Joseph Skibell’s 1997 novel, A Blessing on the Moon, is an allegorical tale of spiritual and religious rediscovery as experience by a Polish Jew who is murdered by the Nazis early in World War II. The book opens with Chaim Skibelski (a historic person; Skibell is his grandson) standing before an open pit with the other Jews from his town. German soldiers stand behind them and mow them down, one-by-one. Skibelski feels something at the back of his head and falls into the pit. He is still aware, though, and, in a panic, clambers out of the pit and runs back toward the town.
Chaim is, of course, dead, but he does not realize this at first. The book is the story of his life after death and the disappearance of the moon.
The plot covers 50 years, although much of that time is elided because Chaim no longer has a sense of time. He still feels, though, both physically and emotionally, and his body in death retains its wounds. He can see himself and can interact with the living world, although only the occasional living person–a drunken man and, more importantly, a tubercular girl–can see him. He goes through a variety of experiences, first with the dying girl, and then with her family and others in the town, before starting on a long march with the other Holocaust victims from his town. Chaim’s journey, of course, is allegorical, and parallels the development of Jewish spirituality in the shadow of the Holocaust.
The book is well written and poetic with dashes of humor. I’m not normally one to read books that deal with the supernatural, but I finished A Blessing on the Moon easily.
(Disclosure: Joseph Skibell teaches creative writing in the English Department at Emory University, where I work.)
(Mea Culpa: I did something this morning to cause Herman’s post to disappear. My bad. Many apologies, Herman: ed.)
April 23rd, 2007 at 8:35 pm
…and the disappearance of the moon? That’s crazy. What’s thew symbolism there, if you don’t mind my asking.
April 24th, 2007 at 8:12 am
The moon is, as I like to put it, a symbol of birth and redeath. Chaim is sort of stuck in an in-between world, neither truly dying by moving on to The World to Come or by being reborn (in the Buddhist sense). In the book, the moon was accidentally taken from the sky by two Hasids, who panicked and buried it. Chaim ends up on a quest to help them unearth the Moon and to return it to its rightful place.
I think this symbolizes Skibell’s view of the state of Jewish sprituality in the post-war period, that it was buried in ultra-orthodoxy and practiced by only the most pious. In recent years, more and more Jews seem to be practicing their faith again, so that it is, in a sense, reborn.
I could be completely wrong about this.
April 24th, 2007 at 11:47 am
Herm - Not that I think you are completely wrong and this certainly isn’t a “religious” site but in fact - practicing American Jews are rapidly dwindling. The only sect that is growing is the Ultra-Orthodox. Between inter-marriage and so many Jews being “cultural” rather than religious Jews, there is a real crisis currently going on in modern Judaism (at least in the Conservative movement which for full disclosure purposes I am a member of).
Book sounds great though - right up my alley. I wonder if Skibell read The World to Come?
April 24th, 2007 at 12:29 pm
Nitro–I think my personal experience of the current Jewish American, here in Atlanta, is a little skewed. Most of the Jews down here seem to practice. Of course, most gentiles join churches as well. It’s different than up north where–again, in my experience–most people don’t give a crap.
I think the crisis that you’re describing is reflected in the book, and it would certainly be interesting to get a Jewish perspective on it. I’m probably also missing Skibell’s real point just as a product of my own ignorance.
April 24th, 2007 at 3:27 pm
Nitro: I think a well reasoned theological discussion is always welcome here.
Herm: I try to avoid generalizations, especially with religion, but here’s anothyer one: when I lived near Emory, the most visible Jewish community were the Orthodox living/worshipping near N Druid Hills (they would walk through my complex on Saturday mornings to get to Temple). So maybe Nitro’s take works here, too, who knows.
April 24th, 2007 at 4:16 pm
The orthodox congregation is situated almost exactly in the middle between Emory and our apartment. There’s a conservative congregation off North Highland behind Movies Worth Seeing. The big reformed congregation is The Temple (famed from the bombing in the ’60s dramatized in Driving Miss Daisy). I think it’s a mixture here, but I also think Nitro’s point is well taken. I think that if there were a Hassidic rabbi in my part of Atlanta that Congregation Beth Jacob (which I can’t resist referring to as “Congregation Beth Jacobs” and saying, “Yeah, I knew her”) would be a ghost town.
In Judaism, as in the other Near East faiths, the fundamentalist wing seems to have the most energy and be the most vibrant. I think there’s a greater impetus for Jews in the South to be observant. In fact, I know a number of Jewish people who, I think, would be completely secularized anyplace else.
May 3rd, 2007 at 9:16 pm
[...] I returned to the office to find that Atlanta author (and Emory professor) Joseph Skibell had posted about the controversy at Critical Mass (So weird. We were just talking about that guy). Anyway, it could be argued that the AJC could now invoke Godwin’s Law and win the arguement. [...]