combination of poetic, philosophical meanderings. One of my favorite quotes of this type is on marriage where Buber says:
Marriage, for instance, will never be given new life except by that out of which true marriage always arises, the revealing by two people of the Thou to one another.[5]
My final quotation is in the very practical ground of community, where Buber seems to echo another great thinker in the last century.
It is not the periphery, the community, that comes first, but the radii, the common quality of relation with the Centre. This alone guarantees the authentic existence of the community.[6]
This sounds very much like Bonhoeffer's idea of a wish-dream in community. Here Buber is saying that true community exists only when the common quality of relation is defined in the Centre. That Centre (God) itself defines the arc of community. Community doesn't define God, He defines it and gives it reality.
Amazon Book Link: http://amzn.to/zDbBff
Review by Kim Gentes
[1] Buber, Martin (1934). I and Thou translated by Ronald Gregor Smith (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1958) Kindle Edition, Location 187
buber, i and thou, martin buber, philosophy, theology in Apologetics, Book Review, Mystic, Reconciliation, Theology Monday, February 27, 2012 at 10:42AM 
“Good and Evil” is a short, but insightful philosophical work by Martin Buber. The book is primarily involved with defining evil, exploring its origins and metaphors (across ancient scripture and myth) and understanding how it frames the struggle of man to become what God has called him to be. While the book is called Good and Evil, Buber spends very little time discussing good and, in fact, frames good only by giving a comprehensive understanding of its counterpart- evil. From that perspective, Buber seeks to develop his main points of the two forces.
The book is broken in two sections. The first section examines five Psalms which deal mainly with the human plight of anguish and descending frustration in a world in which the wicked seem to prosper and righteous fail to win the day. The second section is a combination of both a dissection on the biblical account of the “fall” of man in the garden of Eden (and also the first active sin of Cain’s murder of his brother Abel) and an examination of the ancient Iranian/Zarathustrian myths that explore the origins of evil.
Buber’s contention builds through his exploration of evil at these various main points:
During Buber’s exploration of evil he generates an outline, by circumspection, of what “good” is. But his thoughts about good become a cogent synthesis in the final sections of the short book, where we encounter a combination of philosophical and theological thoughts that highlight Buber’s brilliance.
Buber infers, through negation, that good is staying focused and purposefully moving in the direction of God’s divine vision of your reality of who He created you to be, when he says
Phantasy... God pronounces evil because it distracts from His divinely given reality...[6]
All of Buber’s thoughts begin to rush like streams into one mighty river of thought in the last pages of his book, where his thoughts about human meaning and life surge off the pages. He concludes that man’s very life depends on God’s revelation to him, from which man can respond to move towards God by service which reflects and confirms that reason to which God created the man. God’s revelation, man’s service as authentication of that revelation, and the reiteration (via confirmation) back to the man is the perpetual cycle in which humans move in the right direction towards the creation God intended them to be. This is summed up beautifully in these final two quotes from the last chapter.
Man as man is an audacity of life, undetermined and unfixed; he therefore requires confirmation, and he can naturally only receive this as individual man, in that others and he himself confirm him in his being-this-man. Again and again the Yes must be spoken to him, from the look of the confidant and from the stirrings of his own heart, to liberate him from the dread of abandonment, which is a foretaste of death.[7]
and
Every ethos has its original in a revelation, whether or not it is still aware of and obedient to it; and every revelation is revelation of human service to the goal of creation, in which service man authenticates himself. Without authentication, that is, without setting off upon and keeping to the One direction, as far as he is able, quantum satis, man certainly has what he calls life, even the life of the soul, even the life of the spirit, in all freedom and fruitfulness, all standing and status- existence there is none for him without it.[8]
This is a brilliant book by an obviously brilliant mind. It may require slower reading to drink the concepts in here, but it is well worth the time.
Amazon Book Link: http://amzn.to/ABnmuP
Review by Kim Gentes
[1] Buber, Martin (1952). Good and Evil (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall 1992), Page 134
buber, christian, good and evil, martin buber, philosophy, poetry, theology, writer in Allegory, Book Review, Church, Mystic, Resource, Theology Sunday, February 26, 2012 at 11:44PM 
“Ethics of the Sages: Pirke Avot” is a collected, edited and commented book of wisdom sayings from Rabbinic Jewish leaders. This book starts off with detailed explanation of the texts, its origins, time frame and authorship. Some of the most surprising contents of this short volume actually appear in the biographical sketches of the Rabbis, where three of the Rabbis are said to have been visited bodily by the prophet Elijah, who acts like an angel delivering messages and help. Four others are said to have had experiences of entering heaven. Others endured death, some were saved from it and some had miraculous powers and encounters.
But the core of the book is the translated sayings of these Rabbi’s who are mentioned in the biographies. Much of the content reads like truncated proverbs, most times without the dichotomous nature of the Old testament book of Proverbs, such as this strong, yet terse passage :
The world rests on three things:
on wisdom,
on surrender,
on compassion.[1]
Ethics of the Sages: Pirke Avot is such a short book that themes are hard to come by, but one that is repeated with excellence is the theme of justice for the oppressed/poor. For example:
When called to judge, do not act as a lawyer; when listening to litigants, consider them both capable of guilt; when judgment is accepted, consider them both innocent.[2]
and
If the courts are weak, or if fruits of the Sabbatical year are not left to the poor, pestilence is the result.[3]
Generally speaking, the wisdom sayings show us a rawness that we don’t see in today’s culture. Everything is said quickly, without preface or qualification. Statements are made for clarity, not with concern to scoping or engaging the hearer. One of my favorite entries in the book was this quote on aging and a progression through life. I think I like it most because it represents insights into the culture of the authors and its appreciation for aging as a form of maturity, not a level of obsolescence as is so often done in modern times.
Marry at eighteen, and secure a career at twenty.
Full strength comes at thirty, but understanding waits until forty.
At fifty begin to counsel, and at sixty take your place as an elder.
Old age begins with seventy, but at eighty you still have power.
At ninety you bend with age, and at one hundred be as one dead, passing beyond the cares of this world.[4]
I enjoyed the book. I was surprised by the kind of experiential spirituality that is recorded for many of the sages, and I enjoyed the gritty reality that the wisdom sayings bring in their short, concise packaging.
Amazon Book Link : http://amzn.to/AbZhtm
Review by Kim Gentes
[1] Shapiro, Rabbi Rami . “Ethics of the Sages: Pirke Avot”. (Woodstock, VT: SkyLight Paths Publishing 2006), Kindle Edition. Location 671
Sunday, February 26, 2012 at 11:25PM 
“From Beirut to Jerusalem” is the thoughtful memoirs of a Jewish-American journalist based in the Middle East during the 70’s and 80’s. Thomas Friedman was The New York Times bureau chief for five years in Beirut and similarly served as the Israel bureau chief based in Jerusalem, after his term in Lebanon. Friedman writes with the inquisitive mind of a reporter, but the analytical prowess of a seasoned diplomat. What I loved most about this book is the insightful concepts that Friedman mines from his experiences in the Middle East, all the while embedding the reader in the personal narrative of his life in the conflict-ridden countries in which he worked and lived.
For example, after the reader learns about Friedman’s first weeks in Beirut and even the bombing of his own apartment building, the author has the presence of mind to draw out a poignant moment in the lives of a common citizen:
“In the United States if you die in a car accident, at least your name gets mentioned on television,” Hana remarked. “Here they don’t even mention your name anymore. They just say, ‘Thirty people died.’ Well, what thirty people? They don’t even bother to give their names. At least say their names. I want to feel that I was something more than a body when I die.”[1]
But Friedman isn’t just reminiscing about the incidentals of common hardships (valuable as that is), he is learning the under-girding truths of the society in which these things are occurring, and synthesizing those ideas into concepts that matter at the macro level:
What made reporting so difficult from Beirut was the fact that there was no center—not politically, not physically; since there was no functioning unified government, there was no authoritative body which reporters could use to check out news stories and no authoritative version of reality to either accept or refute; it was a city without “officials.”[2]
It is this dual gifting that makes the entire book both readable and insightful. Friedman does a good job at nuancing the opinions of the book with broader opinions of the people involved in the meta-stories. You hear about the close, personal work and friend relationships he has with Lebanese, Syrian, Jewish, and Palestinian individuals whose own stories (both tragic and hopeful) color the pages of this book. He tries to give you fair vantage points of all the people he meets- even when they are people he is being threatened by! For example:
Most of the PLO officials and guerrillas with whom I dealt regularly knew I was Jewish and simply did not care; they related to me as the New York Times correspondent, period, and always lived up to their claims to be “anti-Zionist” and not “anti-Jewish.”[3]
Friedman is aware that the world in which he is working is fraught with misunderstanding or indifference- or sometimes both. It is that misunderstand that ultimately leads to conflict and death. The book repeats this cycle, even as Friedman makes his personal journey from the US to Beirut, to Jerusalem and back to the US. The book is clear that there is a price for not paying attention to others, and not addressing the real issues, as he says powerfully:
The similarity between Israel and Lebanon is rooted in the fact that since the late 1960s both nations have been forced to answer anew the most fundamental question: What kind of state do we want to have—with what boundaries, what system of power sharing, and what values?
...both the Lebanese people and the Israeli people have failed to resolve their differences on these fundamental questions, and have each become politically paralyzed as a result...
Whereas in Lebanon the Cabinet was ineffectual because it represented no one, in Israel the Cabinet was ineffectual because it represented everyone. In Lebanon they called the paralysis “anarchy” and in Israel they called it “national unity,” but the net effect was the same: political gridlock.[4]
The author doesn’t simply cover the details of Lebanon and Israel. He also explores the connections with important middle east entities, both as they impact his host countries and as their own stories restate the tragic narrative of violence in the region. He describes the tragic story of the city of Hama, Syria, whose uprising against its government and brutal ruler President Hafez Assad led to its obliteration, along with tens of thousands of its citizens. Friedman also explores the regime of Saddam Hussein, in Iraq, and its terrible use of force to repress uprisings against its authoritarian government. He even provides a brief historical and contextual lesson for the entire region by describing the Ottoman empire, its end and dissection after World War I, and how the creation of modern Middle East countries forced tribes, languages and religions to be grouped in countries that were artificial constructions of the British and French powers (which is arguably considered one of the reasons for much internal strife within those countries, even to this day). The book explores the PLO and its self-aggrandizing leader Yasir Arafat, with character and historical descriptions as well. So much is covered in this books 526 pages, it is impossible to summarize it here. Additional highlights include the Israeli invasion of Lebanon, the US Marine’s peace keeping mission in Beirut, the Palestinian intifada (uprising), the details of Egypt/Israel’s war and eventual treaty, and much more.
Friedman does not allow his own heritage as a Jewish American to slight his integrity as a reporter. One of the clearest examples of this is his clarity of understanding with the desire of his Jewish compatriots to establish their homeland in the ancient land of Palestine- connected once again to the cities, locations and historical places that have profound meaning to the Jewish heritage. But he isn’t taken up in either Zionist or anti-Jewish extremes. He sees how easily the oppressed nature of the Jewish psyche can turn from being the historical oppressed to the vengeful oppressors:
As I watched these young Jewish terrorists in their yarmulkes and long beards walking around the courtroom, I could not help but be struck by their self-confidence and self-righteousness. The way they strutted about, chatting with their wives, chomping on green apples, and almost literally turning up their noses at the judge, was galling. I had seen the same arrogance among members of Hizbullah, the Party of God, in Beirut. These were simply the Jewish version.[5]
As the book rounds the corners of Friedman’s experience, the author doesn’t fail to speak of the powerful impact of the American superpower on all the nations of the middle east. Friedman fairly criticises and compliments the pertinent aspects of US policy, leadership and communications. Like he does with all the parties involved, the author mines the nuggets that we rarely think about but, in fact, reflect the pertinent meta-narratives that could make a significant difference.
Israeli political theorist Yaron Ezrahi always liked to tell me that the most important thing an American friend can offer Arabs and Israelis is American optimism—exactly the kind of innocent can-do optimism that the Marines brought to Beirut. The Marines’ almost childlike belief that every problem has a solution, that people will respond to reason, and that the future can triumph over the past is a wonderful thing, Yaron would remind me. It is a trait which Americans should never be ashamed of.[6]
Friedman gets to specifics, speaking about Israeli Prime Ministers, PLO leader Arafat (and others), and even US diplomats. My favorite section of the book is actually after the final chapter. In the epilogue, Friedman drills down to succinct, explicit steps that could be helpful for addressing the conflict of the Palestinian and Jewish /Arab conflict. His insights here are most thoughtful, although now perhaps more hopeful than the post-9/11 world might concede (his book is written in 1996, before the WTC and 9/11 attacks). Still, I believe it is the optimism that Friedman points to (in his quote about Americans) that can lead his other points to fruition. This is an expansive, engaging, personal, yet grandly comprehensive book. Very well done and worth reading.
Amazon Book Link: http://amzn.to/zp20ra
Review by Kim Gentes
[1] Friedman, Thomas L, “From Beirut to Jerusalem”. (New York, NY: Anchor Books/Doubleday 1996)., Kindle Edition, Page 29
Tuesday, January 24, 2012 at 3:29PM 
Elias Chacour is a Melkite Palestinian priest living in Galilee. He is a central figure in reconciliations efforts to draw an end to the persecution and expulsion of Arabs from the Jewish country of Israel. The territory occupied by Israel following the establishment of the state (after World War II), created a polarized ethnic feud, perpetrated by Zionist Jews (claims Chacour) that have resulted in the persecution of Palestinians. In his book “We Belong to the Land”, Chacour outlines his struggles as a priest and local leader in a the community of Ibillin. In that small community, Chacour fights to build unity amongst different people groups, religions and ages. His efforts include building a unified inter-faith group, constructing and managing a secondary school and high school, and eventually a college. The struggles Chacour outlines, explore the racist and discriminatory efforts of Jewish establishment officials to minimize the rights and opportunities of Palestenians in an effort to force them to leave the country (allowing the Jews to have a completely Zionized state).
Unlike his other book, Blood Brothers, Chacour focuses this book on details of injustice, his programs and building efforts, his organization and leadership across Galilee, Israel and around the world. Much of the book includes his philosophical and rhetorical foundation for his opposition to Jewish radicalism within the occupied territories where Palestinians once thrived. Chacour is a brilliantly practical man, with wit wisdom and far reaching appeal. He intuits things that others only come to understand through years of deep thinking and research. For example, he speaks eloquently about the value of human beings:
"The true icon is your neighbor", I explained to my companions on Mount Tabor, "the human being who has been created with the image and with the likeness of God..."[1]
We Belong to the Land especially follows the details of corruption not only with the the Zionist corners of the Israeli government, but scandalous and complicit efforts of Chacour’s own overseer, the local Bishop of his church’s diocese in which he is serving. In fact, corruption of values across the church and even “western” society is brought largely into focus by Chacour’s damning indictments of the “Christian” supported US government’s efforts to support and sustain Israel’s policies.
Much of what Chacour elucidates he does so as we follow the story of his building of his local school in the community of Ibillin. The seemingly simple matter of securing a building permit becomes the plot device which allows us to explore the broader injustices to both Ibillin and the Palestinian people. But Chacour is careful not to become the very thing he despises, which is common a trend. Instead of hating the Jewish people who have repressed the Palestinians in the country, he constantly calls for a fellowship of love in which both people’s can live in harmony within the land. His most articulate arguments become prayers of commonality that we can all join in. He says,
Human worth, human qualities, are much more important than Jewish, Palestinian, or American nationalism, peoplehood, or land. Sometimes it seems to me that Zionism pushes the Jews to Zionize themselves rather than humanize themselves.[2]
His thesis in the book centers around his belief that the thousands of years of living in the land have united the Palestinians with the essence of what it is to be an agrarian people.
Mobile Western people have difficulty comprehending the significance of the land for Palestinians. We belong to the land. We identify with the land, which has been treasured, cultivated, and nurtured by countless generations of ancestors.[3]
The examples and clarity of Chacour’s convictions become crystal clear. He is intent on peaceful freedom for Palestinians within the national borders of Israel. But for all his brilliant practicality, Chacour takes his altruism and misapplies it at least once, when he says,
God does not kill, my friends. God does not kill the Ba’al priests on Mount Carmel, or the inhabitants of the ancient city of Jericho. God does not kill in Nazi concentration camps, or in Palestinian refuge camps, or on any field of battle.[4]
It is obvious to many that Elias Chacour reflects the best of a heart of justice found in our world today. Yet, we cannot, even in our desire for justice, pretend to know more than God. God, in fact, is more just than us, and more loving than us. But He did kill, not just people in the Old Testament (uncountable peoples of all the inhabited the land of Canaan that were wiped out as Israel settled and conquered the region, including both of the instances of Ba’al preists and Jericho inhabitants that Chacour blatantly denies God is responsible for, though the text clearly indicates He is), but people in the New (Ananias and Sapphira, plus the multitudes of opposition to Jesus righteous judgments in John’s Revelation). While we have a hard time reconciling those actions to our comprehension of a loving God, we cannot dismiss God’s actions of these final earthly judgements of death as though they didn’t happen or he didn’t mean it. He did, and He is still God. Misstating these facts to shape God into your vision of justice does not do God, himself, any justice.
The other (more dangerous) issue to me on the above quote is that Chacour combines things that God clearly does instigate (Jericho and Mt. Carmel) with things that man (or perhaps Satan himself) have deeply inspired and carried out (Nazi Germany, Palestinian refuge camps). One cannot attribute all evil actions to God, unless one decides to make man faultless of his own predilections, choices and sinfilled actions. Of course, there is the grand question "why do bad things happen to good people" and why is there suffering and hurt. The short answer is - sin. But there are rife volumes and lives spent on the topic, so I won't pretend to sort that all out here. But munging God's clear actions and man's sinful ones in a single list of activity (as though they belong together) is a terribly grievous error, for which I cannot let go without mention.
My confidence in his writing flags when I see that he never actually deals head on with the specific claims of moderate Zionist Jews who believe they are following an edict from God to reclaim the land granted to Abraham (and therefor, Israel) by Yahweh. I am convinced that he is a man of integrity, and certainly not afraid of confrontation and working against the norm, so it surprises me that he never broaches the subject from the Jewish point of view, even if to discredit the weak points of their argument. Second, he takes the broad tact that all Christians (and especially all American Christians) are somehow in rabid support of Jewish Zionism. Again, he washes his hands of details and accuses the US of global blood guilt without taking on specifics and details from which a more reasonable (balanced) response could be given to his condemnations. It feels a little like he deals so beautifully with the story of the Palestinians that he doesn’t want to address the 800lb gorilla issue in the room- the contrary story which lives along side him every day- the Jewish Israeli claim to the land of Canaan, promised to them through the Old Testament scriptures.
I feel quite guilty having brought up what I think are short comings of his fine book, since one feels ultimately humbled and speechless in light of such a great witness of Christ’s love and reconciliation. I am very glad to be wrong on all my points, and would feel better about it. For me, the things I have said negatively don’t deter from his great accomplishments or his stature as a preeminent leader of peace in our generation. It is hard not to love the heart, desires and unbelievable work ethic of Elias Chacour. The accomplishments he has made in the midst of being a nearly singular voice within a tragic situation is remarkable. He has much to teach the world about the true nature of reconciliation and its practical outworking. I would love to meet him.
Amazon Book Link: http://amzn.to/w5PTZ2
Review by Kim Gentes
[1]Chacour, Elias & Jensen, Mary “We Belong to the Land”. (Notre Dame, IN: Notre Dame University Press 2001), Pg. 46
[2]Ibid., Pg. 69
[3]Ibid., Pg. 80
[4]Ibid., Pg. 163
arab, chacour, christian, conflict, elias, israel, palestine, palestinian, priest, reconciliation in Book Review, Church, Community, Grief, Justice, Leadership, Loss, Persecution, Reconciliation