Showing posts with label To Jerusalem and Back. Show all posts
Showing posts with label To Jerusalem and Back. Show all posts

Monday, October 21, 2019

the intellectual life

"I once heard my friend Edward Shils say that the intellectual life was the most passionate life a human being could lead; I think of this when I consider what a man like [Elie] Kedourie does and ask myself whether I could bear the excitement and danger of his sort of career--the emotional danger and the mental responsibilities, I mean."

~~ from Saul Bellow's To Jerusalem and Back

Saturday, October 19, 2019

"Oriental Jews"

"We go into a Yemenite synagogue. The early arrivals have left their shoes at the door, Arab style. Bearded, dark-faced, they sit along the wall. You see their stockinged feet on the footrests of their lecterns. It is traditional on Friday afternoons to read the Song of Songs aloud, and they are reciting or chanting it now, in long lines, un-European in intonation. This chanting resembles the collective recitations you hear when passing Arab school rooms.

"Ben-David knows a lot about the lives of Jews from the Arab countries. He often makes the point that they, too, are refugees who fled from persecution and whose property was confiscated. World opinion concentrates on the Palestinian refugees while these Oriental Jews--nearly a million of them--are given no consideration. It is inevitable that he and I should turn to politics. Sightseeing is all very well, but our heads are full of news, omens, and speculations."

~~ from Saul Bellow's To Jerusalem and Back

Thursday, October 3, 2019

Before I left Chicago. . .

"Before I left Chicago, the art critic Harold Rosenberg said to me, 'Going to Jerusalem? And wondering whether people will talk freely? You've got to be kidding, they'll talk your head off.'"

~~ from Saul Bellow's To Jerusalem and Back

Wednesday, October 2, 2019

To Jerusalem and Back

"An old Mormon missionary in Nauvoo once gripped my knee hard as we sat side by side, and he put his arm about me and called me 'Brother.' We'd only met ten minutes before. He took me to his good bosom. His eyes began to mist. I was a prospect, an exotic prospect in old tennis shoes and a sweatshirt. His heart opened to me. It opened like a cuckoo clock. But it did not give me the time of day."

~~ from Saul Bellow's To Jerusalem and Back

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