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Surprised by God: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Religion
At thirteen, Danya Ruttenberg decided that she was an atheist. Watching the sea of adults standing up and sitting down at Rosh Hashanah services, and apparently giving credence to the patently absurd truth-claims of the prayer book, she came to a Marx was right. As a young adult, Danya immersed herself in the rhinestone-bedazzled wonderland of late-1990s San Francisco-attending Halloweens on the Castro, drinking smuggled absinthe with wealthy geeks, and plotting the revolution with feminist zinemakers. But she found herself yearning for something she would eventually call God. As she began inhaling countless stories of spiritual awakenings of Catholic saints, Buddhist nuns, medieval mystics, and Hasidic masters, she learned that taking that yearning seriously would require much of her. Surprised by God is a religious coming-of-age story, from the mosh pit to the Mission District and beyond. It's the memoir of a young woman who found, lost, and found again communities of like-minded seekers, all the while taking a winding, semi-reluctant path through traditional Jewish practice that eventually took her to the rabbinate. It's a post-dotcom, third-wave, punk-rock Seven Storey Mountain-the story of integrating life on the edge of the twenty-first century into the discipline of traditional Judaism without sacrificing either. It's also a map through the hostile territory of the inner life, an unflinchingly honest guide to the kind of work that goes into developing a spiritual practice in today's world-and why, perhaps, doing this in today's world requires more work than it ever has.
251 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 1, 2008
83 people are currently reading
1181 people want to read
About the author
Danya Ruttenberg
18 books243 followersRabbi Danya Ruttenberg is the author of eight books who now makes her writing home at LifeIsASacredText.com. Her newest, the award-winning ON REPENTANCE AND REPAIR: MAKING AMENDS IN AN UNREPENTANT WORLD (Beacon Press, September 2022) was described by Congresswoman Ayanna Pressley as “A must-read for anyone navigating the work of justice and healing.”
She was named by Newsweek and The Daily Beast as one of ten “rabbis to watch,” as one of 21 “faith leaders to watch” by the Center for American Progress, by the Forward as one of the top 50 most influential women rabbis, has been a Washington Post Sunday crossword clue (83 Down) and called a “wunderkund of Jewish feminism” by Publishers Weekly.
She has written for The New York Times, The Atlantic, Salon, Time, The Washington Post, and many other publications. She has been featured on NPR a number of times, as well as in The Atlantic, USA Today, NBC News, CNN, MTV News, Vice, Buzzfeed News, and elsewhere.
Nurture the Wow: Finding Spirituality in the Frustration, Boredom, Tears, Poop, Desperation, Wonder, and Radical Amazement of Parenting (Flatiron Books), was a National Jewish Book Award finalist and PJ Library Parents’ Choice selection; Surprised By God: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Religion (Beacon Press), was nominated for the Sami Rohr Prize for Jewish literature and a Hadassah Book Club selection. Her other books include The Passionate Torah: Sex and Judaism (NYU Press), Yentl’s Revenge: The Next Wave of Jewish Feminism (Seal Press), and three books on Jewish ethics.
She was named by Newsweek and The Daily Beast as one of ten “rabbis to watch,” as one of 21 “faith leaders to watch” by the Center for American Progress, by the Forward as one of the top 50 most influential women rabbis, has been a Washington Post Sunday crossword clue (83 Down) and called a “wunderkund of Jewish feminism” by Publishers Weekly.
She has written for The New York Times, The Atlantic, Salon, Time, The Washington Post, and many other publications. She has been featured on NPR a number of times, as well as in The Atlantic, USA Today, NBC News, CNN, MTV News, Vice, Buzzfeed News, and elsewhere.
Nurture the Wow: Finding Spirituality in the Frustration, Boredom, Tears, Poop, Desperation, Wonder, and Radical Amazement of Parenting (Flatiron Books), was a National Jewish Book Award finalist and PJ Library Parents’ Choice selection; Surprised By God: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Religion (Beacon Press), was nominated for the Sami Rohr Prize for Jewish literature and a Hadassah Book Club selection. Her other books include The Passionate Torah: Sex and Judaism (NYU Press), Yentl’s Revenge: The Next Wave of Jewish Feminism (Seal Press), and three books on Jewish ethics.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 96 reviews
February 17, 2012
Ruttenberg's story helped me let my guard down and become more at ease with PDRs--public displays of religiosity (my term.) As a Jew-by-Choice, my early sense of simultaneous disorientation, fascination, and surprise at my journey were echoed in Ruttenberg's own journey from secular Jew to religious. I doubt the book will convince an atheist reader to the joy and benefits religious people find in their lives. But religious readers of any persuasion will understand where Ruttenberg is going here. On any spiritual journey, at some point you just "get it." And it's as impossible to explain that to someone who doesn't believe in Deity as it would be to explain it to yourself the day before. It's a feeling, a sensing, and at some point you just go with it because you can't not. This is Ruttenberg's story of how she did that. (Just don't look for the story of how she became a rabbi--she left that out on purpose.)
October 13, 2008
What a pleasure, to read a "ba'al teshuvah" kind of story that is not Orthodox! Well written & compelling.
February 6, 2018
I don't read spiritual awakening/religious journey memoirs, but I doubt I would ever find one that speaks to me like this one. From her modern, pluralistic-but-serious approach to Judaism, her struggles integrating her secular and religious lives, and coming to San Francisco (and Beth Sholom synagogue!) in her 20s, this memoir can be shockingly relatable to my own biography at times. (Sadly I was never a cool punk rocker in my adolescence.)
As someone who is trying to put together a meaningful life in the context of a lot of upheaval in the last several years, this personal narrative is a powerful guiding example of one life path to learn from.
Oh, yeah, she's also a very clear, incisive, intelligent, and powerful writer, which is very welcome when talking about spiritual experiences, which can be so obliquely conveyed by other writers that I get lost.
As someone who is trying to put together a meaningful life in the context of a lot of upheaval in the last several years, this personal narrative is a powerful guiding example of one life path to learn from.
Oh, yeah, she's also a very clear, incisive, intelligent, and powerful writer, which is very welcome when talking about spiritual experiences, which can be so obliquely conveyed by other writers that I get lost.
July 26, 2009
I really enjoyed reading this book until about half way through, and then the narrator's attitude changes so much that I had a hard time identifying with her. It seemed that she began letting her pursuit of religion define her and a lot of what she believed in the beginning changed drastically. I know that everyone is allowed to change in their lives, but I don't think "finding religion" has to redefine who you are. I have been studying Judaism and would like to officially convert someday, but I can still be punk rock at the same time and keep all of my interests that I had before. If I knew that my quest for a spiritual life would slowly change who I am at my core and all of my interests would change I wouldn't be interested.
The author starts out so very punk rock and ends up somewhat conservative.
In summation: my spiritual life and my secular life are two pretty plants, and if one of them gets more water than the other it will wilt. This is what I learned from this book. So there.
The author starts out so very punk rock and ends up somewhat conservative.
In summation: my spiritual life and my secular life are two pretty plants, and if one of them gets more water than the other it will wilt. This is what I learned from this book. So there.
October 29, 2022
I really enjoyed reading about Rabbi Ruttenberg's journey to Judaism. This book is thoughtful, and draws on ideas found in many religious traditions—in fact, it was quite enjoyable the way the author brought in texts and ideas from a variety of different religious traditions as well as scholars.
August 12, 2020
Not without its good parts, but generally disappointing.
What I hoped to get from this book was a reflection on how one might balance a traditional Jewish lifestyle with modern life, and I get the impression that’s what Ruttenberg set out to write. As someone trying to convert, I am acutely aware of how difficult this is. And at times, she does get to it. But the interesting parts of this book are dragged down by the amount of waffle and generally not-so-great writing. I did finish the book and give it two stars, so I clearly think there is something to get from it. Some of the episodes she recounts are relatable and illuminating. Like how much work it can be to figure out whether a place is kosher enough to eat there, even if you just eat vegetarian food. Because sometimes, the rice in a veggie taco is fried in chicken broth. And her account of how she realised she no longer fitted into her old social scene was perhaps the book’s highlight. At one point, she is invited to read aloud a piece she has written – it can be anything – at a read-aloud event. She starts reading a first-person account of prayer, and when the woman in charge of the event realises it’s nothing subversive, she motions for Ruttenberg to end her reading early and get off the stage. It’s a surprising realisation – the community she had once found so tolerant was perhaps not that tolerant after all.
Fairly early in the book, I saw that it might not be entirely my cup of tea. Ruttenberg’s friends and social circle immediately struck me as people I would not like to hang out with – they seem edgy and pretentious to me, and the part where she moves to San Francisco and meets these people, prior to her turn to religion, was a dull read. I don’t think it makes the book bad. It just wasn’t my thing.
Other aspects of the book left me deeply frustrated.
First, Ruttenberg uses a lot of quotes. And I mean a lot. Barely two pages can go by without her quoting some spiritual writer, be it a rabbi, Catholic munk or Buddhist nun. I got the impression she wasn’t able to find the words to describe what she thought or felt, and so she had to continually rely on the writings of others.
The second problem builds on the first one, and it is how she uses all these quotes. Many of the authors are spiritual, but not Jewish. I understand that Ruttenberg chose them because she feels like they catch something about striving to live a religious life, but she does little to discuss what they bring – and what they can’t bring – to an understanding of Judaism. For example, Buddhists and Jews have very different ideas about what the Divine is, but this does not seem to come up although she frequently quotes Buddhists. I would have liked for her to explore the limits of these quotes instead of just sprinkling them into the text.
Lastly, she has a habit of going on tangents that are somewhat relevant, but not particularly engaging and don’t bring us any closer to the story she is trying to tell. For example, she tells us about her two teachers at the synagogue, both of whom she respects. However, she goes on to make the more general claim that a teacher-student relationship is always unequal – fair enough – and then to how this is part of the reason leaders in all kinds of religious communities have gotten away with abuse. Because of this, we should always be wary of abuse happening in our communities. It’s… Not untrue, but I am honestly not sure what this is meant to add to the book.
A perfect example of how this comes together is what could have been a fascinating story in the last chapter. Her friend Alex, a feminist Episcopalian minister-in-training confesses that she is no longer sure she is entirely pro-choice. If everything is sacred, then how does this not apply to unborn life? Alex worries about how her friends might see her if she tells them this. And so she starts looking for common ground between pro-choice and pro-life, and what kinds of support women might need not to choose abortions. I would have loved Ruttenberg to elaborate on this. Did she help Alex through this? Did Alex tell their other friends? If yes, how did they react? We don’t get to know anything about this. Ruttenberg swiftly goes on to compare this to a ritual practiced by the Yurok and Hupa of Northern California, and then tells an anecdote about Malcolm X. This does not add anything to her conversation with Alex. It’s not what I want when I pick up a memoir. I want her experiences, not everyone else’s.
All in all, not a book I consider especially important to read. It’s interesting as an account of moving towards religion in a highly secular culture, but the writing is not good enough for me to recommend it to anyone.
What I hoped to get from this book was a reflection on how one might balance a traditional Jewish lifestyle with modern life, and I get the impression that’s what Ruttenberg set out to write. As someone trying to convert, I am acutely aware of how difficult this is. And at times, she does get to it. But the interesting parts of this book are dragged down by the amount of waffle and generally not-so-great writing. I did finish the book and give it two stars, so I clearly think there is something to get from it. Some of the episodes she recounts are relatable and illuminating. Like how much work it can be to figure out whether a place is kosher enough to eat there, even if you just eat vegetarian food. Because sometimes, the rice in a veggie taco is fried in chicken broth. And her account of how she realised she no longer fitted into her old social scene was perhaps the book’s highlight. At one point, she is invited to read aloud a piece she has written – it can be anything – at a read-aloud event. She starts reading a first-person account of prayer, and when the woman in charge of the event realises it’s nothing subversive, she motions for Ruttenberg to end her reading early and get off the stage. It’s a surprising realisation – the community she had once found so tolerant was perhaps not that tolerant after all.
Fairly early in the book, I saw that it might not be entirely my cup of tea. Ruttenberg’s friends and social circle immediately struck me as people I would not like to hang out with – they seem edgy and pretentious to me, and the part where she moves to San Francisco and meets these people, prior to her turn to religion, was a dull read. I don’t think it makes the book bad. It just wasn’t my thing.
Other aspects of the book left me deeply frustrated.
First, Ruttenberg uses a lot of quotes. And I mean a lot. Barely two pages can go by without her quoting some spiritual writer, be it a rabbi, Catholic munk or Buddhist nun. I got the impression she wasn’t able to find the words to describe what she thought or felt, and so she had to continually rely on the writings of others.
The second problem builds on the first one, and it is how she uses all these quotes. Many of the authors are spiritual, but not Jewish. I understand that Ruttenberg chose them because she feels like they catch something about striving to live a religious life, but she does little to discuss what they bring – and what they can’t bring – to an understanding of Judaism. For example, Buddhists and Jews have very different ideas about what the Divine is, but this does not seem to come up although she frequently quotes Buddhists. I would have liked for her to explore the limits of these quotes instead of just sprinkling them into the text.
Lastly, she has a habit of going on tangents that are somewhat relevant, but not particularly engaging and don’t bring us any closer to the story she is trying to tell. For example, she tells us about her two teachers at the synagogue, both of whom she respects. However, she goes on to make the more general claim that a teacher-student relationship is always unequal – fair enough – and then to how this is part of the reason leaders in all kinds of religious communities have gotten away with abuse. Because of this, we should always be wary of abuse happening in our communities. It’s… Not untrue, but I am honestly not sure what this is meant to add to the book.
A perfect example of how this comes together is what could have been a fascinating story in the last chapter. Her friend Alex, a feminist Episcopalian minister-in-training confesses that she is no longer sure she is entirely pro-choice. If everything is sacred, then how does this not apply to unborn life? Alex worries about how her friends might see her if she tells them this. And so she starts looking for common ground between pro-choice and pro-life, and what kinds of support women might need not to choose abortions. I would have loved Ruttenberg to elaborate on this. Did she help Alex through this? Did Alex tell their other friends? If yes, how did they react? We don’t get to know anything about this. Ruttenberg swiftly goes on to compare this to a ritual practiced by the Yurok and Hupa of Northern California, and then tells an anecdote about Malcolm X. This does not add anything to her conversation with Alex. It’s not what I want when I pick up a memoir. I want her experiences, not everyone else’s.
All in all, not a book I consider especially important to read. It’s interesting as an account of moving towards religion in a highly secular culture, but the writing is not good enough for me to recommend it to anyone.
June 18, 2019
I really enjoyed this book. I enjoyed watching the gradual unfolding of Ruttenberg's spiritual life, from a straight-up atheist to becoming a rabbi (although this book ends before her rabbinical studies begin). It was comforting to read of someone who for a long time so thoroughly rejected a life of the spirit, finding joy and meaning in places other than the divine. Even as Ruttenberg asks more and more questions about faith and spirit, and experiences things that she cannot explain through atheism, there's no judgment about what came before - just a description of newness, a different way of looking at the world as Rutteberg grows older and explores the traditions of Judaism.
Ruttenberg draws on a range of spiritual and political thinkers as she explains her path from atheism back to Judaism. Sometimes I thought those quotes and ideas were really useful in explaining both her own experience and experiences more generally, but sometimes I felt like there was meaningful context missing. The tension between Ghandi's revolutionary actions and his deep anti-Blackness is never explored when he comes up, for example - he's simply referenced as someone who had some stuff figured out. I really felt that omission keenly.
Ruttenberg draws on a range of spiritual and political thinkers as she explains her path from atheism back to Judaism. Sometimes I thought those quotes and ideas were really useful in explaining both her own experience and experiences more generally, but sometimes I felt like there was meaningful context missing. The tension between Ghandi's revolutionary actions and his deep anti-Blackness is never explored when he comes up, for example - he's simply referenced as someone who had some stuff figured out. I really felt that omission keenly.
May 28, 2017
I wanted to like this book a lot more than I did. I'm fine with books that straddle genres, but I don't like "seminary term paper" to be one of the genres -- and this book is both memoir and several seminary term papers blended awkwardly. So many quotations from so many spiritual traditions!
I also couldn't shake the feeling that I might not like Ruttenberg if I met her. She seems kind of pretentious and kind of full of herself, even as she's writing about how she struggles to be a better person and a better Jew. You know how some people wear their pursuit of being better on their sleeve, so that we can all admire them? Yeah, she strikes me that way.
At the same time, I was into the book enough that I read it several nights in a row at bedtime.
Oh, and I hated the font it was in -- what was up with that, Beacon Press? And I'm not a font person, so you know it must have been bad.
I also couldn't shake the feeling that I might not like Ruttenberg if I met her. She seems kind of pretentious and kind of full of herself, even as she's writing about how she struggles to be a better person and a better Jew. You know how some people wear their pursuit of being better on their sleeve, so that we can all admire them? Yeah, she strikes me that way.
At the same time, I was into the book enough that I read it several nights in a row at bedtime.
Oh, and I hated the font it was in -- what was up with that, Beacon Press? And I'm not a font person, so you know it must have been bad.
August 16, 2020
Read this in a time where I'm feeling quite disconnected from others (as I'm sure is true for many people in this surreal pandemic time). The sense of community and caring for one another has always been religions' most glowing attribute to me, even if others did not quite fit me right. Reading about Rabbi Ruttenberg's spiritual journey has given me a lot of food for thought. Balance is never easy.
January 14, 2021
How could I not want to read a book whose title simultaneously evokes C.S Lewis and Dr. Strangelove?
An excellent treatment of a young woman's discovery of God, her religion, and her spiritual life.
An excellent treatment of a young woman's discovery of God, her religion, and her spiritual life.
January 11, 2009
As a self-identified atheist, I found it odd that I was so compelled to read Danya Ruttenberg’s memoir about her life-long journey to Judaism, Surprised by God: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Religion. I had read Ruttenberg’s first book, Yentl's Revenge: The Next Wave of Jewish Feminism—a collection of young Jewish feminists discussing how to negotiate their faith and their feminism—a few years ago and fell in love with the complexity of the topics that Ruttenberg encouraged each contributor to write about. Those same elements that I loved about Yentl's Revenge are present on every page of Ruttenberg’s memoir.
In Surprised by God, Ruttenberg depicts how, through all of her life’s transformations, she has still remained grounded and centered in herself as a person. From her punk-goth-athiest days as a teenager and her yoga-hippie days during her twenties, to the impassioned feminist and Rabbi that Ruttenberg is today, her life is presented as a series of constant transformations and a continuous journey through which each identity informs and influences the next. Furthermore, Ruttenberg doesn’t reject her punk beginnings in order to claim her deep connection with religion and God now. Instead, she understands how to bring all of the pieces from her past and her identity into her current relationship with spirituality. From the death of her mother while she was in college to traveling to Jerusalem later in life, Ruttenberg discusses the major events that might have lead her down this spiritual path. At the same time, however, she also credits smaller life events—such as taking joy in dressing in costumes or learning how to question the world as a feminist—as being a fundamental part of her spiritual growth.
What I found most enjoyable about this book is that at times, it’s more about finding community and spirituality than God and religion. Talking about community, Ruttenberg states, “It’s about matching trust with trust, about creating spaces in which people can let down their guard and reveal what’s hidden, about encouraging others to grow in new and challenging ways. And it’s also very much about creating the conditions in which this might be able to happen.” Reading this, you might not be able to guess that the larger framework in which Ruttenberg is speaking is about how she learned to feel comfortable with visibly and publicly practicing her religion. But you don’t have to be religious to enjoy Ruttenberg’s thoughts and words. Her discussions about feminism, community, spirituality, identity, and family are thoughts that can inspire and attract anyone. Ruttenberg never comes off as preachy or in hopes of converting the masses. Instead, Surprised by God is an honest memoir about a beautifully complex woman finding her own way through spiritual practice.
Review by Chelsey Clammer
In Surprised by God, Ruttenberg depicts how, through all of her life’s transformations, she has still remained grounded and centered in herself as a person. From her punk-goth-athiest days as a teenager and her yoga-hippie days during her twenties, to the impassioned feminist and Rabbi that Ruttenberg is today, her life is presented as a series of constant transformations and a continuous journey through which each identity informs and influences the next. Furthermore, Ruttenberg doesn’t reject her punk beginnings in order to claim her deep connection with religion and God now. Instead, she understands how to bring all of the pieces from her past and her identity into her current relationship with spirituality. From the death of her mother while she was in college to traveling to Jerusalem later in life, Ruttenberg discusses the major events that might have lead her down this spiritual path. At the same time, however, she also credits smaller life events—such as taking joy in dressing in costumes or learning how to question the world as a feminist—as being a fundamental part of her spiritual growth.
What I found most enjoyable about this book is that at times, it’s more about finding community and spirituality than God and religion. Talking about community, Ruttenberg states, “It’s about matching trust with trust, about creating spaces in which people can let down their guard and reveal what’s hidden, about encouraging others to grow in new and challenging ways. And it’s also very much about creating the conditions in which this might be able to happen.” Reading this, you might not be able to guess that the larger framework in which Ruttenberg is speaking is about how she learned to feel comfortable with visibly and publicly practicing her religion. But you don’t have to be religious to enjoy Ruttenberg’s thoughts and words. Her discussions about feminism, community, spirituality, identity, and family are thoughts that can inspire and attract anyone. Ruttenberg never comes off as preachy or in hopes of converting the masses. Instead, Surprised by God is an honest memoir about a beautifully complex woman finding her own way through spiritual practice.
Review by Chelsey Clammer
February 25, 2019
This book didn't resonate with me much, but for reasons that are very particular to me, so....three stars seemed like the best compromise.
First, stylistically, I found it jarring. There are.....a lot of quotes. Far too many; even though I've read and liked a number of the authors quoted, the constant barrage broke up the narrative and didn't always seem to do the quoted authors justice. But not everyone will react similarly.
Second, this is very much a book about "religion." Well obviously, you say- it's in the title! True. Even so, I wasn't expecting so much of it to be so general. It's very much about a secular person's coming to see the value in any religion, and a lot of the insights/ideas are framed around religion in general, not Judaism specifically (there's lots about Judaism too, but often coupled with quotes from other religions, so ultimately distinctiveness is downplayed).
There's also a lot of equating the secular world with shallowness and religion with depth, and so on. This was jarring for me- perhaps even triggering. I come from a Bible Belt background really saturated in religion, some of it healthy, a lot of it not. I'm still religious, but it took a long time for it to reach a healthy place. And I know a lot of people who escaped more coercive and authoritarian religious backgrounds, where this rhetoric of seriousness and sacrifice was used to deny them their humanity (queer people in particular); some of these made it somewhere like San Francisco and it saved their lives. So to read that the secular world, or parties, or costumes, or whatever, is shallow...just felt condescending to me. Musing that people in authoritarian religious communities must be fine if they're consenting adults (as she does with the ultra-orthodox) downplays the coercion and manipulation that can exist in these environments and the incredible personal and financial difficulty of leaving such communities. I know Rabbi Ruttenberg is a feminist and an advocate for queer and trans people, but nevertheless this book doesn't take the variety in religion, and the reality of spiritual abuse, seriously enough. Of course, its target audience seems to be secular people discovering religion for the first time, not people like me, and again, I should have guessed as much from the title.
It was interesting to me to read about her increasing observance, although as a JBC I was again a bit alienated by her avowal that she could not understand converts at all. Nevertheless, I enjoyed reading about the daily work that went into her practice, and her palpable excitement as she discovered things.
First, stylistically, I found it jarring. There are.....a lot of quotes. Far too many; even though I've read and liked a number of the authors quoted, the constant barrage broke up the narrative and didn't always seem to do the quoted authors justice. But not everyone will react similarly.
Second, this is very much a book about "religion." Well obviously, you say- it's in the title! True. Even so, I wasn't expecting so much of it to be so general. It's very much about a secular person's coming to see the value in any religion, and a lot of the insights/ideas are framed around religion in general, not Judaism specifically (there's lots about Judaism too, but often coupled with quotes from other religions, so ultimately distinctiveness is downplayed).
There's also a lot of equating the secular world with shallowness and religion with depth, and so on. This was jarring for me- perhaps even triggering. I come from a Bible Belt background really saturated in religion, some of it healthy, a lot of it not. I'm still religious, but it took a long time for it to reach a healthy place. And I know a lot of people who escaped more coercive and authoritarian religious backgrounds, where this rhetoric of seriousness and sacrifice was used to deny them their humanity (queer people in particular); some of these made it somewhere like San Francisco and it saved their lives. So to read that the secular world, or parties, or costumes, or whatever, is shallow...just felt condescending to me. Musing that people in authoritarian religious communities must be fine if they're consenting adults (as she does with the ultra-orthodox) downplays the coercion and manipulation that can exist in these environments and the incredible personal and financial difficulty of leaving such communities. I know Rabbi Ruttenberg is a feminist and an advocate for queer and trans people, but nevertheless this book doesn't take the variety in religion, and the reality of spiritual abuse, seriously enough. Of course, its target audience seems to be secular people discovering religion for the first time, not people like me, and again, I should have guessed as much from the title.
It was interesting to me to read about her increasing observance, although as a JBC I was again a bit alienated by her avowal that she could not understand converts at all. Nevertheless, I enjoyed reading about the daily work that went into her practice, and her palpable excitement as she discovered things.
April 13, 2018
I've read a lot of Jewish memoirs, but Danya Ruttenberg's journey is the closest, so far, to my own. At least generally.
What I mean is that she grew up in a largely assimilated family, flipped the bird to religion at 13 (around the same time that I did) and ultimately returned in young adulthood. (I "returned" slightly earlier, and strangely, had more of a singular "call from God" experience than she did, even though she's far more comfortable with the idea of God than I am.) Then we gravitated towards progressive Judaism, not Orthodoxy.
Beyond that, though, Ruttenberg was much more extroverted and much braver about putting herself into the thick of new situations. Perhaps related, she's also better at walking the walk and embracing much of traditional Jewish practice.
Her memoir is direct but not dogmatic about what it means to live an authentic, Jewish life, and how that connects you to communal concerns and a healthy personal spirituality. She came to Judaism in part from philosophy and academic religious studies, but the religion provided more of a sense of meaning. She talked a little bit about the slow ways in which she re-embraced her heritage, from a Holocaust pilgrimage with her dad to what it was like to lose her mother to cancer. There was a really moving passage about what she learned, in retrospect, while working as a chaplain in a hospital--to accept death as a natural part of life. Judaism isn't the only pathway to realizing that, of course, but it's her path.
Like Ruttenberg, I appreciate the complexity of interpretation that Judaism offers, the call to study texts and debate them with others. And no, I don't know if I would have chosen Judaism if it wasn't my heritage. I also want to espouse empathy and inclusion, even if it goes against ingrained forms of Judaism, but I want to be careful to not attack the religion out of spite but to challenge it out of devotion. But mostly, after reading Ruttenberg's words, I need to challenge myself.
I'm giving this book four stars, because beyond my own myopic reaction, I think Ruttenberg's narrative fizzled out sometimes. As much as I appreciate the idea of her religious quotes--from Jews and non-Jews--sometimes the philosophizing got a little unwieldy. And I wanted more of a connection to characters and story narrative.
I'm expecting this work to stick with me. But I'm hoping that it leads to personal avodah as well.
What I mean is that she grew up in a largely assimilated family, flipped the bird to religion at 13 (around the same time that I did) and ultimately returned in young adulthood. (I "returned" slightly earlier, and strangely, had more of a singular "call from God" experience than she did, even though she's far more comfortable with the idea of God than I am.) Then we gravitated towards progressive Judaism, not Orthodoxy.
Beyond that, though, Ruttenberg was much more extroverted and much braver about putting herself into the thick of new situations. Perhaps related, she's also better at walking the walk and embracing much of traditional Jewish practice.
Her memoir is direct but not dogmatic about what it means to live an authentic, Jewish life, and how that connects you to communal concerns and a healthy personal spirituality. She came to Judaism in part from philosophy and academic religious studies, but the religion provided more of a sense of meaning. She talked a little bit about the slow ways in which she re-embraced her heritage, from a Holocaust pilgrimage with her dad to what it was like to lose her mother to cancer. There was a really moving passage about what she learned, in retrospect, while working as a chaplain in a hospital--to accept death as a natural part of life. Judaism isn't the only pathway to realizing that, of course, but it's her path.
Like Ruttenberg, I appreciate the complexity of interpretation that Judaism offers, the call to study texts and debate them with others. And no, I don't know if I would have chosen Judaism if it wasn't my heritage. I also want to espouse empathy and inclusion, even if it goes against ingrained forms of Judaism, but I want to be careful to not attack the religion out of spite but to challenge it out of devotion. But mostly, after reading Ruttenberg's words, I need to challenge myself.
I'm giving this book four stars, because beyond my own myopic reaction, I think Ruttenberg's narrative fizzled out sometimes. As much as I appreciate the idea of her religious quotes--from Jews and non-Jews--sometimes the philosophizing got a little unwieldy. And I wanted more of a connection to characters and story narrative.
I'm expecting this work to stick with me. But I'm hoping that it leads to personal avodah as well.
February 24, 2017
Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg describes her coming to faith, religious practices, and the transformation that God has worked in her in such open language that, even for a non-Jew like myself, you can relate to so much of her story and find new ways to think about your own faith. I think this book and her experience of moving from atheism to Judaism make a powerful argument for the relevance and goodness of religion in an age when that's not always assumed. I also learned more about Jewish faith and practice (the reason I picked up the book, though not the biggest of my takeaways), and I think this would be a particularly fun book for all of my fellow religious studies-major peeps. I enjoyed this so much more than I expected.
April 13, 2017
Very cool book. The author relates, in a very honest way, her spiritual search as it takes her from a rather meaningless bat mitzva to college searching to the single life in San Francisco and ultimately to rabbinical school. Along the way, she wrestles with the conflict that is often inherent between contemporary values and the ancient values and practices of Judaism. She comes to grips with them in ways that are non-judgmental, and finds her own path. Gave me great insights into the "next generation" of rabbis that are a generation or two behind me.
July 13, 2019
As a longtime follower of Rabbi Ruttenberg on social media, I have been awed by the breadth of knowledge, humor, and all-around life that she brings to her discussions of social activism, religion, and politics. This book did not disappoint.
My reading notes include quotes from Kierkegaard ("infinite resignation is the last stage before faith"), two quotes from Rabbi Heschel (Judaism demands "a leap of action rather than a leap of thought" and "Few are guilty, but all are responsible"), a reference to a game that sounds like something my friends would invent ("gender deconstructionist draydl"), and enough books-to-read to keep me busy for quite some time, plus a Buddhist idea that has both comforted and inspired me: every emotion has a beginning, middle, and end.
The outline of Rabbi Ruttenberg's voyage from punk atheist to Orthodoxy is fascinating in itself,with stops along the way in several continents and much scholarship. This is a deep dive, and one I will revisit.
Highly recommended to anyone who thinks, acts, and hopes for a better planet.
My reading notes include quotes from Kierkegaard ("infinite resignation is the last stage before faith"), two quotes from Rabbi Heschel (Judaism demands "a leap of action rather than a leap of thought" and "Few are guilty, but all are responsible"), a reference to a game that sounds like something my friends would invent ("gender deconstructionist draydl"), and enough books-to-read to keep me busy for quite some time, plus a Buddhist idea that has both comforted and inspired me: every emotion has a beginning, middle, and end.
The outline of Rabbi Ruttenberg's voyage from punk atheist to Orthodoxy is fascinating in itself,with stops along the way in several continents and much scholarship. This is a deep dive, and one I will revisit.
Highly recommended to anyone who thinks, acts, and hopes for a better planet.
December 27, 2018
This lovely book is part memoir, part Jewish spiritual thesis. Although Rabbi Ruttenberg's experiences in Judaism and Jewishness are for the most part different from mine, I found much to relate to here. The way she learns from other faith traditions without appropriating them, and her fusion of religion and social justice, were of particular interest. It's an intense read (this should be obvious from the subject material; one does not move from being an atheist to being a rabbi by being blasé) but also a very readable and enjoyable book.
November 5, 2019
The story starts off slow but builds nicely. I don't think it will be very interesting to people who aren't already on some sort of spiritual Jewish path. But I enjoyed the straightforward, clear writing. Rabbi Ruttenberg has some important things to say about spirituality and politics - having experiences of breaking down the barriers between self and other should make certain politics easier and harder. I've read a few spirituality stories from Buddhists so it was nice to have a Jewish perspective too.
November 12, 2019
Thoughtful enough for me to want to argue w/it; every few pages would wake me up, remind me of something I’d wrestled with and sometimes forgotten about years before. The period after grieving, for instance, when you suddenly step outside your life and wonder about it and about the questions you asked yourself in childhood and then forgot.
October 4, 2021
It is so monumentally refreshing to read a memoir about coming to Judaism, rather than away from it. I had a much more observant upbringing so I couldn't connect to everything she felt when she started diving more deeply into her faith, but I did definitely connect to a lot of it!
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August 7, 2019I enjoyed this it was relatable. Sometimes felt like she was trying to shoehorn in every possible religious scholar she could but also that probably comes from being a religious scholar.
July 7, 2021
Here's what I wrote the first time I read this book, about a decade ago: "I used to be put off by discussions of spirituality. Too often (25 years ago), they seemed navel-gazing and unconnected to the struggles of other people. What's wonderful about this book is how Ruttenberg shows the ways that a desire for transcendence can lead us right down to earth, and the understanding that God is one can lead us to grasp that we are one, too. Her personal story is worth reading. The book is also a springboard for reflection and a sourcebook of great quotes about the search for meaning in daily life."
Now, in 2021, I have been learning from Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg and her Twitter persona, @TheRaDR, for years. So, it's heartwarming to go back and remember the story she tells in this, her first memoir, from ages 13 to early 30's. Even though I am about chai (18) years older than she is, a lot of the story sounds familiar: the counter-cultural, political Jew traveling in queer circles who gradually becomes more and more involved with text, prayer, and community. I grew up with synagogue and God, never as an atheist Jew, so I did not have to struggle as hard as she did to reconcile the different aspects of myself. (Which is not to say it wasn't a struggle.)
I had forgotten a lot of the story, including the fact that Alan Lew, the author of a book I read last year, This Is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared: The Days of Awe as a Journey of Transformation, was her teacher during a formative time. Jewish geography is one of my favorite pastimes, and contrary to Harold Bloom, I enjoy the euphoria of influence. In other words, when I see two authors I like who are in conversation with each other, I kvell!
Back in those days when she wrote this book, Ruttenberg had the audacity to tell her own story as if it mattered, which I never had and I admire. But when it came to expressing her deep thoughts about Judaism and spirituality, she reflexively reached for not one, not two, but an array of quotations from sources ranging from Rebbe Nachman to Teresa of Avila. These days, she speaks her insights in her own voice.
Now, in 2021, I have been learning from Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg and her Twitter persona, @TheRaDR, for years. So, it's heartwarming to go back and remember the story she tells in this, her first memoir, from ages 13 to early 30's. Even though I am about chai (18) years older than she is, a lot of the story sounds familiar: the counter-cultural, political Jew traveling in queer circles who gradually becomes more and more involved with text, prayer, and community. I grew up with synagogue and God, never as an atheist Jew, so I did not have to struggle as hard as she did to reconcile the different aspects of myself. (Which is not to say it wasn't a struggle.)
I had forgotten a lot of the story, including the fact that Alan Lew, the author of a book I read last year, This Is Real and You Are Completely Unprepared: The Days of Awe as a Journey of Transformation, was her teacher during a formative time. Jewish geography is one of my favorite pastimes, and contrary to Harold Bloom, I enjoy the euphoria of influence. In other words, when I see two authors I like who are in conversation with each other, I kvell!
Back in those days when she wrote this book, Ruttenberg had the audacity to tell her own story as if it mattered, which I never had and I admire. But when it came to expressing her deep thoughts about Judaism and spirituality, she reflexively reached for not one, not two, but an array of quotations from sources ranging from Rebbe Nachman to Teresa of Avila. These days, she speaks her insights in her own voice.
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November 2, 2010Danya Ruttenberg’s "Surprised by God" caused me to sit up and take notice. Raised Jewish, Ruttenberg is proud as a teen of being a hip, feminist, intellectual atheist. After her mother dies, she finds her way back to increasingly observant Judaism. She struggles with keeping the Sabbath, keeping kosher – and keeping her nonobservant friends. Her commitment to deepening her receptivity to God by limiting her choices in some areas (not driving or carrying money on the Sabbath, becoming a vegetarian) makes her much more aware of the spiritual barrier of craving that this consumer culture deliberately cultivates. Her awareness of this and other spiritual barriers intensifies when she joins a program at her synagogue whose goal is to use “basic awareness meditation [. . . as] a way to bring a practitioner to prayer and Torah study with a deeper level of attentiveness” (150). Even as Ruttenberg offers ways to discern when another religion’s practice (such as meditation) can be used with integrity, she reiterates the importance of following one religion in depth. For Ruttenberg, an absolutely essential component of religious faithfulness is deep involvement in her synagogue (in other words, community). She critiques an individualistic consumer spirituality that is focused only on the self. In contrast, her religious practice and community intensify her concern for those in pain or in need. Ruttenberg shows that it is possible to be an intellectual, a feminist, an activist, and a deeply religious person, all at the same time. As such, she is a woman whose book I’d like to share widely with others, particularly my “Women’s Spirituality” students.
August 11, 2018
I should have liked this more. Memoir? Yes. Judaism? Yes. Personal journey? Yes. Super-intelligent writer? Definitely. All things I'm here for. But after the first third, I just didn't care. The author's voice exhausted me - a friend used the word "strident" to describe her, and god, yes, everything was so serious and all-in. I've read another book by this author, and I adored it, so I'm going to put my dissatisfaction with this one on me. Maybe it was the wrong time.
May 23, 2009
I keep picking up memoirs written by Jewish authors that detail how they fell away from their religion and either found God again and turned to Christianity or became more deeply immersed in the Jewish religion, as in the case of this book and in its author Danya Ruttenberg. I thought the book was very interesting and the methods she used to learn about her faith were really cool. But at times, I felt like I was back in my Non-Fiction Writing Class in college where we had to use sources to supplement our material, as though we can always use other people's quotes to sum up our life experiences. There were many times that I didn't feel like Ruttenberg's outside sources made any sense, but that's okay. I thought the overall theme of the book is something that everyone, no matter what denomination can relate to. Even as Ruttenberg immerses herself in religion, it doesn't answer all of her questions. I've felt (and still) feel this. Like, "Great God, I'm close to you but I still don't know who I am. What do you want me to do?" You are changed but unsure of what to do with the change and there is a constant struggle to balance your secular life with your religious life without pushing away people who mean something to you.
October 13, 2014
I started this book with the idea that it would offer a biography of someone, as opposed to yet another book on how to be Jewish or what Judaism means. I wanted to put Judaism in context to a life. This book does that, and brilliantly, but it does a lot more than that too. Danya weaves philosophy from Talmud, Herschel, Catholic nuns, Christian theologians and even Zen masters into her narrative as you travel with her through her life until her return to religious Jew. Despite using philosophy liberally, there is never any doubt that this book is utterly focused on Judaism and Danya's Jewishness. It is a great biography on a return to practice.
Much to my surprise, however, I recognized a lot of myself in Danya. I was a little girl who asked too many questions, the rebellious teen who listened to punk and metal and desperately wanted purple hair, the college student fascinated by religion and culture and source texts and fragments, who was a bit too loud and all too willing to argue with people far older than me while listening to too much Ani DiFranco to be healthy. A lot of people who have known me since I was five and asking why we say A-men instead of a-women are baffled by my interest in Judaism, and this book gave me the knowledge that in some small way I'm not alone.
Much to my surprise, however, I recognized a lot of myself in Danya. I was a little girl who asked too many questions, the rebellious teen who listened to punk and metal and desperately wanted purple hair, the college student fascinated by religion and culture and source texts and fragments, who was a bit too loud and all too willing to argue with people far older than me while listening to too much Ani DiFranco to be healthy. A lot of people who have known me since I was five and asking why we say A-men instead of a-women are baffled by my interest in Judaism, and this book gave me the knowledge that in some small way I'm not alone.
April 6, 2009
I really liked this book for several reasons. One, it really spoke to where I am at spiritually myself (growing up in a faith, rejecting it, then missing it and trying to reincorporate it into your life in a way that works and makes sense). She also brings up the tension, spoken or unspoken, that can crop up between your religion and your friends, which is also something I relate to. Two, it taught me a lot about modern Judaism that I wasn't necessarily aware of, and I always like learning more about more different topics. The fact that the author also used to hang out in the same SF neighborhoods where I hang out also lent a nice "hey, I know where that is!" element to the story. Overall, I found this book to be well-written and thought-provoking. I would recommend it to anyone who is at any sort of "crossroads of faith," which is probably most of us.
August 28, 2013
This was a book that touched me personally. We seemed to be having parallel lives 20ish years apart. She wrestles with many of the same issues I have and comes away with answers that work for her. I recommend reading it to my book group at the shul to jump start their thinking about the high holidays. The book group did not love the book. While she presents some intriguing topics for discussion (what is the role of ritual, when have you been surprised by G-d), this group wanted her answers and less her narrative. What was the surprise? We concluded that it was an adolescent, self-proclaimed avowed atheist that after some challenges winds up a believer in G-d, enriched enough by the study of religion (secular) that she enters the rabbinate. If she can do it, even after sex, drugs and rock and roll anyone can.
November 24, 2017
What can an old Catholic guy and a young female Rabbi possibly have in common? A lot, as it turns out. I’ll keep this book on my reading table and return to it often. I bought a copy for my daughter, who’s not religious at all, because I know she’ll enjoy Ruttenberg’s story and appreciate her voice.
If I taught a class on “How To Write Memoir,” this would be the textbook.
If I taught a class on “How Be A Good Writer,” this would be on the required reading list.
If I taught a class on “Worthwhile Things To Write About,” the citations in this book would be on the syllabus.
Never mind that I’m not a teacher.
If I taught a class on “How To Write Memoir,” this would be the textbook.
If I taught a class on “How Be A Good Writer,” this would be on the required reading list.
If I taught a class on “Worthwhile Things To Write About,” the citations in this book would be on the syllabus.
Never mind that I’m not a teacher.
January 5, 2014
I appreciate Ruttenberg's candor in sharing her personal story and the piercing insight with which she examines earlier phases of her life, and I celebrate that she integrated all the threads of her life and spirit into a path that's productive and vital. But it's just one person's story after all that, and doesn't sound much different from what I've heard from other people who come home religiously after much experimentation.
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