I'm not Jewish, and my understanding in this area is limited. However, my understanding is that some do not believe that representational art, particularly of people, is allowed. I remember when I was in Israel as a child, the guide told us about the stained glass windows in the Knesset, and how were required to be abstract for this reason. There were a couple of points in the book where Potok mentioned that the Ladovers did not interpret this restriction in this way, that representational art was allowed. Do you think, Wolfram or others who might know more than I, that the more restrictive interpretation might impact people's views on representational art, even if just subconsciously?

I am Jewish, and you've stumped me. I know that there are a lot of observant Jews who won't have sculptures, or those who do, deface them in some minute way so they're incomplete to avoid transgression of the commandment against owning idols. But I've never heard that applied across the board to representational art. Do you remember where in the book they refer to this restriction?

It's an interesting question: If Asher's genius had shown in something practical/tangible--science or the like--would he have gotten more support?

I think so. The benefits of science are more tangible, and Asher's family and community could better relate to science and understand his passion.

If Asher's genius had shown in something practical/tangible--science or the like--would he have gotten more support?

Depends. I think the real issue, like Wolfram said, isn't that he had genius in it, but that he had passion in it. To Chasidice Jews, passion goes into honoring G-d. Everything else might be good, but it's not the focus of life. Like someone said in the book, it would have been fine if Asher became an artist who made kiddush cups or painted ketubahs or something like that. He could have probably made really beautiful ones.

I think it comes back to Asher's first conversation with Anna Schaeffer. She asks him what he believes, and get to, "I believe it's my duty to make the world holy." Art, the way he does it, does not make the world holy in the way that the Chasidim would interpret the word "holy."

If Asher had a passion for science the way that he had a passion for art, I think that his father probably would have understood more, but it still could have created problems. If he used the science to cure sick people or something like that, then that would be fine. If he used it in a way that went against the Ladover beliefs, then there would be a problem

I guess that where I keep coming back to, in thinking about this, is the phrase "For the sake of G-d." Aryeh enjoyed his work, definitely, but he was doing it for the sake of G-d -- to save lives, to save souls, to make the world a better place, to complete the work. Certainly, it was also something inside himself that was feeling this lack of completeness, but the work he was doing to fill that was work that was clearly done for the sake of G-d. With Asher, his art was for the sake of Asher, in a way. No life would be saved because of his art. It did not serve G-d in any way that made sense at all to a Ladover point of view. He was driven to complete it because he needed it done, and while this was the same force driving his parents, their work fit into what a Ladover should be doing, while his seemed to actively work against that.

Do you remember where in the book they refer to this restriction?

It was in one of his discussions with the Rebbe, maybe the one right before his bar mitzvah. (Which, I just realized, is never described at all.) The Rebbe says something like, "There are some who interpret the commandment this way, but we do not."

Going back to the original question, I think that the number of people who would interpret it that was is so small, and they're so not part of the Ladover community, that it wouldn't really make much of a difference to them. The Ladover community wouldn't really have much of a tradition of representational art, but I don't think that many people would, even subconsciously, have anything against it for that reason.

Ah, so it's a question of mis-directed passion, not mis-directed talent. That makes sense. If the Almighty is supposed to be the focus of your life, then giving that passion to something else is, to stretch a point, almost like adultery.

Thanks Hil. That's the place I was thinking of. I think there was a similar comment elsewhere, perhaps by Asher's father when he was young, but I can't find it now. Also, thanks for the background.

I think the concept of any extreme passion being bad is interesting. I have heard this point of view in some churches - that anything held before the Lord is an idol, even if it isn't in the strict sense. I would think that there would be a fine line between employing all of your skill and passion for the glory of the divine, and having it come between.

It was in one of his discussions with the Rebbe, maybe the one right before his bar mitzvah. (Which, I just realized, is never described at all.) The Rebbe says something like, "There are some who interpret the commandment this way, but we do not."

I couldn't find it, but I did find where the rebbe says there is no difference between a shoemaker and a doctor as long as the lives are lived for the sake of heaven. And that Asher's father doesn't understand that.

Well, I'm out until Sunday or Monday. This discussion has been fascinating so far, and I'm looking forward to continuing it further.

I found the passage. It wasn't the Rebbe, it was the mashpia. "Asherel, you have a gift. The gift causes you to think only of yourself and your own feelings. No one would care if these were normal times, Asherel. We do not interpret the second commandment the way others do. But these are not normal times."

Finished today.

I think people have been making very good points.

I think the "a man cannot serve two masters" (is that a parable?) thing is New Testament, but it came to mind as I was reading.

As did one of the things I've been told in a couple different places, that Christians who live pretty crappy or oppressed lives as a group (this often correlates with Catholicism, rather than Protestantism) put Christ on the cross in jewelry and decoration. The reason being that, whatever pain you are going through, Jesus wins (Crucifixion being about the most painful way to die). I think that idea, not only of sacrifice, but massive pain and suffering, is something that I've not encountered elsewhere (though, admittedly, I do not know all the possible symbologies, even in Judaism, as is relevant to this instance). The closest I can think of is Prometheus, which, no, he would not know, in all probability)

The other thing that struck me was the acceleration as the story went along. Even though there was a seeming lack of choice at most points all the way through, as he fell further into the funnel of inevitibility, things moved faster and faster. The shit accelerated toward the fan.

Maybe my favorite theme is the trying to balance two opposing ideas, to find a livable middle ground. I can't think of anyone who manages to do it in the book, which is quite a pattern/statement.

I didn't like Asher Lev as a person (although, as the single mother of two pre-teen children, my on-going struggle to convince each of them that he/she is not, in fact, the center of the universe might have colored my perception a bit!) but generally liked the book except for the undertone of passivity that ran through it. There was, as noted, that sense of inevitability about the final crash and burn that bugged me - that as readers we were supposed to accept the premise that Asher's talent left him no choice but to hurt his family and community and behaviors which would have prevented or lessened the pain (like managing to come home on time so his mother wouldn't be terrified) simply weren't possible for him. I have to say I wasn't convinced but then again, I'm big on the concept that humans have choices and that for most people, the claim that "I didn't have a choice" simply means the person didn't want to accept the responsibility of the choices, so I was able to suspend that particular disbelief long enough to enjoy the novel.

The part I'm still not clear about is whether Asher (or Potok) wants us to approve of Asher or merely empathize with him (and, at some level, I can relate to his situation - I've spent so much time between a rock and a hard place that the post office delivers my mail there). The story starts with Asher refusing to apologize so it would appear that he doesn't care what we think but at the same time, he is intent on trying to explain the "mystery", which indicates some need for validation so I'm left with the question - given that we know so much about what motivated Asher to paint, what motivated him to tell his story?

I don't think Asher as Narrator cares if we as Audience approve of him or not. The beginning, when he says (roughly), "Yes, that Asher Lev," sounds to me like "All right, you all want to know why I did it? Well, I'm only going to say it once. Pay attention now."