Israelite Religion: From Tribal Beginnings to Scribal Legacy

Israelite Religion: From Tribal Beginnings to Scribal Legacy
Karel van der Toorn
New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2025. xv + 410 pp., hardcover, $40.

The Bible as seen by scholars and the Bible as seen by the public are two different things.

To see why, we can look into the index of this new book by a professor at the University of Amsterdam. It is a survey of the religion of ancient Israel from 1200 to 200 BC.

Popular belief, following the Bible, holds that Moses was a historical figure who led a group of Hebrew slaves out of Egypt c.1300 BC. But Israelite Religion portrays Moses as a shadowy, possibly mythic figure: the index has no listing for “Moses” per se but for “the Moses tradition.” Indeed van der Toorn says that the “exodus tradition” was unknown to many Israelites until comparatively late.

Van der Toorn begins his history of Israelite religion at the beginning of the Iron Age in Palestine (c.1200 BC). Before that, he indicates, little is known that is historically reliable. He argues that the Exodus from Egypt—a focal point of today’s Judaism—did not take place as the Bible says: “The careful analysis of the biblical sources shows that the exodus-and-conquest model was originally developed in the Northern Kingdom, as a national narrative to provide the different population groups with a putative common history.” (“The Northern Kingdom” refers to the two kingdoms in the Palestine of the early first millennium BC: Israel in the north, and Judah in the south.)

These details reflect the thrust of van der Toorn’s book. Instead of the coherent (if sometimes contradictory) biblical narrative of the patriarchs, bondage in Egypt, and liberation under the charismatic figure of Moses, he portrays Israel as a nation that came together around 1200 BC as a merger of different groups “that were ethnically mixed . . . They became Israelites, over the course of generations, in the Palestinian highlands” (emphasis van der Toorn’s). In such a context, the historical Moses becomes much more shadowy—and may have been fictional.

The Bible says that the Israelites were united by the worship of a desert deity called YHWH (pronounced, according to van der Toorn, as “Yaho”). But even this is mysterious. As he indicates, the very name “Israel” indicates that this nation originally worshipped the Canaanite god El, who was originally quite distinct from YHWH: the Israelites equated the two only later. The only thing known about YHWH is that he originated in Edom, as the earliest biblical references show. Presumably wandering shepherds from Edom and Midian (to the southeast of Palestine) brought their worship of YHWH with them into the Palestinian highlands, and other peoples joined them.

This reductionistic view presents its own difficulties. Van der Toorn describes the coalescence of a nation called Israel that came to worship Yahweh instead of El, although he does not explain how. This process is inexplicable unless we postulate a charismatic figure—like a Moses—who united these peoples in veneration of YHWH. It seems more likely that the Exodus narrative, including some of its main characters, is based on some core facts, even if they were heavily elaborated later.

These early Israelites were united only by allegiance to YHWH, which was not monotheistic in the sense understood today. The early Israelites did not necessarily deny the existence of other gods, as worshipped by neighboring peoples—only that YHWH was the god of Israel. Many Israelites also worshipped other Canaanite gods, and at least until the sixth century BC, there was a common belief that YHWH had a female consort, usually known as Asherah. The prophets’ relentless call that YHWH alone was to be revered shows the allure of these other gods.

In short, van der Toorn, like most mainstream scholars, depicts Israelite religion as the result of a long process of evolution and development. In its early forms it did not resemble today’s Judaism. Indeed van der Toorn argues that the term “Judaism” cannot even be applied to the religion of the Jews until around 200 BC. The Torah was unknown even to priests and kings until around 620 BC, when the priest Hilkiah “discovered” a previously unknown scroll of law attributed to Moses, which was read to King Josiah of Judah (2 Kings 22:8‒13). Scholars generally agree that this “discovery” was actually a pious fiction written by Hilkiah and his associates that formed the core of the biblical book of Deuteronomy.

Other features that we now consider essential to Judaism—circumcision, Sabbath observance, abstinence from pork—did not become standard Jewish practice until the second century BC. (For more on this issue, see The Origins of Judaism: An Archaeological-Historical Reappraisal, by Yonatan Adler.)

The story is far more detailed and intricate than I can go into here, but overall van der Toorn deftly and accurately summarizes current scholarly views of the religion of ancient Israel. This book is, as it says, intended for scholars and students. As such, it presupposes some knowledge of the subject: someone coming into it cold may find it rather difficult. Some background reading—such as my book How God Became God: What Scholars Are Really Saying about God and the Bible—would be useful. But as a concise and readable digest of an enormous amount of textual and archaeological evidence, Israelite Religion is not only valuable but will probably serve as a standard work for some time to come.

Richard Smoley

           


The Occult Elvis: The Mystical and Magical Life of The King

The Occult Elvis: The Mystical and Magical Life of The King
Miguel Conner
Rochester, Vt.: Destiny, 2025. 276 pp., paperback, $20.

The seeker side of Elvis Presley is practically esoteric knowledge itself, absent from most public understanding of The King. Baz Luhrmann’s bloated 2022 biopic overlooks the subject (though Sofia Coppola’s superior Priscilla does give it some attention despite a much shorter run time). Given his Mississippi upbringing and successful Gospel albums, a casual fan would assume Elvis was a typical Southern Christian. But that fan would be wrong.

As Miguel Conner explores in his new book The Occult Elvis: The Mystical and Magical Life of The King, Presley had a deep interest in spiritual matters from the time he was young, and it did not take long for him to look beyond the tight confines of traditional Christianity. His roots were in Pentecostalism, an evangelical Protestant movement centered on a direct relationship with God through Christ.

To deepen this direct connection, Presley turned to non-Christian texts like Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet, which he read while stationed with the Army in Germany shortly after his beloved mother’s death in 1958. Though he had been only a fair student, he was a voracious reader, next turning to the essential texts of Theosophy—he loved H.P. Blavatsky’s Voice of the Silence so much that during his later career, he occasionally read from it on stage to a bemused crowd—and the very challenging works of Alice Bailey.

According to Geller, there was one special reason why Elvis was so taken with HPB: she strongly resembled Elvis’s late mother. On seeing a famous portrait of Blavatsky, Elvis remarked, “Look at the eyes . . . The shape of the face, the cheekbones. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“For Elvis, the Bible was sacred, the blueprint of creation in allegorical and metaphoric form,” said Larry Geller, the hairdresser who, according to Conner, became “Elvis’s Guru.” “But his interest went beyond the orthodox, extending into Gnostic and esoteric literature” Geller added.

Presley met Geller in 1964, and they got to talking about spiritual stuff during a lengthy salon session. Geller was a self-taught student of the occult, and in him, Presley had finally found someone he could discuss these questions with. He gave Elvis books to read and got him into meditation, and with the exception of a brief falling out after Presley’s controlling manager, Colonel Tom Parker, convinced Elvis that Geller was a bad influence, he would remain Presley’s friend and guide until the latter’s death.

There is a great deal to explore here, and Conner clearly has a deep love for the subject. But The Occult Elvis is only partially successful. When Conner sticks to his main topic, he is insightful and pithy. Yet he veers off topic far too often. An early section on young Elvis’s love of the DC comic Captain Marvel notes that the character later became Shazam, and delves into esoteric themes surrounding that version of the character—which Elvis never read. There is an entire chapter on the similarities between the spiritual paths of Presley and seminal science fiction author Philip K. Dick, even though there is no evidence that the two ever met or that Presley ever read any of Dick’s works.

Conner also goes a bit far in a chapter dealing with Elvis and UFOs. Presley reportedly saw unidentified lights in the sky on several occasions and mused about extraterrestrial life in the same way many of us do—“it’s ridiculous to think we’re the only life with millions of planets in the universe,” he told Geller—but Conner takes several pages to consider the notion that Presley himself might have come from another planet (Elvis once confessed to a fan that his true home was the ninth moon of Jupiter).

The Occult Elvis is ultimately a frustrating book. Where it is strong, it is very strong indeed. Where the author strays from his subject, it is close to farcical. It’s a short and breezy text, and worth it for a reader interested in Elvis, but that reader might want to skip around in the text.

Peter Orvetti

Peter Orvetti is a writer and former divinity student residing in Washington, D.C.


Composting Our Karma: Turning Confusion into Lessons for Awakening Our Innate Wisdom

Composting Our Karma: Turning Confusion into Lessons for Awakening Our Innate Wisdom
Barbara Rhodes
Edited By Elizabeth S.R. Goldstein
Boulder, Colo.: Shambhala, 2024. 163 pp., paper, $19.95.

Barbara Rhodes (Zen master Soeng Hyang, fondly known as Bobby) offers the Korean Zen teaching of “Don’t-Know mind” as a medicine for what her teacher, Zen master Seung Sahn, used to call “thinking sickness.”

Seung Sahn was Bobby’s first and only Zen teacher, and Bobby’s book illuminates his teachings throughout. When I first met Seung Sahn (also known as Soen-Sa-Nim), Bobby was sitting next to him, so we go back more than forty years. This book is my wish coming true: capturing Dharma as taught by Bobby.

Bobby urges her students to ask the great question: What am I? Is there an answer to that? It is not a question one needs to answer but rather one that dissolves the questioner, who then merges into a state of not knowing or “don’t know.” Bobby calls this process as hitting the “reset button” to truly look at what appears moment to moment (also called the “primary point”). It is like a weighing scale that must return to zero when we step off. If it doesn’t, it means we must practice harder. We have work to do.

I love the title’s metaphor of composting. Different Zen masters have used it in their own unique way. Suzuki Roshi talked about cutting weeds and using them as mulch. Bobby gives a wonderful explanation of composting: “Composting your karma means to take the residual, undigested events and habits and digest them. Just as a compost pile needs tending, so does our karma. Rather than feeling hindered by our karma, we can attend to it. The product in our healthy garden compost is humus, the living part of the soil. The product of our composted, digested karma is learned lessons.” If we truly understand this, we will develop a new relationship with our karma rather than holding it or even adding new layers to it.

There is a Zen saying: “Why do you go around pulling that corpse?” Bobby explains: “The corpse we are carrying around in that Zen saying is the unfinished process of the compost pile. It is lumpy, multicolored, smelly, and not yet so helpful. Our [Zen] practice can help us to let go of the egoistic corpse.”

What starts this composting? Don’t-Know mind. We wipe the dust of the mirror before we look to find our true selves. There are three parts in the book: “What Is Don’t-Know Mind?” “Cultivating the Use of Don’t-Know Mind” and “Applying Don’t-Know [AU: Should this be “Don’t-Know Mind” to Life’s Vital Challenges.”

Bobby teaches a practice that uses kong-ans (aka koans), which are questions that make us confront the logical mind. One is “What am I?” Another is “What is this?” In Buddhist teachings, these are called “great questions.” We ask them with an open mind and receive with open arms.

In part 2, “Cultivating the Use of Don’t-Know Mind,” Bobby shares her experiences in her various solitary retreats and the importance of giving 100 percent effort. Those of us who have done solitary retreats can relate to this part.

Bobby is candid with her failings and struggles. She says, “I’ve often felt frustrated with my own practice, questioning how much I’m able to affect others’ lives or the quality of my own. It’s easy to start looking at what’s happening with practice and its relationship with our friends, family, and the world. Just as tuning a guitar string too tight and it will snap, too loose and it will be off tune. We need to inspire ourselves and support each other.”

In part 3, Bobby talks about applying Don’t-Know mind in day-to-day life. In her work as a nurse, she worked with many sick and dying people. What greater teacher is there than death? Bobby’s book is filled with her own personal experiences, which she generously shares. Her compassion in her life as a hospice nurse shines throughout the book.

Buddha said, “Life is suffering.” Our practice not only makes us understand that but also invokes Great Love, Great Sadness, and Great Compassion. A Zen master who was about to take his last breath suddenly smiled and asked, “What was all the fuss?” When we are grounded in understanding, there is no fuss.

Bobby ends with her favorite poem, written by Zen Master Wu Men:

Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn
A cool breeze in summer, snow in winter
If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things,
This is the best season of your life.

I have read that a litmus test for a great work is that the person who takes up reading it and the person who finishes reading it are two different people. Why? Because reading the work has changed him! Bobby’s book aces that test.

Dhananjay Joshi

Dhananjay Joshi is a professor of statistics and has studied Hindu, Zen, and vipassana meditation for forty years. His book No Effort Required; No! Effort Required contains anecdotes from his years of spiritual study.


Age like a Yogi: A Heavenly Path to a Dazzling Third Act

Age like a Yogi: A Heavenly Path to a Dazzling Third Act
Victoria Moran
Rhinebeck, N.Y.: Monkfish, 2024. 206 pp., paper, $19.99.

We all face the challenges of aging and coping with local and world problems. Victoria Moran’s book is an inspiration and guidebook, almost a textbook, to assist with these challenges, not only for those who are older, but for those of any age.

Nevertheless, Moran focuses on guidance for the elder years. Her book is written for maintenance of health and prevention of many health challenges in later life. She states, “The first step is to appreciate your body as it is this minute and trust in the God-given ability to add more fitness, grace, and elegance at any age.” She goes on to say that the body is a gift to care for, and it was engineered to move. Yoga builds strength and supports the health of every part of the body. It can also heal the emotions and the spirit.

The foreword by Sharon Gannon defines the Sanskrit word bhava—a yogic term—as the ultimate good mood: a state of mind free of anxiety and other negative emotions. Chapter by chapter, Moran maps out the ways to achieve this state of mind. She begins by describing a time in her early twenties when she worked at the Theosophical Society of America in Wheaton. She was greatly impressed by Iris, a septuagenarian Theosophist who exuded positivity, a joyful glow, and much more that would reflect the state of bhava. Moran describes this time as instrumental in leading her to yoga, which became her foundational practice for life. In this book, she shares the wisdom she gained throughout the years as her practice of yoga unfolded.

Moran interweaves threads of ayurvedic healing practices with the healing ways of yoga. Chapter 11 explains the physical, emotional, and spiritual benefits of the ayurvedic use of spices and herbs. An example is the three C’s: cardamom, coriander, and cumin, along with saffron, which are taken to help one’s memory.

Chapters 8‒10 map out the benefits of eating foods that nourishes one’s dosha. That leads to an excellent discussion of the three fundamental bodily types, called doshas, and why it is important to learn about them.  Moran describes the qualities of the doshaskapha, pitta, and vata—encouraging each individual to explore which qualities fit them. She notes the importance of staying close to our original dosha makeup as possible.

Moran describes yogic practices that support the journey to spiritual enlightenment. She notes that each life phase can bring the ability to find one’s inner light, even God, through yoga practices. Her description of the four stages of life—called ashramas—in Hindu culture is in a language understandable to the layperson.

Chapters 16 and 17 are two of my favorites, discussing ojas, which refers to vigor, the fluid of life, the vital sap: “Signs of ojas include clear, sparkling eyes, a radiant complexion, disease resistance, a pleasant body smell, and bound-out-of-bed energy in the morning.” (Moran remembers Iris as having this glow factor.) It is about living well, feeling confident, and radiating contentment that others can discern. She goes on to say that ojas is necessary for strong immunity, good humor, even spiritual fortitude. To nourish one’s ojas, Moran encourages eating “all-star fresh fruits” such as ripe bananas, figs, mangos, and citrus, plus sweet potatoes.

Ojas also embraces happy thoughts. Noting that we witness images of suffering around the globe every day, Moran urges, “We must set protective boundaries for ourselves and safeguard our mental health while at the same time acknowledging that there is a level at which other’s suffering is ours too, because we are connected.” Her instructions include living a clear life, calming the fluctuations of the mind as the goal of yoga.

In addition, Moran encourages smiling because it involves muscles that lift the lower face, making one look younger. What is more important, according to her, is that smiling releases a slew of feel-good hormones that bolster both mood and immunity.

Moran also gives a view of the gunas, the three fundamental elements according to the Hindu Samkhya philosophy (not to be confused with the doshas). Each of them is necessary for life on earth, but healing and spiritual growth are described as sattvic: “Art, music, poetry, drama—creativity of all kinds, as well as the appreciation of other’s creativity—are divine in origin and sattvic in nature. So are kindness and charity, the way we bring heaven to earth.”

One way to increase the sattvic element in your body is to eat sattvic foods: those that are fresh, come from a nonviolent source, and are prepared with kindness.

Moran would like to see the end of ageism, stressing that no matter how old we get, we will always be ourselves. This means we’ll always be whole, valid, and worthy of respect.

Moran also encourages individuals to elevate themselves in order to change the world: “Smile and mean it. Make tea. Make conversation, Sweep up. Open a window. Play some music. Listen to someone. Scratch the cat’s ears. Rub the dog’s tummy. Want to change the world? You just did!”

Marilyn Johnston-Svoboda

Marilyn Johnston-Svoboda is a retired professor of nursing and Qualified Therapeutic Touch Teacher.


From the Editors Desk- Summer 2025

Printed in the  Summer 2025  issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Smoley, Richard"From the Editors Desk"   Quest 113:3, pg 2

 

Richard SmoleyThese are times of great anxiety—“men’s hearts failing them for fear.” Even the slightest glimpse at the international press will show that these fears are by no means limited to the United States.

Those with some Theosophical training may wonder how to respond to the general malaise.

Everyone knows what the problem is. It’s them. They’re no good. They make this world lousy. The earth would be a wonderful place if not for them. Everybody agrees on these points, although there is some controversy about just exactly who constitutes this them.

This attitude, so far from solving anything, may be the ultimate source of the present difficulties.

We can look to the esoteric tradition to free ourselves from this impasse. For me, the most useful ideas in this context come from the classic Kybalion.

The Kybalion is a mysterious book. First published in 1908, it has remained popular ever since. The authors claim to be “Three Adepts,” although it was certainly written by the American esotericist William Walker Atkinson (1862‒1932; for more on this issue, see The Kybalion: The Centenary Edition, with my introduction).

By its own testimony, the present book is not really The Kybalion, which we are told, is “a compilation of certain Basic Hermetic Doctrines, passed from teacher to students.” It is “a collection of maxims, axioms, and precepts, which were non-understandable to outsiders.” The book we know as The Kybalion merely quotes and explicates some of these maxims.

The ideas most relevant here are, first, “the Principle of Polarity,” which “embodies the truth that all manifested things have ‘two sides’; ‘two aspects’; ‘two poles.’” The most obvious example is the magnet, with its north-south polarity.

There is also “the Principle of Rhythm,” which “embodies the truth that in everything there is manifested a measured emotion; a to-and-from movement; a flow and inflow; a swing forward and backward; a pendulum-like movement; an ebb and flow . . . Rhythm manifests between the two poles established by the Principle of Polarity.”

History shows countless examples of this polarity. Take Russia. At the beginning of the twentieth century, the tsarist state was the cruelest and most repressive in all of Europe. The debacle of the First World War led to the overthrow of the tsar, followed by a period of anarchy and civil war. Out of this emerged the Soviet revolutionary superstate, which was even more repressive than the tsars.

Seventy years after its establishment, the Soviet order crumbled as a result of its own inner contradictions, to be replaced by a republic accompanied by a decade of social and economic disorder.

Out of this melee emerged Vladimir Putin as autocrat, who to all appearances is trying to recreate the old tsarist-Soviet empire with his invasion of Ukraine. Russian history is a back-and-forth between tyranny and anarchy.

I could draw a picture of similar polarities and reversals in the history of the United States, right up to the present. But I suspect it would be too inflammatory to discuss current events here.

The temptation to leap onto this seesaw at one end or the other is almost irresistible, no matter which end you jump on.

The Kybalion addresses this problem. It says that there are “two general planes of Consciousness, the Lower and the Higher.” Understanding this fact, we are told, enabled the old adepts “to rise to the higher plane and thus escape the swing of the Rhythmic pendulum which manifested on the lower plane.”

The book calls this process “the Law of Neutralization. Its operations consist in the raising of the Ego above the vibrations of of the Unconscious Place of mental activity, so that the negative-swing of the pendulum is not manifested in consciousness . . . It is akin to rising above a thing and letting it pass beneath you.” (The term “Ego” is used here in the old sense of the higher Self.)

This can look like mere escapism: after all, one feels the need to do something. But it is extremely difficult to act in such situations without jumping on one end of the pendulum, in which case you become part of the problem. Action may well be warranted, but if it is not illumined and motivated by a higher perspective, it has every chance of ending up as futile or harmful.

In this issue’s interview, Carol Orsborn says, “I think you need to know where you stand. You need to know what your values are, and you need to know when you’re up against values that you find abhorrent . . . Now that said, I believe very much in people listening to their own heart in terms of their callings. Are you called to be a protester? Are you called to write books? Are you called to go to jail for your principles?”

I agree—with one difference. Orsborn says you need to listen to your heart, but I would add that it is also necessary to listen to your head and your gut. All three are essential components of human intelligence, and all of them must be consulted in any matter of importance.

That’s the trick. The only aspect of yourself that is connected to all three of these entities is your higher Self. If it can listen to—and integrate—the insights of heart, head, and guts, it may lead to insights about the action (or inaction) that is right for you. This process also strengthens the connection of the conscious self with the higher Self.

These may be the times we have been training for.

Richard Smoley

           

             

           

           


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