Elliot Ritzema

Category: Books

  • I Need to Buy a Pair of Work Sweatpants: A Review

    In the time that I have been working at Faithlife, my workspace has changed several times. When I started, I was working in a sort of glorified hallway. But there was not a lot of traffic walking by, and I was interested in getting to know my coworkers (and glad to have a job), so I didn’t mind that much.

    After about a year, I moved to the fourth floor of another building. There were some private offices, but most people worked in an open office area that is divided into four sub-areas. The longer I worked on that floor, the more people were hired, and the closer we got squished together. Eventually I reached a tipping point: there were too many visual and auditory distractions in my workspace to do excellent work on a consistent basis. I spent time reading the occasional debate or hit piece on open offices to make myself feel less alone—and also working from home more. More recently, I’ve moved into a workspace with more privacy, but I still work remotely when I really need to focus on a single task.

    So I was drawn to the book Remote: Office Not Required by Jason Fried and David Heinemeier Hansson, the founders of the Chicago-based software company 37signals. Their company has extensive experience with remote employees that work all over the United States and all over the world, and this is their argument for why more companies should jump on the remote bandwagon.

    The book is a quick and enjoyable read. It is divided into numerous chapters that are about the length of a blog post (2–3 pages each), with each chapter prefaced by a full-page graphic on the subject of that chapter. Most of the book, as I mentioned, is devoted to presenting a case for why traditional companies should allow more of their employees to work remotely, and dealing with potential pitfalls along the way. For example, in the chapter “Great remote workers are simply great workers,” they argue that the work of remote employees stands on its own better than with traditional employees. You can tell right away if a remote employee is doing good work in a timely manner, whereas with a traditional employee you are more likely to be misled by their personableness and punctuality into thinking that they are actually doing a good job.

    The authors do give a few tips in the last section of the book on how to live life as a remote worker (like building a routine and separating work and personal clothes and computing devices). In skimming through a few other reviews, I noticed that the negative reviews seemed to focus on the fact that so little space was spent in this area and so much was spent on trying to convince employers that transitioning to remote employees was a good idea. If you know that this is what the book primarily focuses on, you’re less likely to be disappointed.

    As for myself, I thought it was a fun read. I am not planning on going 100% remote anytime soon, since I do like my coworkers and enjoy being in the office . But for the times when I absolutely must focus, I’m going to stay home, change into my work sweatpants, and get after it.

    Note: Thanks to the publisher for a review copy of this book. I was not asked to give a positive review.

  • Princes and Gods and Kings of Egypt: A Review

    A couple of years ago, I edited a commentary on Exodus. I had never taken the time to study the book that deeply before, and I enjoyed the experience. So when I heard that there was a new volume coming out in the Kregel Exegetical Library series on Exodus, I decided to pick it up.

    A Commentary on Exodus is by Duane A. Garrett, who teaches at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. He has previously published Song of Songs in the Word Biblical Commentary, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs and Hosea, Joel in the New American Commentary, and A Modern Grammar for Classical Hebrew.

    He states at the outset of the commentary, “I have intentionally written this work to fill certain gaps within the literature. To this end, I have been selective and have not dealt with every possible issue” (9). So, for example, he spends a good deal of space in his introduction acquainting his readers with ancient Egypt, since he sees a lack in other commentaries in that regard. He also deals with controversial issues like the date of the exodus (he argues that the data is inconclusive, though the event did happen), the genealogy of Moses, and the locations of the Reed/Red Sea and Sinai. Even when he argues for one side over the other, I thought he still presented the other side of the debate thoroughly, so readers are able to make up their own minds. I would definitely classify him as a maximalist when it comes to the relationship between the Old Testament and archaeology.

    Each section of the commentary proper comes in five parts: an introduction, a translation of the passage with textual footnotes, the structure of the passage, a verse-by-verse commentary, and a theological summary of key points. Poems also include the Hebrew text and are broken up into stanzas. For pastors using this commentary, I think the theological summary of key points would be most helpful as they think of how to apply it to their audience. For example, in a section on the vestments of the high priest (28:1–29:37), he writes that “for Israel, the ordained means of approaching God is both personal (the Aaronic priest) and institutional (the whole Tent of Meeting complex). For Christians, analogously, the one access to God is the person of Christ and the one institution ordained by God for his worship is the church, as it was built by Christ himself (Matt 16:18)” (596). Comments like these are helpful for beginning the move from exegesis to application.

    The only complaint I have about the commentary is that the table of contents and running heads are not as detailed as I would like; readers who are looking for a particular passage will have to do some flipping to find it. But when the only bad thing you can say about a book is about small formatting issues, you know it is a very good book. I am sure that, if I am called to preach on a passage in Exodus in the near future, this will be one of the first commentaries I consult.

    Note: Thanks to the publisher, Kregel, for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

  • Alcohol from A to Z: A Review

    On the day that I turned 21, some friends took me out to celebrate. Even though it is customary to have something alcoholic on the day that you can imbibe legally, on that day I really just felt like a milkshake. So that’s what I had.

    That early experience sums up my relationship to alcoholic drinks for the early part of my adult life. I liked them all right, but most of the time I could take them or leave them. I was too cheap to get the expensive stuff, and getting drunk has never been attractive to me, so I didn’t drink the cheap stuff either. But in the last few years I’ve started to take an interest in the varieties of alcoholic drinks, compare them to one another, and think about my preferences. I’ve also started to take an interest in mixed drinks, though my frugal self would really rather try to make them at home than order them when I’m out at a restaurant.

    That personal history is what drew me to The Essential Bar Book by Jennifer Fiedler. Its subtitle calls it “an A-to-Z guide to spirits, cocktails, and wine, with 115 recipes for the world’s great drinks.” It’s a nicely bound hardcover book, with definitions of everything from absinthe to zymurgy. The 115 cocktail recipes also feature a historical introduction. For example, here is the introduction for the Manhattan:

    One of the enduring heavyweights in the cocktail world, the Manhattan is something of a twist on the Old Fashioned, most likely spurred by the arrival of sweet vermouth in the United States in the latter part of the nineteenth century. The too-good-to-be-true story surrounding this drink’s origins—that it was invented at the Manhattan Club for an event with Winston Churchill’s mother as hostess—is just that: a tall tale. Although cocktail historians are still debating the subject, current theories favor either the Manhattan Club (though for an occasion not involving a British political figure) or a waiter named Black who worked in lower Manhattan in the 1870s as the source for the original recipe. There are other cocktails named for each of New York’s boroughs, but none are as popular as the Manhattan.

    You can find definitions, recipes, and even the history of various drinks and terms online, so what is the benefit of this book? I would say it is the same benefit that you get from a brick-and-mortar bookstore over Amazon: the joy of serendipitous discovery. If you know everything you’re looking for, then this book will have less appeal for you. But especially if the world of drinks is a new one to you, it is fun to browse through this book and find new recipes and terms you didn’t think to look for.

    Here is a look at the first 20 pages of the book.

    Note: Thanks to the publisher for a review copy of this book. I was not asked to give a positive review.

  • Interior Design for the Literature Lover: A Review

    I review a lot of books here, but I don’t think I have ever reviewed a book on interior design. However, I was drawn to Lisa Borgnes Giramonti‘s book Novel Interiors: Living in Enchanted Rooms Inspired by Literature by my love of classic novels. What keeps me reading a novel is mostly the plot and characters, but what makes me return to a novel again (or continue reading more works by the same author) is the setting, the world the author has created. Giramonti and photographer Ivan Terestchenko have delivered a gift for all literature lovers in this book, described on the back cover as “the ultimate book-lover’s guide to decorating.”

    The book comes in six chapters, each of which explores a different style inspired by well-known authors. Giramonti explains them as follows in her introduction:

    • In “Shall I Put the Kettle On?” I’ll give you the decorating basics that authors like Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, and Elizabeth Gaskell consider essential to a home that’s cozy and unpretentious. You’ll learn how to create the ultimate reading refuge, how to organize the perfect kitchen pantry, and why threadbare rugs have so much soul.
    • If you’re more drawn to the refined interiors of Edith Wharton, Evelyn Waugh, or Henry James, then start with “Remembrance of Things Past.” In it, you’ll discover the visual power of symmetry, why buying gold-rimmed china is something you’ll never regret, and how to live like you’re in a stately home even if you’re in a third-floor walk-up.
    • Maybe you favor an unvarnished approach to life like Thomas Hardy, D. H. Lawrence, and Willa Cather. In the “Living au Naturel” chapter, it’s all about handmade over man-made. You’ll learn why a pared-down room feels sacred, how to keep a neutral room from turning ten shades of blah, and how to set your table for a perfect rustic feast.
    • Perhaps you’re like F. Scott Fitzgerald, W. Somerset Maugham, and Beverley Nichols and love sleek interiors, geometric patterns, and lots of white and black. In “Oh, the Glamour of It All,” I’ll explain why reflective surfaces add sophistication to a space, what a great room has in common with a well-tailored wardrobe, and how to set up a classic cordial bar for your next cocktail party.
    • Do you embrace color, chaos, and the unconventional? You’re in good company—so do Isak Dinesen, Katherine Mansfield, and Lawrence Durrell. In the “Anything Goes” chapter, you’ll learn how to mix patterns like a pro, how to re-create some of Virginia Woolf’s favorite flower arrangements, and why floor cushions are an absolute must for your home.
    • If you appreciate drama in your interiors, chances are you have a little pleasure seeker in you. Head straight to the “Sometimes a Fantasy” chapter and take a cue from authors like Oscar Wilde, Marcel Proust, and Ronald Firbank. Here, you’ll discover the genius of a draped wall, how to add some theatricality to your dinner table, and ways to turn a bedroom into one that’s totally Proust-worthy. (16–19)

    The book has many lovely full-color photos, as well as numerous notes on style and quotes from classic books. This is a great hardcover coffee table book for anyone who enjoys both literature and interior design. I should point out, however, that the subtitle is clear that these rooms are inspired by literature. They’re intended to evoke the style of particular works, not to be exact replicas of particular rooms from favorite books. I think, coming at this book as a literature aficionado rather than an interior design one, actual replications of rooms in classic works would have been more intriguing to me. Nevertheless, I can see this book appealing to the right audience of people who care deeply about both literature and interior design.

    Note: Thanks to the publisher for a review copy of this book through the Blogging for Books program.

  • Taught by Children: A Review of Small Talk

    As a married man with no children, I am probably not the primary intended audience for Amy Julia Becker’s Small Talk: Learning from My Children about What Matters Most. But I had read some of her writing on Christianity Today’s her.meneutics blog as well as her own blog, Thin Places, and I enjoyed her writing style, so I decided to pick this book up.

    Small Talk is arranged chronologically, beginning when Becker and her husband Peter had two small children and she was pregnant with their third. It comes in three parts: Holding On, Letting Go, and Growing Up. Each part has several chapters with one-word titles like Christmas, Prayer, Sin, Happiness, Friendship, and Tragedy. In each chapter, Becker writes about her interactions with her children on these subjects, and what she learns from these interactions. For example, her oldest, Penny, has Down syndrome, and so in the “Disability” chapter she tries to help her middle child, William, understand what that means. In the process, she reflects on the importance of treating people as individuals rather than stuffing them into a category—we are unique in that we all have our own gifts, and we all have our own brokenness.

    Even though, as I said above, I am probably not the main audience for this book, I greatly enjoyed it. While I do not play the same roles in my life as Becker does in hers, I too enjoy reflecting on and learning lessons from everyday experiences. Becker is a thoughtful parent who is not afraid to share her weaknesses and struggles, and sprinkles in just enough humor to lighten the mood from time to time. I recommend this book to everyone, especially mothers of young children.

    Note: Thanks to Zondervan for a review copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

  • Christian Faith in the Future: A Review of Renaissance by Os Guinness

    I have long enjoyed the writings of cultural critic Os Guinness. The first book I read of his, in college, was The Call: Finding and Fulfilling the Central Purpose of Your Life (a good time to read such a book). Since then, I’ve read Time for Truth, The Gravedigger File, A Free People’s Suicide, and two books that he compiled as curriculum material for the Trinity Forum: The Great Experiment and Doing Well and Doing Good. I haven’t agreed with everything he’s written, but he is always a thought-provoking and talented writer.

    His latest book is Renaissance: The Power of the Gospel However Dark the Times. In it, he asks the question: “Can the Christian church in the advanced modern world be renewed and restored even now and be sufficiently changed to have a hope of again changing the world through the power of the gospel? Or is all such talk merely whistling in the dark—pointless, naive and irresponsible?” I really enjoy his writing style, so here is a brief rundown of the contents with a few quotes mixed in:

    In chapter 1, he explores what he calls “Our Augustinian Moment.” He calls it an Augustinian moment because, like in the time of Augustine, he sees Western civilization beginning to crumble around us from the threats of Islamism, “illiberal liberalism,” and self-destructive Western ideas and lifestyles. Therefore, like Augustine, it is possible to see renewal. In fact, he writes that “in many ways St. Augustine throws more light on our age than Karl Marx, Sigmund Freud and all our noisy new atheists combined.” However, Guinness emphasizes that the book is “not an argument for ‘Christian civilization,’ let alone Western civilization. My supreme concern is the first term rather than the second, and therefore the church rather than civilization.” Guinness is ultimately hopeful as he ends the chapter with the challenge before us: “It is, I believe, that we trust in God and his gospel and move out confidently into the world, living and working for a new Christian renaissance, and thus challenge the darkness with the hope of Christian faith, believing in an outcome that lies beyond the horizon of all we can see and accomplish today.”

    In chapter 2, Guinness looks at the “Grand Global Tasks” before the church in the West: preparing the global south for the challenges of modernity, winning back the Western world, and contributing to the human future.

    In chapter 3, “Unnecessary, Unlikely, Undeniable,” he explores more fully what the relationship between Christianity and culture really is, and argues that it is marked by the three characteristics of the chapter’s title. He writes, “Our aim should always be to advance the kingdom of God rather than create culture. But on the other hand, Christian faithfulness will always have cultural consequences, if only as a by-product of Christians following the call of Jesus and aiming for higher and other things.”

    In chapter 4, he reveals “The Secret of Cultural Power.” The secret is that “when followers of Jesus live out the gospel in the world, as we are called to do, we become an incarnation of the truth of the gospel and an expression of the character and shape of its truth. It is this living-in-truth that proves culturally powerful.” Yet Guinness does not want to seem triumphalistic here; he emphasizes that Christianity always has a means of self-criticism, and that means is found in God’s revealed Word: “It is that supreme power and authority of the Word of God—powerful, objective and standing above the flux and flow of history and human culture—which is the true source of Christian self-criticism and the true hope of ongoing Christian renewal.”

    In chapter 5, “The Dynamics of the Kingdom,” Guinness looks at various lessons we have learned from the world about the process of cultural change, and how those lessons interact with the way of God in the world. In the world, the ideas of leaders always outweigh the ideas of followers, ideas are always more powerful when they are exerted at the center of a society, and ideas spread best through networks. But in the kingdom of God, “God himself leads, and he leads his church and his people through his Spirit.” Also, the kingdom is characterized by “surprising reversals” of the way we think things will go: “We are … always ready for the surprising voice, the far-from-obvious leader, the last-person-you-would-ever-think would be the key player. And yes, we are always ready to recognize God’s nobodies and God’s fools. For these may be the truly anointed ones prepared to be seen and treated as nobodies and fools for Christ’s sake, whom God uses far more than we who are the obvious ones for God to use.” The third feature of the kingdom way is that “distinctive culture is more often a by-product than a goal.”

    In chapter 6, the final chapter, Guinness argues that “Our Golden Age Is Ahead.” But while he is optimistic about the prospect of cultural renewal, he doesn’t ultimately put his hope there. He writes, “There is no one Christian culture and there is no perfect Christian culture, so there is no golden age behind us. Our golden age lies ahead—when, and only when, our Lord returns.” Until then, “our highest endeavors must always be regarded with realism and a wry humility.” Thus, the church goes forward best by going back first—but not to any imagined golden age: “We are talking about a return to God, not an era.” Paradoxically, by going back to God and moving in concert with his Spirit, “The Christian faith becomes the most progressive faith in history—though, and here is the crucial difference from modern progressivism, the Christian faith always has a standard by which to assess the purported progress.”

    In his concluding postscript, Guinness asks whether it is “conceivable that God will revive the Western church a third time, after it has gone cold twice.” He also asks (and in particular it seems he is in dialogue with James Davison Hunter’s book To Change the World) whether it is possible to change the world. He answers, “Yes, we can, because God can—and he has in the past, and he is doing so elsewhere in the world, and he is able to do so again even here in the advanced modern world, because God is God, and his is the last word in human affairs.” So our hope in a renaissance in the church, and by extension in the West, is dependent on whether God wants it to be so: “The time has come to trust God, move out, sharing and demonstrating the good news, following his call and living out our callings in every area of our lives, and then leave the outcome to him.”

    At the end of the book is the full text of “An Evangelical Manifesto” (2008), which Guinness helped to draft. If you have read that manifesto and liked it or disliked it, that will likely be an indication of whether you will like or dislike this book.

    As for myself, I found this to be a realistic yet ultimately hopeful book, and the hope is put in the right place. It is a helpful corrective to nostalgia for an imagined golden age on the one hand, and irrational optimism about the future prospects of Western civilization, on the other. He doesn’t wring his hands about the direction the world is headed, because he knows history well enough to see that the world has been pulled back from the edge of the abyss before. Of course, the fact that Guinness ultimately decides that our hope can only be placed in God’s will is going to make non-Christians and even some nominal Christians uncomfortable. But if you are a Christian who trusts in the character of God as revealed in the Scriptures and your own life, it is a much easier pill to swallow.

    Note: Thanks to InterVarsity Press for a review copy of this book. I was not asked to give a positive review.

  • Be Anxious for Nothing: A Review

    Modern Americans are able to control vastly more of our lives than our ancestors could. There is little chance of a large-scale epidemic, most of us don’t personally experience the effects of war, and while natural disasters continue, most of us are more likely to have property destroyed in them than actually lose our lives.

    But as our ability to control the world around us has grown, our penchant for worrying about the shrunken share of life that we cannot control has also grown. And for American Christians, that’s a major problem. Because God has specifically told us to knock it off.

    In her book Anxious: Choosing Faith in a World of Worry, Amy Simpson takes a clear-eyed look at our proneness to worry and provides guidance on what we can do about it. But it is in no way a how-to book. In fact, Simpson states on the first page that “it is focused less on changing behavior and more on letting God transform the way we see him—and ourselves by comparison” (9). The best thing for us to do about worry is not to follow five easy steps, but begin to see God and ourselves in the right light. The book is also not aimed at people who have anxiety disorders; Simpson specifically urges them in an appendix to not feel ashamed and to seek treatment. This book is for the rest of us who are swimming in worry so deep that we sometimes don’t even recognize when we are worrying.

    The plan of the book is straightforward. In the first three chapters, she diagnoses our problem with worry. In chapters four and five, she looks at what the Bible says about worry. In chapters six through eight, she looks at three specific things that cause us to worry: “a faulty perspective, a desire to possess and control the future, and a possessive attachment to the people and things of this world” (110). A brief final chapter asks point blank: “Who do you trust?” Perhaps my favorite passage from the book is from the chapter on faulty perspective:

    When we keep our eyes on the world around us, we see plenty of reasons to worry. And without the assurance of God’s character and his great plan for our world, there’s really no reason not to worry. Yet as believers covered by his grace and living under his promise, we are called to see, live and think differently. Choosing to worry is a sin, an act of rebellion against God, a rejection of our assigned place in the universe, a barrier in our relationship with a God who wants us to live in bold purpose rooted in his character. Worry is essentially a spiritual problem, which ultimately cannot be overcome through an act of the will—the solution is rooted entirely in who God is. (127)

    Throughout the book, Simpson points out that we need to be especially aware of those sins that are overlooked and even encouraged in our culture. That is why this book is so useful: it is a call to become freshly aware of the ways in which we subtly worry every day. I plan on re-reading it to remind me what a Christian response to worry ought to be, and I recommend it to others who need to be reminded what is real, and how foolish and destructive worry really is.

    Note: Thanks to the publisher: InterVarsity Press, for a review copy of this book.

  • Evangelii Gaudium Is Not All about Economics: A Review

    Around this time last year, there was a flurry of media coverage about Pope Francis’s first major writing of his pontificate, the apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (“The Joy of the Gospel”). While he had previously released an encyclical, Lumen Fidei (“The Light of Faith”), that was largely the work of his predecessor, Benedict XVI. When Evangelii Gaudium released, many saw it as an indication of what was important to this new pope.

    Unfortunately, much of the media attention that Evangelii Gaudium garnered tended to focus on the same 16 paragraphs (the ones numbered 52–60 and 202–208) of a 288-paragraph document (I read a nice hardcover version of it, but the entire text is available online here).  Those paragraphs contained Francis’s critique of economic practices that dehumanize both the poor and the rich. Many on the American right hated it, many on the American left loved it, and media watchers told us who got it right and who got it wrong. It was another distressing example of how ideologies distort people’s perceptions of reality. Interestingly enough, Francis saw it coming:

    In today’s world of instant communication and occasionally biased media coverage, the message we preach runs a greater risk of being distorted or reduced to some of its secondary aspects. In this way certain issues which are part of the Church’s moral teaching are taken out of the context which gives them their meaning. The biggest problem is when the message we preach then seems identified with those secondary aspects which, important as they are, do not in and of themselves convey the heart of Christ’s message. We need to be realistic and not assume that our audience understands the full background to what we are saying, or is capable of relating what we say to the very heart of the Gospel which gives it meaning, beauty or attractiveness. (34)

    So what is Evangelii Gaudium really about? Thankfully, Francis doesn’t keep it a secret:

    Here I have chosen to present some guidelines which can encourage and guide the whole Church in a new phase of evangelization, one marked by enthusiasm and vitality. … I have decided, among other themes, to discuss at length the following questions:

    a) the reform of the Church in her missionary outreach;
    b) the temptations faced by pastoral workers;
    c) the Church, understood as the entire People of God which evangelizes;
    d) the homily and its preparation;
    e) the inclusion of the poor in society;
    f) peace and dialogue within society;
    g) the spiritual motivations for mission (17)

    It is, as the title indicates, about preaching the gospel with joy. The other subjects that are treated in the document (missions, church structure, preaching, and, yes, economics) are all dealt with through that lens. I encourage anyone with an interest in Pope Francis, whether they are Catholic or not, to spend some time with this document. It is simple and straightforward, and often quite devotional. Though I am not a Catholic, I was warmed and encouraged by it.

    Note: Thanks to the publisher for a review copy of this book. I was not asked to give a positive review.

  • The Apple Ogler: A Review of the Sacred Year

    There may have been “Year Of …” books before A. J. Jacobs wrote The Year of Living Biblically, but he really got the ball rolling when he wrote in 2008 of his concerted effort to obey all the commands in the Bible for twelve months. Since then, there has been an explosion of books where the authors set out to change their lives in specific, concrete ways over the course of a year and write about their experiences. I’ve read a few; some are definitely better than others. The latest entry in the genre is Michael Yankoski’s The Sacred Year.

    I have never met Yankoski, but I felt while reading this book that it is almost as if I have. We have several friends in common, a few of whom appear in the book. We also have the culture of Regent College in common; I attended this Christian graduate school in Vancouver for four years and graduated in 2008, just before  Yankoski and his wife Danae arrived.

    What he sets out to do during his Sacred Year is spelled out in the ponderous subtitle, which reminded me of the days long ago when there was no such thing as back cover copy and the only space for describing a book’s contents was the cover page: “Mapping the Soulscape of Spiritual Practice—How Contemplating Apples, Living in a Cave, and Befriending a Dying Woman Revived My Life.” The inciting incident that begins him on his Sacred Year is being a Christian celebrity, and particularly an experience as a speaker at a conference that made him think that too much of what passes for Christianity in the West—and in himself—is shallow and inauthentic.

    So Yankoski meets with a spiritual director, a monk named Father Solomon at an abbey east of Vancouver, and decides to devote the next year to intentionally cultivating a variety of spiritual practices to increase the depth of his life. These practices fit into three categories, into which the book itself is divided: Depth with Self, Depth with God, and Depth with Others.

    Reading about Yankoski’s experiments with these practices—such as attentiveness (in which he contemplates an apple), simplicity, solitude, pilgrimage, gratitude, and pursuing justice—is well worth your time, and I can’t do them justice here. I did find that one thread running through just about all these practices was embodiedness. It is all too easy in the modern world to act as if it doesn’t matter what we do with our bodies, that we don’t have limitations, that our physical location doesn’t matter all that much. Even when we care about our bodies, we treat them more like machines than anything else. But one message that I got over and over as I read about Yankoski’s experiments with spiritual practices is that what he did with his body made a difference in his spiritual life. In observing Sabbath, for example, he doesn’t simply decide in his mind, “I’m going to take the day off.” No, he associates Sabbath with particular bodily practices—taking off his watch, turning off his cell phone, putting away his wallet, lighting candles. In a sense, The Sacred Year is about learning to be a Christian with your whole person, not just your brain.

    The only negative thing I could say about this book is that, when Yankoski recounts interactions that he has with other people, they don’t always come off as being true to life. When he recounts a conversation in which everyone seems to say the perfect thing at the perfect time, I wonder if he’s embellishing a bit. On the other hand, maybe I just notice that kind of thing because I make my living as an editor. Perhaps I should just chalk it up to artistic license.

    All in all, this book is well worth reading for anyone who is interested in going deeper with self, God, and others through spiritual practices. Reading it and implementing it with others can serve as a helpful first step away from superficiality and shallowness and toward worshiping God with your whole self.

    Note: Thanks to the publisher for a review copy of this book. I was not asked to give a positive review.

  • Gaffigan and Food: A Match Made in Heaven

    I’m about to review Jim Gaffigan’s new book Food: A Love Story, but first I wanted to let you know that I am eating a donut. I think the author would want it that way.

    This summer, I reviewed Gaffigan’s previous book, Dad Is Fat. It chronicled his life with his wife and five kids in a two-bedroom New York City apartment. If there’s anything Gaffigan likes to talk about in his stand-up more than his family, it’s food (if his next book is on his paleness, he will have a trilogy on his hands).

    Gaffigan opens this book by pointing out that he is an “eatie,” not a “foodie.” He loves to eat, but he isn’t too particular about what he eats. When visiting a new place, he will go out of his way to eat what that place is known for, but he won’t travel too far out of his way to find out what the “best” version of that food is.

    People who have watched Gaffigan’s stand-up will recognize some of the jokes in this book, but there is enough new material to make it fresh. I particularly enjoyed the several chapters he devotes to regional food in the United States. It made me think of my good friend Ryan, especially the section where Gaffigan talks about Mrs. Wilkes’ in Savannah (which I visited with Ryan and another friend, Doug, one spring break 14 years ago). Ryan is the most knowledgeable and enthusiastic person I know regarding regional foods. Ryan and I once traveled through North Carolina, Tennessee, and Georgia, and had barbecue at least four times in three days. This wasn’t a “barbecue tour,” mind you. We were just eating regional food as much as possible while we were there.

    Food enthusiasts and Gaffigan enthusiasts everywhere will devour this book (pun emphatically intended).

    "Can we stop with the kale propaganda?" —Jim Gaffigan
    “Can we stop with the kale propaganda?” —Jim Gaffigan

    Note: Thanks to the publisher for a review copy of this book. I was not asked to give a positive review.