A searing memoir about growing up in a fiercely loving, abusive rabbinical family in which the author’s father, the charismatic head of a splinter Orthodox religious community, demands unswerving loyalty—and a commitment to guarding terrible secrets. Sara Sherbill was raised by a father who was both a representative of God and a broken man harboring an intricate set of secrets. Her riveting story explores what happens when a daughter is tasked with keeping those secrets, and the cost of keeping them. It How do we live with suffering? What does it mean to heal? In the face of unspeakable harm, what can be reclaimed? Sherbill’s tale, written with grace and brutal honesty, reveals her struggle to reclaim her identity as a daughter, woman, and now mother. Most of all, it’s a story about learning to live alongside our traumas without letting them consume us—what some might call redemption.
Beautiful memoir. Never have I finished 260 pages in less than 2 days. I real insight into religious & family trauma and its effect on life. I love the interpretation of religious texts or tradition to deal with the uncertainty of life, even as a non-religious person I can really appreciate how these things can help someone deal with pain. Highly recommend.
Right off the bat, I must mention that if you are looking to read something uplifting or light, this book is not for you. This is the story of a dysfunctional family, whose struggles don't seem to end.
The book was a five star for me for the following reasons: 1. Ability to keep me engaged with the content, which though sad, is well written. It is always very important for me to be transported into the world the writer is describing and this book did just that 2. The courage of the writer to be open, not just about her own life, but the lives of everyone in her family. It takes a different mindset to show your vulnerabilities in the open like that 3. Very specific to me - it gives a detailed glimpse into the Jewish culture, which I hadn't really explored before. I love knowing about different cultures and practices.
I must say that the book was an eye opener in terms of the effects an abusive parent can have on the family and the mental well being of the kids.
Are people evil or do they do evil things? This theme plays in the background of Sara Sherbill well written story of her life and how her abusive father has impacted her, her family and even her Jewish faith. Her Rabbi father is a very complex person who is devoted to his faith but also does very wicked things that are contrary to his faith. In an age where religious fundamentalism is on the rise this book may be helpful to so many who have lost their faith or have questioned it because of how their lives have been impacted by others. This is not a book that you can put down and move on. This in many ways is a troubling book because at times there are not easy answers. 5 out of 5 stars
This memoir is extremely well written, evocative and beautiful. It asks really hard questions that don’t really have clear answers. I first heard this author on a podcast and I knew right away that I wanted to read her book. I grew up in the Chicago Orthodox Jewish community and I am familiar with some of what she talks about and listening to her tell these stories was so uncomfortable but necessary. Excellent audiobook read by the author.
Sherbill really captures the confusion, chaos, and trauma that comes from living in a home with domestic violence and denial of that violence. Its impact on the family and especially on the children is profound and can last a lifetime. It cannot have been easy for the author to expose her family secrets, but it is only with light that we can address the problem.
I devoured this book in one sitting so turn off your phone and ignore the world for a few hours.
The concept of duality is very prevalent in Judaism and Sara shows us this beautifully in her writing. How can you love someone and be afraid of them at the same time? How can she be the Rabbi's daughter and still be her own person? Are people inherently evil or can they be forgiven when they show signs of remorse for hurting you? Sara grapples with these questions and more as takes her readers on her and her family's very personal journey. Her story is moving and authentic. She highlights real struggles in how to live a life under strict religious rules that don't often favor women.
It's wonderful to see the path and her development from a teenager to free-thinking and acting adult, becoming her own person, and (it seems to me) making peace with her past.
I received this book in the fall of 2024 from a Goodreads Giveaway. Sara Sherbill’s telling of her and her family’s story captured my heart from the very first page. The way she writes powerfully illustrates the impact of her father’s behavior and treatment of those around him, weaving the complicated nature of the roles of daughter and survivor. I highly recommend this memoir to clinicians working with trauma victims (and anyone else) who seeks to understand the impact of abuse on the Jewish (or any religious) community.
Beautifully written— one of those books that feels like art. Complex situations distilled down through one person’s experience, making it wholly tangible yet ever-unfolding at the same time.
Character is fate as the Greek philosopher Heraclitus said. In Judaism, a person’s deeds take priority and character is relegated to second fiddle as God arranges each sucker’s fate on how well they followed His commandments.
In “There was night and there was morning”, each family member careens down their fateful path. Ironically for a people that produced so many psychologists and psychiatrists to examine _why_ we do what we do, the guiding law of the Torah only cares what we do. And maybe that’s why I couldn’t put this book down and finished it in 2 days. It is the story of a family whose siblings do the right things but can never find out why their souls continue to be in pain.
Sara and I went to middle and high school together and even back then she was known for the emotion conveyed in her writing. She would fill up the waste basket with crumpled up drafts that frustrated her to tears. None of my other classmates took the written word, the written world, as seriously as she did.
I knew there was trouble at home causing a tempest inside her, but I didn’t know exactly what that trouble was. In this book, close to forty years later, Sara reveals the emotional and physical abuse from her father, the family dynamics it created and the effects that will persist for the rest of her life.
The story focuses on Sara’s father, a deeply spiritual but also a deeply flawed man. After accepting a rabbinical post in Chicago, he is frustrated by temple politics and his congregants’ imperfections. That frustration is unleashed inside the house. Because he is initially a respected member of the community, the family has to keep up appearances. I don’t remember Sara having bruises but she writes that they were there, underneath the long orthodox sleeves. Sara has hopes that her parents will divorce and she will be happy living with just her mother and siblings but her parents reconcile after an aunt’s visit described in an excruciating scene. Her siblings all deal with their father’s sins in different ways. For Sara, there are years spent in Israel, finding religion’s edicts and then rejecting them as poor substitutes for spirituality. There are relationships with boys and men, entering and leaving her life. There are constant attempts to shut the world out, to leave the world, to escape to a more familiar place in heaven.
The father’s character flaws, including narcissism, eventually become his fate, his children must abandon him and he falls into drug use and other vices. By the end of the book Sara realizes that even after her father’s death, his influence will never disappear.
This is a deeply personal book that took a lifetime to write. And it is also incredibly well written. There were sentences I had to reread for the pleasure of figuring out how she fit such a deep understanding into so few words. Sarah honed her craft by ghostwriting and editing the books of others and her experience shows.
A powerful memoir of a woman’s life in the context of religious orthodoxy and domestic violence. Many scenes underscore the cyclical consequences of childhood trauma, how parental relationships influence what we later seek out, and how critical it is to prevent it from spilling over to future generations. It goes to show, as often is, that many (but not all), who broadcast their “goodness”, through words rather than actions, are compensating for something—particularly when under the shield of religion.
This book made me think of something interesting I read recently: The original meaning of “blood is thicker than water”, is the opposite of what it’s come to mean. “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb”, meaning that the relationships we continuously choose are often stronger than those we’re born into. Some of us just happen to be luckier than others with the latter.
I really enjoyed reading this memoir. Sara grew up with a father who is a rabbi that is very controlling and abusive. An emotional memoir of a courageous woman sharing a story that needed to be shared. The love she has for her siblings and mother is so moving and healing and this book is an example of the power of the written word. Through the sharing of secrets we were told we never could reveal, Sara shows how we can break their power and restore our sense of self. I highly recommend.
This is a psalm. It's not a prayer, and it's not a screed, but it's a lament and also an ode. To the extent that I know the family and some of the people, I didn't know any of this, and I am in awe of everyone who made it out, scars and all. This is a gift to everyone who has had to be silent in their suffering, and a reminder that you don't know anything about anyone.
This book took many turns from where it began. Read 75% of this pretty quickly on a flight home from Dallas and it had all of my attention. A father who was a rabbi who presented a very different picture to the world than what he showed at home to his wife and children and then the wife and children spend the rest of their lives trying to work through the trauma of that one man.
Haunting and lyrical. An emotionally astute and absorbing memoir about surviving an abusive father, this book is also about reimagining one’s relationship with God after witnessing the hypocrisies of religious life. A must read for those interested in the complex intersection of religion and abuse.
A moving and touching memoir. At times disturbing and unsettling. Told from the perspective of someone growing up in a religious household that was deeply impacted by physical and psychological abuse. An interesting story of a family well told.
Well written and brave. I enjoyed learning more about the Jewish traditions that bound the family together. It’s a book that also sheds light on what it’s like to live with trauma from an early age. There’s a lot of references to therapy, but not until late in the book.
Deeply felt memoir about subjects rarely brought to light in this community. Sherrill lays bare any misconception that it “doesn’t happen here.” Her father’s actions could have destroyed her family, but they all proved resilient, though clearly scarred. A well- written and well-edited memoir.
I don’t even know what to say about this book other than the man who I had met a few times and who had led a congregation for years, consisting of many people I knew, was a horrible evil man. This is a sad book and I hope writing it helps the author, his daughter, to finally heal.
This book is her therapy for dealing with the horrific trauma she went through as a child. I can respect that. I didn't need to have it in my life though.
For the first 25% of this book, I thought it was going to be a 5 star. The stories from her childhood are deeply troubling and her father was an objectively atrocious human being. There were many interesting stories she tells about her previous religion and family dynamics. She touches on a lot of difficult topics and provides interesting perspectives. As an older sister, I carried/carry a lot of the burdens Sara does so I am incredibly empathetic towards her.
Once Sara is remarried and has her child, her trauma begins to hit her hard. She has some incredibly harmful coping mechanisms, but I did not feel like the book acknowledged the severity of them. She is very obviously drowning, we as the reader sit there and drown with her. I understand allowing the reader to feel as she felt, but it was overboard and made you uncomfortable. I thought to myself someone get this woman a Xanax.
I also found it off-putting when she simply describes her husband as “my husband”, she says his name so few times that it was confusing when she would use his name. From what I can see online, she is still married, but the way she writes about him is so detached and if she could not care less about him. At times I questioned why she was even bringing him because the disdain was palpable. I understand relationships have ups and downs where sometimes you can’t stand the person, but I don’t feel like it ever showed that she loved him.
I will always be in awe of the bravery of anyone who can write a memoir about the abuse they’ve experienced, especially at the hands of family. Some very beautifully written sentiments in this one!