A review of My Jesus Year by Benyamin Cohen

A bit disillusioned and unfulfilled by his Jewish life, Benyamin Cohen sets out on a year-long search for himself in the most extraordinary of places: Christian churches in the Bible Belt! His book My Jesus Year was informative, enlightening, entertaining, and certainly thought-provoking.

Cohen, the son of a rabbi and the only member of the family who didn’t follow in dad’s footsteps, found his life and religion a bit too uptight. He met and married a woman, the daughter of a preacher, whose conversion and passionate embrace of his family religion nudged him to begin his search for something as satisfying in his own spiritual practice. Cohen grew up in Georgia and watched the Christians around him over his lifetime, secretly wanting to be involved in what appeared to be a much more exciting religion. He recounts tales of memories that are funny and hit close to home to anyone whose experience with Christianity is limited to that of the biggest holidays in this country.

Cohen, in search of a greater understanding and perhaps a new religion, set out with a goal (and the blessings of a rabbi) to visit a different Christian church each Sunday for an entire year. His descriptions of what he found and his light, witty, and honest way of depicting the laughable scenes, made this book a fun read. He said what many non-Christians or even liberal Christians often think.

His descriptions of the mega-churches with the thousands of visitors, their mega-screens, their mega-broadcasting methods, and the absence of all that he’d been taught and understood about being in a relationship with God, invokes a query within the reader. Does the sensationalism of God and Christianity truly pull the participant into a one-on-one with the big guy? Or does one mistake the same energy that is felt at a heavy-metal rock concert or sporting event, for God? (And further yet for me, is there a difference between the energy and God anyway?)

Cohen visited and described the healing revivals where he felt uncomfortable at the seemingly well-rehearsed show, the Christian wrestling events where the participants acted out various Bible stories then gave the call for all who had made personal dedications to step forward (yes, during the night of wrestling), and of full stadium extravaganzas where all sorts of Jesus trinkets and keepsakes could be taken home to those who couldn’t make the event. He revealed the technological side of Christianity through disclosing many websites and the use of automatic debit machines for tithing, and he described the monastery life where the holy men who live there struggle for ways to continue to be self-supportive.

In My Jesus Year, Cohen began his year of church-hopping to see if he could truly understand the pull of Christianity. He sprinkled in tidbits and history of the Jewish religion and traditions juxtaposed against the sometimes laughable ways of Christians but his overall synopsis of each and every visit was the same: There are many ways to God, and it’s important that each person find his or her own way.

Cohen points out things that many of the readers will find absurd about Christianity, then follows it with praise that the individual (or the thousands in the mega-church) have the courage to worship in the way that feels best to them. He never states that any of the scenarios are ridiculous; he just paints the picture for the reader to decide. For Christians and non-Christians alike, this buffet of all-you-can-eat-Christianity leaves one quite satiated.

Just as we have individual fingerprints, we each understand God in different ways. People who proselytize and are convinced that no one else is right, are not as evolved spiritually. Just as the second grade kid is learning the basics of math but cannot grasp division yet, those who are cemented in only one religion simply are unable to grasp the totality of the presence of universal energy that is called God.

Many believe God can only be reached through religion. This is a sad misunderstanding. I hope, in my lifetime, I can see this belief become a distant memory of how things once were. It is simply no truer than the absurd statement that one can only learn when in an academic classroom and being taught by someone at the front of the room called an instructor.

Cohen’s book gave me glimpses into religion and reinforced my disdain for all of them. It’s a great read for anyone who is not easily offended with stark and laughable lines that can be blasphemous for the rigid conservative. I walked away with a more firm understanding of my own spirituality and just how far away from religion it is, and always will be.