One of the most hotly debated topics on this group – and indeed on many other Facebook forums devoted to Jewish thought – is the much-touted clash between rationalism and mysticism. A core focal point in such discussions tends to be the position of Rambam, an untiring figurehead for the online rationalists.
One of the projects of Judaism Reclaimed was to challenge and offer alternatives to what I felt was often an oversimplified dichotomy between Maimonidean rationalism and mysticism by those who seek to portray them as polar opposites. Judaism Reclaimed’s introduction (which can be read here) draws on rabbinic sources to argue that the rational and mystical elements of Judaism can and indeed must both be operative in each individual’s religious journey.
My chapters on Rambam’s worldview probe the extent to which we can effectively detach Rambam’s religious teachings from their obsolete Aristotelian packaging and apply them in order to tackle challenges facing the perplexed of the twenty-first century. From Rambam’s treatment of divine providence, resurrection, creation and miracles I try to show how he profoundly and consistently transcends the rigid Aristotelian system of thought. Perhaps the clearest example of this is regarding prophecy, where Rambam describes how both the nature and content of prophetic knowledge go well beyond what can be attained through natural means.
In keeping with this approach, there is an eye-opening book that I have recently been enjoying on this topic: Homo Mysticus: A Guide to Maimonides’s Guide for the Perplexed, by the late Rabbi José Faur, a Rabbi of the Syrian Jewish community and professor of Judaic Studies. While I continue to struggle with some of Faur’s other writings that relate to the functioning of the halachic system and its sages, his analysis of Rambam’s rationalism is fascinating and often very convincing.
The central theme of Faur’s thesis in Homo Mysticus is that the primary intent of the Torah, as explained by Rambam, is to negate idolatry in all of its manifestations. While this notion obviously targets actions such as worshipping pagan deities, it also includes a far more surreptitious and pernicious danger – the uncontrolled human imagination. When man approaches Judaism, God and the world initially through his imagination rather than reason, this leads him to conjure up a God in his own image, which in turn produces strange rites and rituals which accord with his personal thoughts and values. Rambam’s embrace of rationalism is based upon this crucial need to relate to the world through the ‘’tselem Elokim’’ of reason rather than the imagination.
Faur strongly cautions however against those who allow themselves to get too carried away with neatly classifying Rambam as a simple Aristotelian rationalist. On several occasions Rambam appears strongly critical of Aristotle’s arguments and conclusions. In particular, anything which Aristotle writes of matters ‘’beyond the lunar sphere”, i.e. which transcend the physical world, is generally a matter of “guesswork and conjecture”. Rambam typically endorses Aristotelian science only where he considers Aristotle’s conclusions to represent proven scientific principles. In this area (and in many others) Faur’s expertise in the Judeo-Arabic employed by Rambam allows him to identify linguistic nuances concerning Rambam’s critical and sometimes sarcastic attitude towards Aristotle that are not detected by other commentators.
The most important aspect of Faur’s analysis of Moreh Nevuchim is that the ability to approach the world through reason is not the ultimate objective of the Torah. Having successfully trained one’s mind (and character traits) so as to allow oneself to relate to God and the world through reason rather than imagination, a person is then prepared to embark upon the second, esoteric, stage of his or her religious journey. Crucially, Jewish esoterics and mysticism are not some secretive collection of magical codes and spells through which the world can be manipulated. Rather it involves using one’s reason to train one’s imaginative faculty and thereby gain a new and profound perspective on the nature and functioning of the entire world.
It is impossible to record and teach true Jewish mysticism, writes Faur, is because it transcends human terminology and regular experience. In this sense, as Rambam emphasises, “the highest praise of God is silence” – the most profound perspective and relationship with God that a person can attain cannot be meaningfully expressed in words. Faur accompanies his readers through Talmudic accounts and descriptions of esoteric experiences – together with Rambam’s commentary on these passages. Most fascinating is his scholarly interpretation of the aggadic allusions and imagery relating to the four rabbis’ passage through the Pardes.
In conclusion, the works of Prof. Kellner and R’ Slifkin are useful in their ability to highlight the initial areas of conflict between those who approach Judaism through reason and those who are limited and distorted by their own imagination (as well as some of the dangers often involved in the latter). Where I feel they fall short, however, is their insistence on placing rationalism and mysticism as two irreconcilable extremes, as well as their failure to recognise the frequency and extent to which Rambam rejected Aristotelian conclusions. What Rambam’s Judaism ultimately aspires towards is not dressed-up Aristotelian rationalism. But rather, Faur argues, the Torah guides a person to use the rational faculty as a stepping-stone from which to attain a profound perspective on the world and develop a genuine personal relationship with God--a goal which ultimately lay beyond Aristotle and his rational speculations.
First posted on Facebook 14 February 2021, here.
