Analysis Of My Name Is Asher Lev By Chaim Potok

According to a common adage, our true values can be discerned solely through the things we are willing to sacrifice. This adage is what is at the core of My Name Is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok. Throughout the novel, characters are constantly sacrificing there own happiness forr what they consider to be the greater good. Someone who does this more than anyone is Asher Lev. In his journey to become a writer, he ends up forfeiting the thing that once was at the center of his identity; this being his label as a Hasidic Jew. He does a number of things over the course of the book in the name of art that are in direct violation of the rules of his strict religion. As these violations accumulate into one big bombshell, he loses his family, friends, and

He does this all to stay true to himself. If he did not paint what he truly felt deep in his soul, than he would be a fraud. He wants to stop the cycle of internalized guilt and shame that has plagued his family for generations. He will not perform for an audience. He cannot lie about what he feels, because then the art would be absolutely ruined. This in turn suggests that if we lie to ourselves about our true feelings, then our life will be ruined.

To begin, Asher's journey as an artist is marked by the profound sacrifices he makes regarding his Hasidic identity. Being raised in a tightly-knit Hasidic community, Asher's religious background was not merely a part of his life; it defined his very essence. However, as he delves deeper into his artistic passion, he starts to grapple with the conflict between his artistic inclinations and the strict rules imposed by his religious upbringing. Asher's artistic calling drives him to create works that are unconventional and controversial, often depicting subjects considered blasphemous in his community. He is visibly uncomfortable with doing this, for it goes against everything he believes in. “‘I’ll try,’ I said again, feeling the choking tightness in my throat. “Very

He is willing to sacrifice his religion, the thing that had given him comfort and solace in times of heartache, and the relationships tied to it for his art. He was not always so willing thought. Thee was a time where he would resist the thing inside him, bundling it up and tucking it away, waiting for it to die. Even after he decided to let it out again, he was scared of it. He was scared of how he could not control it. He was scared of where it took him. He would get horrid nightmares of his mythic ancestor, shaming him for what he spent his time doing. “I dreamed of my father’s great-great-grandfather. He was dozing in the sunlight in the living room and I was drawing him, when he woke. He went into a rage. He stormed about the room. He was huge. He towered over me. His dark beard cast huge swaying shadows across the rug. ‘Wasting time, wasting time,’ he thundered. ‘Playing, drawing, wasting time.’ I woke in terror, my heart beating loudly.” () However, even though he did not like it, Asher Lev fought through the terror. He could not understand why he did it, it was just his natural inclination to keep pushing forward. He could not control it. He had to keep painting. This all culminated in his final standoff with his mythic ancestor. He was resisting the urge to draw his mother in a painful crucifixion. He knew how much pain it would cause to paint it. He knew he would lose everything if he