Losing Moses on the Freeway: The 10 Commandments in America

I purchased my copy of this abominably titled book in Borders, in the "Christianity, Practical Living" section. I am not a Christian and sought it out solely because of my familiarity with Hedges' earlier work. This is not a "Christian" book, any more than Krzysztof Kieslowski's "The Decalogue" (its model) is a "Christian" television series. Kieslowski and his writing partner, Krzysztof Piesiewicz, a lawyer from whose experiences several of the episodes were taken, focused "The Decalogue" on the fictionalized lives of people entangled in ancient moral dilemmas in bleak 1980s Warsaw. Hedges takes the same tack with ten non-fictional vignettes from life in 21st century post-industrial America. I find Hedges' writing almost unbearably intense; his moral authority clearly hard won. Even when I disagree with him, I have nothing but respect for his courage in refusing to look away. Here is a man who has obviously been deeply affected by what he has witnessed and experienced in life and is determined to learn---and teach---from it. That the teachings are very, very old only makes this book all the more worth reading, absorbing and passing on---whether you are a Christian or not.

I would highly recommend Hedges' book on the Ten Commandments. It is far more than your typical study guide. Rather, it provides a deep understanding of the ripple effect that our moral and ethical lapses have on those around us. In a world that is consumed with the end justifying the means, Hedges addresses in this decalogue the means that all might do well to consider.

Many Americans want to reduce the Ten Commandments to an idol to be worshipped in a public place. This book lives up to the original intent of the Ten Commandments - a guide to meditation on what really makes an ethical life. Read Jesus's Sermon on the Mount in Matthew chapters 5-8 after reading this book. Together they will change your life and help you see how many who simply want to display the Ten Commandments do not come close to living them.

"Losing Moses on the Freeway" is a searing experience: emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. The simplest things in life are the most profound, yet so often people do not see the profound precisely because it is simple. People tune out platitudes about love because they've heard them all their lives, and their eyes skim off the surface without realizing the extraordinary nature and power of this emotion. But Hedges pierces through to the dual awareness of the simple, which is, at the same time, the profound. The stories here are unadorned and close to the bone: among them, a Vietnam veteran who became an Episcopal priest, haunted for the rest of his life by "You shall not kill"; Hedges' own decision not to be ordained when he realized that his dreams of becoming a minister were "the idolatry of self, the worship not of God but of my virtue"; a deeply moving tribute to his father and parenthood: "We all carry...our link with the past, wanted or unwanted. We cannot wash it away. It is rather a matter of what we do with it, how we honor it, how we redeem the experience to protect and create life." Interwoven is also a luminous reflection on the ruthless progress of time - past and future existing at once in the present - and the unbearable ache of life: for the more deeply we love, the more vulnerable we become to loss, but it is only in love and giving life to others that we find meaning. This book is filled with tremendous compassion but also with unflinching and often disturbing insight into human nature. To read it honestly requires a kind of self-confrontation.

"Losing Moses on the Freeway" is a searing experience: emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. The simplest things in life are the most profound, yet so often people do not see the profound precisely because it is simple. People tune out platitudes about love because they've heard them all their lives, and their eyes skim off the surface without realizing the extraordinary nature and power of this emotion. But Hedges pierces through to the dual awareness of the simple, which is, at the same time, the profound. The stories here are unadorned and close to the bone: among them, a Vietnam veteran who became an Episcopal priest, haunted for the rest of his life by "You shall not kill"; Hedges' own decision not to be ordained when he realized that his dreams of becoming a minister were "the idolatry of self, the worship not of God but of my virtue"; a deeply moving tribute to his father and parenthood: "We all carry...our link with the past, wanted or unwanted. We cannot wash it away. It is rather a matter of what we do with it, how we honor it, how we redeem the experience to protect and create life." Interwoven is also a luminous reflection on the ruthless progress of time - past and future existing at once in the present - and the unbearable ache of life: for the more deeply we love, the more vulnerable we become to loss, but it is only in love and giving life to others that we find meaning. This book is filled with tremendous compassion but also with unflinching and often disturbing insight into human nature. To read it honestly requires a kind of self-confrontation.