'Game of Thrones': two views.

Michael Weingrad: A Jewish view of 'Game of Thrones'.

And it’s not only politics that [George R. R.] Martin treats with bracing realism. His books are shorn of much of our present-day, feel-good notions about the goodness of human nature, the malleability of gender, and other contemporary dogmas. The idealizations he avoids are less chivalric than progressive ones.

At their most compelling, the books and the television series offer characters who see the world and themselves through commitments to family, clan, and nation, rather than our narrow, present-day lens of atomized individuals and their arbitrary desires. “Everything I did, I did for my house and my family,” says Jamie Lannister, an admission echoed at one time or another by most of the show’s characters.

The evident fascination of so many readers and viewers with such thick social connections is worth noting. I happen to live in Portland, surrounded by people indifferent if not hostile to tradition, people who want to live their lives independently of family, religion, canons of art and literature, nationhood, biology, market behavior, and probably the laws of physics. Yet many of them are deeply invested in the continuity of House Stark and House Targaryen.

Unfortunately, the writers of the HBO series seem in the end to have been unable to sympathize with the possibility of a positive identity not reducible to a 21st-century self. This imaginative failure sounded ever louder in the characters’ speech, as when Arya Stark, rejecting her courtly role, explains “It’s not me,” or when Danaerys’s advisors repeatedly proclaim their desire to “make the world a better place” and to “leave the world a little better than we found it.” (Given that the show runners are both Jewish, I was relieved that none of the characters mentioned “tikkun olam,” but it was surely a close thing.) The Starbucks cup inadvertently left on a feasting table in one scene was widely reported as a gaffe, but it wasn’t out of place with the show’s contemporary ethos at that point. ...

Michael Totten: Three cheers for 'Game of Thrones'.

In a world without peaceful transfers of power, the only checks and balances available against tyrants are assassination and war. The Mad King Aerys Targaryen ruled from the Iron Throne in the years before those covered in Game of Thrones Season One. He, too, was a murderous psychopath, burning alive lords who displeased him and advisors who disobeyed him. Half the realm rose up in arms—including Ned Stark and later-king Robert Baratheon. When Tywin Lannister’s army approached the capital, the Mad King ordered his pyromancers to lace enough explosives throughout the city to destroy King’s Landing as thoroughly as a nuclear weapon. “Burn them all!” he screamed. “Burn them all!”

Jaime Lannister, head of his very own King’s Guard, ran a sword through his back in the throne room.

Almost everywhere in Westeros is governed badly, not just by modern standards but by its own. “All I ever wanted was to fight for a lord I believe in,” says the imposing female warrior Brienne of Tarth. “The good ones are dead and the rest are monsters.”

Unlike the Westerosi, modern audiences know the way out: liberal democracy, republicanism, the rule of law, and the separation of powers. Lest we assume these are part of the natural order of things, Game of Thrones—with its echoes of our own distant past—reminds us that they are not, and that maintaining them is as difficult as it is essential.

No Jeffersonian figures inhabit the Game of Thrones universe. Such a modern intrusion would break the spell of epic high fantasy and violate the compact between author and audience. A Jeffersonian wouldn’t make historical sense, anyway. The American Revolution grew out of the European Enlightenment, and no such philosophical movement ever existed in Westeros. Even so, consumers of fiction, whether it’s written or filmed, need someone to identify with, someone who shares at least some of their values. Martin gives us the dangerous yet inspiring Daenerys Targaryen. ...

Go read the rest at the links.

Melanie Phillips and others on British Jews, left and right.

Via Melanie Phillips: BBC4's Jo Coburn interviews

The Rt. Hon. Edwina Currie, former Conservative minister; Lord Levy, Middle East envoy for Tony Blair when prime minister; The Rt. Hon. Sir Oliver Letwin, M.P., senior adviser to David Cameron; Jon Lansman, founder of Momentum, the grass-roots movement that supports Jeremy Corbyn as Labour leader; Rabbi Jonathan Romain of Maidenhead Reform Synagogue; Melanie Phillips, columnist on "The Times" and Ruth Smeeth, Labour M.P. for Stoke-on-Trent, North

on changing allegiances for Jews in the UK.

Shabbat, and stuff.

For a few years I was a more or less by-the-book, practicing Orthodox Jew. I'm not going back there. It's just too crazy, and it makes me too crazy. My natural level of neurosis does not need any extra help. These days, I keep "ingredient kosher" but I eat (vegetarian) pretty much anywhere I like. Give up eating out, except in certified kosher restaurants? Not gonna happen.

And don't get me started on all the stuff around sex and gender.

But, Shabbat? It's been years since I really gave it a serious effort, and I find I'm missing it. When you first hear about all the rules for keeping Shabbat, you think, "ARE YOU PEOPLE OUT OF YOUR F***ING MINDS?" (It's OK. Everybody has that reaction.) And the rules seem weird and crazy. But I've come to appreciate the geekiness of it all.

For me, the key is in understanding Shabbat as an exercise in non-attachment. "The sage goes about doing nothing, teaching no-talking." (Tao Te Ching, ch. 2.) "Therefore the way of freedom is not inaction, but to cease from identifying oneself with the movement and recover our true identity in the Self of things who is there Lord." (Sri Aurobindo on the Isha Upanishad.)

Shabbat provides a resolution to the problem: How to control that sense of attachment to the fruits of our work, while still living in the world? How to achieve non-attachment without renunciation? The solution offered by Shabbat is a very down-to-earth, practical solution - in other words, a very Jewish solution. We get all our "stuff" done in six days, and set aside the seventh as a day of non-doing. It is true that mainstream Jewish practice doesn't have a strong tradition of contemplative meditation; but I'd like to suggest that Shabbat itself is a subtle, prolonged form of meditation.

Another thing that sometimes gets overlooked is that the commandment to keep the Sabbath is also a commandment to work: "Six days shall you labor, and do all of your work ..." In fact, the verb "to labor" also means "to serve". And I've found that practicing the observance of Shabbat makes me more aware and involved during the week.

Then there's also a sense of liberation in keeping Shabbat - a sense of being your own boss. And I like that too - and I've missed it.

Proverbs

I've never been able to put my finger on why this book of the Hebrew Scriptures, in particular, fascinates me; but this article from the JPS Jewish Study Bible nails it:

Proverbs is a paean to the power of the human mind. Its authors are convinced that everyone who attends to the wisdom of the past and employs his powers of rational thinking has the ability to know what to do and what to avoid. These powers and the knowledge that goes with them are called wisdom. Wisdom - Hebrew hokhmah - is the great virtue that, for Proverbs, entails all others. No divine revelation is necessary, for G-d gave humanity the faculty of wisdom, and people need only listen to her call (ch 8). Thus, there is a certain tension between Proverbs and Torah books, which insist on the significance of revealed law. (Michael V. Fox)

Also I like that the verses of Proverbs, read in Hebrew, have a pleasant rhythmical quality. I find that this makes them excellent mantras for meditation, as is the case with Psalm 119 (the lengthy alphabetical psalm). This seems appropriate because, as the above analysis suggests, the emphasis of Proverbs is less on obedience than on introspection.