Prelude to the lawgiving: is Judaism a regular religion?

As we look ahead and prepare ourselves for the upcoming festival it is striking how much attention is focused on the Ten Commandments – the nature and content of the great revelation at Sinai. There is very little mention, by contrast, of the careful preparation which took place among the nation in the days leading up to the lawgiving: a process of purifications and distancing of the people from the mountain.

The people were first instructed, three full days in advance, to prepare and purify themselves for the forthcoming divine revelation. Then, at the time of the law-giving, they were warned not to approach the mountain. These rules are described and repeated in detail: God instructs Moshe, who instructs the people. Moshe then confirms with God that the people have been separated from the sacred site. Not satisfied, God then issues a further warning that no person – or even animal – may approach the mountain. Presumably this emphasis and repeated warning is intended to relay a highly important message.

Judaism Reclaimed develops an idea of Rabbi S. R. Hirsch, who sees in these instructions a principle of profound importance. These laws, he understands, symbolise how Judaism is conceptually distinct from “religion” as it is commonly perceived. The fields of anthropology and sociology view religion, like arts and culture, as a mere projection of the social values of society. This approach treats religion as little more than a means by which we can understand the behaviour and beliefs of the social unit formed by its adherents. Emile Durkheim expressed this when he claimed that religion is a mere “projection of the social values of society".

R' Hirsch argues that, in this sense, Judaism stands apart and cannot be truly defined as a religion, since the Torah’s rigorous and demanding laws do not reflect the religious and moral status of the nation which first received them. God’s instructions to the Jewish people to purify themselves for several days in advance of receiving the Torah represent a principle of fundamental importance: that its recipients were not inherently worthy of hearing God's word.

Additionally, the prohibition against drawing near the mountain during the Ten Commandments reinforces the distinction between the source of the communication and the people to whom it was addressed, thereby emphatically rejecting the notion that the Torah emanated from the people themselves. Each of these rules was intended to emphasise the reality that the Torah was communicated to the Jews from an external superior source, and did not emanate from within them.

This message is powerfully reinforced by the episode of the golden calf which took place shortly after this revelation. With the Ten Commandments still ringing in their ears, the nation collectively disobeyed God’s word, creating and worshipping an idol. God’s immediate response was shocking and uncompromising: the people were considered to be thoroughly unworthy of the recently-received Torah. God even suggests to Moshe that He annihilate the entire nation, replacing it with a new chosen people to be drawn from Moshe's own descendants.

All of this points to the idea that the Torah did not emerge from within the nation as a reflection of their own values – its teachings profoundly challenged them and imposed laws which the nation as a whole would struggle to observe throughout Jewish history.

First posted to Facebook 1 June 2022, here.

Nazirite vows and rabbinic agendas

As someone whose path has run through both Haredi and Modern Orthodox institutions of study and worship, the annual rabbinic sermon and lay divrei torah for parashat Naso have often been painfully partisan and predictable. What message are we to take away from the phenomenon of nezirut– a vow through which a person temporarily separates from wine among other things?

VERSION A:

The Nazir is a holy individual who is choosing to go beyond the minimal self-control demanded by the Torah in order to concentrate on holiness and spirituality. Ideally this status should even continue beyond the temporary period – indeed that is why the Nazir must bring a sin offering when seeking to end this holy commitment and return to regular life.

VERSION B:

The Nazir’s abstention from worldly pleasures is unfortunate – even sinful as indicated by the sin offering that is brought at the conclusion of the term of nezirut. God created the world in order for us to live in it and enjoy His bounty. To elevate it by using it for the correct reasons. Withholding pleasures may be of temporary necessity for someone who is struggling to control their physical desires, but it is certainly far from the idea.

Very often such speeches would openly criticise and even mock rabbinic leaders and communities that did not follow whichever version was being campaigned for from the pulpit. They would be delivered with an unassailable air of confidence that implied: had the other side only been aware that the Torah’s treatment of nezirut clearly supported Version A or B, they would instantly recognise the error of their ways and recant to a radically different lifestyle.

Yet these two versions each appear to reflect the approaches of two great voices within Jewish tradition, Ramban and Rambam – both of whom are firmly based on far earlier sources from the Tannaim.

While it is expected for rabbis to emphasise certain messages and ideas that they feel will speak to or guide their communities, can it ever be legitimate to present one strand of Jewish thought as the correct position? Particularly when the opposing position dates back to universally accepted Talmudic and Tannaic sources?

One rabbi I challenged freely admitted that he considered it more important to further what he understood to be “the correct Jewish outlook” than offer his audience a fair and balanced interpretation of the Torah’s text.

Judaism Reclaimed looks to reconcile these divergent approaches that Jewish takes to nezirut. While it is true that Rambam criticises the ascetic view of Judaism, it is nevertheless simplistic to draw the conclusion that Rambam placed any inherent value upon indulging in worldly pleasures or activities. In both Mishneh Torah and Shemonah Perakim, Rambam emphasises the need for a person to strike the correct balance between extreme character traits, including the need to walk the middle path between over-indulgence and abstention. It is a repeated theme in Rambam's writings, though, that this balance is not an end in its own right; it merely serves to facilitate and enhance a person's ability to perceive and thereby connect with God. A person who forgoes a necessary amount of food and sleep, for example, will not possess a sufficiently clear mind with which to comprehend divine truths. On the other hand, someone who over-indulges in physical pleasures will be drawn into a life of thinking about and pursuing them at the expense of spiritual endeavours.

In order to achieve an ideal balance of character traits, Rambam prescribes a form of behavioural therapy which requires a person to act temporarily in a manner that counters any imbalanced tendencies. For example, a person who naturally over-indulges in worldly pleasures should temporarily deprive himself in order to train his mind towards securing the correct balance. The potential danger however, is that “the foolish ones” will see their sages depriving themselves of pleasures and wrongly imagine that asceticism and self-denial is an end in itself, and a method of achieving holiness.

For this reason the Torah associates nezirut with sin — in order to demonstrate that even where such behaviour is required as a stepping-stone towards developing a correctly balanced character, it should not be seen as an end in its own right.

By limiting Rambam's criticism of nezirut to cases in which self-denial is being pursued as a source of holiness in its own right, we can also resolve an apparent contradiction between Rambam's critical position in Shemonah Perakim and the positive stance which he takes towards nezirut elsewhere. In Moreh Nevuchim (3:48), Rambam describes the damaging consequences of over-indulging in wine, regarding nezirut as a commendable way of avoiding its potentially damaging and addictive consequences. Elsewhere, in his Mishneh Torah, Rambam goes even further, stating that

"one who takes a (Nazirite) vow in a holy manner is approved and praiseworthy, and regarding this it is said the 'crown of His God is on his head, he is holy to God', and he is likened to a by the verse to a prophet, as it states [Amos 2:11] “and I will establish your children as prophets and your youngsters as Nazirites”".

The clear implication of both these passages is that nezirut is a laudable project when approached from the correct perspective of avoiding drunkenness and debauchery. Rambam's criticism of the 'sinful' nazir’s naive and misguided pursuit of asceticism as an end in its own right does not contradict these statements.

Taking this further, a close examination of Rambam's approval of nezirut, mentioned above, reveals an important distinction between the two sources. In Moreh Nevuchim the focus is primarily on avoiding the pitfalls that accompany intoxication. The closing remarks of Hilchot Nezirut by contrast describe a holy vow of nezirut which is equated with prophecy — the ultimate level of human achievement.

These contrasting descriptions suggest that Rambam understands there to be two distinct types of nezirut (a framework adopted by both Ohr HaChaim and the Netziv in their commentaries). On a basic level, the nazir shuns wine in order to avoid sinful behaviour and regain control over a wayward lifestyle. But there exists also a more elevated concept of nezirut ("the crown of His God is on his head, he is holy to God") which involves a period of dedication of one's energy and thoughts to contemplation of God and His Torah. As Rambam explains, one of the pre-requisites for achieving prophecy is a separation from the vanities and values prevalent in wider society. With this in mind we can suggest that the 'elevated' level of nezirut is closely related to prophecy, and may even be viewed as a stepping-stone towards it. This leads into the Hirschian approach to nezirut which will be left for another time.

First posted on Facebook 7 June 2022, here.

Rambam and decline of the generations

 Parashat Bechukotai in Judaism Reclaimed consists of a multi-chaptered analysis of the halachic process, with a particular focus on how its functioning and dynamics have been impacted upon by the lengthy exile and lack of supreme legal body (Sanhedrin). The first chapter is built upon an essay in Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk’s Meshech Chochmah. This essay proposes that the Tochachah passage of rebuke threatens the Jewish nation’s full autonomy not only over itself and its land, but also over the Torah, which was to become rigid and less nuanced in its ability to respond to new challenges due to a substantial loss of knowledge and expertise.

Of particular note is where the Meshech Chochmah’s draws upon Rambam’s introduction to Mishneh Torah to contrast between the levels of Torah scholarship and Divine inspiration before and after the onset of exile. In the closing stages of the Second Mikdash period, he writes, the persecution of Torah Sages and scholarship by the Romans resulted in the gradual cessation of the Sanhedrin’s operations, as many Sages went into hiding, causing much of their Torah to be lost. Rambam describes how this loss of Torah scholarship, which originated with the onset of the exile, continued to deteriorate as a result of ongoing persecution and the gradual absorption of ideas that were prevalent in the cultures and societies in which the Jews were exiled to. This led to lengthy disputes among Talmudic Sages as to the meaning of Tannaic statements, a downward spiral which continued through the era of the Geonim until his own era.

Rambam’s recognition of the decline of Torah scholarship and expertise caused by persecution and exile is of critical importance when evaluating his approach to the difficult concept of “yeridat hadorot” (decline of the generations). The idea that later generations are somehow inferior to their forebears emerges from several Talmudic sources, most strikingly:

If the earlier [Sages] were the sons of angels, then we are mortals; but if the earlier ones were mortals, then we are like donkeys.

The hearts [understanding] of the earlier scholars were like the door of the Ulam [twenty cubits], that of more recent scholars like the door of the Heichal [ten cubits], while ours is like the eye of a fine needle.

The concept of generational decline is commonly understood to mean that, as generations became further removed from Sinai, their intellectual or spiritual faculties dimmed. In his short book on the topic, however, Menchaem Kellner demonstrates that such an approach is exceedingly difficult to reconcile with Rambam’s understanding of the consistency of nature and his relatively restrictive approach to miracles. Kellner, like Rabbi Dr. Norman Lamm before him, proceeds to suggest that Rambam actually rejected the very notion of ‘generational decline’, believing instead that generations in fact advance as they progress.

Judaism Reclaimed argues instead that Rambam understood the concept of generational decline to pertain to the enormous (and increasing) loss of Torah scholarship and expertise as a result of exile. As well as his description of this phenomenon in the introduction to Mishneh Torah, a passage from Rambam’s introduction to his Commentary on the Mishnah points strongly towards this understanding of his position:

“The hearts [understanding] of the earlier scholars were like the door of the Ulam [twenty cubits], that of more recent scholars like the door of the Heichal [ten cubits], while ours is like the eye of a fine needle…” And how much more so us, from whom wisdom has ceased and is absent, as the Holy One, blessed be He informed us: “The wisdom of their Sages will be lost, and the understanding of their wise ones will be hidden. [Isaiah 29:14]”

Rambam’s citation of this verse from Isaiah, I believe, is of critical importance. The context of the chapter in question sees the prophet warning the Jewish people that, as a result of them relating to God in a merely superficial way "…with their mouth and with their lips they honour Me, but their heart they draw far away from Me, and their fear of Me has become a command of people, which has been taught”. Therefore as a measure-for-measure punishment “the wisdom of their Sages will be lost, and the understanding of their wise ones will be hidden”. This attribution of gradual loss of Torah wisdom to divinely-provoked suffering and exile is highly consistent with Meshech Chochmah’s interpretation of Rambam cited above, and appears to me to represent Rambam’s understanding concerning ‘decline of the generations’.

First posted on Facebook 22 May 2022, here.

Moshe's prophecy and a Maimonidean fascination

Prophecy – the interface and means through which information is conveyed from the divine to the human realm – lies at the very heart of Judaism and many other religions. As a phenomenon which is understood not to have existed for thousands of years, it nevertheless has remained a source of fascination and debate for religious scholars throughout the ages.

This is particularly true when we examine the writings of Rambam, for whom prophecy was a focal point in all of his major works. Indeed his apparent pre-occupation with the subject led some commentators to speculate as to whether prophecy was a particular Maimonidean pursuit – and perhaps that he even believed he may have achieved some degree of prophecy.

As Judaism Reclaimed examines in several of its chapters, prophecy for Rambam is not an isolated concept – a divine communication visited upon a person simply in order to instruct or rebuke. Rather it represents the crowning glory of long process of refining and perfecting all facets of the human personality and intellect.

This process also connects to the Maimonidean approach to providence. People who gradually improve and gain control over their characters traits – and refine their intellect – will find that their mind will be able to transcend the limitations of its physical associations. What starts off with flashes of intuition and knowledge from the spiritual realm, can develop into ru’ach hakodesh (holy spirit) and eventually to prophecy.

Crucially therefore, for Rambam, the degree of insight, understanding and clarity that a person is able to attain through prophecy is largely related to his or her own personal development and training.

Against this backdrop, God’s rebuke of Aharon and Miriam for their apparent slander of Moshe takes on particular significance. Rambam writes in Shemonah Perakim that Moshe had perfected his mind and character to such an extent that no barrier remained to impede his intellect's perception of God's will. This meant that Moshe perceived God on the level of "Peh el peh adaber bo" — a 'word-for-word' grasp of God's will. Through this principle we learn that Moshe received instruction from God without any ambiguity or need for interpretation. It is possible that only this degree of clarity as to God’s will could facilitate the communication of a set of precise laws – therefore no subsequent prophet can ever be permitted to revoke or manipulate the laws that Moshe has taught.

This can be contrasted with the regular mode of prophecy in which God makes Himself known to the prophet in a “vision” or “dream”, which allows for a certain degree of ambiguity and flexibility in its interpretation and application. Such flexibility is demonstrated in the Gemara’s account of an episode in which King Josiah decided to consult the prophetess Chuldah rather than the less popular Yirmiyah in the hope of receiving an interpretation of God's will that was more favourable and compassionate.

This fundamental principle – which is listed in Rambam’s list of 13 Principle of Faith – was made abundantly clear in this parashah, with its contrast between the quality of Moshe’s prophecy and that of his siblings. Despite the heights of religious piety and leadership displayed by Miriam and Aharon, the prophecy that they and any others will receive must be recognised as qualitatively distinct from that of Moshe.

First posted to Facebook 12 June 2022, here.

Laws, narratives and post-Mosaic additions to the Torah

The concluding chapter of Judaism Reclaimed explores a controversial yet fascinating subject – whether later prophets or other figures might have been authorised to amend or add to passages of the Torah.

Unusually, our analysis of this delicate subject begins with a remarkable passage written by the Maharal, who analyses a statement of Rashi’s commentary to the first verse of parashat Mattot. Rashi teaches that Moshe prophesied on two distinct levels: the exclusive and precise "peh el peh" type mentioned above, as well as the more general "koh amar Hashem" prophecy – the level at which other prophets received their transmissions from God. Thus, while Moshe received the passages of the Torah which contained the permanent mitzvot in the unique, unparalleled manner of “peh el peh”, other parts of the Torah – those which contained narratives or specific one-time-only instructions—were transmitted through the standard form of prophecy.

Maharal offers a possible explanation for the discrepancy that exists between the levels of prophecy granted by God to Moshe in order to transmit different parts of the Torah. He suggests that, in order for a commandment from God to become eternal law, irrespective of the context of the time and place in which it was taught, it must be clearly and unambiguously identified as being God's explicit and exact word. The permanent mitzvot in the Torah, which were delivered through the precision and accuracy of the “pel el peh” process, can thereby withstand the force of claims that the applicability of those mitzvot was limited to ancient times or subject to adjustment when framed within the context of disparate social, political or cultural settings.

With regard to the Torah’s broader teachings as well as its narrative sections, however, there was no need for such a precise “word for word” medium of communication. Therefore these messages were relayed to Moshe in the regular prophetic manner – which required the prophet to contribute his or her own interpretation and could be influenced by their personality.

We noted how Maharal’s distinction between the Torah’s legal and narrative passages dovetails with Ibn Ezra’s stated methodologies for interpreting different parts of the Torah. Towards the end of the introduction to his Torah commentary, Ibn Ezra distinguishes between the approaches for interpreting verses with legal content, which often bear a single specific and immutable meaning transmitted to us via the oral law, and the narrative passages of the Torah which are capable of bearing multiple understandings—"shivim panim latorah".

This connection between Maharal’s theory regarding different levels of prophecy and Ibn Ezra’s distinction between narrative and legal passages of the Torah may allow us to resolve another difficult issue. Ibn Ezra writes that the final 12 verses of the Torah were a prophecy received and recorded by Yehoshua. Elsewhere in his commentary, Ibn Ezra cites other verses which are troubling, in that they permit the suggestion that they are the product of later, non-Mosaic, authorship. Referring to the “secret of the 12” – a phrase which is widely understood to refer to Yehoshua’s authorship of the final 12 verses of the Torah — Ibn Ezra mysteriously informs his reader that one who understands these verses will “recognise the truth”.

Manuscripts which appear to contain Torah commentary of distinguished earlier commentators such as Rabbi Yehudah HaChassid make similar suggestions regarding later prophetic authorship of certain verses in the Torah. Without wishing to enter the debate as to the authenticity of these manuscripts or the proper interpretation of Ibn Ezra’s secret, we can maintain on the basis of our analysis that, even if they do involve the suggestion that certain verses were added through the medium of a later prophecy, we can distinguish these verses, which all pertain solely to the Torah’s narrative, from verses which impart permanent mitzvot. In a similar vein, suggestions that some of the Torah’s earlier passages were incorporated into the Torah by Moshe on the basis of previous (prophetic) works are limited to narrative and do not pertain to any legislative sections.

Following Maharal’s suggestion that narrative portions of the Torah’s text were transmitted by means of regular prophecy, it may be possible to accept that another prophet was divinely authorised to contribute to them (a Tannaic opinion suggests that this was the case for the Torah’s final verses). The Torah’s permanent mitzvot, however, were transmitted through Moshe’s unique prophecy of “peh el peh”, making them immune to any form of supplementing or interference–even by a later prophet.

Notably none of this appears to be accepted by Rambam–at least in the way his principles of faith are expressed in the list contained in the introduction to Chelek. Rambam’s understanding of prophecy as a relatively natural result of a person’s development implies that Moshe's prophecy, through which the entire Torah was transmitted, was constantly on this supreme "peh el peh" level, and did not fluctuate between different biblical passages. Consistent with Rambam’s understanding of Moshe’s constantly supreme level of prophecy with which the entire Torah was relayed, Rambam also insists that it is entirely illegitimate to claim that any additions or amendments were made following Moshe’s death.

This represents the conclusions reached at the end of Judaism Reclaimed. God-willing the final chapter of my upcoming book will reopen this question and probe further approaches to reconciling this difficult topic.

Rashi in a Maimonidean vision

My previous post discussed Rambam’s position on prophecy, an approach which is often regarded as radical. While the simple reading of the biblical text creates the impression that God is initiating a form of communication with prophets, Rambam interprets this process to be significantly more passive. The mind of the prophet is able to gain an insight into God’s will regarding necessary matters (Ralbag explains that the prophet can choose to concentrate on certain topics in order for the prophetic inspiration to address them).

How original though is Rambam really being with his theory of prophecy?

In Judaism Reclaimed I quote some surprising remarks from Jewish philosopher, Yeshayahu Leibowitz, who argued that a very similar approach was taken in Ashkenaz – a century earlier – by none other than Rashi!

Citing a low-key remark hidden at the end of the longest parashah in the Torah, Naso, Rashi comments on the word “midaber” which is used to describe God “speaking” to Moshe that the words “to him” really mean “to Himself”. Moshe did not hear a voice but rather gained an inner awareness of God’s meaning. This pivotal comment is described by Leibowitz as “astounding”. He adds:

“Rashi lived two generations before Maimonides, but in these few words Rashi gives Maimonides’ entire view on prophecy…”.

“We are not surprised at Maimonides, for this view of prophecy is in keeping with his entire system of faith. But Rashi, who is always considered to be of naive faith and far from philosophic thought and analysis, says the exact same thing”.

Elsewhere in his book of parashah analysis, Leibowitz asserts that those who read Rashi with a trained eye will be aware of a sophisticated philosophical comprehension of God concealed behind his customary low-profile presentation. In one instance, in his commentary to Yevamot 49a, Rashi contrasts the superior prophecy of Moshe to that of other prophets saying:

“All the prophets looked through a dark glass –and thought they saw, and our teacher Moshe looked through a clear glass and knew that he had not seen Him to His face”.

Rashi clearly understands that God’s essence is beyond comprehension and that Moshe, who experienced an enhanced level of prophecy, perceived this more acutely than other prophets. For Leibowitz, Rashi’s words foreshadow Rambam’s negative theology and his understanding (Guide 1:59) that the wisest of all sages, such as Moshe and Shlomo, are distinguished from lesser sages by the extent to which they perceive and internalise the gulf between God and His creatures.

While Judaism Reclaimed attempts to defend Rashi from allegations that he believed in a corporeal deity, Leibowitz goes much further, considering him a first-degree philosopher.

This leaves us wondering which is more radical: Rambam’s theory of prophecy or Leibowitz’s theory of Rashi?!

First posted on Facebook 15 June 2022, here.

The role of miracles: Maimonidean minimalists and mystical maximalists

The post a few days ago on the extent to which the Ten Plagues in Egypt could and should be understood as having occurred through natural means generated an extensive and fascinating debate. One of the main issues which arose is the question of motivation: why would a religious person, who seeks to perceive and relate to God, seek to minimise His miraculous interactions with the physical world?

Judaism Reclaimed’s chapter on parashat Beshalach focuses firmly on the desirability of miracles, contrasting the theological approaches of Rambam and others to the phenomenon of miracles and the rules of nature. An interesting introduction to this topic relates to a passage of Rambam in the final chapter of Shemoneh Perakim, where he cites and rejects a certain philosophy which was popular among Islamic theologians (mutakallim) of his era:

“For I have heard them say that [God’s] Will in every matter is always repeated at each moment – and this is not our belief. Rather the Will during the six days of Creation was that all things would continue according to their nature…and for this reason the sages were required to say regarding all miraculous exceptions to nature which have been and which will occur in the future, that the Will for all of them was during these six days of Creation.”

It also significant that even Sa’adiah Gaon, whose theological approach tended to be close to the mutakallim, rejected their theories of continuous creation. Nevertheless, more recent trends in Jewish thought have popularised this approach. Ba’al Shem Tov and the Tanya on the Chassidic side, and Beit Halevi from the mitnagdim, all powerfully promote the notion that God is perpetually creating the world at every moment. A crucial repercussion of this difference of opinion is how these two groups view the laws of nature.

Rambam explains that a person's ultimate purpose is to develop the intellect in order to comprehend divine truths to the best of one’s ability, and thereby achieve a place in the World to Come. While dramatic miracles can create feelings of awe and wonder, these impressions are limited to the senses and emotion and do not represent an intellectual comprehension and understanding of God and His ways. Rambam teaches that this is to be achieved through quiet contemplation of God's works — His Torah and Creation — in order to recognise the wisdom lying behind them. For Rambam therefore, every miraculous abrogation of the perceived Godly order actually challenges the very bedrock of ‘knowing God’ – his first and most fundamental commandment in Mishneh Torah. Miracles by definition cannot be understood by people, and are therefore only useful for providing temporary inspiration rather than genuine understanding of the divine.

The alternate approach of perpetual creation, which views what we perceive as cause and effect based on the rules of nature to be an elaborate illusion results in a very different understanding, summarised by Ramban in his commentary at the end of parashat Bo:

“A person has no portion in the Torah of Moshe until he believes that all matters and occurrences are totally miraculous and that there is no nature or way of the world contained within them.”

While for Rambam, therefore, the Torah’s miracles were performed only out of particular necessity at very specific times, the mystical approach seeks to maximise the role and significance of miracles. Judaism Reclaimed proceeds to show how this basic theological split between the two camps influences their approach to several other areas of Jewish thought.

For example, the utopian messianic era of Rambam consists of the removal of all barriers to quiet contemplation and understanding of God’s wisdom. These barriers removed, biblical assurances that “your sons and daughters will prophesy” and “the world will be filled with the knowledge of God as the waters cover the ocean bed”, can be fulfilled. Meanwhile, the messianic era of Ramban and the mystics is one in which, on account of our worthiness, God’s miraculous wonders will no longer need to be concealed behind rules of nature leading to a supernatural and miraculous future era.

First posted on Facebook 9 January 2022, here.

Rambam and the quest for "objectively true" knowledge

A plague which has increasingly poisoned all forms of political discourse in recent years is the inability for opposing sides to agree on a basic set of facts. Instead of broadly sharing a common understanding of the various problems and challenges facing the country – a foundation which allows for bipartisan cooperation – conflicting parties, fuelled by partisan media and social media, struggle to find any basis for sensible conversation.

In this context, Rambam’s endorsement of a lifelong religious journey in order to train one’s mind towards achieving some degree of objective rational thinking should be warmly welcomed and widely taught. Without this meticulous training of the mind and character, his claim that

“When a man finds himself inclining … towards lusts and pleasures, anger and fury…he shall be at fault and stumble wherever he goes. For he shall seek opinions that will help him believe in whatever his nature inclines towards”

is increasingly played out in the angry and fragmented 21stcentury world.

I am honoured that my analysis of Rambam’s approach to the search for objective knowledge, has been included in this exciting new collection of essays: Spinoza Strauss and Sinai, published by Kodesh Press.

The book consists of a set of varied responses by modern Orthodox thinkers to Leo Strauss’s argument in defence of Orthodoxy. This argument turns explicitly on the distinction between knowledge and belief: Orthodox Jews can claim to believe that the tenets of Judaism are true, but they cannot claim to know they are true. With this distinction, Strauss attempts to extricate Orthodoxy from the attack of Spinoza and his intellectual heirs. But the usefulness of Strauss’s argument itself depends on the nature of truth and knowledge within Judaism.

In recent centuries, philosophers such as David Hume and John Locke have argued that a person's mind, shaped by subjective sense-data and experience, is wholly incapable of processing an objective rational analysis and that the world, as a "thing-in-itself," is therefore unknowable. Immanuel Kant, who adopted and furthered this theory, claimed to have effected a revolution in philosophy by demonstrating that, rather than our knowledge being shaped by an object (or concept) itself, in truth our perception of the “thing itself” is shaped by our prior knowledge and conditioning.

It is difficult to overstate the gravity of the challenge that this represents to the entire edifice of Maimonidean thought. Rambam emphasises the intellect as humanity’s crowning glory, the rational faculty endowed to it by God through which humanity can be differentiated and distinguished from the mundane physical world and all its inhabiting creatures. Only by developing the intellect to comprehend and absorb objective, universal, divine truths––by perceiving objects and concepts “as they are”––can we form a connection with the divine and thereby earn divine providence, prophecy, and the World to Come.

Crucially, however, Rambam also maintains that a rigorous curriculum of character development and intellectual training can gradually elevate the human mind from the realm of subjectivity, and provide a person with a degree of objective knowledge as to religious and philosophical truths. People whose minds are trained in this way would, in Rambam’s view, be entitled to claim that their religious values belong more to the category of knowledge than belief.

My essay in this book – which is a fuller and more developed version of some of the arguments set forward in Judaism Reclaimed – carefully examines Rambam’s approach. It argues that Rambam took very seriously the arguments which were of such concern to later philosophers, and that the difficulty facing the human intellect when it attempts to comprehend objective truths features strongly in Rambam’s philosophy. It seems to me that this understanding of Rambam’s approach not only defends his thought from the charge that it is outdated, but also bears the potential to enhance the ability of those grappling with his philosophy in the 21st century to enrich their own religious lives.

I look forward to reading and possibly reviewing some of the other essays in this book in the near future.

First posted to Facebook 6 February 2022, here.