{"product_id":"agnosticisbn-9781594634147","title":"Agnostic","description":"\u003cb\u003e“Vital” –\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Provocative…[Hazleton] paddles the river of doubt with energy and exuberance.” –The \u003ci\u003eSeattle Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA widely admired writer on religion celebrates agnosticism as the most vibrant, engaging—and ultimately the most honest—stance toward the mysteries of existence.\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e One in four Americans reject any affiliation with organized religion, and nearly half of those under thirty describe themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” But as the airwaves resound with the haranguing of preachers and pundits, who speaks for the millions who find no joy in whittling the wonder of existence to a simple yes\/no choice?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lesley Hazleton does. In this provocative, brilliant book, she gives voice to the case for agnosticism, breaks it free of its stereotypes as watered-down atheism or amorphous “seeking,” and celebrates it as a reasoned, revealing, and sustaining stance toward life. Stepping over the lines imposed by rigid conviction, she draws on philosophy, theology, psychology, science, and more to explore, with curiosity and passion, the vital role of mystery in a deceptively information-rich world; to ask what we mean by the search for meaning; to invoke the humbling yet elating perspective of infinity; to challenge received ideas about death; and to reconsider what “the soul” might be. Inspired and inspiring, \u003ci\u003eAgnostic\u003c\/i\u003e recasts the question of belief not as a problem to be solved but as an invitation to an ongoing, open-ended adventure of the mind.\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eAgnostic\u003c\/i\u003e:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“In Hazleton’s vital, mischievous new book, the term [agnostic] represents a positive orientation towards life all its own, one that embraces both science and mystery, and values the immediate joys of life…In each of her wide-ranging reflections….she remains intimately grounded and engaged in our human, day-to-day life.” --\u003ci\u003eNew York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A beautiful, inquisitive, energetic 200-page tribute to uncertainty... that’s about 50 times as charming as anything Sam Harris has ever written and 500 times more inspiring than any of Joel Osteen’s books...You might give yourself windburn turning these pages.\" --\u003ci\u003eSeattle Review of Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Provocative…[Hazleton] paddles the river of doubt with energy and exuberance.” --\u003ci\u003eSeattle Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Hazleton makes a compelling case for why agnosticism matters, and sets out a comprehensive and though-provoking definition of what it means. It’s a powerful and deeply humanistic argument, told deftly through these pages.” –\u003ci\u003eVol. 1 Brooklyn\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"The title of Hazleton’s “manifesto” on agnosticism is not a contradiction: she imbues the middle ground between belief and non-belief with spirit by showing that agnosticism itself is a disposition in favor of intellectual and emotional dexterity. A book that should be read as much by the believer (the religious or atheist) as anyone else.\" -- \u003ci\u003eFlavorwire\u003c\/i\u003e, \"A Must Read\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A heady romp through the mind of an intellectual adventurer who relishes curiosity and questioning over the dubious comforts of dogma and certainty.” --\u003ci\u003eSeattle Met\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “To be agnostic is not to sidestep the question of belief, for Hazleton, or to commit to a wishy-washy moral framework. It is instead to have enough backbone to stand firm in the liminality of uncertainty. She wants readers to give agnosticism a fair shake, and many will be convinced by her appealing voice and accessible prose.” --\u003ci\u003ePublisher's Weekly \u003c\/i\u003e(starred)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Here, with clever elucidation, are artful essays that celebrate the wonder of the unknown… Hazleton does not deny possibilities; she denies only assured and implacable dogma.” --\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Personably persuasive … Informed by science, philosophy, literature, history, travel, hiking, and more, Hazleton’s manifesto makes the suspension of conviction as attractive as any theist or atheist testament.” --\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“At last, a liberating antidote to the either\/or thinking of the atheist\/believer debate.  Hazleton makes an impassioned and persuasive case for the insights – and joys – to be gained from a stance of not-knowing.”\u003cbr\u003e --Reza Aslan, author of \u003ci\u003eZealot and No God but God\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “It's a fraught enterprise to take on the big questions--God, meaning, mortality, existence--but Hazleton has done it here with remarkable aplomb, and in a singular voice devoid of pretension.  Her manifesto is, for me, a celebration--a welcome infusion of joy in an arena preponderantly inhabited by dogmatists.” --David Guterson, author of \u003ci\u003eSnow Falling on Cedars\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “As a rabbi whose search for religious meaning is constantly renewed by doubt, I loved Lesley Hazelton's book.  It is vibrant, challenging, extremely interesting, funny and profound.  It is wise in its embrace of paradox,  mystery and science.” \u003cbr\u003e --Rabbi Rachel Cowan, Former Director of the Institute for Jewish Spirituality\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eThe First Muslim\u003c\/i\u003e:\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eThe First Muslim\u003c\/i\u003e succeeds. It makes its subject vivid and immediate.” —Hari Kunzru, \u003ci\u003eThe\u003c\/i\u003e \u003ci\u003eNew York Times Book Review\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Richly detailed and beautifully written . . . [Hazleton] is able to do with words what is almost never attempted in pictures . . .  indispensable.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Seattle Times\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Like her subject, Hazleton brilliantly navigates ‘the vast and often terrifying arena in which politics and religion intersect,’ revealing the deep humanity of faith.” —\u003ci\u003eMore\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e“\u003ci\u003eThe First Muslim\u003c\/i\u003e finds the human in the sacred.” —\u003ci\u003eThe Stranger\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eLesley Hazleton\u003c\/b\u003e is an award-winning writer whose work focuses on the intersection of religion, history, and politics. She reported on the Middle East from Jerusalem for more than a dozen years, and has written for \u003ci\u003eTime\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Review of Books\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eHarper’s\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Nation\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eThe New Republic\u003c\/i\u003e, among others. Her book \u003ci\u003eAfter the Prophet\u003c\/i\u003e was a finalist for a PEN Center USA Literary Award, and she is the recipient of \u003ci\u003eThe Stranger\u003c\/i\u003e’s Genius in Literature Award. Hazleton lives in Seattle.One \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Beyond\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Either\/Or\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There are some four hundred houseboats in Seattle. Many, like      mine, are little more than shacks on rafts, but this may be the      only one with a mezuzah at its entrance. If I were religious, the      small cylindrical amulet would hold a miniature scroll inscribed      with the Shema, the Jewish equivalent of the Lord's Prayer or the      Islamic Shahada. But mine doesn't, partly because the scroll kept      falling out when I put the mezuzah up on the doorpost, and partly      because I don't believe a word of the prayer anyway. I'm not sure      what happened to it. I may have thrown it out in a tough-minded      moment, or it may be squirreled away at the bottom of a drawer      somewhere. No matter. Most of the time I don't even notice the      mezuzah, and neither does anyone else. But I know it's there, and      that does matter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Yet why should it? I am firmly agnostic, and haven't been to a      synagogue service in years. Decades, in fact. So is the mezuzah an      empty sentimental gesture on my part, or does the word hypocrisy      apply? Could I be in denial: a closet theist, or a more deeply      closeted atheist? Or am I just a timid fence-sitter, a spineless      creature trying to have it both ways, afraid to commit herself one      way or the other?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And there's the problem-right there in that phrase \"one way or the      other.\" It sees the world in binary terms: yes or no, this side or      that. It insists that I can be either agnostic or Jewish but not      both, even though both are integral parts of this multi-faceted      life that is mine, as integral as being a writer, a psychologist,      a feminist, all the many aspects of this particular person I am.      All are part of the way I experience the world, and myself in it.      Take any one of these aspects away, and I'd be someone else.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e To be agnostic is to love this kind of paradox. Not to skirt it,      nor merely to tolerate it, but to actively revel in it. The      agnostic stance defies artificial straight lines such as that      drawn between belief and unbelief, and shakes off the insistence      that it come down on one side or the other. It is free-spirited,      thoughtful, and independent-minded-not at all the wishy-washy      I-don't-knowness that atheists often accuse it of being. In fact      the mocking tone of such accusations reveals the limitations of      dogmatic atheism. There's a bullying aspect to it, a kind of      schoolyard taunting of agnostics as \"lacking the courage of their      convictions\"-a phrase that raises the question of what exactly      conviction has to do with courage. It's easy to forget that the      inability to muster the honesty of the three words \"I don't know\"      only leads to a radical dishonesty. The least we have come to      expect is that someone be able to bullshit their way out of not      knowing something, which is why the first thing taught in media      training (a term that always makes me think of obedience training      for dogs) is how to evade a difficult question and maintain the      tattered illusion of mastery.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I stand tall in my agnosticism, because the essence of it is not      merely not-knowing, but something far more challenging and      infinitely more intriguing: the magnificent oxymoron inherent in      the concept of unknowability. This is the acknowledgment that not      everything may be knowable, and that not all questions have      definitive answers-certainly not ones as crudely put as the      existence or non-existence of God. At its best, however,      agnosticism goes further: it takes a spirited delight in not      knowing. And this delight is no boorish disdain for knowledge and      intellect. Rather, it's a recognition that we need room for      mystery, for the imagination, for things sensed but not proven,      intuited but not defined-room in which to explore and entertain      possibilities instead of heading straight for a safe seat at one      end or the other of a falsely created spectrum.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e What's been missing is a strong, sophisticated agnosticism that      does not simply avoid thinking about the issues, nor sit back with      a helpless shrug, but actively explores the paradoxes and      possibilities inherent in the vast and varied universe of      faith-belief-meaning-mystery-existence. That's my purpose here. I      want to explore unanswerable questions with an open mind instead      of approaching them with dismissive derision or with the solemn      piety of timid steps and bowed head-to get beyond old, worn-out      categories and establish an agnostic stance of intellectual and      emotional integrity, fully engaged with this strange yet absorbing      business of existence in the world.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I have been agnostic for almost as long as I can remember. The      only Jew in an English convent school, I grew up with competing      claims on what was presumably my soul, reciting one      grace-before-meals in the convent and another at home, and wishing      I had to do neither. The school chapel was redolent with the smell      of stale incense, the local Orthodox synagogue with the equally      stale scent of Chanel No. 5 on the fox stole of my motherÕs      neighbor in the womenÕs balcony, where IÕd pass the time by trying      to outstare its beady eye. Home offered the comfort of chopped      liver, school the temptation of pork-and the disappointment when,      half-convinced that the infamous bolt from the blue would strike,      I finally dared take a bite, only to find that it tasted like      boiled chicken. How could something forbidden be so bland?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Two major religions seemed to be battling for possession of me,      making me wonder how it could make any difference what one      stoop-shouldered adolescent believed. Yet while logic seemed to      dictate that I would walk away from all things remotely religious      as soon as I emerged from childhood, that didn't happen. Instead,      I compounded my involvement by going to Jerusalem for two weeks      and staying for thirteen years. I stayed at first because I was      twenty and in love with a classically wrong guy, and then because      by the time I'd come to my senses and fallen out of love, I'd      already told my university in England to give my research grant to      someone else. This was, by any rational measure, a terrible      decision, and I have never regretted it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was still possible then for a political innocent to romanticize      Jerusalem. Mysticism seemed to shimmer in the air. Jewish and      Christian and Muslim legends piled on top of one another, laying      claim to the same limestone hills and making it easy to imagine      that this provincial city had a cosmopolitan soul. I treasured the      famous medieval map showing a three-petaled universe with      Jerusalem at its hub, and honed my skills in the Center of the      World pool hall hidden deep in the alleys of the Old City, not yet      aware that thinking of yourself as the center of the world might      itself be a sure sign of provincialism. But where the sacred and      the profane once seemed to rub shoulders with entrancing ease,      they became increasingly indistinguishable. Jerusalem brought me      into the vast and volatile arena in which politics and religion      intersect, and as I explored that arena as both a psychologist and      a journalist, what I'd thought of as a mysteriously God-haunted      city became a city with too much God and not enough humanity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Three wars later, I moved to Manhattan and then, with the offer of      the houseboat, to Seattle. And yet Jerusalem came with me. As the      millennium turned, I'd rise every morning to cormorants diving in      the mist over Lake Union and sit down at my desk to the deserts of      the Middle East, half the world and half of history away. I wrote      about Mary in Galilee, Elijah in Gilead, Muhammad in Mecca, and      through them, traced the roots of the Big Three monotheisms in the      ancient and ongoing search for political and social justice. And I      began to blog as an \"accidental theologist,\" describing my posts      as \"an agnostic eye on religion, politics, and existence,\" and      hoping thus to cover a multitude of sins.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Yet even as I used the word religion, something in me shrank from      it, not least because it is so bound up in its origins: the Latin      religari, to be tied down or constricted. It was no accident that      agnostics, unconfined by imposed definitions, were originally      called free-thinkers. Religion seemed an insufficient shorthand      for the vast matrix of meaning and experience that it claims to      address-a single lens through which to view the multiple facets of      what philosopher-psychologist William James called \"the varieties      of religious experience.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I felt as though I were forging my own exploration of those      varieties when I was asked to speak at seemingly unlikely forums      for an agnostic: in churches, mosques, and synagogues. \"What am I      doing here?\" I'd think as I stepped in front of the altar. \"How on      earth did this happen?\" Yet people nodded in recognition as I      talked about the dismal reduction of mystery to a yes-or-no      proposition. They acknowledged a disconnect between what they      sensed on the one hand and the demand for belief on the other.      Longing for something more than the stark duality of      belief\/unbelief, they were increasingly impatient with the      theist-atheist debate that had produced so much hot air over the      previous decade or so. Those involved in that debate seemed      increasingly trapped in their own neatly defined binary terms:      either\/or, true or false. Working with an outdated grab-bag of      assertions, they'd reduced complexity to a single dimension, with      the result that the entire issue had become peculiarly      overdetermined, in much the same way, say, that New Year's Eve is      overdetermined-a single evening too often doomed to disappointment      by the sheer weight of expectation vested in it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I wanted to get beyond the stale tropes of that debate, to rise      above its simplistic dichotomies and establish room to breathe, to      dance with ideas instead of trying to confine them into conceptual      straitjackets. And in this, I was far from alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The most respected polls on faith and belief are run by the Pew      Forum on Religion and Public Life, which has been taking the pulse      of both the American and the international soul, as it were, since      2001. In brief, which is how the Pew results are usually reported,      it looks as though we are stuck in a religious time warp. As      defined in conventional terms, the United States is apparently as      deeply religious a country as when it was founded. Just over      two-thirds of Americans say they believe in God. When the question      is expanded to ÒGod or a higher power,Ó as in the competing Gallup      Poll, that figure rises to 77 percent. And if America seems      God-obsessed, Europe appears equally so, with 70 percent of      respondents avowing belief.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Nobody seems to ask what is meant by such statements, however.      Consider: A stranger calls you on the phone, says she's conducting      a survey, and asks if you believe in God. You can answer only yes      or no, since don't-knows don't count. And consider too that if you      simply hang up, as you're likely to do if you consider this an      absurdly simplistic question, you don't count either. So let's      assume for the sake of argument that the question intrigues you      enough to stay on the line. Yet you may not be quite sure. On the      one hand, you don't think of yourself as a believer, not in the      usual sense of the word, which defines you as religious. On the      other, while you may half-admit this to yourself, saying so out      loud to a complete stranger over the phone is something else. Will      you be struck by that bolt from the blue if you come out and say      no? Is it really any surprise that a certain portion of those      still on the line will play it safe and say yes?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There's a similar vagueness when respondents are asked about their      religious affiliation. What exactly does that mean? Am I      affiliated or unaffiliated-or do I count twice, once as a Jew and      once as an agnostic? I'm not the only one in such an affiliative      quandary. It turns out that more than 70 percent of people in      England identify as Christian, but since less than 10 percent go      to church with any regularity, this apparently means only that      they're not Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, or any other readily      available religious category. A diminishing few may pop in for a      nostalgic Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, or to light a candle for      somebody who's died, but that's about it. Does simply having a      Christmas tree define you as Christian, then? Or exclaiming      \"Jesus!\" in exasperation (which would make me a Christian)? Or      crossing your fingers in superstitious acknowledgment of the cross      on Calvary?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The only thing that seems clear from the polls is that there is a      lot of outmoded thinking about religion. Indeed the real question      might be if there's any substantial meaning to a term so broad      that it covers everything from militant fundamentalism to cultural      tradition to an undefined sense of spirituality. Certainly that is      the question asked implicitly by those who stubbornly resist      categorization and insist on answering \"nothing in particular\"      when asked what religion they are.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e One in four Americans now rejects the traditional pollster      categories, and this group trends young. More than a third of      those under thirty say they are unaffiliated-a proportion that      increases with each new poll, giving rise to much gray-bearded      concern about millennials losing their way. \"Moral compasses\" are      often invoked, as though religion always points north. It doesn't      seem to have occurred to the graybeards that religion and morality      are not synonymous-or that ruthless minds can turn them into      opposites. Nor does it occur to them that younger people may be      deliberately looking in a different direction, and doing so in      such numbers that they've forced the pollsters to include a new      category, \"spiritual but not religious.\" Close to 40 percent of      younger Americans now describe themselves this way, confounding      conservatives hewing to obey-God's-law legalism.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Spiritual but not religious\" is an expression of a very human      yearning for an opening of mind and heart-a sense of soul and      spirit that enhances day-to-day experience instead of tamping it      down and channeling it into the narrow confines of      stick-and-carrot orthodoxy. It's a rejection of traditional tenets      and pieties, of doctrine and dogma and judgment. It resists the      usual attempts to pigeonhole, saying, \"Spare me your labels.\" It      is, at heart, agnostic.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Like so many others, I am tired of stale assumptions-of the demand      that I choose sides as though this were some sort of schoolyard      game, and of others trying to convince me. In fact I am tired of      conviction, and of the preaching and scolding of those who claim a      comfortable perch from which to preen their righteous feathers,      whether religious or irreligious. Conviction is not only to be      convinced; itÕs also to be convicted, like a prisoner in his cell.      It is to close oneÕs mind, to nail oneself down beyond a shadow of      doubt-a turn of phrase that sees doubt as a threat, some darkness      lurking in your peripheral vision like an intruder to be      vanquished instead of as a partner to curiosity and a prerequisite      to real thought.","brand":"Riverhead Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303007867109,"sku":"NP9781594634147","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781594634147_35cffd71-b8b4-48a3-b9a5-75bfe4919c6e.jpg?v=1730752723","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/agnosticisbn-9781594634147","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}