Sanders provides context in which to understand who Jesus was when he was living his human, earth-bound life.  He provides us with facts–i.e.  Jesus was probably born sometime between 7 and 4 BCE.   Sanders not only provides such fact, he provides an accounting of where the facts come from and what supports them.  He provides us with a theological context–what did a Jews believe at the time and how do we know that.  He provides an understanding of what life was for those living at that time without screening it through our modern perceptions.  He provides a political context including both the Jewish hierachy as well as the Roman political world.  Looking at Jesus in these and other contexts has for me revealed a human Jesus who is more accessible than ever before.

Sanders’ look at miracles and at the resurrection are particular intriguing.  Rather than trying to explain what natural phenomena might explain away the miracles or, using a negative approach,  how nothing can disprove the miracles, he explores what comtemporaries of Jesus accepted about miracles and magic.  His examination of the resurrection does the same–what did people believe about live after death, resurrection, resusitation, etc.  Once again it is the context that is most helpful in gaining understanding.  And clearly, it is easier to comprehend Jesus and his message in a modern context when you begin to understand the ancient context.   In fact, I believe it is impossible to have the former without the latter.

A DVD I use at school before reading Elie Wiesel’s Night covers what is known as Vel d’Hiver, the rounding up of “foreign Jews” in Paris in 1942.  They were transported to the Velodrome (bicycle racing dome)where eventually parents were separated from children.  Nearly all died:  some from starvation and disease, most from execution in the gas chambers in Auschwitz.  The children were housed in horrible conditions in Paris and ultimately sent for execution.  The following website provides a thorough account.

The key of the title fits the lock on a cupboard in which Sarah and her four year old brother would routinely hide.  Everyone can relate to a secret hiding place like this.  Nearly all children have one.  (For my best friend and I, it was my closet where we went to hide and share secrets.)  The hiding place in this story became much more important.  When Sarah and her parents were rounded up, the four-year-old remained hidden in the cupboard, his big sister promising to return to retrieve him in just a few hours.  Needless to say, the few hours turned out to be a much longer period of time.  The structure of the novel is the alternating story of Sarah and her family with an omniscient narrator and of Julia, a modern day first person narrator.  Of course, the two stories intersect.  It is a fascinating, interesting read, even with a slightly flawed ending.

This isn’t the best book I have read this year, but it was a fascinating read. What makes it most interesting is the view of a antiseptic futuristic society where keeping things clean and protected go to extremes. It is world where even an innocent little walk requires padding and a helmet to guarantee safety.

Roman Polanski made a movie based on this book, and I used it in my English IV class after we had studied Night by Elie Wiesel. It was an incredibly stunning, gripping movie. I wondered if the same was true of the book. It was. This was one of those rare cases when I loved the movie adaptation as much as the book. If I see a movie and then read the book, I am always alert to new information absent from the movie. The book did not disappoint; I learned more. But it had the added dimension of creating a fascination for how Polanski and his script writers crafted the movie from the extremely well-crafted memoir. On the back of the book Washington Post Book World labels it “Historically indespensible,” and The Wall Street Journal calls it, “Stunning…Filled with unforgetable incidents, images, and people.”

This outstanding book follows the story of Szpilman who is a concern pianist in Warsaw, Poland. Surprisingly, written soon after WW II, Szpilman’s memoir is nearly void of bitterness. In it you learn of the fabulous, rich past of Warsaw. You learn of the horrors of life in the Warsaw Ghetto. You learn of the desperately dreadful, dire selection process that lead millions to their deaths in concentration camps, including Szpilman’s own family. You learn of war, the monstrous horror that elicits ultimate cruelty, kindness, bravery and cowardice. You learn of Szpilman’s journey to liberation. You learn of a German officer’s struggles with the inhumanity of his own nation and his part in the liberation of a handful of Jews, among them Wladyslaw Szpilman. It is nearly a cliche, but we must indeed remember the stories of the past and learn from them.

We Americans think we have a lock on what justice means. Afterall, we have our great system of checks and balances. We know all about lady justice and her scales. (Don’t get me started on politics and how the Supreme Court overstepped no, tromped over the line.) We know that our sense of justice comes from our forefathers and from our faith. Justice is a huge part of what underlies all the Religions of the Book–Judaism, Islam, and Christianity. But we fail to spend time studying what that justice should look like today. This little book does just that. It takes a look at what these concepts–just distribution of property and materials, equity of opportunity, rights or entitlements, the power of self-advocacy– meant to early people. It also calls us to see how justice might look today if God’s will were honored. It is a powerful little book that expands our view and calls for some kind of commitment to God’s justice from us all.

It is not hard to tell that this is a gripping book. I know that it is almost a cliche, but we must never forget.