The Year of Living Biblically
By: A. J. Jacobs

A self-proclaimed atheist, Jewish, (as he says, Jewish the same way the Olive Garden is an Italian restaurant,) New Yorker decides to go on a one-year journey through the Bible. But not just reading it. Living it.

He says in his introduction, “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 of mixed fibers. To stone adulterers. And, naturally, I am trying to leave the edges of my beard unshaven (Leviticus 10: 27). I am trying to obey the entire Bible, without picking and choosing.”

Jacobs, who is married and has a 2-year-old son, works at Esquire magazine. He spends 9 months in the Old Testament and Talmud, and 3 months on the New Testament. In the end he wishes he had allotted more time for the New Testament and ends up adding 2 weeks to the year. He wanted to add another month but his wife put her foot down.

The Year of Living Biblically http://www.ajjacobs.com/content/home.asp is a fun read and surprisingly very educational about traditions and Bible verses that are a bit on the obscure side. Jacobs dives in and does his best to follow the rules. He grows a beard he can’t trim, wears white, ties tassels to his clothes, doesn’t touch his wife or sit on the same chairs she does during her “unclean” times. (She gets her revenge during one “unclean” period and sits on every chair in the house, forcing him to buy a portable seat that folds up to look like a cane. But the book is dedicated to her so all is well.)

Despite his proclaimed atheism Jacobs is slightly open to spirituality. He genuinely seems to want to know more about his heritage and understand Christians and their beliefs. He tries to look at all sides of the religion issue, even attending a couple of meetings of the New York City Atheists. He says of the meeting, “… go to an atheist meeting, and you’ll see why the religious lobby doesn’t have to worry about the atheist lobby quite yet. You’ll see why there are no soaring atheist cathedrals and why hotel room nightstands don’t come with a copy of “Why I am Not a Christian” by Bertrand Russell in the top drawer. It’s hard to be passionate about a lack of belief.”

Exodus 20:4, the “no graven images” verse proves to be a challenge. Jacobs says that the loose interpretation is for people not to make things that you will worship. He chooses to take the stricter interpretation, which is no images what so ever. No, painting, drawing, sculpture or photography.  So he does not doodle, use smiley face emoticons, turn on the TV (but he watches it if it is already on, “because that cannot be construed as “making an image.”) When his son wants to make play-dough sculptures with him, he is limited to geometric shapes.

Jacobs goes through some changes during his biblical year. How profound or long lasting they will be remains to be seen. But he says that the whole notion of God and praying had never really been in his life before. He states that, previous to this “biblical” year, he does not recall saying the word “Lord” unless it was followed by “of the Rings.” But one day he accidentally gets locked in his bathroom. He’s alone in his apartment without a cell phone. The old Jacobs would be in a panic. But he says, “I’m OK with it. It doesn’t cause my shoulders to tighten. I’ve reached an unexpected level of acceptance. For once, I’m savoring the present. I’m admiring what I have….  I start to pray. And, perhaps for the first time, I pray in true peace and silence – without glancing at the clock, without my brain hop scotching from topic to topic.”

Vanity is another topic Jacob covers. He wants to stop self-Googling, and start being more like Noah. “If Noah were alive today he wouldn’t be wasting his time checking out what blogs said about him. He’d be down at Home Depot buying more lumber. Starting today, I’m going to be more like Noah. Toughen up.”

Jacobs does get to “stone an adulterer.” I’ll let you read the book to find out how that came to be, but don’t worry, no blood was shed. He thought that eating locusts would make him feel “manly and adventurous. Fear Factor Old Testament style.” On trying to follow the speed limit and other driving laws he says, “Until I started to pay attention, I didn’t even know speed limits existed in New York. I figured the rule was: Gun your car to get to the next light as fast as possible, and then jerk to a stop. Then repeat.” It was worse on obeying the speed limit on the freeway. He says, “”often I’m the only one putt-putting along at 55, certainly the only one without a “World’s Best Grandpa” bumper sticker.”

Jacobs goes to the Creation Museum, tours Israel, sacrifices a chicken, (someone else was the actual knife-wielder), and hires a man to go through his closet checking for “mixed fibers” (which they are not supposed to wear.) He has several people who work as sort of consultants, both Jewish and Christian, and travels to Amish Country.

Volunteering is also a part of the year and Jacobs does his good work at a soup kitchen. He notes, “There’s almost always a church youth group at the soup kitchen. I have yet to see an atheists’ youth group. Yeah, I know, religious people don’t have a monopoly on doing good.” It’s interesting to see how Jacobs sees a lot of every day life now that he has put himself in the other world of religion.

He says that the experience was somewhat of a paradox to him. “I thought religion would make me live with my head in the clouds, but as often as not, it grounds me in the world.”

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