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Martin Buber's embrace of Hasidism at the start of the twentieth century was instrumental to the revival of this popular form of Jewish mysticism. Hoping to instigate a Jewish cultural and spiritual renaissance, Buber published a series of anthologies of Hasidic teachings written in German to introduce the tradition to a wide audience. This book closely analyzes his writings and sources to explore his interpretation of Hasidic spirituality as a form of cultural criticism. For Buber, Hasidic legends and teachings were not a static, canonical body of knowledge, but were dynamic and open to continuous reinterpretation. The author argues that this representation of Hasidism was essential to the Zionist effort to restore a sense of unity across the Jewish diaspora as purely religious traditions weakened—and that Buber's anthologies in turn played a vital part in the broad movement to use cultural memory as a means to reconstruct a collective identity for Jews. As the author unravels the rich layers of Buber's vision of Hasidism, Buber emerges as one of the preeminent thinkers on the place of religion in modern culture.

Noble Drew Ali, leader of the Moorish Science Temple of America movement in the early twentieth-century, taught that "citizenship is salvation." This book examines the legacy of Ali's thoughts on citizenship, law, and race in the MSTA and two other Aliite religions, the Washitaw de Dugdahmoundyah and the Nuwaubian Yamassee movement. In all three African American religious movements, members insist on an identity other than "negro, black, or colored" as a way of insisting upon full citizenship as a status. Thinkers within these religions also reiterate Ali's claims about citizenship as a process, a work of "sacred duty" wherein, through activity ranging from voting to pro se legal performance, citizens contribute to the perfection of the world. Such claims not only respond to American racism in creative ways, they also advance an understanding of "law" as an eternal, metaphysical reality, divine, aligned with justice and truth. The work of citizenship, then, is aimed at aligning the unjust and oppressive legal system of the state with that of True Law.

This book began its journey with two texts and two conjectures. The texts were chosen to represent two alternative models for listing the names of God: an open-ended list and a closed series of seventy-two names. Both lists presume to be exhaustive. Their respective understandings of “all,” however, are not identical. If they both comply with the axiom of monotheist onomatology that the single divinity has many names, each reflects a different position as to exactly how many they are. Theology vouches for an infinite number. Magic counters with seventy-two, the numerical equivalent of finitude. The central pronouncement of Christian theology on the naming of God—attributed to the authority of St. Dionysius the Areopagite—endorses the infinite list of names as the most adequate “name” for the unnamable divinity. It may be concluded that the theological vision emerging from the text of Dionysius presents an asymmetrical system of order that posits its “beyond” as its condition of possibility—a transcendent divinity exempt from the order it generates. The idea of order presented by the amulet The 72 Names of the Lord is based on an entirely different principle.

The fate of our times is characterized by rationalization and intellectualization and, above all, by “the disenchantment of the world.” Max Weber’s statement remains a dominant interpretation of the modern condition: the increasing capabilities of knowledge and science have banished mysteries, leaving a world that can be mastered technically and intellectually. And though this idea seems empowering, many people have faced modern disenchantment. Using intimate encounters with works of art to explore disenchantment and the possibilities of re-enchantment, this book addresses questions about the nature of humanity, the world, and God in the wake of Weber’s diagnosis of modernity. It focuses on a handful of artists—Walter De Maria, Diller and Scofidio, James Turrell, and Andy Goldworthy—to show how they introduce spaces hospitable to mystery and wonder, redemption and revelation, and transcendence and creation. What might be thought of as religious longings, the book argues, are crucial aspects of enchanting secularity when developed through encounters with these works of art. Developing a model of religion that might be significant to secular culture, it shows how this model can be employed to deepen interpretation of the art we usually view as representing secular modernity.

Ana de San Bartolomé (1549–1626), a contemporary and close associate of St. Teresa of Àvila, typifies the curious blend of religious activism and spiritual forcefulness that characterized the first generation of Discalced, or reformed Carmelites. Known for their austerity and ethics, their convents quickly spread throughout Spain and, under Ana's guidance, also to France and the Low Countries. Constantly embroiled in disputes with her male superiors, Ana quickly became the most vocal and visible of these mystical women and the most fearless of the guardians of the Carmelite Constitution, especially after Teresa's death. Her autobiography, clearly inseparable from her religious vocation, expresses the tensions and conflicts that often accompanied the lives of women whose relationship to the divine endowed them with an authority at odds with the temporary powers of church and state. Last translated into English in 1916, Ana's writings give modern readers insights into the nature of monastic life during the highly charged religious and political climate of late-sixteenth- and early-seventeenth-century Spain.

Early Christian monastic spiritual practices of self-formation became increasingly popular in late medieval and early modern Catholicism. Now, for the first time in the history of Christian spirituality, religious orders, first and foremost among them Franciscans and Jesuits, trained devout people, men and women, lay and religious, in practices of meditation, introspection, and subjectivization. Thousands, if not ten of thousands of lay people now acquired techniques of self examination that enabled them to pursue life goals and transform themselves. The book examines four of the major spiritual practices of the period, traces their history, diffusion, and the challenges they presented to clerical authority. Spiritual direction and general confession, two of the practices of self-formation discussed in the book, served as safety belts to guarantee that practitioners remained subjected to the teachings of the church. But spiritual exercises, general examination of conscience, and general confession supplied practitioners with techniques of self-construction and self -affirmation. Using insights from Michel Foucault's later work on practices of truth-telling and subjectivization, the book proposes the first systematic investigation of the complexity of subjectivization in early modern Catholicism as both a mechanism of self-formation and of subjugation

Beheading the Saint analyzes the genesis and transformation of national identity in Québec from the mid-nineteenth century to the present, with specific attention to the secularization of French Canadianness during the 1960s’ Quiet Revolution. Zubrzycki does so by tracing the symbolic career of St. John the Baptist, the national patron saint, in processions, parades and protests, which, she argues, contributed to the articulation of a new, secular Quebecois identity. She extends her analysis of nationalism, religion and secularism in Québec by examining recent debates on immigration, the reasonable accommodation of religious minorities’ practices, and the place of religious symbols in the public sphere.

The area of Los Angeles known as South Central is often overshadowed by dismal stereotypes, problematic racial stigmas, and its status as the home to some of the city’s poorest and most violent neighborhoods. Amid South Central’s shifting demographics and its struggles with poverty, sociologist Pamela J. Prickett takes a closer look, focusing on the members of an African American Muslim community who call South Central home. Believing in South Central examines how believers help each other combat poverty, job scarcity, violence, and racial injustice, providing new insights into the day-to-day lived religion of African American Muslims. The book shows why the mosque has become believers’ key system of social support in a changing neighborhood and how members deepen their spiritual practice not in spite of, but through, conditions of poverty.

This book explores the rise of insight meditation (vipassanā) as a widespread lay movement in Burma during British colonial rule. It does this through a study of one of its key architects, the Burmese monk Ledi Sayadaw (1846-1923). His life and work shows that mass meditation emerged out of the relationship between two spheres of action, the study of Buddhist doctrine and the effort to protect the Buddhist religion. In terms of doctrinal study, Ledi empowered a wide range of people to participate in the longstanding elite practice of in-depth study, focusing particularly on the Buddhist philosophical texts, the Abhidhamma. He tied this study to the second sphere, protective efforts, by arguing that such study empowered a person to safeguard Buddhism. He then presented meditation as another way to insure Buddhism’s safety— not to mention as a means to spiritual attainments— and he standardized and simplified meditation methods for lay people using the Abhidhamma. By allying insight practice in this way to study and protection, he set in train the collectivization of practice and the acceptability of lay control of its teaching, now hallmarks of modern Buddhism across the world. This analysis challenges the common assumption that colonialism forced the Burmese to entirely reconceive their traditions, for it shows that Ledi and other Burmese responded to the pressures of colonialism on pre-colonial terms. Thus, in explaining why mass meditation started in Burma, the book also extends into the pre-colonial past our understanding of sources for a form of Buddhist modernity.

Despite popular images of priests seeking enlightenment in snow-covered mountain temples, the central concern of Japanese Buddhism is death. For that reason, Japanese Buddhism's social and economic base has long been in mortuary services—a base now threatened by public debate over the status, treatment, and location of the dead. This book explores the crisis brought on by this debate and investigates what changing burial forms reveal about the ways temple Buddhism is perceived and propagated in contemporary Japan. It offers an account of how religious, political, social, and economic forces in the twentieth century led to the emergence of new funerary practices in Japan and how, as a result, the care of the dead has become the most fundamental challenge to the continued existence of Japanese temple Buddhism. Far from marking the death of Buddhism in Japan, the book argues, funerary Buddhism reveals the tradition at its most vibrant.

Imbued with character and independence, strength and articulateness, humor and conviction, abundant biblical knowledge and intense compassion, Katharina Schütz Zell (1498–1562) was an outspoken religious reformer in sixteenth-century Germany who campaigned for the right of clergy to marry and the responsibility of lay people—women as well as men—to proclaim the Gospel. As one of the first and most daring models of the pastor's wife in the Protestant Reformation, she demonstrated that she could be an equal partner in marriage; she was for many years a respected, if unofficial, mother of the established church of Strasbourg in an age when ecclesiastical leadership was dominated by men. Though a commoner, Schütz Zell participated actively in public life and wrote prolifically, including letters of consolation, devotional writings, biblical meditations, catechetical instructions, a sermon, and lengthy polemical exchanges with male theologians. The complete translations of her extant publications, except for her longest, are collected here, offering modern readers an opportunity to understand the work of women in the formation of the early Protestant church.

Through readings of the opinions of the US Supreme Court and other legal texts, this book shows how “the church” as a religious collective is granted special privilege in US law. In-depth analyses of Hosanna-Tabor v. EEOC and Burwell v. Hobby Lobby reveal that the law tends to honor the religious rights of the group—whether in the form of a church, as in Hosanna-Tabor, or in corporate form, as in Hobby Lobby—over the rights of the individual, offering corporate religious entities an autonomy denied to their respective members. In discussing the various communities that construct the “church-shaped space” in American law, this book also considers disputes over church property, the legal exploitation of the black church in the criminal justice system, and the recent case of Masterpiece Cakeshop v. Colorado Civil Rights Commission. Church State Corporation challenges basic beliefs about the ties between religion and law in ostensibly secular democracies.

The essays in this book offer a profile of religion and its relationship to consumption in the modern period. Together they demonstrate how religion manifests in efforts to mass-produce relations of value. Through essays on specific commodities, celebrities, and industries, this book shows how much of consumer life is itself a religious enterprise, religious in the sense of enshrining certain commitments stronger than almost any other acts of social participation. Whereas earlier scholars took as a given the perpetuity of denominated, sectarian religions, this books turns to those practices, businesses, and persons seemingly unhooked from denominational life, such as the universal labor of parenting or the practice of binge viewing, and observes the kinds of social concession and sectarian resistance these practices convey. Using the marketplace as the primary archive of religion, this book shows how certain forms of social life reappear in culture as ways to think through and enact principles.

Jews are no longer only Jews. They have acquired multiple identities. These identities are often discontinuous. One’s professional, social, political, and cultural affiliations may engender an identity that might not overlap with one’s inherited identity. As much as they may enrich one personally, this whirl of discontinuous identities might also yield a destabilizing tension with one’s self-understanding as a Jew. The following essay considers this dialectical tension as it is manifest in the expansion of the Jew’s cultural horizons beyond those established by rabbinic tradition. Under the rubric of post-traditional identities (which may still be informed by religious sensibilities and concerns, nor are they necessarily indifferent to traditional Jewish teachings and precept), the volume explores the existential and cognitive ramifications of the resulting cultural disjunctions. These reflections are guided by overarching concern how post-traditional Jews may circumvent the Scylla of a cosmopolitan syncretism and the Charybdis of ethnic patriotism.

Dæmons Are Forever is both a record of archaic contacts and transactions between humans and protean spirit beings (dæmons) and an account of exchanges, among human populations, of the science of spirit beings: dæmon-ology. Since the time of the Indo-European migrations, and especially following the opening of the overland and maritime trade and invasion routes known as the “Silk Road,” a common dæmon-ological vernacular has been shared among populations ranging from East and South Asia to Northern Europe. Unbound by exclusivist theological and institutional strictures, dæmons (some of them malign and properly demonic, and many of them feminine) have always traveled more lightly than the high gods of official religions, leaving their traces behind in a rich and varied corpus of myths, folk and fairy tales, works of art and fiction, ritual and scientific treatises, material artefacts, and accounts left by itinerants and immigrants, traders and invaders, demonologists and anthropologists. Through a set of five studies retracing Indo-European and Silk Road histories of changeling traditions, the evil eye, mirror divination, shape-shifting demons and fairies, and demonological technologies, the book explores the spread and transformations of a complex body of millennial dæmon-ological myths, rituals, and images. Methodologically, the author proposes that a “connected histories” approach to Eurasian dæmon-ology may serve as a model for situating history in its proper place, at the heart of the History of Religions discipline.

Days of Awe examines the stories of the American-Jewish Palestine solidarity movement and Jewish critics of the occupation. Atalia Omer demonstrates that critical resistance to the Israeli occupation of Palestinians enables American Jews to reimagine Jewishness from feminist, gender non-conformist, non-white and other Jewish margins. Through the search for solidarity with Palestinians these activists interrogate privilege, grapple with their complicity, and participate in a broader social movement that intersects multiple sites of struggle for liberation. The book illuminates how narratives about identity and conflict can provide sites for resistance and peacebuilding that enable reimagining religious tradition. It examines the multidirectional interrelations between innovation in religious identity and tradition and social protest. Based on extensive participant observation fieldwork and interviews, the book captures how reimagining identity from the grassroots and the margins involves feedback loops between the experiences of ethical outrage and unlearning ideological formations, neither of which is instinctive but rather reflect complex sociological mechanisms and processes often not examined in scholarship on religion and social change. These sociological processes generative of moral shocks also necessitate engaging with and innovating with tradition, histories, memories, and embodied experiences such as those of Mizrahi, Sephardi and Jews of Color. Days of Awe, therefore, employs the resources of religious studies in conversation with social movement theory to develop a more sociologically robust analysis of religion and change.

Images of suffering male bodies permeate Western culture, from Francis Bacon's paintings and Robert Mapplethorpe's photographs to the battered heroes of action movies. Drawing on perspectives from a range of disciplines—including religious studies, gender and queer studies, psychoanalysis, art history, and film theory—this book explores the complex, ambiguous meanings of the enduring figure of the male-body-in-pain. Acknowledging that representations of men confronting violence and pain can reinforce ideas of manly tenacity, it also argues that they reveal the vulnerability of men's bodies and open them up to eroticization. Locating the roots of our cultural fascination with male pain in the crucifixion, the book analyzes the way narratives of Christ's death and resurrection both support and subvert cultural fantasies of masculine power and privilege. Through readings of works by Georges Bataille, Kaja Silverman, and more, it delineates the redemptive power of representations of male suffering and violence.

Providing a new history of the study of religion, Empire of Religion locates knowledge about religion and religions within the power relations of imperial ambitions, colonial situations, and indigenous innovations. The book uncovers the material mediations—imperial, colonial, and indigenous—in which knowledge about religion was produced during the rise of an academic study of religion between the 1870s and the 1920s in Europe and North America. Focusing on one colonial contact zone, South Africa, as a crucial site of interaction, the book shows how imperial theorists such as Friedrich Max Müller, E. B. Tylor, Andrew Lang, and James Frazer depended upon the raw materials provided by colonial middlemen who in turn depended upon indigenous informants and collaborators undergoing colonization. Reversing the flow of knowledge production, African theorists such as W. E. B. Du Bois, S. M. Molema, and H. I. E. Dhlomo turned European imperial theorists of religion into informants in pursuing their own intellectual projects. By developing a material history of the study of religion, Empire of Religion documents the importance of African religion, the persistence of the great divide between savagery and civilization, and the salience of complex mediations in which knowledge about religion and religions was produced, authenticated, and circulated within imperial comparative religion. Empire of Religion shows how knowledge about religion and religions was entangled with imperialism from European empires to the neoimperial United States.

American Christians value the feeling of emptiness and seek to cultivate it, believing that the more profoundly they experience emptiness the greater their longing for God and the nearer they draw to their goal of feeling spiritually filled by God. Emptiness must precede fullness. Americans practice bodily disciplines as a way of representing, prompting, and intensifying their feelings of emptiness. They cognize and cultivate the feeling of emptiness through fasting, bloodletting, silence, labor, and other activities undertaken as forms of self-denial. Americans feel the emptiness of time and space. They conceive of the geographic space of America as empty, and in their making of place they play with complex representations of emptiness and fullness. Americans imagine the emptiness of earthly time in contrast to the fullness of eternity, often complicating that understanding by asserting that empty, earthly time is empty precisely because it is filled with corruption. They are keenly aware of the dangers of empty words, empty doctrines, and empty beliefs, and are on constant guard against them. The energetic pursuit of the feeling of emptiness, the radical denial of self, places individuals and groups in challenging circumstances as they attempt to create and maintain identities. Americans build Christian ingroup identity by asserting what they are not, by pushing off from other groups whom they identify as competitors in the religious marketplace. Disestablishment fosters such competition among groups by providing a social setting in which numerous foils can be identified and group identity constructed via negativa.

This book explores how the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), and its spiritual successor the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), studied and engaged religious traditions around the world in the service of US national security. Between World War II and the 1979 Iranian Revolution, OSS and the CIA honed this strategy in the context of two thriving discourses in American culture: a renewed attention to religious pluralism as well as a newfound national interest in “world religions.” These efforts came to represent what this book calls the “religious approach” to intelligence, a term borrowed from World War II American spies. Influenced by popular American ideas about the nature and function of religion as a global public good, US intelligence saw “world religions” as an element of US national security. These assumptions about the nature of religion were folded into an existing and powerful tradition of American exceptionalism, encouraging intelligence officers to view the United States and the world’s religions as natural allies. Over time, US intelligence work abroad bled into debates about religion at home as Roman Catholicism became the model through which the intelligence community understood and manipulated other “world” religions. In its investigation of this religious approach to intelligence, this book grapples with intersecting developments in American and “world” religions, US history, the growth of US empire, and the academic study of religion after World War II.