The Dual Truth, Volumes I & II: Studies on Nineteenth-Century Modern Religious Thought and Its Influence on Twentieth-Century Jewish Philosophy 9781618118691

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THE DUAL TRUTH Studies on Nineteenth-Century Modern Religious Thought and Its Inf luence on Twentieth-Century Jewish Philosophy

Studies in Orthodox Judaism Series Editor Marc B. Shapiro (University of Scranton, Scranton, Pennsylvania) Editorial Board Alan Brill (Seton Hall University, South Orange, New Jersey) Benjamin Brown (Hebrew University, Jerusalem) David Ellenson (Hebrew Union College, New York) Adam S. Ferziger (Bar-Ilan University, Ramat Gan) Miri Freud-Kandel (University of Oxford, Oxford) Jeffrey Gurock (Yeshiva University, New York) Shlomo Tikoshinski ( Jerusalem) Books in This Series Fundamentals of Jewish Conflict Resolution: Traditional Jewish Perspectives on Resolving Interpersonal Conflicts Howard Kaminsky Hybrid Judaism: Irving Greenberg, Encounter, and the Changing Nature of American Jewish Identity Darren Kleinberg Preface by Marc Dollinger Modern Orthodoxy in American Judaism: The Era of Rabbi Leo Jung Maxine Jacobson My Father’s Journey: A Memoir of Lost Worlds of Jewish Lithuania Sara Reguer The Middle Way: The Emergence of Modern-Religious Trends in NineteenthCentury Judaism, Volumes I & II Ephraim Chamiel Edited by Dr. Asael Abelman Translated by Dr. Jeffrey Green Her Glory All Within: Rejecting and Transforming Orthodoxy in Israeli and American Jewish Women's Fiction Barbara Landress The Pillar of Volozhin: Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin and the World of Nineteenth Century Lithuanian Torah Scholarship Gil Perl

THE DUAL TRUTH Studies on Nineteenth-Century Modern Religious Thought and Its Inf luence on Twentieth-Century Jewish Philosophy EPHRAIM CHAMIEL Translated by Avi Kallenbach Volume I

Boston 2019

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Chamiel, Ephraim, author. | Kallenbach, Avi, translator. Title: The dual truth : studies on nineteenth-century modern religious thought and its influence on twentieth-century Jewish philosophy / Ephraim Chamiel; translated by Avi Kallenbach. Other titles: Emet ha-kefulah. English Description: Boston : Academic Studies Press, 2018. | Series: Studies in Orthodox Judaism | “This book, The Dual Truth, was originally published by Carmel Publishing House in Hebrew in 2016” — Foreword to the English edition. | Includes bibliographic references. Identifiers: LCCN 2018048880 (print) | LCCN 2018053238 (ebook) | ISBN 9781618118691 (ebook) | ISBN 9781618118820 (hardcover) Subjects: LCSH: Jewish philosophy—19th century. | Jewish philosophy—20th century. | Judaism—History—Modern period, 1750- | Hirsch, Samson Raphael, 1808-1888. | Luzzatto, Samuel David, 1800-1865. | Bible. Old Testament—Criticism, interpretation, etc.—History—19th century. | Bible. Old Testament—Criticism, interpretation, etc.—History—20th century. Classification: LCC B5800 (ebook) | LCC B5800.C43313 2018 (print) | DDC 181/.06—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018048880 ©Academic Studies Press, 2019 ISBN 9781618118820 (hardback) ISBN 9781618118691 (electronic) Book design by Kryon Publishing Services (P) Ltd. www.kryonpublishing.com On the cover: Torah crown, Alessandria, Italy, 1849 (Silver and gilded silver cut, chased, engraved). U. Nahon Museum of Italian Jewish Art. Published by Academic Studies Press 28 Montfern Avenue Brighton, MA 02135, USA [email protected] www.academicstudiespress.com

Dedicated to My Children Noam and Michal, Nitzan and Tehilah, Itay-Jacob and Vered, Liad

Table of Contents

Translator’s Note

vii

Foreword to the English Edition

viii

Introduction

ix

Chapter One:   Samson Raphael Hirsch: The Neo-Orthodox, Neo-Romantic Educator, and his Approach of Neo-Fundamentalist Identicality

1

Chapter Two:   Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left

27

Chapter Three:   “Heavenly Reward”—Samuel David Luzzatto’s Doctrine of Divine Providence—between Revelation and Philosophy

73

Chapter Four:   Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views

105

Chapter Five:    The Peshat is One, Because the Truth is One: Luzzatto between Interpretation and Thought

132

Chapter Six:   Luzzatto and Maimonides: “Accept Truth from Whoever Speaks It”

149

Chapter Seven:   Luzzatto on Theosophical Kabbalah: Harmful Invention with Worthy Intentions

186

Chapter Eight:   Between Reason and Revelation: The Encounter between Rabbi Tsvi Hirsch Chajes and Nahman Krochmal 219

Chapter Nine:   Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy in the Twentieth Century 255 Chapter Ten:   Hirsch’s Influence on Rabbi David Tsvi Hoffmann’s Commentary on the Pentateuch

334

Chapter Eleven:   Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors

368

Chapter Twelve:  The Influence of German NeoOrthodoxy on the Young Rav Kook

449

Chapter Thirteen:  Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method of Biblical Interpretation

500

Chapter Fourteen:

 Tolerance, Pluralism, and Postmodernism— A Dialectic of Opposites in Jewish Thought in the Modern Era

537

Bibliography

546

Index of Subjects

559

Index of Names

568

Translator’s Note

Dr. Chamiel’s book is a study of past and present—an exploration of how the echoes of nineteenth-century Jewish philosophy continued to reverberate in the minds and thoughts of Jewish thinkers in the twentieth century and today. Translating a study with such an ambitious scope—covering a wide spectrum of thinkers, speaking different languages in different time periods, from nineteenth-century Germany, Italy and Poland to modern-day Israel and the United States—was not always simple. Perhaps the greatest challenge was translating excerpts from nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Hebrew writers such as Samuel David Luzzatto, Rav Kook, and Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, who wrote in forms of Hebrew that are far from the expressions and norms of modern Hebrew. More than modern Hebrew, their vocabularies are filled with the ancient terminology of the Bible and rabbinic literature which they skillfully—and sometimes subtly—use to discuss the issues of the modern world; I can only hope that my translation did their prose justice. Excerpts from Rabbi Hirsch, Hermann Cohen and Franz Rosenzweig were taken from existing English translations (with our emphasis) and excerpts from Eliezer Berkovits were taken from the English originals. My gratitude to Dr. Jeffrey Green whose translation of Dr. Chamiel’s previous book served as a model for imitation and inspiration; my thanks to Avi Staiman, CEO of Academic Language Experts, and Professor Marc Shapiro, who reviewed and corrected the translation as I proceeded; and of course, my many thanks to Dr. Chamiel, who took an active part in the translation process, offering insightful comments throughout. Avi Kallenbach Academic Language Experts

Foreword to the English Edition

T

his book, The Dual Truth, was originally published by Carmel Publishing House in Hebrew in 2016. Ever since then, I have aspired to translate it into English. With the founding of the translation company Academic Language Experts, the idea of translating the book began to take shape. The translation was carried out in partnership with the CEO of the company, Avi Staiman, and its chief academic translator Avi Kallenbach who did the actual, wonderful work. We began working on the project more than a year ago, and we have now completed it in the best possible way. It was proofread by Academic Studies Press, but any remaining errors are, of course, my responsibility; any feedback is much appreciated. The book was produced by ASP which served also as the publisher of my previous translated work The Middle Way, providing an edition of the work for those wishing to read and study it in English. Both productions were carefully reviewed by Professor Marc Shapiro, the series editor for Studies in Orthodox Judaism, who provided me with important comments on the translation and also saved me from duplicating some mistakes I made in the Hebrew original. I would like to thank all the aforementioned people for their contribution. I hope that presenting this book to the English-speaking scholars and public will help increase its circulation and serve to promote the study of Jewish thought in the modern era. Ephraim Chamiel October 2017, Jerusalem

Introduction

It is best that you grasp the one Without letting go of the other For one who fears God will do his duty by both (Ecclesiastes 7:18 according to Ibn Ezra and Sforno) Science without religion is lame, Religion without science is blind. (The Expanded Quotable Einstein, 213)

S

ince the publication of my first book on modern religious Jewish thought in the nineteenth century,1 in which I discussed in depth the philosophies of Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808–1888), Samuel David Luzzatto (1800–1865) and Tsvi Hirsch Chajes (Maharats, 1805–1855), I have had the opportunity to delve deeper into the worldviews of these three figures and to examine whether their legacy left any lasting mark on the landscape of modern, religious Jewish thought. During my research, it became clear to me that none of these men bequeathed their philosophies to any notable protégés. While it is often said that Hirsch founded Jewish neo-Orthodoxy, his neo-Orthodox successors expressed views very different than his own. Although R. Jacob Reines (1839–1915), 1 E. Chamiel, The Middle Way (Brighton, MA, 2014). My first book was largely a reworking of my doctorate at Hebrew University from 2006, on the subject of “Life in Two Worlds— the ‘Middle Way’: Religious Responses to Modernity in the Philosophy of Z.H. Chajes, S. R. Hirsch, and S. D. Luzzatto” (Hebrew). It can be read for free, in Hebrew, on my website www.echamiel.com. I discuss the “dual truth” in the English translation of the aforementioned book on pages 482–490. This current research relies on conclusions and insights from my last book, and most of its chapters appeared as articles in various academic journals from 2010 to 2014, or were prepared for the purpose of lectures and conferences (see the list at the end of the book). Therefore, there may occasionally be short repetitions and duplications.

x

Introduction

R. Avraham Yitshak Kook (1865–1935) and R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik (1903– 1993) all integrated both tradition and modernity into their worldviews—out of a belief in the Sinaitic origins of both the Written and Oral Torah, never foregoing even one halakhah—their systems were very different from that of Hirsch. Reines’s point of view was one of a Zionist realist, Rav Kook’s that of a Zionist-mystical-Messianist and Soloveitchik’s that of a dialectical-Zionistexistentialist. Hirsch’s immediate disciples and descendants failed to preserve his complex system. Some veered towards Haredism, repudiating the fundamental importance of European culture and secular studies, while others turned to a form of modern, realistic religion, separating religious and secular studies, and assigning them to different spheres of life. Thus Hirsch’s original Romanticist system of Torah im Derekh Erets (“Torah with the ‘way of the world’”) vanished, replaced by the educational system of nationalist, religious Zionism. It was actually religious, non-Orthodox thinkers such as Hermann Cohen (1842– 1918) Franz Rosenzweig (1886–1929) and Yeshayahu Leibowitz who while refusing to adopt the alienating views of the Reform movement, espoused important parts of Hirsch’s thought and bequeathed them, albeit in a different garb, to succeeding generations. There were however also a few important halakhists and rabbis such as David Tsvi Hoffman (1843–1921), Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg (1884–1966), and his disciple Rabbi Professor Eliezer Berkovits (1908–1992) who considered themselves Orthodox, were active for many years in Germany, and who also adopted important Hirschian ideas. Luzzatto did have students but none of them could compare to their teacher’s unique stature and none were capable of emulating his impressive personality, or of sustaining his complex system which was exceedingly difficult to implement on a larger, public scale. A few of his followers joined the American Conservative movement (Sabato Morais [1823–1897]) implementing certain aspects of his system. Moshe David Cassuto (1883–1951) was one of the most prominent of all Italian scholars who adopted parts of Luzzatto’s teachings, especially in biblical scholarship. Chajes left no successors and mentored no students. In this book I will present before the reader three schools of exciting, outstanding, and virtuous scholars who held the distinction of being both modern and observant of Halakhah: two schools in Germany, the third in Italy, all of them absorbing the Jewish and non-Jewish cultures of their homelands. One school includes rabbis—biblical interpreters and halakhists—beginning with Jacob Ettlinger (1798–1871) and ending with Berkowitz. The second includes Jewish philosophers and thinkers beginning with H  .  akham Isaac Bernays (1793–1850) and ending with Leibowitz. Both schools revolve around the thought of Hirsch.

Introduction

The third school was one of biblical interpreters beginning with Luzzatto and ending with Cassuto. These three systems of study prevailed until the establishment of the State of Israel. In the first chapter of this book I will once again present the main principles of Hirsch’s philosophy based on the discussions in my first book. In the second chapter, I will deal with different interpretations of Hirsch’s thought, by his students and by scholars, to the left and to the right. From chapter three to seven, I will present the main points of Luzzatto’s views on philosophy, biblical exegesis (especially his treatment of Maimonides’s and Ibn Ezra’s methods of interpretation), rabbinic literature and Kabbalah, also based on discussions in my first book. The eighth chapter will be dedicated to Maharats Chajes and the philosophical connection between him and Nah  . man Krokhmal (1785–1840). In the ninth chapter, I will discuss the influence of Hirsch’s thought on nonOrthodox thinkers in the twentieth century, and in the tenth and eleventh ­chapters, I will trace the influence of Hirsch’s thought on rabbis and halakhists in the twentieth century. In the twelfth chapter, I will show the surprising influence of Hirsch and his successors on a young Rav Kook. In the thirteenth chapter, I will discuss the influence of Luzzatto’s system of biblical interpretation on the twentieth-century Cassuto. In the final chapter, I will briefly deal with modern religiosity in the post-modern age, beginning with the second half of the twentieth century, showing how its roots lie in the dialectical Jewish thought of the preceding century, especially that of Luzzatto. My research has led me to the conclusion that two critical issues occupied the middle trend of Jewish thought in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The first is the difficulty in harmonizing the statements of the Torah, which was considered divine revelation, with the statements of modern science, which sometimes reach conclusions that contradict the biblical text. Because these thinkers believed that these two realms were extremely important for the modern Jew, they offered solutions to this problem hoping to establish religion on reliable foundations. I discussed this issue in detail in my first book, and will continue to do so in the current one. The attempt to deal with difficulties encountered by those who believe in God and revelation, but who at the same time wish to maintain a connection with western culture and its philosophy and accept the conclusions of scientific research, is a common theme running through the philosophies discussed in this book. Its title “The Dual Truth” reflects the centrality of this dilemma. The figures described in this book deal with this issue on a variety of different levels ranging from fundamentalism to liberalism, from apologetics to head-on

xi

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Introduction

confrontation. They juggle two sources of knowledge, each one claiming exclusive sovereignty over the truth, forcing them to determine the relationship between the two. I have used the model of Shalom Rosenberg in his book Torah Umada who says that two extreme points of views should be excluded from discussion— the view that denies revelation entirely, that believes nothing exists except the material world, and that only science can serve as a source of knowledge, and the opposite view that claims that reason is misleading, leaving us to rely entirely upon revelation. If we look at other views along the spectrum, we can say that Moses Mendelssohn (1729–1786) held the compartmental approach (religion and science) arguing that each area deals with different issues and that there is no contradiction between them. Nah  . man Krochmal adopted the resolvable dialectical approach (based on Friedrich Hegel 1770–1831). Tsvi Hirsch Chajes essentially adopted Judah Halevi’s approach (identicality of science/philosophy with religion), which curbs the claims of science when it contradicts revelation. Samson Rafael Hirsch adopted an inconsistent form of neo-fundamentalism, oscillating between the view of Judah Halevi and that of Maimonides—identicality of science with religion and interpreting the Torah in-line with science. R. Avraham Kook and Joseph B. Soloveitchik advanced the dialectical approach which can be resolved rarely. Luzzatto advocated the approach of the “dual truth” (based on Eliyahu Delmedigo, 1458– 1493) also known as the irresolvable dialectical approach. In my opinion, this is the preferred option because it is rooted in tradition but not delusional, even if it is exceedingly difficult. According to this view one should maintain, simultaneously, the validity of both human intellect and the religious tradition of Scripture and Rabbinic literature, both suitable means of arriving at the truth and the virtue, even if at times these truths directly contradict each other, at least in the world of man. The contradiction is both challenging and painful; however, making peace with it allows one to continue studying and experiencing the world without delusions, and allows the thinking religious person to subsist in this world. The second issue is the reliability of the chain of tradition emanating from Sinai, which at the beginning of the modern period began to be challenged. I have used the models of Moshe Halbertal and Shalom Rosenberg to argue that Jewish positions on this issue are spread across a spectrum extending from right to left: on the right edge of the spectrum lie those who radically adopt the traditional approach, opposing any suggestion that the Sages innovated halakhot at all. This is the view of kabbalists and mystics such as

Introduction

Nachmanides and his disciples—Rabbi Yom Tov Ishbili (the Ritba) and Rabbenu Nissim (the Ran). They believe that at Sinai Moses received the entire Torah—that is the Written Torah as well as the entire range of differing opinions contained in the Oral Torah. The role of the Sages was to uncover, select and establish the relevant Halakhah for us, based on these preexisting traditions, but without creating anything themselves. To the left of this, one can find the Ge’onim, Ibn Daud and other fundamentalists—the Haredim, Orthodox, and neo-Orthodox such as Hirsch—who believe that the Written Torah and rulings in the Oral Torah were all given to Moses at Sinai. The role of the Sages was to use the methods of halakhic midrash to retrieve certain halakhot that were lost or forgotten due to the travails and persecutions of exile, which are also the cause of Rabbinic dispute. This recovery is accomplished using the thirteen hermeneutic principles which were also revealed at Sinai. Over the course of the twentieth century, there was a leftward shift among some Neo-Orthodox thinkers, in the direction of more liberal views. They borrowed from classic Conservative thinkers arguing for a historical conception of halakhic development. To the left of the Orthodox is the ­position of Judah Halevi. He believes that the Written Torah and only some laws of the Oral Torah were revealed at Sinai. The remaining halakhot comprising the Oral Torah, were transmitted gradually to the Sages in subsequent acts of revelation—a sort of continuous theophany of Sinai. To the left of him are R. Yosef Albo, Krochmal, and Tsvi Hirsh Chajes. They too believe that both the Written Torah and some laws of the Oral Torah were transmitted to Moses at Sinai. However, other aspects of the Oral Torah while transmitted to Moses, were only revealed in potential. The role of the Sages was to use their intellect (aided by the thirteen hermeneutical principles) to enact these other halakhot, actualizing them with majority rulings based on Midrash Halakhah. To the left of this position is the concept of an accumulative halakhic codex, the view of Maimonides, according to which the 613 commandments enumerated in the Written Torah were revealed to Moses at Sinai. Other laws, however, were created by the Sages who were aided by their own reasoning, the methods of Midrash Halakhah and the thirteen hermeneutical principles which were revealed at Sinai. To the left of Maimonides lies Luzzatto and classic Conservative thinkers. They believe that the Written Torah was originally revealed at Sinai. However, the Oral Torah constitutes a series of enactments and rulings made by the Sages aided by the thirteen principles which they themselves invented in order to anchor their own laws in the text of Torah as scriptural reference (asmakhta) but not as a primary ­reading.

xiii

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Introduction

The Sages were men of gigantic spiritual stature, and used their own reasoning and objective vision to understand the needs of their time and the place of their generation, tailoring new laws which sometimes contradict the biblical commandments and sometimes add to them. In the middle of the twentieth century most Conservative Jewish thinkers shifted even further to the left towards a belief that the Written Torah is also a human creation, severely weakening their dedication to Halakhah as a result. At the far left of the spectrum, which completely denies the traditional view, is the view of Reform Judaism. The Reform argue that divine revelation to man is not, nor ever was, possible. The Written Torah is a human creation, the invention of men. The Oral Torah likewise is the human legislation of the Sages. The Reform went even further in their treatment of the Sages and their laws, arguing that while the Sages sometimes established laws with wisdom, at other times they did so with guile, in order to consolidate their complete control over the people by encumbering them with oppressive laws. Consequently, we, today, must abolish significant parts of this extraneous burden. This book deals with the views of Hermann Cohen, Franz Rosenzweig, Yeshayahu Leibowitz, David Tsvi Hoffman, Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg, Rav Kook, Eliezer Berkowitz and Moshe David Cassuto regarding these issues. Similarly it will present my claim that these thinkers, who differ regarding these two issues, shared a common influence, the thought of Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch, which left an imprint on important elements of their philosophies. In the wake of the variety of new Neo-Orthodox, Conservatives— classic and new—and Reform positions in the last few decades, a new stance has developed to the right of the Reform, primarily in academic circles, a position I designate Orthoprax, “Conservadox,” or post-Orthodox, a position held by Cassuto (influenced by Luzzatto) as well as myself. This is the “dual truth,” a position maintained by traditional academic scholars. It is the position of those who do not believe in the possibility of a real, historical revelation of God to man, and who as men of science and reason, think that any text, by definition, is a human work. However, as believing, sentimental intellectuals, they aspire to observe all the laws dictated in the Shulh  . an Arukh as well as later Halakhah ­developing after it up until this day, and hope that it will continue to develop, shaping itself to fit to changing times as well as to the renewed Jewish sovereignty in the State of Israel following the spirit of the Torah. This is all out of an understanding that the narrative of “The Jewish People,” constructed by the Sages and the spiritual giants of the nation over the centuries, is extremely important to their lives as ethical, thinking people in need of a sacred, supernatural, spiritual space which anchors them to their past and tradition, a f­ oundation

Introduction

upon which an experiential and real future can be built. I discussed this issue in my first book and will continue to do so in the current book. I will conclude with a methodological note. I know that cataloguing and pigeonholing people in a simplistic fashion following a set of criteria is imprecise and even daunting. Humans are complex creatures with complicated minds and intricate reasoning; no system of classification can encapsulate their views in their entirety. Nevertheless, I think that in order to undertake any comparative scholarship of worth, it is difficult to avoid simplistic definitions and categories, which so effectively highlight the differences and similarities between different figures for the reader’s benefit. At the same time, it is important to cautiously note the fact that reality, at times, can be complex and far from simple.

xv

CHAPTER ONE

Samson Raphael Hirsch: The Neo-Orthodox, Neo-Romantic Educator, and his Approach of Neo-Fundamentalist Identicality

R 

abbi Samson (the son of) Raphael Hirsch1 lived and was active in the midst of the polemical turmoil of the mid-nineteenth century, situated in the eye of the storm. He was born during Romanticism’s rise in Germany, following the decline of Rationalism and metaphysics. From his youth, he experienced the ongoing Orthodox struggle with the Reform movement— afterwards with the positivist-historical school (which would later become the Conservative movement)—as well as the weakening of Jewish community autonomy. In his youth in Hamburg, during which he experienced the powerless Orthodox struggle against the Reform temple, he decided to devote himself to the protection of Torah and tradition using modern methods. His education was structured according to the curriculum of Naftali Hirz 1 Information about the time period and biography of Hirsch can be found in the introduction to my book The Middle Way. In this book the reader will also find his responses to Bible criticism (and his Neo-Fundamentalism), to religious reformation movements (and his polemics surrounding the divinity of the Torah) to the Haskalah and secular studies (and his Neo-Romanticism), to the return to the Land of Israel (and his humanist universalism), to progress towards the improvement of the status of women and to modern Jewish life in Christian neighborhoods.

2

The Dual Truth

Wessely (1725–1805), which integrated religious and secular studies. Jewish philosophy from Isaac Bernays based on the teachings of Judah Halevi and Talmud studies from Rabbi Ya’akov Ettlinger molded his conception of a middle way with which he hoped to rejuvenate the Torah. He called this method “Torah im Derekh Erets” (“Torah with the way of the world”), and it became the basis of the movement known as Modern Orthodoxy, or Neo-Orthodoxy. To Hirsch’s left were religious reformers and Bible critics, deniers of the Torah’s divinity, to his right Orthodox zealots eschewing anything new or innovative. He believed that his new system, the middle way, was not a compromise but Judaism’s true path, the way of its golden era. He writes about the pious: The richer the minority’s cause, the more will the minority treasure it. But then it may easily come to regard all other knowledge in “outside” domains as unnecessary, or even as utterly worthless. It may reject all intellectual activity in any field outside its own as an offense against its own cause, as an inroad upon the devotion properly due to that cause and an infringement on its prerogatives. Such a one-sided attitude does not stop at mere disregard for other intellectual endeavors. Once this attitude has taken hold in a Jewish minority, that minority will be unable to form a proper judgment and a true image of those intellectual pursuits which are not cultivated in its own ranks but pursued mainly by its opponents. Then, as a result of simple ignorance, the minority will begin to fear that which at first it merely neglected out of disdain. Consequently, the minority will begin to suspect the existence of an intrinsic close relationship between these “outside” intellectual pursuits and those principles to which the Jewish minority stands in opposition. . . Rather, it has cause to regard all truth, wherever it may be found on the outside, as a firm ally of its own cause, since all truth stems from the same Master of truth.2

Hirsch devoted himself to the community rabbinate, emphasizing his ­ideological struggles and his educational system. He also briefly familiarized himself with the academic world and, on his own, experienced and studied the speculative philosophy of his time. 2

Writings, 2:247–248. The “Writings” originally appeared in German in Hirsch’s journal Jeschurun from 1855 onwards in Frankfurt, and were subsequently collected in his Gesammelte Schriften. My quotations are from the English translation entitled The Collected Writings. See there also 387–388. See E. Stern, Ishim Vekivunim (Ramat Gan, 1987), 52–53; see also Hirsch, Writings, 1:322–325; 4:176–177; 5:312, 326–327; Hirsch, Num. 25:12.

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One

BASIC CHARACTERISTICS OF HIRSCH’S THOUGHT This chapter is dedicated to some basic characteristics of Hirsch’s thought. It is commonly known that Hirsch was the central pillar of the Neo-Orthodox movement. For our purposes, Orthodoxy refers to the worldview which maintains that God—a being possessing personality, choice and will—created the world and man in a process lasting six days, occurring approximately six thousand years ago. God appeared to the Children of Israel at Mount Sinai after bringing them out of Egypt, and through Moses, gave them the Written Torah and the laws of the Oral Torah. Hirsch’s innovation lies in his attempt to integrate the truth, beauty and good of modernity—its culture, science and philosophy—into Jewish tradition, without abandoning even one commandment. He affirms that revelation and reason, science and religion, are actually identical, because they both stem from the same source—God. Being Orthodox, he completely disavows Bible criticism. He assesses well the danger to Orthodoxy posed by the Reform position that denies the Torah’s divinity, and therefore, opposes on principle the use of the academy’s philological-historical method to analyze the Holy Scripture. Hirsch categorically maintains that the Torah is nothing less than the word of God, authentic and uniform, and it should only be studied from within and as it presents itself—as the word of God. The Torah is immaculate and inerrant and it encapsulates truths that were unknown and incomprehensible to the generation of its recipients. One’s duty is to ascend towards the Torah, not to lower it to one’s level as demanded by religious reformers. Therefore, all criticism—higher source criticism and lower textual criticism—is impossible. Hirsch acquired his Neo-Orthodox views after he had already assimilated important ideas from the Jewish Haskalah movement of Moses Mendelssohn and Naftali Hirz Wessely. Consequently, universalism, humaneness, human rights, the centrality of the individual, and freedom and equality for all mankind—were absorbed into his doctrine, especially his ethics. These Neo-Orthodox views led to the two revolutions he initiated.

EDUCATIONAL REVOLUTION His first revolution was the implementation of a “Torah im Derekh Erets” curriculum in the school he founded in Frankfurt, inspired by the “Science of Man” (Torat Ha-Adam) and the “Divine Teaching” (Torat ha-Elohim) of Wessely’s Divrei Shalom Ve-Emet. In this school both boys and girls were instructed from a young age using a curriculum which combined religious

3

4

The Dual Truth

and secular studies. Internalizing the educational revolution of the Haskalah in its entirety, Hirsch believed that one should teach secular studies to young children in formal educational institutions, albeit using an integrative method which teaches from the Torah’s perspective. This integration was not successful even in the school he himself founded. Nevertheless, the principle of demanding secular education for all young students was firmly established for generations to come as a result of his efforts. Hirsch maintained that the integration of religious and secular studies was not a concession to circumstance; Judaism has always believed in accepting external truths, and always accorded these truths inherent value. Loyal to tradition, Hirsch defended this method of education, arguing that it had always occupied a place in Judaism, and it was only exile which had damaged it, erasing it from Jewish memory. Hirsch boldly asserted that this integrative combination of Torah studies with secular education would produce a result which would be dialectically greater than the sum of its parts. He says about this combination: In keeping with its educational program, our school accords the same serious and devoted attention to subjects of general studies as it does to what is commonly regarded as specifically Jewish education. From the very beginning, our school has been aware that, in carrying out the task it has set for itself, it has combined two distinct elements that are considered mutually exclusive by prejudiced outsiders with a superficial point of view. One, they claim, must of necessity limit the other by virtue of the time and energy required to do justice to both. Our school, by contrast, has been of the opinion from the outset that these two elements, although commonly viewed as mutually limiting antitheses (and even considered by some as nullifying one another), are, in fact, two closely related, mutually complementary part of one greater, integrated educational unity. In practical life, this unity produces a Jew with moral and spiritual training in the general culture of the mankind, a man and citizen with a moral and spiritual education in the values of Judaism. As a consequence, the school, which should be the nursery for practical life, should promote both these elements in such a manner that they will complement and support one another to form one harmonious whole.3

3 Hirsch, Writings, 7:63, in the essay “The Role of Hebrew Study in General Education,” from 1866.

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One

I regard it important to dispute the view of some who consider t­ hemselves Hirsch’s successors (including scholars)—that the decision to combine secular education with religious studies was a compromise, designed to meet the needs of Germany’s Jewry at the time, or that Hirsch never accorded inherent value to secular studies, and never affirmed that they could contribute valuably to Jewish education. In respect to compromise, Hirsch says explicitly in his essay “The Relevance of Secular Studies to Jewish Education”: There are proponents of Jewish studies who view any attempt to give our youth a secular education as a sacrifice of time and energy that should be devoted to things Jewish. They may sanction this sacrifice as a concession to the demands of the present day, but they will deplore it and will feel deeply concerned about the influence that an educational element they consider alien to Judaism will have on the future Jewish attitude and lifestyle of our youth. In view of the fact that our institution gives the same earnest and devoted attention to general education as it does to Jewish studies. . . It would be important to demonstrate to the Jewish friends of our institution the close connection between these two fields of education and the significant benefits which secular studies have to offer to the future philosophy and lifestyle of our Jewish youth. . . The question whether a school embraces all fields of study with equal enthusiasm out of a deep inner conviction, or because it is forced to do so by circumstances beyond its control, certainly cannot be a matter of indifference to those whose trust the school hopes to obtain for its endeavors. Only ideas rooted in genuine conviction will be received with enthusiasm. Products of compromise can expect no more than grudging acceptance forced by considerations of expediency.4

I will return to this topic in the following chapter.

REVOLUTION IN THE STATUS OF WOMEN Hirsch’s second revolution is the position that in Judaism the woman is always considered superior to the man intellectually and ethically. Hirsch argues that the reason that women are exempt from positive time bound commandments is because they have no need for them. Although the commandments are meant 4 Hirsch, Writings, 7:81–82.

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to rescue the observant from the sensuality of the flesh and the deception of impulse, women, by their very nature, are secure from such threats. Women fulfill their role in the home. They are tasked with ensuring that their husbands and children will study and observe the Torah, which will guarantee them ethical purity and sanctity safeguarded from the desires of flesh, and the desires for wealth and fame. Loyal to tradition, Hirsch claims, in contrast to most biblical and rabbinic sources, that this was Judaism’s position from ancient times, an approach kept in all generations. Hirsch writes about the exemption of women from positive time-bound commandments: The most likely reason the Torah does not obligate women in these mitsvos is that women do not need them. For the whole purpose of ‫[ מצוות עשה שהזמן גרמא‬positive time-bound commandments] is to represent—through symbolic actions—certain truths, ideas, principles, and resolutions, and to bring these values afresh to our minds, from time to time, so that we take them to heart and put them into practice. The Torah takes it for granted that woman has great fervor and faithful enthusiasm for her calling, and that the temptations awaiting her in the sphere of her calling pose but little danger to her. Hence, it was not necessary to impose on her all the mitzvos that are imposed on man. For man requires repeated exhortation to remain true to his calling, and it is necessary to repeatedly caution him against any weakness in the fulfillment of his mission. . . Women’s exemption from ‫ ראייה‬and from ‫[ חגיגה‬reiya and hagiga—different types of sacrifices at the Temple during the pilgrimage festivals], however, is apparently to be explained differently: The public national representation of the Torah—which is what summons the nation to the Sanctuary—belonged primarily to the calling of the men.5

Hirsch writes about female superiority in the last essay of his series about the woman in Judaism, appearing in Jeschurun and dedicated to the subject of “the Jewish Woman in the Talmud”: Even though the Sages of Judaism fully appreciate that women, because of their nature, are basically different from men, they regard women as full intellectual equals of the male sex. . . Our Sages consider women 5

Hirsch on Lev. 23:43.

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One i­ntellectually superior to men. The Creator has given greater intellectual gifts to the woman than to the man [BT Niddah 45b]; that is why women attain intellectual maturity earlier than men (‫)נדה מה‬. This, too, is why the Sages of the Jewish people regard the matriarchs, women such as Sarah and Rebecca, as no less inspired by the spirit of God and no less capable of communicating with Him than the patriarchs. . . In general, the view of the Sages of Judaism is that every human being, regardless of class, sex, or nationality, is capable of intellectual and moral perfection.6 6 Hirsch, Writings 8:134–135. Emphasis added. In the Talmud, in Niddah, the well-known teaching by Rav Hisda appears, explaining Rav’s reason for stating in the Mishnah that a woman’s vows are valid from the age of twelve, whereas those of a man only from the age of thirteen. “‘And God built the rib’ teaches that the Holy One, blessed be He, gave more intelligence to the woman than to the man” (BT Niddah 45b). Cf. Breuer, Edah, 116. Breuer represents the approach of twentieth-century Modern Orthodoxy, and he therefore admires greatly the “reversal” that Hirsch performed, without criticizing it. Ross, Armon, 89–91, 101–105, also took note of the reversal in Hirsch’s words, but for some reason she does not cite this source, which is the most explicit of all. She is also disturbed by the refusal of Hirsch and those like him to acknowledge the element of women’s inferiority in the Jewish tradition. Her further, post-modern criticism is of Hirsch’s apologetics, which, even if it is sincere, is no longer persuasive in many circles. She sees a flaw in the modern conservative approaches that rejected the historical conception of religion and preferred a single, eternal meta-program. In my opinion, it is hard to blame Hirsch for not being a post-modern pluralist, so that his approach no longer pleases us. His choice of a meta-narrative of a super-historical Judaism, entirely derived from Sinai, is understandable in its time. He prefers his meta-program to those proposed by others. He explains with great clarity that it is not possible to accept the historicism of the Halakhah that was proposed by the Reform movement and the historical positivists. For, in his opinion, if the Oral Law and the written Torah are not from heaven, there is no longer any basis to obligate us to observe them as they are and to prevent us from making corrections in them as our hearts desire, which is what others did, to his regret. My critique is different. I present a wide variety of sources and show that Hirsch’s selective apologetics, even if they are sincere, leads to difficulties and contradictions, making it difficult to maintain the meta-narrative that he so cherishes. Interestingly, Breuer, Edah, n. 111, 364, points out that the Rabbi Judah Loew (the Maharal) had a similar idea regarding the superiority of women. Examination of the source he quotes and other places in the Loew produces, in my opinion, a picture of the status of women entirely different from the reversal that Hirsch presents. Loew discusses there an Aggada in BT Brakhot 17a on a verse which at face value portrays women negatively, referring to them as: “women that are at ease” and “confident daughters,” (Isaiah 32:9) and warns them of their impending destruction. The Aggada, however, interprets the verse positively, promising a larger reward for women than for men (this why they are at ease and confident) explaining that their reward is greater because they are concerned to have their sons and husbands study Torah. According to Loew, based on Aristotle and his followers, the woman is matter, and the man is form. The man is active, and the woman is passive. Only the man is the essence of reality, and the woman is defective reality. The woman—even the whole part in her is not removed from inferiority. True, this inferiority gives her an advantage in one area. Since matter needs

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NEO-ROMANTICISM Neo-Romanticism is another feature of Hirsch’s approach. For our purposes, Romanticism refers to the philosophical and cultural ideas which conquered Europe in the wake of idealist philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724–1804) who maintained that man’s pure reason is incapable of comprehending things in themselves and, therefore, God is certainly beyond reason’s powers of apprehension. Kant, then, proffers man’s practical reason as adjudicatory. The Romantics, on the other hand, choose instead human experience obtained from the nation’s past. Anchored in emotion and transmitted through tradition, it supports the individual and the nation as a whole and constitutes a source of law. The Romantics wished to return to nature and the past, and were drawn to emotionalism and mysticism. Hirsch is a Romantic. He disqualifies rationalist, speculative philosophy based on Maimonides, Benedict (Baruch) de Spinoza (1632–1677) and Mendelssohn who believe that truth and morality belong only to reason. Hirsch, by contrast, argues that Scripture contains no hidden philosophical layer of allegory, and that intellectual study does not constitute a Jew’s ultimate purpose. He uses Kant’s philosophical revolution to argue that the failure of pure reason leaves us with only the historical experience of divine revelation as our standard for the true and good. Therefore, the highest form of morality is not an autonomous system adjudicated by man’s practical reason form and easily clings to it, it is easy for a woman, who is herself a passive creation, quiet and at ease, “being matter ready for this, then she unites and connects with the Torah [which is form] completely in the most marvelous eagerness. . . But men in this respect must work and take pains with the Torah without rest night and day.” This advantage enables the woman to receive a greater reward from the study of Torah. However, she is not permitted to study Torah, but her activity to assist and encourage her husband and sons to study Torah, which is an act less important than study itself, is enough for that. See Judah Loew, Drush ‘Al Hatorah Vehamitsvot. (Pieterkov, 1914), 3–31; Judah Loew, Kitvei Hamaharal Miprag, Mivh  . ar, A. Kariv (ed.) ( Jerusalem, 1960), Vol. 2, 340. In Rav Kook as well—and the Maharal was one of his spiritual teachers—there is a position that appears to be close to that of Hirsch, but its source is in a kabbalistic position which also holds woman to be inferior. The man legislates and conquers, and she is legislated and conquered, he is like the spirit, and she is like the soul, and therefore she also has an advantage, in that sanctity is natural to her and does not need to observe a large part of the commandments or to learn the Torah of the men. See Rozenak, Hanevuit, 246–251 and nn. 149, 161 there. Chertok, in his book Diyuqan Haisha Hayehudit beHaguto shel Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsch ( Jerusalem, 2006) did not discern that Hirsch maintains that the woman always possesses intellectual and ethical superiority over the man, and was very forgiving of his apologetics and his selective use of the words of the sages. The same can be said of his book Qanqan Yashan Male H  .  adash (Bnei Brak, 2000), chapter 2. For an extensive development of Hirsch’s stance regarding the status of the woman in Judaism and the internal difficulties it entails see Chamiel, Middle Way, chapter 5.

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One

which suffers from the limits of the flesh. The highest morality is a heteronomous system—a morality received from a transcendental, external source, a supernatural power, unfettered by matter’s sensual bonds. In terms of man’s purpose, and the lesson the Torah means to teach, Hirsch determines, in line with his Romantic post-rationalist approach, that the Torah contains no esoteric philosophy or secret mysticism. It is a codex of divine, ethical norms, which if accepted will bring mankind redemption. Man’s end-goal is ethical sanctity, a non-elitist goal, and Torah’s morality is the exclusive means of achieving it. True morality is divine and it is free of the hindrances and restrictions of any sensuality which can prevent reason from overcoming human will and hinder the observance of morality in its pristine form. Concerning the importance of returning to nature and its beauty, and the connection between nature and morality, Hirsch states: How utterly different is the spirit of Judaism where it can unfold itself freely! It transports us into the open country, where the brooks trickle and the meadows bloom, where the seeds ripen and the trees blossom and the herds pasture, where man exercises his powers in close contact with nature and places his exertions immediately under the protection and blessing of God. Nature meant us to be men of the fields and flocks. The Galuth has made us into wandering traders. Oh, that we could turn our backs on this occupation which has been artificially imposed on us, that with our children we might flee away to the simplicity of a country life infused with the Divine Jewish spirit! Then would simplicity and peace, temperance and love, humanity and joy, enthusiasm and happiness dwell with us; David’s harp would sound again and Ruth would again find the ears of corn on the field of Boaz.7 Clearly, the Torah considers it crucial that we see the Divine Lawgiver in the organic life of nature.8 Man is the only creature endowed with a capacity for enjoying beauty. This shows the importance of the aesthetic sense for the moral mission of man.9 Beauty’s effect on the soul is as radiance, as breath of air.10

Writings, 2:318. Praise of romanticism and proper emotionality is found in one of his essays on Hanukkah, Writings, 2:261–264. 8 Hirsch on Gen. 1:11–13. 9 Hirsch on Gen. 2:9. 10 Hirsch on Gen. 39:6–7. 7

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Hirsch does not subscribe however to classical romanticism represented in non-Jewish philosophy by the likes of Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768–1834) and in Judaism by the kabbalists and their modern interpreters, the Hasidic masters. I consider Hirsch a Neo-Romantic for two reasons. Firstly, as one who internalized the Haskalah, he eschewed mysticism like fire. He had nothing to do with theosophy, ecstasy, asceticism, meditative seclusion, theurgy, and sentimentality, seeing in all of these a pagan-Christian approach, playing on man’s emotions in order to obtain unbefitting, short-term achievements, an approach the Reform movement tries to emulate. Consequently, he rejects Kabbalah and Hasidism as well. He expresses his objection to being swept away by emotion in a number of places. Discussing Reform Rabbis, he writes in an essay on the High Holidays: Indeed, any era of religious restoration based on religious sentiment and “belief ” tends to produce also a growth of beliefs in clairvoyance, spiritism and even downright satanic cults. Indeed, where could the line be drawn if our emotional life were not to remain under the control of our clear good sense and intellect?11

In a sharp piece directed against Christian priests, whom the leaders of Reform Judaism wish to imitate, he writes that they radically employ emotion, sorrow and weeping, cheaply manipulating these feelings in order to promote religious fanaticism (the Hebrew word for non-Jewish priests, “Kemarim,” derives from the expression “‫[ ”נכמרו רחמיו‬his mercy was stirred, play of words on the root ‫ ;]כמר‬cf. his commentary there). Jewish priests (Kohanim), on the other hand, employ pure reason to improve man’s powers of judgment: The Jewish ‫[ כהן‬Kohen] is not dependent on devotion, emotion. Jewish Divine service is not designed to excite dark mysterious feelings. The Jewish Sanctuary appeals primarily to the intellect: ‫[ התפלל‬to pray] means to rectify one’s judgment and to make clear to oneself one’s relationship to things in general, one’s duties. Feelings are very cheap. One can weep copiously before God in prayer, and then get up and be no better than one was before! The ‫[ כומר‬komer] counts on exciting the emotions. The ‫כהן‬, however, has to be ‫[ כן‬honest] with himself and ‫[ מכין‬preparing], provide others with firm direction and a firm basis. Heathenism works on 11 Writings, 2:140–141.

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One the emotions and thereby shackles the intellect. The emotions, however, are like a clock mechanism without hands, restless movement that knows not whence or whither, which can be exploited for any purpose. The ‫כומר‬ fans the flames of hell and arouses fanaticism; he celebrates his triumph when ‫נכמרו רחמיו‬, when the innards of the believers reach a point of total ferment.12

In his first book The Nineteen Letters (English translation 1898, p. 187), Hirsch criticizes the corruption of Kabbalah, arguing that it has deviated from its pristine form and has become “a magical mechanism, a means of influencing or resisting theosophical worlds or anti-worlds.” However, as a loyalist to tradition, and because Kabbalah is directly linked by tradition to the Tanna Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai, he could not completely dismiss it. He therefore avoided the discussion, claiming he did not understand esoteric matters, and that in any case extant Kabbalah is inauthentic. Secondly, while Hirsch opposes speculative philosophy, he does not disqualify the importance of reason, maintaining that emotion should be restricted by healthy logic. According to Hirsch, Judaism does not support coercion. It teaches man to use his reason and to freely choose to follow the Torah’s morality which, as mentioned, is the greatest morality possible. It is a morality received in a divine revelation, experienced by the nation in an empirical, historical theophany. Its authenticity is affirmed by the event’s publicity and its subsequent transmission from father to son. Intellect receives the facts of revelation and formulates them and this formulation combined with free will is linked to the performance of a chosen way of life through the medium of emotion. Hirsch writes: What is required for the practice of God’s commandments is not hazy and excited emotion and imagination, but a clear mind and a sharp and sober intellect. The symbols of the Sanctuary speak not to the imagination, but to the clear and lucid mind. For only the mind—which comprehends clearly, reaches accurate conclusions, and places every detail in its proper category—is capable of guiding us to carry out God’s commandments.13 12 Hirsch on Gen. 43:30. Hirsch’s explanation of prayer as directed toward the person praying and not to God with the expectation of influencing Him, penetrated deeply into Jewish thought after him. One prominent proponent of this view was Leibowitz. 13 Hirsch on Lev. 10:9–11. On Hirsch’s opposition to Kabbalah, see Katz, “Hirsch,” 19–21. Katz states that in his criticism Hirsch refers to “the magical mechanism for influencing theosophical worlds or to defend against Satanic worlds,” in the Kabbalah of the “Ari”

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NEO-FUNDAMENTALISM A third feature of Hirsch’s thought is Neo-Fundamentalism. Fundamentalism is the view that the words of God, transmitted in writing or orally, cannot contain error, and everything they tell truly happened in real time and space. Any historical, geographical or scientific information appearing in the Holy Scripture is therefore absolutely true, and in the event of contradiction between religious texts and historical, scientific or philological research, truth lies with revelation and the statements of science should be restricted. This definition was formulated by James Barr,14 who stresses in his book that he is exclusively discussing Christian Evangelicalism and not Judaism. In his opinion, Judaism has no distinct form of fundamentalism as it possesses a virtually uniform version of Scripture, and lacks internal contradictions unlike the New Testament’s divergent descriptions of Christianity’s beginnings in the gospels. That being said, I think that Hirsch’s struggle against historical, philological Bible criticism as well as his ­struggle against the positivist-historical movement (which claimed that the Oral Torah developed within history and did not originate from God at Sinai) can both be considered fundamentalist. His struggle against religious reforms, initiated by the Reform movement at the beginning of the second decade of the nineteenth century, occupied almost the entirety of Hirsch’s literary and educational enterprise. When the positivist-historical school appeared on the stage mid-century, he quickly discerned the danger posed to Orthodoxy by this position. The view that the Oral Torah is the independent creation of the Sages was, in Hirsch’s opinion, an undermining of Judaism’s very foundations, because it implied that we too, like the Sages, can continue to change Halakhah according to our own understanding and in accordance with the changing needs of our times. Hirsch adopted the fundamentalist position of the Geonim and Nachmanides, that the entire Torah, both the written Pentateuch and the oral halakhic midrash, originate from Sinai, and are both divine (though Nachmanides’s claim, that all halakhic disputes were also of Sinaitic origin, never occurred to him). The Torah’s account of the public theophany at Sinai, and the Sages’ testimony concerning the chain of tradition—that all of Halakhah stems from Sinai and that they simply played the part of transmitters—are all proof of (Rabbi Isaac Luria). Horvitz, “Haqedusha,” concurs. To the best of my understanding, these areas of theurgy and duality in the Kabbalah were already present in the Zohar. See Tishby, Hazohar, 105–107, 287–301. Yehuda Liebes and Moshe Idel have shown that these pursuits were already known in talmudic times. See Chapter Seven below. 14 J. Barr, Fundamentalism (Philadelphia, 1978).

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One

this. In order to distance the position of reformers as much as possible, Hirsch initiated an additional, third revolution, adopting a position beyond that of Nachmanides and the Geonim, as already shown by Jay Harris in his book How Do We Know This? Hirsch asserts that at first the entire Torah was transmitted orally, from God, at Sinai or in the wilderness of Sinai, and it is this transmission which constitutes the law code of the Jewish people. It was only at a later stage, during or at the end of the sojourn in the wilderness, that a second stratum was added to this: Moses received a written book of codes summarizing the Oral Torah in the most efficacious way, as well as the thirteen hermeneutical principles, the key to deciphering the Written Torah and a means of reconstituting forgotten laws. Such a code book is important for its ethical and educational messages, its explication and emphasis of less common cases, and its focus on commandments related to the Land of Israel. This code book was intended to ensure that Halakhah would never be forgotten and would be easy to study and memorize, as well as to preserve the link between Halakhah and the revelation at Sinai. This revolutionary view assists Hirsch in his struggle against Bible critics, who argue that Scripture contains allusions to later events, which indicate, in their opinion that it was written only subsequent to them. For example, the Sabbath is already mentioned in the creation account even though it was only taught to Israel at Sinai. The role of celestial bodies in establishing holidays is also mentioned there even though this process is only known from the Oral Torah. The emphasis on “according to their kind” (le-minehu) mentioned in the creation account is basically the prohibition of crossbreeding, a commandment only appearing in Parashat Qedoshim. Bible critics claimed that such cases prove that the Nation of Israel developed traditions, which crystalized into documents and eventually into the Torah, a process continuing hundreds of years after Moses. Only after all of this was the Oral Torah developed by the Tannaim and Amoraim. Hirsch, however, argued the opposite. At first, Moses received from the Almighty the entire halakhic codex of the Oral Torah as a single unit, and it was only afterwards that he received the Written Torah, as a secondary stratum, containing allusions to the previously transmitted laws. The Sages innovated nothing, and only recovered forgotten halakhot from this book of codes, assisted by the thirteen principles. Hirsch thus elevated the Oral Torah’s status from its usual secondary position, and with characteristic fundamentalism transformed it into the Torah’s primary layer, delegating the Written Torah to second tier. The main source of Hirsch’s views on this subject appears at the beginning of his commentary on Parshat Mishpatim. There he explains (according to his position) that the transcription

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The Dual Truth

of the commandments specifically began from the marginal laws of male and female Hebrew slaves, in order to emphasize the importance the Torah accords to the well-being and prosperity of the nation’s weakest classes. Following this answer, he writes about the respective statuses of oral and written Torah: The primary source of Jewish law is not the written word, the “Book,” but the living teachings of the oral tradition: the “Book” serves only as an aid to memory and a resource when doubts arise. The Book itself establishes the fact that the whole Torah had already been transmitted to the people and impressed upon them and lived by them for forty years, before Moshe— just before his death—turned over to them the Book of the Torah. . . On the whole, the “Book” records not principles of law, ‫כללים‬, but individual concrete cases, and they are recorded in such an instructive manner that one can easily deduce from them the principles that were entrusted to the living consciousness of the oral tradition. The language of this “Book” was so skillfully chosen that in many instances an unusual term, a change in sentence structure, the position of a word, an extra or missing letter, and so forth can imply a whole train of legal concepts. This Book was not intended as a primary source of the Law. It was meant for those who were already well-versed in the Law, to use as a means of retaining and reviving, ever anew, the knowledge that they had already committed to memory. It was intended as a teaching aid for teachers of the Law, as a reference to confirm the Oral Law, so that the students should find it easy, with the aid of the written text before them, to reproduce in their minds, ever anew, the knowledge they received by word of mouth. The relationship between ‫[ תורה שבבתב‬the Written Torah] and ‫תורה‬ ‫[ שבעל פה‬the Oral Torah] is like that between brief written notes taken on a scientific lecture, and the lecture itself. Students who attended the oral lecture require only their brief notes to recall at any time the entire lecture. They often find that a word, a question mark, a period, or the underscoring of a word is sufficient to bring to mind a whole series of ideas, observations, qualifications, and so forth. But for those who did not attend the instructor’s lecture, these notes are not of much use. If they try to reconstruct the lecture solely from these notes, they will of necessity make many errors. Words, marks, and so forth, that serve the students who listened to the lecture as most instructive guiding stars for the retention of

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One the truths expounded by the lecturer appear completely meaningless to the uninitiated. The non-initiate who will attempt to use these same notes in order to construct (as opposed to reconstruct) for himself the lecture he did not attend will dismiss what seems unclear as baseless mental gymnastics and idle speculations leading nowhere.15

In any event, it is clear that according to Hirsch it is the morality of the Torah, encapsulated in its oral and written components, which represents the highest form of morality and the only ethic that can redeem mankind. Nothing else can elevate man to sanctity: a state of control over one’s sensual desires (as much as this is possible), and a closeness to the spiritual God. As mentioned, Hirsch had internalized important principles of the Haskalah. Universalism, the equality of humans—possessors of reason, and the integration of the “Science of Man” (Torat ha-Adam) with the “Divine 15 Hirsch on Ex. 21:2, italics in original. This is not the first time that traditionalists have taken extreme positions against those wishing to undermine the Sinaitic origins of the Oral Torah. Saadya Gaon, in his struggle with the Karaites, preceded Hirsch. He maintained that God taught Moses the entire Torah and then selected parts of it to be written and transmitted by Moses to the Jewish people. The rest of it was transmitted as an oral tradition. He thus accorded the Oral Torah equal status with the Written Torah. See H. Ben Shammai, ‘al-mudawin, in Orekh Sifrei Hamiqra, Beparshanut Hamiqra Haaravit Hayehudit Rishonim Veah  . ronim, Meh  . qarim Betoldot Yisrael Mugashim Leavraham Grosman, ed. Y. Hacker et al. ( Jerusalem 2009), 73–110. Hirsch is also not the last to give the Oral Torah precedence. His revolutionary stance recalls that of Rabbi Joseph B. Soleveitchik and Yeshayahu Leibowitz with respect to the status of the Halakhah in the Oral Law, discussed by A. Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit Lenokhah  .  Hamoderna,” in idem, ed. Yeshayahu Leibowitz Olamo Vehaguto ( Jerusalem 1995). According to Sagi, they state that the Oral Law takes preference over the written Torah. However, he is wrong in stating that they were the first to do so. However, their revolution was different both in meaning and motivation. As Sagi explains, their revolution was a more modern one, deriving from understanding that the written Torah—as the word of God—is transcendental and not subject to understanding, whereas the Oral Law is a human creation and therefore it is relevant to people, and it is what gives the divine dimension to the written Torah. According to Leibowitz, the obligatory status of this human creation derives from its not emerging from reality or determined by it, but that it turns outward from within human reality, and it is entirely contrary to human nature, demanding that people must rise above their nature, needs, and values. Among those values one must include ethics, so that obedience to a commandment because of its ethical value is not worship for its own sake. This approach is clearly entirely different from Hirsch’s fundamentalism, which maintains that the Oral Law is also from heaven as the word of God, and its transcendental and obligatory status derives therefrom, and it is the goal of the Torah to teach us ethics, and this is the inner meaning of the commandments. Hirsch’s motivation, as I show, was to distance himself from the phenomenon of modernity—historical research, Bible criticism, and the trend of reforming the Halakhah.

15

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The Dual Truth

Teaching” (Torat ha-Elohim), were all important foundations of his thought. However, unlike his contemporaries—Luzzatto and Chajes—who shared his desire to combine Torah and science, he rejected Wissenschaft des Judentums in its entirety because in his opinion it reflected aspiration for religious reform in accordance with the modern Zeitgeist. He especially opposed the invalid principle of using modern, textual research tools to understand the divine text of the Torah and on similar grounds rejected the historical-evolutionary approach to Halakhah. Hirsch considered both components of the Torah, written and oral, supra-historical and beyond time and place, and saw the Sages not as legislators but as transmitters and restorers of laws which had originated from Sinai. He therefore disputed at length the views of Heinrich Graetz (1817– 1891) and Rabbi Zacharias Frankel (1801–1875) from the historical-positivist school, who saw the Sages as creators and innovators of the Oral Torah. The view that the Sages were brilliant individuals, creating halakhot according to their own human leanings and based on their deep insights into the needs of the nation and time, was seen by Hirsch as a diminution of the Sages’ status, and a legitimization of halakhic reform. Hirsch therefore debates at length with the theories of Graetz and Frankel as reflected in their works. I believe that Hirsch clearly proves that one cannot conclude on the basis of tannaitic and amoraic texts that the Sages were split into a group of traditionalists opposed by a group of creative legal innovators. Similarly, there is no basis for the claims that Shammai and Rabbi Eliezer did not engage in exegesis, relying only on tradition, while others Sages such as Hillel (who formulated seven hermeneutical principles), Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai, Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Akiva, marginalized the centrality of tradition and advocated independent innovation in order to justify their creation of new laws. The claim that Rabbi Yishmael was moderate and rational in his reading of the text (“the Torah spoke in the language of man”) and in his halakhic rulings and that Rabbi Akiva was a radical innovator and a strict legislator is a generalization. Hirsch demonstrates that Graetz’s entire typological approach is based on an erroneous reading of the midrashic text. His proofs are sweeping, superficial, tendentious and selective; they embed the arrow and draw a target around it. Looking back retrospectively, I think it is fair to say that both sides were wrong and right at the same time. On the one hand, one can generally agree with Hirsch’s textual criticism of Graetz and Frankel, while not agreeing with his conclusions regarding the unity of Halakhah and its divine origins from Sinai. Conversely, it is necessary, in my opinion, to agree with the conclusions of Graetz and Frankel

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One

regarding the historical development of Halakhah and its origins in rabbinic innovation without agreeing with their specific reading of the text. Generally speaking, Hirsch’s keen observations about the words of the Sages as recorded in the Mishna and Talmuds are superior to the interpretations of Graetz and Frankel. I believe that the objective difficulty in demonstrating the historical development of Halakhah from canonical texts reinforces Hirsch’s interpretation. Such a procedure is mistaken in my opinion, leading to tendentious and selective scholarship, as Hirsch indeed demonstrated. The protagonists, writers, and editors, of canonical texts, were infused with a consciousness of Halakhah’s Sinaitic origins, and believed in a chain of tradition stretching back to Moses himself. Consequently it is very difficult to extract evidence of the human origins of the oral Halakhah or of its historical development from their texts. Even creative exegetes such as Hillel, Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Akiva did not operate with a consciousness that they were creating a new halakhah using their own reasoning, even if this is what they actually did. The Sages for the most part were imbued with a consciousness that their activity was an act of reconstructing lost or forgotten halakhot (R. Abahu in BT Temurah 15a; R. Eliezer in BT Hagiga 3b) of revealing laws from Sinai which were not given to Moses or which he never transmitted further for a variety of reasons (Rav Huna as quoted by R. Tanh  . uma in Bereshit Rabbah 1, 14; R. Akiva in BT Eruvin 21b) or an act of establishing and determining Halakhah from a number of possibilities conveyed to Moses at Sinai (R. Elazar ben Azarya, Tosefta Peah, 3:2 and in BT Hagigah 3b; R. Yannai in Midrash Shoher Tov and R. Tanh  . um ben R. Hanilai in Pesiqta Rabbati 21). One cannot conclude from an author infused with such a consciousness that his activity or the activity of his colleagues constituted an act of new, original legislation deriving from the character and personal motives of its adjudicators. That being said, Hirsch’s conclusion that it is possible and permitted to demonstrate the divinity of the Bible from the text itself is patently unscientific. The argument that this is what the text, its protagonists, and its bearers claim, or the logic that it can be demonstrated from the words of the Sages themselves that they were not Halakhah’s innovators, only its transmitters and reconstitutors, do not stand up to historical-philological criticism which is conducted on the basis of comparative research and close readings of the text, or upon rising above the text and beyond its content. For example, Graetz and Frankel’s argument that it was Hillel who first formulated the seven hermeneutical principles is not based on the actual statements of Hillel or the sons of Beteira but

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rather on the fact that before them nobody discussed these principles or their existence. Consequently, it can be argued against Hirsch’s approach (that the principle of a Torah dictated from God himself is based on the Torah’s own self-­ reference) that this single and non-objective testimony of a text about a public revelation at Sinai cannot be relied upon if we wish to prove its real occurrence in time and space. That being said, one must be extremely careful when searching for evidence in the statements of Moses or the text’s other protagonists, its author or editor, all of whom are imbued with a consciousness of revelation, in order to support the argument that Sinai is nothing more than a later myth. The arguments of Bible criticism do not depend on the content of the text but rather on subtle inference and delicate philological analysis, which demonstrate the existence of variations between different parts of the text—differences in names, titles, language and style and in cosmological and theological worldviews. No naïve traditional belief in a truly real, public revelation at Sinai can compete with what philological and hermeneutical scholarship understands today about the manner in which texts and religions are produced, about the authors of texts, whose worlds and traditions are reflected in the text, and about commentators, whose interpretations are heavily influenced by their native culture and birthplace and by their worldviews and personalities. Similarly, one cannot demonstrate based on the words of halakhic Sages, who are permeated with an awareness of revelation and continuity, that their activity is innovation and not transmission, as done by Graetz and Frankel. Conversely, one cannot demonstrate that their laws truly did originate at Sinai, as done by Hirsch. Graetz and Frankel’s correct conclusions about the development of Halakhah led a portion of the modern scholarship on rabbinic exegesis to cling to arguments which attempt to base themselves on the contents of the text, an effort which Hirsch showed to be a failure. Graetz’s typology, followed by later scholars, to greater or lesser extents, beginning with Rabbi David Tsvi Hoffman and after him Abraham Joshua Heschel (1907–1972), Isaac Dov Gilat, Yisrael ben Shalom and Rabbi Binyamin Lau, was criticized from the left and right. Religious fundamentalists on the right criticize it following the manner of Hirsch, arguing that the Sages only transmitted laws, and that their personal beliefs and opinions had no impact. The left of academic scholarship, represented by Ephraim Elimelech Urbach (1912–1991), argues that rabbinic midrashim should be studied and classified according to topics not personalities. Extant Rabbinic literature cannot be pigeonholed according to one specific thesis, as this entails ignoring certain scriptural interpretations or modifying

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One

them. Similarly, different midrashim belong to different time periods and many scriptural interpretations have been revised over the generations, sometimes over the course of several generations, according to the different worldviews of their editors, and therefore do not represent a sage’s original words. Likewise, humans change their opinions over the course of their lives and even contradict themselves. Therefore, it is impossible to arrive at consistent conclusions about the personal views of any given sage. I tend to agree with Urbach’s claims and with Hirsch’s textual criticism. In my opinion, the typologists clinging to Graetz and Frankel’s arguments, were mistaken, in that they believed that the contents of tannaitic texts yield arguments which, in my opinion, the Sages of Halakhah never intended: that Hillel formulated the seven hermeneutical principles, and that Rabbi Yishmael broadened them further; that Shammai was a traditionalist who opposed midrash halakhah; that Rabbi Eliezer was a follower of Shammai on this issue and rejected all innovative exegesis; that Rabbi Eliezer’s excommunication was due to his worldview which diverged from that of his colleagues (and not because he did not accept the ruling of the majority); that Rabbi Yehoshua was a creative innovator; that Rabbi Akiva was a brilliant innovator deriving laws from minute textual details (like particles et and raq); that his rival and polar opposite was Rabbi Yishmael whose views included the principle “the Torah spoke in the language of man”; about Rabbi Yishmael’s anger at Rabbi Akiva who wanted to execute a betrothed daughter of a Cohen by fire based solely on a seemingly redundant letter vav (“and”) in the word va-bat (“and the daughter”). I will not reiterate Hirsch’s textual analysis on these issues but I invite the interested readers to look at the English translation of Hirsch’s writings, Collected Writings (vol. 5, Feldheim Press) and judge for themselves. I will only add that a precise reading of BT Sanhedrin 51b indicates that even Rabbi Yishmael condemned the promiscuous betrothed maiden to death, albeit by stoning (which according to the Sages in Mishna Sanhedrin 7:1; 9:3—is the most severe court sentence) and not by fire. Rabbi Yishmael does not ignore Rabbi Akiva’s superfluous vav based on the principle “the Torah spoke in the language of man”; he simply uses it to derive another ruling as the dispute whether or not the “Torah speaks in the language of man” only applies to repeated words. Truth be told, this dispute appears many times in the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds and in the halakhic midrashim; it is clear that many Sages took part in it, and that it did not represent the exclusive view of Rabbi Yishmael. An extensive Tosafot in the Babylonian Talmud (Sota 24a, s.v. “ve-rabbi Yonatan”) makes sense of the issue. It maintains that Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Akiva’s views are indeed

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consistent but that other Sages modify their stances on a case by case basis. Although our text (BT Berakhot 31b) suggests that Rabbi Akiva maintains the principle of “the Torah spoke in the language of men,” the same source appears in BT Sota 26a, reversing the opinions; the aforementioned Tosafot seemed to possess a textual variant, which fitted the consistent views of Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Yishmael. In any case, Hirsch remarks, correctly in my opinion, that Rabbi Yishmael’s principle is only applied in cases of a repeated word and is not used to describe any other linguistic phenomenon. Urbach shares this view.16 Rabbi Akiva, the creative exegete and “innovator of halakhot,” expresses his own thoughts on the issue explicitly in the Midrash Sifra on Lev. 26:46: “Rabbi Akiva said [. . .] ‘at Sinai through Moses’, this teaches that the Torah was given with its laws, interpretations and minutiae, by God through Moses at Sinai”. It is important to note that Hirsch’s position towards Aggada is more daring. He decisively states that Aggada does not originate from Sinai, only reflects accepted scientific knowledge in the time of the Sages, that in such matters they too could err and that therefore no halakhic rulings should be based on it. Hirsch’s fundamentalist view is connected to his stance regarding the relationship between reason and revelation. Hirsch disputes Mendelssohn’s view that reason and revelation occupy two important but separate realms in Judaism and that universal reason is a standard for eternal truths and morality 16 On the stances of the Sages see S. Rosenberg, Lo Bashamayim Hi (Alon Shvut, 1997) 12–21, 69–70. On the stance of scholarship see Hoffman, Mesilot Letorat Hatanaim (Tel Aviv, 1988); A. Heschl, Torah Min Hashamayim Beaspaqklaria Shel Hayahadut, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem, 1962); I. D. Gilat, Mishnato Shel R. Eli’ezer Ben Horqanos (Tel Aviv 1968); idem, Peraqim Behishtalshelut Hahalakhah (Ramat Gan, 1992); I. Ben Shalom, Beit Shammai Umaavaq Haqanaim Neged Romi ( Jerusalem 1994). See also B. Lau, Hakhamim, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem, 2006), 153, 166–167, 188, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem 2007), 45–46, 62, 83, 98–106, 188, 193, 198–199, 201, 205. On Urbach’s position see H  .  azal Pirqei Emunot Vede’ot ( Jerusalem 1969), 2, 13–14, and n. 26. In my opinion the source of the personal typological system is in Krochmal, and it is also found in Luzzatto (his commentary on Ex. 12: 44). On this see also A. Shinan, “Qodem Kol Sifrut,” introduction to B. Lau, H  .  akhamim, vol. 3, Yemei Hagalil ( Jerusalem 2008), 20–21. On Rabbi Akiva’s position see Silman, Qol Gadol, 26–31. He states that Rabbi Akiva was a traditionalist—who took a position that he calls shlemutit [a neologism that might be translated as “holistic”], according to which both of the Torahs are entirely from Sinai, and there is no place for innovation. On pp. 40 and 48 he explains that the attitude of traditionalists to innovation that they themselves created derives from deep conviction that these innovations existed from time immemorial. In contrast, M. Fish, Ladaat Hokhma: Mada, Ratsionaliut Vetalmud Torah (Tel Aviv, 1994), 89–90 states that the Sages purposely concealed the innovation in their words, consciously donning a cloak of traditionalism. According to him, these Sages were pretending. I prefer Silman’s approach.

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One

(as stated by Maimonides). According to Mendelssohn, revelation constitutes a particularistic code of laws given to the Jews and encompasses no historical truths. Hirsch however, aided by Kant (the thing in itself cannot be known) argues that reason (even practical reason) based on sense experience cannot be used as a standard for truth and good. Although natural sciences, philosophy and revelation, at least in their unadulterated forms, all lead to identical conclusions, the decisive standard in cases of difficulties and contradictions, is—as maintained by Judah Halevi—revelation. One who rejects this identicality is a heretic because nature, reason and the Torah are all rooted in God: The God who commands man is none other than the Lawgiver and Director of nature.17 The identicality of the one and only God in nature and in history is the basis of our God-consciousness and self-knowledge. . . He gives and upholds the law by which the sun and the earth run their course, the seasons alternate, and all living things happily and hopefully begin and eventually complete their life cycles; so, too, He gave us the Law under which we are to develop our own character and all its potential for goodness and truth.18

Hirsch, therefore, maintains a fundamentalist view that the Written and Oral Torah cannot be mistaken, and reflect the highest and most absolute truth. In my opinion, Hirsch developed a neo-fundamentalist view as per the ­definition of James Barr.19 In his book, Barr maintains that the classic f­undamentalist clings to the belief in the superiority of the Holy Scripture over every other statement, whereas the neo-fundamentalist will change his stance in step with the establishment of scientific truths which contradict the truth of revelation, and is loyal to only one principle: the inerrancy of the holy text. Hirsch is indeed inconsistent in his “identicality approach,” oscillating back and forth between the “the restrictive (of science) position” (based on Judah Halevi) and the “interpretative (of Scripture) position” (based on Maimonides, according the model of Shalom Rosenberg). 20 As long as the scientific theories under 17 Hirsch on Gen. 7:9. 18 Hirsch on Deut. 16:1. See also on Lev. 25:18–19. 19 Barr, Fundamentalism. 20 Shalom Rosenberg, Torah Umada’ Bahagut Hayehudit Hahadasha. Jerusalem, 1988. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 351–357. Judah Halevi summarizes his view in the Kuzari, 1, §67.

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d­ iscussion have not been satisfactorily proven, and still seem to be nothing more than speculative science or philosophy, he adopts the “restrictive approach” which modifies science in accordance with the Torah, based on the argument that scientific theories are constantly changing and are nothing more than hypotheses. However, in matters of empirical science, already ­demonstrated beyond a reasonable doubt (such as the age of the Earth and the date of creation, the Copernican revolution, and even Darwin’s theory of evolution if adequately proven) methods of interpretation were not exhausted, and he was willing to employ the “interpretative approach” and to harmonize the Torah with science, as long as he was not forced to admit that the information in the Torah or in the halakhic midrashim of the Sages contained errors. As far as he is concerned, if the Creator formed all of creation from one cell, imbuing it with the necessary potential for the world to evolve into all the wonder and diversity before our eyes, this would be sufficient to establish the claims of Judaism and to guarantee its ethical superiority. The sources of Hirsch’s neo-fundamentalist attitude towards the relationship between the achievements of science and the statements of the Torah also appear in his essay “The Educational Value of Judaism,” written in 1873 and enclosed with invitations that were sent to the annual graduation ceremony of his educational institutions, and which was also intended for a non-Jewish audience. The essay was published in a book of his collected writings, Jeschurun, only in 1937. In the introduction to the book Mordechai Breuer notes that the essay was not included in the first publication of collected writings by Hirsch’s sons between 1902 and 1912. He does not explain why but apparently they had what to hide. Hirsch writes about speculative science which cannot compete with the statements of revelation: Only in the halls of academe does it become clear to us how many hypotheses of our era lack the support of reality, and how many of these hypotheses can be viewed only as possibilities or, at best, probabilities, even though everyone acts as if they had already been proven correct beyond the shadow of a doubt. Only in the halls of academe do we discover that there is hardly a phenomenon in nature not subject to widely divergent interpretations and that particularly the most common phenomena pose problems for which an explanation has yet to be found. Only in the halls of academe do we find out that any formula employed to compute the various aspects of a given phenomenon reflects no more than an accurate observation of the facts in a given process, but

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One this formula is still very far from giving us an insight into the essence, the real “whence” and “wherefore” of the fact. Only in the halls of academe can we truly see how scientific theories are subject to change and how the amazing progress of science in our era demonstrates that assumptions which today are proclaimed as truth triumphant, and are accepted by the minds of the masses with a blind faith that only unscientific minds can muster, may well be made obsolete by further scientific discoveries a decade hence. The halls of academe have seen many a “scientific theory” discarded as just another notion that has been proven erroneous and outdated. . . Judaism has survived so many of these theories; Judaism has been able to live with some of them, but it has never mandated any of them to be incorporated into its own belief system. On the other hand, Judaism is most anxious to make its adherents aware that all the phenomena of nature are subject to certain unchanging laws. Since Judaism itself is a system of laws through and through, it attaches a profound ethical value to the study of the natural sciences. Judaism considers it vitally important for its adherents to become aware that their entire universe is governed by well-defined laws, that every creature on earth becomes what it is only within the framework of fixed laws, and that every force in nature can operate only within specified limits . . . Judaism should certainly be permitted to cite the existence of such a theory [i.e., evolution] as proof that so many of the theories confidently advanced by science to disprove the Jewish concept of God and man are subject to change at any time. How many decades ago was the variety of the human races known today cited as an argument against the Biblical account which traces the descent of all mankind to one single human couple? And yet, today’s science would brand as an ignoramus anyone who would dare discount the thesis that all living creatures, not only man and the orangutan. . . are descended from one single living creature!21

He also writes about proven scientific theories, which should be used to interpret the statements of revelation: Judaism is not frightened even by the hundreds of thousands and millions of years which the geological theory of the earth’s development bandies 21 Writings, 7:261–265, from 1873. Interestingly, both Hirsch and Luzzatto use the same argument against scientific theories, which constantly refute their predecessors. See Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 244.

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The Dual Truth about so freely. Judaism would have nothing to fear from that theory even if it were based on something more than mere hypothesis, on the still unproven assumption that the forces we see at work in our world today are the same as those that were in existence, with the same degree of potency, when the world was first created. Our Rabbis, the Sages of Judaism, ­discuss (Midrash Rabbah 9; Tractate Haggigah 16a) the possibility that ­earlier worlds were brought into existence and subsequently destroyed by the Creator before He made our own earth in its present form and order. However, the Rabbis have never made the acceptance or rejection of this and similar possibilities an article of faith binding on all Jews. They were willing to live with any theory that did not reject the basic truth that “every beginning is from God.” In fact, they were generally averse to speculations about what was in the past and what will be in the future, because, in their view, such questions transgressed the limits of that which is knowable to man, or, at best, they did not enhance man’s understanding of his moral function. In the view of our Rabbis, the Book of Books was intended to be mankind’s guide for life on earth as it is at present. . . Anything beyond that simply did not exist for our Sages.22 What Judaism does consider vitally important is the acceptance of the premise that all the hosts of heaven move only in accordance with the laws of the one, sole God. But whether we view these laws from the Ptolemaic or Copernican vantage point is a matter of total indifference to the purely moral objectives of Judaism. Judaism had never made a credo of these or similar notions. . . This will never change, not even if the latest scientific notion that the genesis of all the multitude of organic forms on earth can be traced back to one single, most primitive, primeval form of the life should ever appear to be anything more than what it is today, a vague hypothesis still unsupported by fact. Even if this notion were ever to gain complete acceptance by the scientific world, Jewish thought, unlike the reasoning of the high priest of that notion, would nonetheless never summon us to revere a still extant representative of this primal form as the supposed ancestor of us all. Rather, Judaism in that case would call upon its adherents to give even greater reverence than ever before to the one, sole God Who, in His boundless creative wisdom and eternal omnipotence, needed to bring into existence no more than one single, amorphous nucleus and one single law of “adaption and heredity” in order to bring 22 Writings, 7:265–266.

Samson Raphael Hirsch    Chapter One forth, from what seemed chaos but was in fact a very definite order, the infinite variety of species we know today, each with its unique characteristics that sets (sic) it apart from all other creatures. This would be nothing else but the actualization of the law of le-mino, the “law of species” with which God began His work of creation. This law of le-mino, upon which Judaism places such great emphasis in order to impress upon its adherents that all of organic life is subject to Divine laws, can accommodate even this “theory of the origin of species.”23

NEUTRALIZING THE RETURN TO ZION, ASSIGNING IT TO A UTOPIAN FUTURE OUTSIDE OF HISTORY When it comes to the subject of the Land of Israel and the Return to Zion, Hirsch adopts Mendelssohn’s neutralizing approach. In my opinion, a close reading of his texts indicates that Hirsch should not be considered a precursor to Zionism. On this issue, he expresses coherent views, both in terms of a Return to Zion in his own time as well as in a distant messianic future, and not as claimed by Pinchas Rosenblit and Rivka Horowitz.24 The Jews, who are obligated by the three oaths, maintain loyalty to their homelands of residence, and the Return to Zion is vision of a utopian, supra-historical future. In Hirsch’s system, exile becomes an ideal which allows the Jewish people to serve as a light to the nations, teaching them the morality of the Torah, preparing them for redemption. Hirsh, who generally dissents from Maimonidean views, actually adopts Maimonides’s position on this issue, arguing that there is no unique, immanent sanctity to the Land of Israel or to the Jewish people. As a universalist who had internalized many ideas of the Haskalah, who sought to integrate into general culture and who demanded emancipation, he affirms (with a large dose of apologetics) that unlike his cultural hero Judah Halevi, the Jewish people are only first among equals, and the Land of Israel is only an instrument for observing the Torah—an instrument which has so far disappointed. He maintains that the Land of Israel is a dangerous as a tool: in the past, the abundant good it bestowed upon the people, when they kept the Torah in the land, ultimately led to their moral corruption. That being said, loyal to tradition, and unlike the Reform movement, Hirsch writes that indeed at the end 23 Writings 7:263–264. 24 See P. Rosenblit, “Galut Veerets Yisrael ‘Al Pi S.R Hirsch Uvnei Doro,” in S. Schmidt (ed.), Sefer Zikaron Lemordekhai Viser Pirqei Ma’as Vehagut. Qevutsat Yavna, 1981, 160–169; R. Horowitz, “Hirsch,” 446–447. For details see next chapter.

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of real history the Jewish people will return to its land and state, although he expressed little excitement at this eventuality. The integration of a redeemed Jewish religious community, conducting itself according to the norms of the Torah, into an acculturated and flourishing Germany, was far more alluring to him. He also did not point to any inherent advantage to the separate national existence of the Jewish people in its land in this utopian end of days. In summary, I have presented in this chapter Hirsch’s three “neo”s which reflect the novelty in his Orthodoxy, Romanticism and fundamentalism and the three apologetic revolutions he initiated within Orthodoxy: in Jewish education, the status of women, and the status of the Oral Torah. This is opposed to his more classically conservative views on Bible criticism and the Return to Zion. I have shown that when it comes to religion and science, Hirsch maintains that at least theoretically, and in terms of their true and pristine statements, these two sources of knowledge should be identical. Practically speaking however, when difficulties and contradictions arise, revelation should be seen as the ultimate standard of the true and good. But when science proves its claims, and continues to be at odds with revelation, it is revelation which should be reinterpreted and harmonized with science as long as no harm is done to the inerrancy of the Holy Scripture. This is a patently incoherent point of view which I have designated Neo-Fundamentalism. I elaborate on all these topics in the following chapter.

CHAPTER TWO

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Lef t

C

eremonies marking Hirsch’s 200th birthday re-raised controversies between his interpreters on sensitive aspects of his thought. At a qiddush in honor of the event, in the Breuer K’hal Adath Jeshurun Synagogue in Washington Heights, a descendant of Hirsch delivered a speech in which he accused the synagogue of abusing its status by failing to educate using Hirsch’s approach of “Torah im Derekh Erets,” and for not studying his philosophy from his writings and his commentary on the Torah. This infuriated the rabbi of the s­ ynagogue, Yisroel Mantel, who considers the Haredi system of Lakewood the ideal approach for our times. Hirsch is no longer with us, he claimed, and without his personal guidance we, by ourselves, cannot successfully implement his system. Many scholars and interpreters have written about Hirsch’s thought, and many of them have failed to read it with the requisite level of objectivity. While an interpreter is inevitably captive to his own personal landscape—projecting his personal views onto his writings, readings and interpretations—sometimes this bias transcends the reasonable and in such cases the truth cries out and deserves to be heard. In Hirsch’s case, erroneous readings hail both from his right and left. His left-wing interpreters include Natan Rotenstreich, Eliezer Schweid, Noah Rosenbloom, Rivka Horwitz, Pinhas Rosenblit, Shalom Rosenberg, Ismar Schorsch, David Ellenson, Yehoyada Amir and Shlomo Chertok. Some wish to disassociate themselves from Hirsch, and to downplay his importance, ascribing to him exaggerated Haredism or ­compromising rationalism. Others seek to draw him closer to their own views, overstating his importance and ascribing to him exaggerated leanings towards secularism, liberal humanism or mysticism. Right wing interpreters include rabbis such

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as Judah Leib Orlean, Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, Isaac Breuer and Eliyah Meir Klugman as well as Jacob Rosenheim. They all attribute excessive Haredism to Hirsch, seeking to draw him closer to themselves. Balanced interpreters include Mordechai Breuer, Isaac Heineman, Jacob Katz, Eliezer Stern, Robert Liberles, Michael Meir, Benjamin Ish Shalom and Lawrence Kaplan, scholars who read Hirsch as he is: a man of the middle path, not seeking to draw his views closer to their own, neither to the left nor to the right. In this chapter, I will present Hirsch’s different interpreters according to their attitudes towards him and his philosophy, showcasing a sampling of interpretations, some of which openly incline towards the personal leanings of the interpreter or scholar in question. This should serve as a warning sign to any researchers or scholars who wish to genuinely understand the views of a philosopher: to be cognizant of their own leanings and weaknesses, and to defer passing judgment until they have studied the majority of a philosopher’s writings with as much objectivity as possible. I myself will choose the balanced interpretation of Hirsch and on the basis of textual analysis will argue for a distinction between the theoretical principles of Hirsch’s method as opposed to his proposal for practical action. Researchers and interpreters are divided over Hirsch’s attitude towards two major issues. The first is his system of “Torah im Derekh Erets” and whether or not it represents absolute truth or merely a compromise. The second is the question of Hirsch’s position on the spectrum between particularism and universalism, and whether or not Hirsch can be considered a precursor of Zionism. I will try to demonstrate that this debate often stems from interpreters’ personal positions, and I will take this opportunity to try and clarify my own views on Hirsch’s attitudes to these two controversial issues. Haredi interpreters legitimately considered Hirsch an opponent of Zionism, or more precisely, an opponent of an organized return to Zion in the real world. It was because of this and because of his determined battle to rescue Orthodoxy and combat religious reformers in Western Europe that they sought to appropriate him for their camp. To accomplish this they were forced to ignore his emphatic advocacy of incorporating secular studies into the Jewish educational system, as well as his esteem for all that is true, beautiful and good in European culture, an attitude he considered the true philosophy of Judaism. His opposition to kabbalistic mysticism, Hasidism, and the speculative rationalism of Maimonides, did not please defenders of the faith who considered Kabbalah and Maimonides’s Mishneh Torah sacred. This ­ ­phenomenon ­compelled them to not only interpret Hirsch in the spirit of

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

their own thought, but also to censor his writings or at the very least revise and “improve” them, in order to better suit their purposes. Academic research also makes errors (although it at least strives to read Hirsch’s writings with a measure of ­objectivity), allowing the personal, subjective attitudes of researchers to creep in.

“TORAH IM DEREKH ERETS”—OPTIMAL TRUTH OR COMPROMISE AFTER THE FACT The Haredi Position Before Hirsch’s rabbinical disciples, and apparently even in his own lifetime, his system was the subject of European rabbinic criticism. Rabbi Israel Salanter (1810–1883) founder of the Lithuanian Mussar movement, is credited with the view that Hirsch’s system is only appropriate post-factum, suited only for the specific time and place of Germany—its yeshiva system already destroyed—a last ditch effort to save a generation already imprisoned by the chains of the Haskalah. In Russia, however, where the strongholds of Torah were more solid, Torah study should not be reduced at the expense of any other discipline, a measure that could lead to destructive results. Nevertheless, Salanter was excited about Hirsch’s Nineteen Letters and looked favorably on the idea of translating it into Russian to allow Russian yeshiva students to study it.1 Following this approach, the Haredi world eventually developed two attitudes towards Hirsh’s “Torah im Derekh Erets.” Some read Hirsch’s writings in depth, grasping his serious approach to the subject, agreeing that Hirsch did not consider his system a compromise. When interpreting the significance of this system, however, they divest it of its revolutionary sting. Eliyahu Meir Klugman explains that in Hirsch’s system the Torah retains total sovereignty over any Derekh Erets, as has been and will always be: Torah study is primary, and the study of the wonders of creation (science) and God’s providence and orchestration of the world (history) is subordinate. Comparing them or giving them equal status, in any form or under 1 See I. Etkes, R. Yisrael Salanter Vereshita Shel Tenu’at Hamussar ( Jerusalem, 1984), 305–309 and note 118 there. See also A. Klugman, “Quntres Vayehi Biyeshurun Melekh,” introduction to S. R. Hirsch, Sefer Shemesh Marpe (New York, 1992), idem (ed.), 281–282 and note 40 there.

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The Dual Truth any name, leads a person directly to heresy. [. . .] It is therefore clear, that no “Derekh Erets” and no wisdom has the right to be accepted on its own merits. [. . .] The situation in Germany at that time was very similar to the current situation in Western Europe and the United States. Consequently, there was also a need to immunize the youth against the temptations of the world, temptations which were enormous.

In the past, he argues, secular education was studied for practical purposes only and never to understand the world or man’s obligations within it, and serious secular studies were only the pursuit of a small elite. This was mainly due to a fear of secular studies’ negative influence and a concern for wasting time that could be better spent on Torah study.2 This historical analysis of Judaism’s approach to secular education may be correct, but it is not what Hirsch thinks. He maintains that as long as it was still possible, all Jews studied secular subjects alongside Torah, treating them as a value and a necessity. Persecution and oppression made this impossible during the majority of Exile.3 However, now that it is once again feasible, it is incumbent upon us to restore our former glory and to properly combine these two disciplines, in an institutional curriculum intended for all students from a young age. Klugman disregards passages in which Hirsch stresses the importance of secular studies and their equal footing with religious education, two realms stemming from God. Obviously, reason resides in a material body subject to sensuality, and is liable to err (and even does so quite often) and therefore external philosophies which conflict with the Torah are to be summarily dismissed. Nevertheless, Hirsch still maintains that everything true, good and beautiful from European culture—as long as it does not contradict the Torah, or can be reinterpreted in its light—should be willingly accepted, serving to enhance the structure of the Mensch-Jisroel (Man-Israel). The revelation encapsulated in the Torah represents absolute, all-encompassing truth. However, parts of it were forgotten due to oppression and persecution, it was interpreted poorly, and it contains sections which are unclear to us. Philosophy and natural sciences, fruits of distilled reason, reach conclusions identical to the truth of revelation. However, the path to this understanding is long and beset by many obstacles. When purified, the Torah and the natural sciences and philosophy represent one identical truth, deriving from the same divine source. 2 3

See ibid., 328–334. See Hirsch, Writings, 7:12–13.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

Integrating them into a student’s education allows him to overcome the obstacles present in the study of Torah and the natural sciences. This combination refines both areas of study, and molds a student with a synthetic personality, dialectically greater than the sum of its parts. As I have shown in the first chapter, this revolutionary position, which only professes to be traditional, is largely based on the notion that the doors of interpretation always remain open, even going so far as to allow the acceptance of Darwin’s theory of evolution. Below I will elaborate upon this view further. Klugman’s stance is based on the views of Isaac Breuer as well as Jehiel Jacob Weinberg. Like Klugman and Breuer, Weinberg interprets Hirsch’s view so that it will accord with the Haredi position. He devotes a special essay to Hirsch’s thought, which, among other things, attempts to explain the system of “Torah im Derekh Erets.” He writes: Truth be told, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch sought in good faith, a mixture (meziga) of “Torah im Derekh Erets” and understood the concept “Derekh Erets” in its broader sense. [. . .] Judaism and culture are not contradictory elements and principles. On the contrary, they mutually complement each other. Not only does Judaism permit and tolerate culture in its domain, it itself constitutes the highest form of culture.

It is important to read this carefully: I am not sure that Weinberg’s use of the word “mixture” (meziga) refers to a synthesis. A mixture implies a combination of two things, not the creation of a new substance from two ingredients. The words mixture and synthesis do not imply the identicality discussed by Hirsch. However, Weinberg also expresses reservations: Does Judaism require augmentation from general culture? Perhaps Judaism itself must serve as augmentation to this culture? Needless to say, the need for this kind of question devalues Torah. No observant Jew will agree to the view that even though he has studied much Torah, from a cultural perspective he is still incomplete, and must seek culture outside of the Torah to enrich his personality. Indeed there is nothing in Rabbi Hirsch’s writings, not even one word, to make room for the notion that he believed that Judaism and general culture complement each other. There is not even a hint of the idea that Judaism must tolerate another culture. [. . .] The Torah is therefore according to Rabbi Hirsch the power which creates “form”—Aristotle’s term for essence—and Derekh Erets is but

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The Dual Truth the matter upon which the Torah’s [form] acts. [. . .] They claimed that Rabbi Hirsch felt special admiration for German culture, as if he admitted to modern philosophy’s right to exist as complementary to Jewish culture, serving as intellectual inspiration. I have found no support for such a view in all of Rabbi Hirsch’s writings.4

Concluding his discussion of this matter, he cites as an authority Isaac Breuer, who claims that, according to Hirsch, “Torah im Derekh Erets” does not mean that Torah needs Derekh Erets, but rather that the Torah dominates Derekh Erets. Yaakov Rosenheim proposes a position more rightwing and less sophisticated than that of Klugman. He writes: “Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, may his memory be a blessing, understood the concept of Derekh Erets [. . .] as a person’s overall activeness in the system of business and work.” Similarly, Rosenheim believes that in his vulnerable generation, Hirsch considered it important to teach students secular studies as a defense mechanism against heresy—“know what to say to a heretic.” Rosenheim is also selective in his citations, underpinning his entire case from passages appearing in Hirsch’s commentary on Lev. 18:4, where Hirsch affirms that the sciences should be cultivated only as disciplines ancillary and subordinate to Torah study. Rosenheim explains that “it is 4

J. J. Weinberg ha-more ha-gadol (1951), in Kitvei Hagaon Rabbi Yaakov Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 1951), 340–349. Shapiro in his book, Between the Yeshiva World and the Modern Orthodoxy, The Life and Works of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg: 1884–1966 (Oxford-Portland, Oregon, 1999) 154–157 writes that Weinberg shifted from sharp opposition to Hirsch’s education system to agreement after his move to Berlin to head the Rabbinical Seminary there. He believes that Weinberg had a synthesis in mind but emphasizes that Weinberg’s interpretation of Hirsch even when he accepted and defended it was conservative, on the basis of this source. See M. Breuer, “Shitat Tora ‘Im Derekh Erets Bemishnato Shel Harav S. R. Hirsch,” Hamaya’an, Tevet 1969, 10–29. In the second pamphlet, 25–28, Breuer enumerates the interpretations of Hirsch’s system by Rabbis and Torah scholars who maintain that it was intended post-factum and only in Germany, and he argues that they are mistaken. In the first pamphlet on p. 2 he quotes Weinberg (whom he considers the only Rabbi to understand Hirsch) as saying “Torah im Derekh Erets is like the form on matter. There is no existence to the one without the other, they rely on each other and mix together.” On p. 14 Breuer quotes a passage from Hirsch which seems to have been Weinberg’s source “not only do they [Torah and Derekh Erets] not annul one another, they rely on each other, and mutually complement and complete each other, and only when they have been united and bound and been tightly mixed together—will they give birth the good and fortuitous, which we must strive for all our days on this earth.” Comparing the source to the quote it is easy to note the addition of “form and matter” and Weinberg’s significant omissions. For a detailed discussion of Weinberg’s approach to Hirsch’s Torah im Derekh Erets see below Chapter Eleven.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

possible to arm oneself with sufficient valor and spiritual might to designate the wisdom of the nations as raqahot ve-tabah  . ot [handmaidens; lit. perfumers and cooks] serving the molding of a perfect Jewish personality.”5 He thus demotes secular studies from assistants to slaves in Hirsch’s esteem. In contrast to the aforementioned approach, a second Haredi approach maintains that Hirsch’s position was always intended as compromise or at the very least that it is doubtful he would continue to maintain it in different circumstances. In their opinion, Hirsh was aware that his position did not optimally mesh with tradition. Nevertheless, he was forced to take action in order to rescue Judaism from ruin as an emergency injunction—“a time to act for God, they have annulled your Torah.” Once Hirsch was successful in Western Europe, and Torah study had stabilized there (as well in the United States, and afterwards in Israel), the advocates of this position decided that his system was no longer necessary and that a curriculum of exclusive Torah studies should be resumed. The spokesperson of this view is Judah Leib Orlean. In his opinion, Hirsch knew that his system of “Torah im Derekh Erets” was appropriate only for a small minority of the Jewish people: This is a system only suitable for the decayed and frozen part of the nation. It was conceived as a rescue anchor to save Western Judaism in the tumultuous struggles of that time, in the wake of the “Haskala.” [. . .] It would be a mistake on our part if we were to ignore the absolute truth, which Rabbi Hirsch (may his memory be blessed) did not ignore, a truth upon which he stated his opinion: that great danger lies in this system which has the potential to create new obstacles for the faithful Judaism in other countries.6 5

6

J. Rosenheim “Rashar Hirsch—Mevaser Umagshim H  .  azon Hayahadut Hanitsh . it,” introduction to Ma’aglei Shana Kitvei Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsch, vol. 1. )Bnei Brak, 1965(, 9–41. Rosenheim also maintains that Hirsch expresses no opposition to Kabbala and that Kabbala completes and serves as the basis of Hirsch’s symbolic interpretation of the commandments and their particularities. He ignores many sources in which Hirsch rejects mysticism and the panentheism of Hasidism considering them part of a new paganism spreading throughout the world, alongside materialism, Spinozan pantheism and Christian Hegelianism. Hirsch opposes ecstasy, theurgy, divine stratification, kabbalistic symbolism and the existence of satanic worlds. See, for example, Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters of Ben Uziel, trans. Bernard Drachman (New York and London: Funk and Wagnalls, 1899) letter 18, 187; Hirsch Ex. 20:20; Lev. 10:9–11. Cf. also J. Katz, Hahalakhah Bameitsar ( Jerusalem, 1992) 234–236; Breuer, Eda 71–73. J. Orlean, “Zemana u-Meqoma shel Shitat Rashar Hirsch” introduction to Ma’aglei Shana Kitvei Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsch, vol. 4 (Bnei Brak, 1966), 15–29. Cf. also J. Orlean,

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Therefore, in Orlean’s opinion, Hirsch’s system should not be adopted in Israel, Eastern Europe, or anywhere else, and focus should be concentrated exclusively on Torah study. Even trade schools are superfluous and those disabled in spiritual matters, can resolve their situation without institutional intervention, learning a trade on their own. This position also justifies the censorship, correction and revision of Hirsch’s texts in order to make them more suitable for a new Haredi readership. This is what the Haredi publisher Netsah  .  did in its Hebrew translation of The Nineteen Letters, and its essay collections Bema’aglei Shana and Yesodot Hah  . innukh. These translations are essentially rewritings, revising and “improving” Hirsch’s words as needed. Hirsch’s criticisms of Maimonides and Kabbalah in letter eighteen of the Nineteen Letters, were censored and erased altogether, and the essay collections published by Netsah  .  did not include all the material relevant to their stated subject matter. In their collection of essays translated from Jeshurun and included in two volumes entitled Yesodot Hah  . innukh, Kitvei Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsch7 the publishers did not hide their omissions. They explained, in the introduction to the second volume, that they omitted essays containing unambiguously positive portrayals of the system of “Torah im Derekh Erets” because it is doubtful that in our day, Hirsch would continue to maintain his method which would compete with today’s flourishing Torah education system. Even the English translations published by Feldheim, though invaluably preferable to those of Netsah, are not free of “improvements.” I did not methodically compare Feldheim’s translation to the source text, but came across discrepancies during my study, when a certain wording in the translation did not seem to reflect Hirsch’s views. In the English translation, I found such an “improvement” in the essay “H.  azaq   Venith  . azaq” at the end of the eighth volume of Hirsch’s Collected Writings. In this paragraph, Hirsch writes that the circumstances of religious students are more difficult today than in the past. In the German original Hirsch writes that these students study in the academy and in yeshivot and are occupied by their Jewish Bildung (“education”), assailed from left and from right. The English translation omits Jewish “Bildung” and instead writes about students “who devote themselves to their Jewish studies “Ha-H  .  innukh ha-Yehudi ve-Yesodotav be-Avar u-ba-Hove” introduction to Yesodot HaH  .  innukh, vol. 2 (Bnei Brak, 1968), 25–42. 7 Volume one lists the publication date as 1980, whereas in volume two is listed as 1968. It seems the year 1980 in volume one is a second print as it is unlikely that the first volume was published in 1980 and the second volume in 1968. According to the editor’s introduction to volume two it seems that volume one was published in 1958.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

at Talmudical academies or yeshivoth.”8 The source text legitimizes university studies, which the translator was unable to accept. This is a fundamental and significant change. In the new Hebrew translation of Horeb I found a revision in a chapter discussing the commandments of education. Hirsch writes there, in the German original, that one should teach a child natural sciences and history but should be careful that these studies only be ancillary to Torah studies. The translator writes “However, all of this [secular studies] should be for the child only raqah  . ot veta9 bah  . ot [handmaidens].” This expression is commonly used in traditional texts and by Haredim (such as Orlean as cited above) to lower the status of external disciplines to the level of maidservants. However, Hirsch—whose lexicon does not contain any such expression—would not agree. With little difficulty, one can use the same symbolism to explain Hirsch’s true view: Hirsch would compare these disciplines to the matron of the house, her husband’s helpmate, equal to him in her value and rights. Just as the husband brings his wife into his house, sheltering her under his wing, so the Torah serves as the touchstone for examining and purifying the statements of science and philosophy.

The Academic Stance A review of academic studies on Hirsch’s system of “Torah im Derekh Erets” reveals three basic trends: scholars who distance themselves from his views, regarding them with disapproval; scholars who admire his views and tailor them to draw them even closer to their own; and scholars with a balanced approach, who admire some of his positions and disagree with others, but read him with as much objectivity as possible.

Disapproval of Hirsch Nathan Rotenstreich, Ismar Schorsch, Yehoyada Amir and Noah Rosenbloom belong to the group of researchers who disapprove of Hirsch’s views. Rotenstreich sees no significant difference between Hirsch and the Haredim. According to him, the combination of “Torah im Derekh Erets” proposed by Hirsch is limited to practical day-to-day life. In his theoretical philosophy

8 Hirsch, Writings, 8:320. 9 Hirsch, H  .  orev, trans. Y. Friedman ( Jerusalem and New York, 2007), 384.

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Hirsch wished to preserve Judaism’s seclusion within its own boundaries.10 Rotenstreich argues that the contradiction between Torah on one hand and Derekh Erets (in the sense of the sum of practical knowledge) on the other, is in fact the contradiction between Judaism—as it materialized over the course of the centuries from its own internal sources—and daily life in the Hirsch’s time. According to Rotenstreich, Hirsch admits that Jews in his time can no longer confine themselves to Judaism’s internal world and as a compromise to the needs of the era, must include Derekh Erets, which as an element of day-today life only does not shape Judaism’s content. Unlike Rotenstreich, I believe that Hirsch denies any contradictions between Torah and Derekh Erets, maintaining their identicality on a theoretical and philosophical level. Practically speaking also, it is important to combine them, though here one must be more cautious, assessing the achievements of culture using the Torah as a litmus test. It seems that Hirsch’s dialectical approach, which considers general culture valuable in molding a complete Jew (as I will explain below), is far beyond what Rotenstreich attributes to him. Ismar Schorsch and Yehoyada Amir reject Hirsch’s worldview based on their dissapproval of Modern Orthodoxy,11 but I disagree with their interpretations. Schorsch generalizes that Hirsch rejected science as a foreign method of thought. Amir claims that Hirsch did not dare to bring secularism into the domain of Torah, and did not accord it an equal status with religious study. In my opinion, Hirsch believed that purified religion and purified science must be identical, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a heretic! Torah study is incomplete without its secular counterpart, and a perfect Torah Jew is one who has internalized, integratively and dialectically, the very best of European cultural wisdom. I will try to demonstrate this below. Rosenbloom rejects Hirsch from the right, due to (what he considers) Hirsch’s exaggerated religious moderation and his proclivities for rationalism.12 He claims that Hirsch tries to emulate Maimonides—a strange statement considering Hirsch’s explicit disagreements with Maimonides, and his choice of Judah Halevi as his cultural hero. Mordechai Breuer sharply criticizes Rosenbloom’s research on Hirsch, rejecting many of his claims and arguing that Rosenbloom harbored prejudices against Hirsch’s personality, leading him 10 Cf. Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit Ba’et Hah  . adasha (Tel Aviv, 1987), 104. 11 See Schorsch, From Text to Context the Turn to History in Modern Judaism (Hanover and London,1994) 314; Amir, Qol Demama Daqa ( Jerusalem, 2009), 131. 12 See N. Rosenbloom, Tradition in an Age of Reform: the Religions Philosophy of Samson Raphael Hirsch (Philadelphia, 1976).

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

to dismiss and alter proven historical and biographical facts to better fit his preconceptions.13 Breuer argues that Rosenbloom’s comparison of Hirsch to Maimonides is mistaken and is based on a speculative psychoanalytical process. He rejects, among other things, Rosenbloom’s claims that Hirsch borrowed the term “Mensch-Jisroel” from Mendelssohn and that Hirsch in his educational curriculum primarily emphasized secular studies. As Breuer correctly points out, Mendelssohn considered these two realms separate whereas Hirsch considered them dynamically linked. Moreover, Hirsch considered religious studies at the very least equal to secular studies. Many new studies are not reflected or simply ignored in Rosenbloom’s work either because he was unaware of them or because they did not suit his thesis. Rosenbloom also relies on Netsah  .  publishers’ tendentious and distorted Hebrew translation of Hirsch’s collected writings. All in all, his book is not objective and his facts and arguments are constructed around his biases, tailored to prove his thesis.

Admiration of Hirsch I include among Hirsch’s admirers the scholars Eliezer Schweid, Rivka Horwitz, Pinhas Rosenblit, Shalom Rosenberg, David Ellenson, and Shlomo Chertok. With the exception of Rosenberg, these researchers draw Hirsch to the left of the middle way he had advocated. In The Nineteen Letters,14 Hirsch compares Torah research to inquiry into natural laws and phenomena in which a ­hypothesis which contravenes even one factual phenomenon is rejected; the conclusions of research based on a researcher’s assumptions and proposals must accord with a factual phenomenon. Similarly, no research can lead to a conclusion entailing the abolishment of God’s teachings—the commandments—factual phenomena, requiring no corroboration. Hirsch emphasizes that inquiry into nature and the Torah’s commandments is necessary in order to reveal their immanent divine wisdom. However, such research must be conducted using the correct tools and its results cannot alter facts contained in revelation. Consequently Hirsh invalidates the use of historical-philological tools to study the divine text of the Torah. Cultural Jewish humanist, Jewish humanist, Eliezer Shweid, considers Hirsch a positive figure, one whose views approach a notion of cultural 13 See M. Breuer, “‘Tradition in the Age of Reform’ by Rosenbloom, Noah H.” Tradition 16, 4 (1977), 140–149. 14 See Nineteen Letters, letter 18, 194, note 1. For an explanation of Hirsch’s position see Breuer, Eda, 160–162.

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u­ niversalism, at least as much as Orthodoxy can allow itself. He therefore maintains that “Samson Raphael Hirsch was no less sensitive than the philosophers of the Reform movement to the positive values of contemporary humanistic culture, and he, no less than they, wished to find harmony between the worlds of pure Judaism and pure humanism”. It should be noted that while Hirsch is humane (that is one who loves humanity), he is not an advocate of humanism (the authority of human consciousness). Wherever the commandments of the Torah, as interpreted by the Sages, distinguish between Jew and gentile, Hirsch does not seek to blur these lines and at the heart of his thought always stands a commanding, sovereign God, to whom an obedient mankind is subordinate. Schweid gives a liberal interpretation of Hirsch’s opposition, in The Nineteen Letters, to the scientific and critical research of the biblical text. He explains that Hirsch demands objectivity from Bible critics, and expects them not to exclude the possibility that the Torah truly is divine: Objective criticism requires that we assume, if only hypothetically, that Scripture is what it says it is [divine]. We must first study its contents according to that assumption and only then decide if they pass the test of reason. [. . .] Just as the researcher of natural science removes any preconceptions about the plausibility of facts, opening himself to the experience, that is to say to nature’s self-revelation, so too a researcher of the Holy Scripture must remove all his preconceptions and open himself to the experience unfolding during the learning process. [. . .] Hirsch believes in Torah study’s indirect powers of persuasion, as long as a person does not defend himself with pre-suppositions.15

I believe that Schweid’s interpretation is mistaken. As far as Hirsch is concerned, the Torah’s divine origins and the obligation to observe its commandments are not assumptions open to inquiry. They are factual truth, which like natural phenomena require no validation. The assumption that the Torah derives from a human source is false and forbidden. The “assumptions” which Hirsch permits a scholar to make are related to the rationales of the commandments and the overarching connections between them, not to the commandments themselves and their divine origins. Researching the commandments is an obligation. But this is only on the condition that factual truth not be harmed by one’s conclusions. If such damage does occur then it is a sign of error, and 15 See Schweid, Toledot Hehagut Hayehudit ba’et Hah  . adasha ( Jerusalem 1978), 297.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

at that point one should resume one’s research. Abraham Geiger (1810–1874), the father of Reform ideology, also does not share Schweid’s reading. In his book reviews of The Nineteen Letters and Horeb, Geiger attacks Hirsch’s antiscientific and dogmatic removal of the Torah’s divine origins from the purview of scientific research, striking it from the roster of legitimate questions which can be asked about Judaism.16 Ellenson also attempts to garner signs of secularization from Hirsch to draw him closer to his own views, offering his own explanation as to why Hirsch wished to secede from the larger Jewish community and create a purified Neo-Orthodox breakaway.17 He sees this separation as part of a process of secularization underwent by Neo-Orthodoxy, which included an understanding that unity between all segments of the community was no longer possible. I was unconvinced that secularization can be discussed in a Hirshian context, and Ellenson fails to anchor his statements in any kind of source. The views of Horwitz, Rosenblit, Rosenberg and Chertok are related to a dispute about another subject: anticipation of Zionism, which I will discuss in the following section.

Balanced Reading of Hirsch Reading all of Hirsch’s writings unselectively allows a balanced interpretation of his position, a reading that does not shy away from pointed criticism. This type of reading takes account of the fact that Hirsch’s writings include two tendencies. The first considers secular studies subordinate to Torah studies—ancillary disciplines subject to the litmus test of the divinely transmitted Torah. The second considers secular studies a necessity, according them inherent value equal to that of Torah studies. When incorporated into a curriculum, secular studies are the only way to build a complete “Mensch-Jisroel,” dialectically greater than the sum of its parts. In order to find a common denominator between these two tendencies one is forced to say the following: in principle, Hirsch maintains that these two realms, science and Torah, are identical in terms of their conclusions and theoretical statements; both derive from God, one from divine 16 See M. Seidler “Le’fitron Haba’ayot Hamerkaziot Beyoter Shel Hatoda’a Hayehudit, Hasimboliqa Shel Harav Shimshon Rafael Hirsch ‘Al Reqa’ Tequfato,” in B. Ish Shalom (ed.), Bedarkhei Shalom ( Jerusalem, 2007), 325–327, and note 20 and 21 there. 17 See D. Ellenson, “Ha-Dogma be-Tguvot Masortiot la-Reforma ha-Modernit: Ha-Paradigma shel Ha-Ortodoqsia ha-Germanit,” in Ortodoqsia Yehudit Hebetim H  .  adashim, ed. Y. Salmon et al. ( Jerusalem 2006), 345–366.

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revelation, the other from God’s gift to man—reason. The problem begins when we try to implement this principle in practice. At this point, it becomes clear that these two realms have their problems. Reason is limited by the sensuality of the flesh, hindering its ability to independently maintain ethical norms which oppose desire and egoism. Furthermore, it certainly cannot arrive at the symbolic commandments offered by the Torah. Revelation is not always clear and although meant to be all-encompassing, it does not always provide enough detail to cover all aspects of life. Moreover, it was misinterpreted by specious commentators in the past and parts of its oral component were even forgotten due to persecution and exile. Therefore, to be cleansed and purified, these two realms must be adjoined already in the first stages of education, allowing them to mutually complement each other. In Hirsch’s opinion, the limits of reason are far greater than those of revelation and therefore we must give priority to the revelation afforded to us by the Torah. We must examine the ideas of reason and to reject them as false if they contradict revelation. Accordingly, Hirsch prefers Judah Halevi’s notion of identicality—revelation as the standard of truth—to Maimonides’s notion of identicality—reason as the standard of truth.18 Hirsch adds that only when the theories of science and reason have been proven beyond a doubt, and cleansed of human shortcomings, is it (apologetically) necessary to reinterpret revelation, suiting it to the scientific theory in question, resolving any contradictions which remain. This is because contradiction is impossible between these two identical realms and the information provided by the Torah is the inerrant word of God. Whoever does not believe in this identicality denies that God is the giver of the Torah and the creator of man. This inconsistent position I have dubbed “neo-fundamentalism.”

SUPPORTING THE BALANCED READING Below are some citations from Hirsch’s writings which support a balanced reading of his thought.

18 See I. J. Gutmann, Dat Umada ( Jerusalem, 1979), 16–21, 66–70, 86–89; idem, Hafilosofia Shel Hayahadut ( Jerusalem, 1989), 115–129, 145. Shalom Rosenberg’s view on Judah Halevi’s identicality approach is similar, see Be’iqvot Hakuzari ( Jerusalem, 1991), 104–105. For Binyamin Ish-Shalom’s point of view see his “‘Al Mada’ Ushlemut Haruah  . —Biqoret Hamoderniut Vehapostmoderniut, R. Y. D. Soloveitchik Vehehagut Haneo-Ortodoqsit,” in Emuna Bizmanim Mishtanim, ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1996), 352–353. In terms of the opinions of Judah Halevi and Maimonides, his views are similar to Gutman’s.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

In Chapter One, I already cited Hirsch’s statements about the identicality of the laws of nature and the laws of Torah due to their shared divine source (according to the second tendency) as well as his statements about God’s orchestration of history.19 Hirsch maintains that human reason, like the wonders of nature, is also a form of divine revelation: Judaism is probably the only religion that does not declare extra me nulla salus [there is no salvation outside myself], that happily welcomes any intellectual or moral advance, no matter what its origin. Indeed, the timeless words of the Jewish prophets look with firm assurance to the ever-growing, ever-spreading spiritual and moral ennoblement not only of the Jews but of all mankind. Judaism is probably the only religion that teaches its followers to view not only the early light of dawn, the blossoms of springtime, the darkness of thunder, the flashes of lightning, not only the sight of anything beautiful, sublime, powerful or beneficial in nature, but also the sight of any human being great in wisdom or knowledge, no matter what his nationality or religion, as a revelation of the Divine. Whenever Jews behold such an individual, they must pronounce a blessing in praise of God Who has “given of His wisdom to mortals.”20

In contrast, Hirsch’s first tendency emphasizes the caution that should be exercised before adopting foreign culture: evaluating culture according to the principles of Judaism and refraining from employing Bible criticism which uses human research tools. He says about this: We are to be careful not to introduce into the sphere of the Torah foreign ideas that were developed on the basis of other premises. Rather, we should always be mindful of the superiority of the Torah which differs from all other scientific knowledge through its Divine origin. We should not imagine that it is based on mere human knowledge and accordingly is on the same level as other human sciences. [. . .] One should occupy himself with this knowledge only from the Torah’s perspective, for only in this

19 Notes 17–18. 20 Writings, 7:86, in the essay on “The Relevance of Secular Studies,” and see also ibid., 416.

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The Dual Truth way will this knowledge be beneficial to us, and they warn us that neglecting this perspective will jeopardize our intellectual life.21

However, in principle, and at the end of the human educational journey, purified culture and Torah are identical, a position noted by Mordechai Breuer and Binyamin Ish Shalom. Hirsch writes: “Culture beings the education of mankind and the Torah completes it. . . In the case of Israel, ‫[דרך ארץ‬Derekh Erets, lit. “the way of the earth,” here: civility] and Torah are tied together. In the House of Israel, the perfect human being and the perfect Jew are identical concepts.”22 According to Hirsch’s apologetic approach, once we have attained knowledge through the mediums of science and philosophy—knowledge which, at first glance, was lacking in revelation—we can subsequently find this knowledge in the Torah itself upon second review: Where among the spiritual treasures of modern nations and modern civilizations is there anything true and noble, good and beautiful, anything truly conduce to human happiness that cannot be traced back, directly or indirectly, to this sacred literature? Modern European civilization is the child of Hebrew and classic antiquity. Wherever we behold truth clothed in the beauty of form, we behold a joined product of Hebrew thought and Hellenic sensibility, Hebrew truth and Hellenic esthetics.23 21 Hirsch, Deut. 6:7. 22 Hirsch on Gen. 3:24. E. Schweid, “Two Neo-Orthodox Responses to Secularization— Samson Raphael Hirsch,” Immanuel 19 (1984–85), 116, argues that for Hirsch the world of Torah and the world of culture beyond it are separate—adjoining but never uniting; they live together in peace, and the demand for definite boundaries limits any attempt to unite them. A. Ravitzky H  .  erut ’al Haluh  . ot (Tel Aviv, 1999), 167, 169 also states that the relationship between modernity and tradition in Hirsch’s thought is one of cultural dualism and coexistence. I disagree. According to Hirsch, the relationship between Torah and culture is one of identicality in which the tradition is the standard for purifying modernity of its errors, and it is obligatory to educate for an integrated personality that unites, dialectically, Torah and refined culture. The term “co-existence” is more appropriate to Mendelssohn and Hildesheimer. On Hirsch’s identicality approach and its ideological basis see Breuer, “Shitat Tora ‘Im Derekh Erets.” On pp. 2–3 of the first pamphlet he explains Hirsch’s concept of Torah Im Derekh Erets and on p. 10 of the second pamphlet he distinguishes between Hirsch’s theoretical worldview of Torah Im Derekh Erets and its practical application. On pp. 15–18 he discusses true knowledge and science and true Troah. See also Breuer, Eda, 73–77, and his citations in notes 80–77. See Ish-Shalom “‘Al Mada’ Ushlemut Haruah,” 356–361. 23 Writings, 7:76, in the essay, “Hebrew Study in General Education.” See Ravitzky, h  . erut, 169. E. Stern, Ishim Vekivunim (Ramat Gan, 1987) 20–21, 28, puts more emphasis on this

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

In an essay for the month of Kislev (Hanukah, December 1856) dedicated to “Hellenism and Judaism,”24 Hirsch writes that the two sources of human knowledge, the information received from revelation and the attainments of human reason embodied in philosophy, science and culture (the wisdom of Greece) are identical. Both have inherent value and, by using revelation as a standard to examine the attainments of reason, reason can be purified, and apparent discrepancies between these two realms will disappear. In an essay on “the classical principle of Jewish education” Hirsch once again emphasizes this identicality: The laws of nature are simply another commentary on the truths of Judaism. [. . .] Only the Jewish concept of God, that is, the concept of one God, can be the foundation for the scientific study of nature and the basic premise for the student of the natural sciences. For the scientist is in search of the thought behind nature, the law that governs the world order, the law of nature that appears to be an interplay of accidents. He regards the world as one entity, and he happily anticipates the moment when he will succeed in recapitulating all the concepts of nature in terms of one single concept, all the laws that govern the world in terms of one single law.25

The true Jew is the complete Jew: someone who has purified for himself these two realms. Such a person will certainly rejoice at the prospect of cultural progress: If our religion indeed required us to renounce what men call civilization and culture, we would be ready to do so without hesitation. [. . .] But is this really necessary? Judaism was never alien to genuine civilization and culture. [. . .] The more the Jew is a Jew, the more universalist will be his views and aspirations, the less alien will he be to anything that is noble and good, true and upright in the arts and sciences, in civilization and culture. […] The more the Jew is a Jew, the more gladly will he give himself to all that is true progress in civilization and culture—provided that in this new circumstance he will not only maintain his Judaism but will be able c­ onservative side of his position. Nevertheless he acknowledges that Hirsch accords inherent value to European culture, and agrees that his position is one of identicality. 24 Cf. Hirsch, Writings, 2:200–204. 25 Hirsch, Writings, 7:293–294.

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The Dual Truth to bring it to ever more glorious fulfilment. A Jew who remains steadfast amidst the seductive, derisive voices of his thoughtless contemporaries, who remains sufficiently firm to sacrifice to God’s holy Will his personal inclinations and prospects of material gain, displays far greater moral strength and thus a far more worthy culture than the thoughtless son of the present century whose principles melt away at the first glance of ridicule or at the first tempting prospect of personal gain. . .26

With his characteristically apologetic and neo-fundamentalist revolutionism, Hirsch argues that from Judaism’s perspective the modern era has introduced nothing novel. Judaism has always accepted culture in its purified form, and it is only persecution which separated them: “In almost every era, its [ Judaism’s] followers stood at the very height of the culture of their day. [. . .] If in recent centuries, the German Jews remained more or less alien to European culture, the fault lay not in their religion but in coercion, the tyranny from the outside that forcibly confined them to the alleys of their ghettos and shut them off from communication with the outside world. . .”27 Hirsch believes that every new and pure contribution to culture enhances and complements man’s service of God. That being said, he constantly preaches that in practice the Torah is the standard for evaluating and purifying science and culture: The Jew is heartened to develop all his energies in the service of God. He welcomes each new truth as a valuable contribution to the ever more penetrating revelation of God in nature and history. In each new art form, in each new science, he sees a welcome addition to the means for perfecting the service and worship of God. Hence, the Jew will not be opposed to any science, any art form, any culture that is truly ethical, truly moral, truly contributing to the welfare and progress of man. He will measure everything by the eternally inviolable yardstick of the teachings of his God. Nothing will exist for him that cannot stand up before the Divine Will. The more firmly he stands on the rock of his Judaism, the more conscious he becomes of his Jewish destiny, the more he will be inclined to accept and gratefully absorb all knowledge, 26 Hirsch, Writings, 6:120–123, in the essay “Religion Allied with Progress.” On “true science and enlightenment,” see Breuer, Eda, 74, note 77. 27 Ibid., 120.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two wherever he will find it, ‫[ לקבל האמת ממי שאמרה‬to accept truth from whoever speaks it] (Maimonides, Introduction to the Ethics of the Fathers).28

In an open letter responding to Isaac Dov (Seligman Baer) Bamberger (1807– 1878) about secession from the Reform community (whose leaders Hirsch considered absolute heretics), Hirsch happily identifies with Maimonides’s criticism of heretics and apostates, citing him as an authority. In that essay Hirsch concludes that one who claims a contradiction between religion and science is a heretic. He cites Maimonides’s essay on martyrdom which interprets the t­ almudic account of Rabbi Eliezer and the Babylonian governor (BT Avoda Zara 16b). In this account the governor criticizes Rabbi Eliezer for engaging in idle pursuits such as Torah study. Maimonides explains that Rabbi Eliezer was, in addition to being a Torah scholar, also a renowned scientist, and on this Hirsch states: “and the heretics into whose hands ‫[ ר"א‬Rabbi Eli’ezer] had fallen must have despised all things religious in general, because they believed there was an irreconcilable conflict between science and religion . . . We have here an ancient prototype of the ‫[ מינות‬heresy] which prevails in our own day and which also proclaims the notion that there is a conflict between science and religion.”29 This stance derives from Hirsch’s view that there can be only one truth; it cannot be divided into a religious realm of heaven and a secular realm of Earth (as maintained by Christianity) just as God himself, from whom all things stem, cannot be divided. Therefore, one finds in Hirsch’s statements sharp criticism not only of the Reform to his left but also of the Ultra-orthodox, who invalidate anything innovative, to his right: The richer the minority’s cause, the more will the minority treasure it. But then it may easily come to regard all other knowledge in “outside” domains as unnecessary, or even as utterly worthless. It may reject all intellectual activity in any field outside its own as an offense against its own cause, as an inroad upon the devotion properly due to that cause and an infringement on its prerogatives. Such a one-sided attitude does not stop at mere disregard for other intellectual endeavors. Once this attitude has taken hold in a Jewish minority, that minority will be unable to form a proper judgment and a true image of those intellectual pursuits which are not cultivated 28 Writings, 8:9–10. 29 Ibid., 6:285–286, in the note there.

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The Dual Truth in its own ranks but pursued mainly by its opponents. Then, as a result of simple ignorance, the minority will begin to fear that which at first it merely neglected out of disdain. Consequently the minority will begin to suspect the existence of an intrinsic close relationship between these “outside” intellectual pursuits and those principles to which the Jewish minority stands in opposition. . . Rather, it has cause to regard all truth, wherever it may be found on the outside, as a firm ally of its own cause, since all truth stems from the same Master of truth.30

In other words, even the benefit of the devout, closed attitude, is outweighed by its cost. As I have demonstrated above, generally speaking, Hirsch employs the Torah as the standard to examine the statements of science and culture. That being said, he believes that it is sometimes necessary and possible to interpret the statements of revelation according to the attainments of human reason and science. This follows his theory of identicality, and that sometimes we require elucidation to truly understand revelation, an elucidation which reason can provide. For example, in his essay on “The Educational Value of Judaism,” Hirsch says that Judaism has no problem accepting the Copernican revolution or Darwin’s theory of evolution. This is because the Torah is a guide to ethical norms not a book of science: [T]he Rabbis have never made the acceptance or rejection of this and similar possibilities an article of faith binding on all Jews. They were willing to live with any theory that did not reject the basic truth that “every beginning is from God.” In fact, they were generally averse to speculations about what was in the past and what will be in the future, because, in their view, such questions transgressed the limits of that which is knowable to man, or, at best, they did not enhance man’s understanding of his moral function. In the view of our Rabbis, the Book of Books was intended to be

30 Writings, 2:247–248. See also ibid., 387–388, and Stern, Ishim Vekivunim, 52–53. See also Hirsch, Writings, 1:322–325; 4:176–177; 5:312, 326–327; his commentary on Num. 25:12. Hirsch emphasizes that it is one’s duty to compromise for the sake of peace on matters related to rights to money and property, but one must not compromise and sacrifice other people’s rights or the sacred values of divine goodness and truth. This is also the reason why he would not give up the principle of seceding from the Reform community for the sake of peace.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two mankind’s guide for life on earth as it is at present. . . Anything beyond that simply did not exist for our Sages.31

Judaism has no fundamental problem with the attainments of the sciences. Scientific theories can even be harnessed to attain Judaism’s ethical goals, and to teach mankind about the Creator, based on the natural laws he established: What Judaism does consider vitally important is the acceptance of the premise that all the hosts of heaven move only in accordance with the laws of the one, sole God. But whether we view these laws from the Ptolemaic or Copernican vantage point is a matter of total indifference to the purely moral objectives of Judaism. Judaism had never made a credo of these or similar notions. . . This will never change, not even if the latest scientific notion that the genesis of all the multitude of organic forms on earth can be traced back to one single, most primitive, primeval form of the life should ever appear to be anything more than what it is today, a vague hypothesis still unsupported by fact. Even if this notion were ever to gain complete acceptance by the scientific world, Jewish thought, unlike the reasoning of the high priest of that notion, would nonetheless never summon us to revere a still extant representative of this primal form as the supposed ancestor of us all. Rather, Judaism in that case would call upon its adherents to give even greater reverence than ever before to the one, sole God Who, in His boundless creative wisdom and eternal omnipotence, needed to bring into existence no more than one single, amorphous nucleus and one single law of “adaption and heredity” in order to bring forth, from what seemed chaos but was in fact a very definite order, the infinite variety of species we know today, each with its unique characteristics that sets [sic] it apart from all other creatures. This would be nothing else but the actualization of the law of le-mino, the “law of species” with which God began His work of creation. This law of le-mino, upon which Judaism places such great emphasis in order to impress upon its adherents that all of organic life is subject to Divine laws, can accommodate even this “theory of the origin of species.”32

31 Writings, 7:265–266. Here he is basically contradicting his apologetic position that although not always apparent to us, everything revealed by reason is contained in the Torah and statements of the Sages. 32 Writings, 7:263–264.

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The Dual Truth

Even if in the future Darwin’s theory, which is still only a hypothesis, is proven, it is God who will gain respect not the amoeba or the ape. At that point it will be possible to interpret the biblical law of “according to its kind” (le-mino) (Gen. 1:11) according to Darwin’s theory.33 Based on James Barr’s theory of fundamentalism, I have referred to this stance as neo-fundamentalism. Barr argues that according to classic fundamentalism, scriptural inerrancy always overpowers hermeneutics, and whenever difficulties or contradictions between 33 Lawrence Kaplan notes that besides seventeenth century thinker Joseph Solomon Delmedigo, Hirsch was the first Orthodox philosopher to explicitly accept the Copernican thesis, a sign of daring progressiveness. Similarly he states that Hirsch was the only major Orthodox Rabbi to discuss evolution, and one of the few to publicly declare that an evolutionary theory detached from materialism concords with the fundamental beliefs of Judaism. See L. Kaplan “Tora Umadda in the Thought of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch,” B.D.D. 5 (1997), 12, 22. It should be noted that Rav Kook also (Orot Ha-Qodesh, [ Jerusalem 1985], 2, ma’amar h  . amishi, hit’alut ha-olam, 511–574) deals with the theory of evolution and says that Judaism can live with this theory which accords with kabbalistic ideas. See also Rabbi Avraham Kook, Li-Nevukhei ha-Dor, ed. S. Rahmani (Tel Aviv, 2014), 34–44, and below Chapter Twelve. Rosenbloom preceded Kaplan in his emphasis of Hirsch’s daring acceptance of Copernicus (See Rosenbloom, Tradition in an Age of Reform). In his review of Rosenbloom’s book Breuer criticizes this also, arguing that Hirsch was preceded in this by others such as Judah Loewe ben Betsalel (Maharal) and his student David Ganz (sixteenth century) who was a friend of Johannes Kepler (see Breuer, “Rosenbloom”). The above excerpt demonstrates that Hirsch was one of the only observant, Jewish scholars in the nineteenth century who did not create a dichotomy between accepting religion and science. Instead he argued that one can and must accept them both and create a harmony between them. Hirsch is almost unique in his levelheadedness towards the conclusions of science in all its components, and he believes that science (including the theory of evolution) even supports religion’s claims about a God, the creator of nature and its laws and the beginning of life, and the one who orchestrates its processes. On this subject see M. Avraham, Elohim Mesah . eq Bequbiot (Tel Aviv, 2011), specifically 17–19, 166–167, 192–194, 226–228, 355–359, 414–431. Avraham is not aware of this entire nineteenth century middle stream, which accepted and taught the achievements of science and also diligently observed the commandments, which I discussed in my book The Middle Way. Its participants are also scattered throughout H. Gafni’s book, “Peshuta shel Mishna”: Iyunim Beh  . eqer Sifrut H  .  azal Ba’et Hah  . addasha (Tel Aviv, 2011). In this passage Hirsh essentially summarizes the main points of Avraham’s supposedly new arguments which he dubs “modern physico-theological theory” or “evolutionary creationism.” Avraham thus joins Hirsch, Rabbi Mordechai Breuer and his biblical “aspect theory,” Nathan Aviezer and his harmonization of the big bang and Genesis and David Hanshke who all maintain the illusory, neo-fundamentalist apologetic approach of the nineteenth century, for better or for worse. Although Avraham exposes the shortcomings of Richard Dawkins’ evolutionary atheism, he does not offer a plausible solution to the contradictions between science and religion. Even Maimonides did not think that God manages the world every second. Rather, he maintained that God created the world, established its laws and ever since the world has continued to operate on its own.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

philosophy and science arise, it is the statements of science which are rejected. New fundamentalism however is apologetic and incoherent and it allows Hirsch to adopt strategies of scriptural interpretation according to his needs— in some cases interpreting Scripture in the light of proven scientific theories, but in all other cases using Scripture to examine and qualify science.34 Because the Torah and Jewish religion are identical to science and human culture and complement each other wherever they are lacking, any education system must include them both. Hirsch introduces such a program loudly and clearly: Why not employ the age-old principle of  ‫אבות פ"ב( תלמוד תורה עם דרך ארץ‬ ‫[ )מ"ב‬Talmud Torah im Derekh Erets, Mishna Avoth 2:2] which weds religious and secular education to one another in mutual interdependence? If you will do so, you will see even in your own lifetime how  ‫[ יגיעת שניהם‬the toil of both of them], how the careful, simultaneous cultivation of both these elements of education, ‫[ משכחת עון‬keeping sin out of one’s mind] will guard your children against error on both sides. You will see with what zest and devotion your children will take to their “Hebrew studies” and drink in the spirit of the Law of God and the wisdom of our Sages, and how nevertheless, or perhaps precisely because of the special education they have received, they will be capable of competing on an equal basis with their contemporaries in the acquisition of all the knowledge, talents and skills that are part of their general education as members of the larger society. The realm of Jewish learning is not insular, remote from nature, from history, from the world and from the realities of life. On the contrary, it calls upon its disciples to study the heavens and the earth, to reflect on the connections that link the events and developments of history, to take an active part in every phase of physical, intellectual, moral and social life, and to gain the clearest, sharpest possible insight into all things and their relationship to one another. . . And so these two areas of learning do not hamper one another, are not mutually detrimental. Rather, they can strengthen and reinforce one another. [. . .] Equipped with the best of all truly humanistic training and 34 See Barr, Fundamentalism, 40, 93–96, 273–274. For a detailed discussion of NeoFundamentalism according to James Barr in Hirsch thoughts, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, 288–291. For an explanation on Fundamentalism in general according to Barr see idem, 149–154, in the discussion of whether or not Luzzatto was a fundamentalist.

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The Dual Truth guided by the Jewish Law of God and the heritage of our Sages that will constantly give them new strength, light, counsel, admonition, consolation and inspiration, they will be able to meet the challenges that life will hold for them.35

Hirsch occasionally emphasizes that the inclusion of secular studies into the curriculum is a religious obligation, arguing that such studies have intrinsic value which contributes breadth and new dimensions to the religious worldview. In his essay on “The Relevance of Secular Studies to Jewish Education” he writes: Now if the Judaism for which we are educating our young need not shrink from contact with the intellectual elements of any other true culture, it is essential for the future of our youth as citizens, and therefore it is a true religious duty, for us to give them a secular education. A secular education is a most beneficial help to our young in understanding the times in which they live and the conditions under which they will have to practice their life’s vocation; hence, it is most desirable also from the Jewish religious viewpoint and consequently deserving of warm support. But at the same time, and even more important, a good secular education can give our young people substantial new insights, added dimensions that will enrich their religious training.36

But Hirsch does not stop there. In his essay “The Role of Hebrew Study in General Education” (cited in the last chapter) he takes a step further in defining the essence of combined secular and religious studies: From the very beginning, our school has been aware that, in carrying out the task it has set for itself, it has combined two distinct elements that are considered mutually exclusive by prejudiced outsiders with a superficial point of view. One, they claim, must of necessity limit the other by virtue of the time and energy required to do justice to both. Our school, by contrast, has been of the opinion from the outset that these two elements, although commonly viewed as mutually limiting antitheses (and even considered by some as nullifying one another), are, in fact, related, 35 Hirsch, Writings, 7, in the essay “Religious Education,” 23–24. 36 Ibid., in the essay “The Relevance of Secular Studies to Jewish Education, 1867,” 87–88.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two mutually complementary parts of one greater, integrated educational unity. In practical life, this unity produces a Jew with moral and spiritual training in the general culture of mankind, a man and a citizen with a moral and spiritual education in the values of Judaism. As a consequence, the school, which should be the nursery for practical life, should promote both these elements in such a manner that they will complement and support one another to form one harmonious whole.37

That is to say, in Hirsch’s system, a school should combine both elements to create a dialectical process, resulting in a final product larger, more harmonious and more complete than the basic sum of its parts. That being said, Hirsch’s first tendency—acknowledging the Torah’s superiority, considering it the criterion for all truth and good—is heavily emphasized in his writings and it is these statements which are selectively quoted by Haredim. Hirsch cites the midrash in Torat Cohanim on Lev. 18:4, “to walk in them,” which discusses the topic of Torah study and secular studies, and which appears to forbid the study of gentile wisdom: “make them the main thing and do not make them secondary. . . So that your negotiations will only be in them [. . .] so that you will not intermingle other things in the world with them.” He writes on this: It appears that the opening sentence of this statement, [“make them the main thing and do not make them secondary”]. . . is designed to keep us from a misunderstanding. We should not understand—from the subsequent sentences of the statement—that we must completely ignore all knowledge gained from non-Jewish sources; that we must abstain from any knowledge that has no direct bearing on Torah. For [“make them the main thing and do not make them secondary”]. . . implies that we are permitted to occupy ourselves with other realms of knowledge also—only that we should make the Torah our principal concern, and the knowledge we gain from Torah should be regarded as absolute and unquestionable. Other disciplines are to be regarded as auxiliary; they are to be studied only if they are capable of aiding Torah study and are subordinated to it as the ‫[ טפל‬subordinate] to the ‫[ עיקר‬essence]. The Torah’s truths must remain for us what is absolute and unconditional, the standard by which to measure all the results obtained in other branches of knowledge. Only that which accords with the truths of the Torah can be accepted by us as true. [. . .] Accordingly, we will not adapt ideas that are not in consonance 37 Ibid., 63, originally published in 1866.

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The Dual Truth with this perspective; we will not accept conclusions derived from other premises and mix them with words of Torah. The Torah is not to be considered an equivalent of the other sciences, as though the Torah is just one branch of knowledge among others. We should not imagine that just as there is Jewish knowledge and truths, there is also non-Jewish knowledge and truths of equal importance and authority. . . Rather, just as we are sure that the Torah comes from God, and all other branches of knowledge discovered by man are merely human products containing results of man’s limited insight into the nature of things, so we are sure that there is only one truth, only one discipline that can serve as our yardstick and evaluator of all the other disciplines, which are valid only conditionally.38

As I have shown, these statements, in my opinion, are not intended in principle but in practice—when one is faced with apparent dilemmas and contradictions and when science, philosophy and culture have yet to be purified. The limits of scientific research are similar to the limits of reason in Hirsch’s system of ethics. Human reason, despite its divine source, is incapable of adjudicating perfect morality because it is limited by sensuality. This leaves man no choice but to rely on the morality of revelation. The same is true in the case of science. Before being adopted, metaphysical, philosophical and scientific theories attained from human understanding, should first be purified by being subjected to the litmus test of revelation. Only afterwards can we accord them inherent value as truths which can assist Torah study. Already in Chapter One I have shown the error in the Haredi view, which maintains that Hirsch’s decision to include secular studies into the curriculum was a compromise to the time and place in Germany. Hirsch was aware of this erroneous and misleading interpretation of his approach and rejected it explicitly in his essay “The Relevance of Secular Studies to Jewish Education.”39 It should be stressed that Hirsch, a typical Orthodox traditionalist, maintains that the concept of combining the tradition of Judaism with the culture of the time represents the traditional wisdom of our Sages. This combination has always allowed Judaism to withstand the test of time and has allowed Judaism in our day to be reborn and prove itself within the modern stream. He writes 38 Hirsch on Lev. 18:4–5. See also his commentary on Deut. 6:7. Similar priorities can be found in Horeb: A Philosophy of Jewish Laws and Observances, translated from the German original by Dayan Dr. I. Grunfeld. (London, 1962), v. 2, 408–409. 39 The article appears in Hirsch, Writings, 7. See note 4 in the first chapter.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

about this at the height of his dispute with Bamberger over secession from the larger German-Jewish community, which was managed by leaders from the Reform movement. Hirsch argues that despite Bamberger’s reservations about the principle of “Torah im Derekh Erets,” he must realize that this principle is […] the one true principle conducive to “truth and peace,” to healing and recovery from all ills and all religious confusion. The principle of  ‫תורה ע ם‬ ‫“[דרך ארץ‬Torah im Derekh Erets”] can fulfill this function because it is not part of troubled time-bound notions; it represents the ancient, traditional wisdom of our Sages that has stood the test everywhere and at all times. These Sages, and they alone, have always been, and still are, our ‫[ חכמים באמת‬true sages].40

Once again, Hirsch voices his neo-fundamentalist apologetics. Because secular studies for all students was already a fait accompli in Germany, and not open to challenge, Hirsch turned it into part of tradition, imputing it into the Sages’ statements about “Torah im Derekh Erets” even when this was clearly not their intention. This is the place to note that M. Breuer, a balanced researcher, criticizes Hirsch as well but from the right, claiming that Hirsch exaggerated the identicality between humanist, secular culture and the Judaism of revelation, an identicality which Breuer believes does not exist.41

BETWEEN PARTICULARISM AND UNIVERSALISM The second issue debated by Hirsch’s interpreters is his attitude towards the Return to Zion. This debate is linked not only to the extent of his theological fundamentalism but also to differences of opinion concerning his place on the spectrum between particularism and universalism. That is to say, to what extent was he influenced by the ideals of the Haskalah in regard to the importance of equality and the centrality of the individual as a possessor of reason—ideals which oppose the Jewish idea of chosenness? The more the idea of universalism features in a Jewish philosopher’s thought, the more the concept of national chosenness tends to be downplayed to make space for humanity; the more he stresses the idea of universalism, the more he will eschew the idea of a real Return to Zion. 40 In the “Open Letter to Rabbi Seligmann Baer Bamberger,” Writings, 6:221. 41 See Breuer, Eda, 75.

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The Haredi interpretation of Hirsch’s views on these issues is consistent and resolute. Researchers, however, are divided, usually along ideological lines, either overtly or implicitly. Haredim maintain that Hirsch is a Jewish particularist, faithful to his religion. According to him the question of choseness is not up for debate. That being said they believe that Hirsch was not a political nationalist, only a religious one, and that in Hirsch’s view any form of Zionism is a rebellion against the three oaths that God adjured the Jewish people upon their exile. Consequently an active return to Zion in an organized and institutional manner is forbidden; it is a matter for the End of Days, utopian and supra-historical. One exceptional Haredi viewpoint deserves special discussion: that of Rabbi Isaac Breuer (1883–1946), Hirsch’s grandson. Breuer developed a form of national-religious messianism and in the wake of a growing Jewish presence in the Land of Israel, began to anticipate a messianic upheaval, which would result in the establishment of a Torah state in the Land of Israel, a process occurring within history. Breuer sought to harness Hirsch’s views to support this messianic, Haredi vision: We must realize: the deeper significance of Hirsch’s project was the return of the Jewish people to the embrace of its history, with no other end-goal before it but the reestablishment of the state of God, [. . .] a state of God which will rise again, centered in Zion, the location of God’s temple, according to God’s promise. This State of God represents the spread of the Torah’s sovereignty over the entire diverse abundance of human life, reaching the pinnacle of its development in the national state. [. . .] The past comes to life once again in the aspect of vayehi [it will be]—and the future becomes the past in the aspect of vehaya [it was]—and from such a past and such a future the form of the new Jewish person will be molded, opening before him a new era of Jewish historical activism. [. . .] Hirsch was the first modern, Jewish nationalist.42

Researchers, however, grapple with the tension between the Jewish and human in Hirsch’s thought, and tried to draw him closer to their own sides. Shalom Rosenberg does not consistently deal with Hirsch, but admires him as a Romantic, someone who considers Judah Halevi, the man of ethical 42 I. Breuer, “Rashar Hirsch Kemore Derekh Ledoro Veladorot Habaim,” in Bemagalei Shana, Kitvei Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsch, vol. 2 (Bnei Brak, n.d.), 16–17.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

Judaism, his cultural hero. Hirsch, who learned his admiration of Judah Halevi from his teacher Haham Isaac Bernais in Hamburg, certainly tends to agree with Judah Halevi’s Neo-Platonist approach to the rationalism of Saadya Gaon (died in 942) and his philosophical disciples. Like Judah Halevi, Hirsch eschewed allegorical-rationalist interpretations of the Torah, philosophical elitism (which after Judah Halevi was most strongly represented by Maimonides) and the conception of intellectual study as man’s ultimate goal. Hirsch, like Judah Halevi, prefers an ethical interpretation of the Torah, the simplicity of the masses, and the observance of the commandments as man’s ultimate goal, leading to holiness and morality. The truth of the Torah is not proven by reason but by the nation’s empirical experience of the Exodus and the public revelation at Sinai, events transmitted by tradition. That being said, I believe that this admiration stops short in places where Hirsch had internalized the Haskalah, a movement which aspires to strengthen emancipation and believes in the mission of the Jewish people to the gentiles, a mission beginning to bear fruit. He does not share Judah Halevi’s mystical approach regarding the essential, immanent sanctity of the Jew as chosen to be a prophet and the Land of Israel sanctified for prophecy. Hirsch actually prefers Maimonides’s opinion that all humans possess equal potential, and that the sanctity of a people or a land is a function of human activity, not a matter of inherent nature. Rosenberg however disagrees. In his opinion Hirsch’s adoption of Judah Halevi’s doctrine of mission indicates that he also adopts Judah Halevi’s doctrine of chosenness. Rosenberg deals with this issue at least twice. In his article “Lev Usegulah”43 he considers Judah Halevi’s position on chosenness a dialectical one: uniqueness on the one hand—heart and shells—and mission, on the other hand—heart and organs. In his opinion, both Hirsch and a young Luzzatto follow Judah Halevi’s path, adopting his doctrine of mission. In his book Rosenberg states this again, without delving into detail, arguing that Hirsch adopted Judah Halevi’s position on the subject of chosenness.44 I, however, maintain that there is no need to see a dialectic here. Judah Halevi believed that the Jewish nation is inherently unique and this uniqueness affords it a responsibility and a calling towards the rest of mankind. Hirsch and Luzzatto, however, do not accept the unique chosenness maintained by Judah Halevi and therefore cannot be considered his ideological successors. They certainly accept Judah Halevi’s 43 S. Rosenberg “Lev Usgula Ra’ayon Habeh  . ira Bemishnato Shel Rihal Uvafilosofia Hayehudit Hah  . adasha,” in Mishnato Hahagutit Shel Rabi Judah Halevi, ed. H. Schwartz ( Jerusalem, 1978), 109–119. 44 Rosenberg, Be’iqvot Hakuzari, 62–63.

55

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The Dual Truth

doctrine of mission but not on the basis of uniqueness. They conceive the Jewish people as first in a temporal sense, its task bringing the entirety of humanity into its fold, but not a superior in terms of spiritual rank.45 Hirsch’s writings indicate that he believed that the distinction between humanity and the Jewish people is based solely on receiving the Torah (like Maimonides). This distinction is explicitly technical and time-bound, and is not a consequence of inherent uniqueness. The Jewish people only have precedence in time; they are first among equals in God’s plan to educate mankind. Hirsch thus divests the idea of chosenness of its particularist overtones, replacing it with more universalistic significance. After the first attempt at revelation failed a number of times (the Garden of Eden, the generation of the Deluge, the generation of the tower of Babel) providence decided to create a new nation from the descendants of Abraham, using it as a medium to educate the rest of humanity in the light of the Torah’s guidance. At first, this nation was a people dwelling in its own land. Afterwards, when this experiment failed, it became a people scattered among the nations. “Hence, when God says ‫[ בני ברכי ישראל‬Israel is my firstborn son], this means: With Israel, the womb of humanity will be opened; with Israel, the dance will begin; all the people are obligated to join him as My sons. I come to you in your own name and in the name of all humanity. Israel is My first but not My only child; Israel is only the first people that I have won as Mine [. . .] Israel is not the first in rank, but the first in time.”46 45 Rosenberg correctly claims (ibid.) that only in his youth did Luzzatto maintain a doctrine of mission, but as he got older abandoned this position. See excerpts of Hirsch’s position below. For examples of Luzzatto’s approach, see his commentary on Exodus 20:3 where he discusses (based on his understanding that the Torah is a book of ethical guidance and is not meant to teach philosophical truths) the Torah’s emphasis on Israel’s uniqueness and their closeness to God, a doctrine not purely true, because all people are equally God’s children. The Torah’s providential cunning tells the Jewish People that they are God’s unique nation, and therefore God draw them closer to Him. It thus guarantees that they remain loyal to him and continue to bear the yoke of the Torah. This is for the sake of the nations of the world who are destined to have equal status to the Jews. The Jews precede the nations in their unification of God and their superior ethical qualities only in terms of time but not in terms of essence. Compare Rosenberg’s view to that of D. Schwartz, Hara’ayon Hameshih  . i Behagut HaYehudit Biyemei Habeinayim (Ramat Gan, 1997), 56–59. He explains there Judah Halevi’s doctrines of chosenness and mission, and it seems that he agrees that Judah Halevi’s view is not dialectical, and at the end of the process the unique distinctions between the Jews and the gentiles will continue to exist. On ethics in Judah Halevi’s thought see the Kuzari, 3:5, 7, 11, 17. 46 Hirsch on Ex. 4:22–23.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

Explaining the verse “which a man shall do and live thereby” (Lev. 18:5), Hirsch writes: It does not say here ‫[ אשר תעשו אותם ותחיו בהם‬which you shall do and you will live thereby], but rather, ‫[ אשר יעשה אותם האדם וחי בהם‬which a man shall do and live thereby]; and it does not say ‫[ אדם‬a man], but ‫[ האדם‬the man]. The inference is that Scripture here refers to anyone who exemplifies the spiritual and moral character implied by the term ‫האדם‬ (see Commentary, Bereshis [Bereshit] 1:26)—and attainment that can be reached only through fulfillment of God’s laws. Thus, Toras [Torat] Kohanim infers: [. . .] even a non-Jew who keeps God’s Law is the equal of a High Priest; for it says: [. . .] “which a man shall do and live thereby” … We see, then, that life, the teaching, closeness to God, happiness, and well-being are attained through Torah and mitzvos not only by Israel; rather, any man who draws his worldview and his principles from the Torah, anyone who elevates himself to the heights of pure humanity by fulfilling the Torah’s ‫[ חוקים‬laws] and ‫[ משפטים‬ordinances], is ensured of attaining the highest level of perfection and happiness in nearness to God. . . The ‫חוקים‬, which—from a spiritual and sensual standpoint—govern the life of the individual, and the ‫משפטים‬, which govern the life of the society, are not designed to boost us to extraordinary, superhuman levels. Rather, they are designed to restore to us the same human level which was the original destiny, and remains the destiny, of man who was created in the image of God. The unfolding of this destiny began with the Jewish family of man, and will end with the whole of mankind. This is the whole purpose of God’s guidance in history.47

This is an explicit departure from Judah Halevi’s notion of uniqueness. Even if we accepts Schweid’s reading of Judah Halevi—that the Jew is not superior to other humans in terms of reason or morality but only in terms of prophetic abilities48—I still do not think one can consider Hirsch’s approach a development of Judah Halevi’s view, as Rosenberg proposes, and I prefer Mordechai Breuer’s view on this issue.49 47 Hirsch on Lev. 18:4–5. See also Lev. 20:26. Note that Hirsch writes in terms of mankind’s keeping the laws and judgments of the Torah, an important matter treated below. 48 See E. Schweid, Moledet Veerets Ye’uda (Tel Aviv, 1979), 59–60. 49 Breuer, Eda, 65–66. On the uniqueness of the Jewish People according to Judah Halevi see Gutmann, Hafilosofia Shel Hayahadut, 119.

57

58

The Dual Truth

Shlomo Chertok offers a reading diametrically opposed to that of Rosenberg. He attributes to Hirsch a universalist approach, deviating from classic rabbinic interpretation, part of Hirsch’s progressive attitudes towards the individual, family, community and humanity. In his doctorate (and afterwards in his book),50 Chertok argues that Hirsch’s interpretation of the biblical word ger differs from that of the Sages. He bases himself on Hirsch’s commentary to Ex. 23:9 and Deut. 10:19, arguing that Hirsh’s interpretation of ger as a “foreigner,” as opposed to a “convert,” represents a transition on Hirsch’s part from a Torah standard to a human standard. In Exodus Hirsch says about “you shall not oppress a ger”: Our verse now, once again, places the principles of quality and loving-kindness at the forefront. The real test of these principles will be the Jewish state’s treatment of foreigners: they are to enjoy all the rights granted to citizens, and are to be treated with love and kindness (the treatment accorded by a state to the aliens living within its jurisdiction is always an accurate ­indication of the extent to which justice and humanity prevail in that state).

On the statement “and you shall love the ger” in Deuteronomy, Hirsch writes: “Imitate God in loving the stranger who enters your midst from the outside. In receiving the stranger, show that, in your eyes, pure humanity is the highest distinction.” I read Hirsch differently than Chertok and maintain that he remains loyal to the rabbinic approach. Hirsch is aware of the possibility that his readers may mistakenly read his commentary on these verses in isolation from his general identification of the scriptural “ger” as a “convert,” based on the definitive determination of the Sages. He therefore took the effort to refer the reader to his commentary on Ex. 22:2 as an essential introduction. His commentary on that verse maintains axiomatically that the obligation of conversion is a ­prerequisite for full rights and equality in the Jewish state: “one who was born a ­heathen is entitled to complete equality and full rights among Jews under Jewish law from the moment he joins the Jewish fold by accepting the basic principles of Judaism and Jewish worship.” He adds there that Halakhah also accords reduced rights to a ger toshav (“resident alien”) who has accepted the seven Noahide 50 See S. Chertok, Hayah  . as Lamoderna Befarshanuto Shel Rashar Hirsch Latorah, Doctoral Dissertation (Beersheba, 2005) 24; idem, Qanqan Yashan Male H  .  adash (Bnei Brak, 2000), 35–38.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

commandments. However, while eligible for residence and other additional personal rights, the ger toshav is still not considered a full citizen. Hirsch tries to weave the different statements of the Sages into a consistent system, explaining when the word “ger” is read as “foreigner” and when it is read as “convert,” but in my opinion he fails in this attempt.51

A REAL RETURN TO ZION WITHIN HISTORY: HIRSCH AS A PRECURSOR TO ZIONISM OR ITS OPPONENT I will now deal with the claims of researchers who maintain that Hirsch’s views on this subject are incoherent, inconsistent, and ambiguous. In his writings, they argue, he appears to be both Zionism’s precursor and its opponent, a contradiction they seek to resolve. In order to incorporate Hirsh into their own religious-Zionist ideal, they try to argue that his opposition only applies to his own generation but that he did expect a Return to Zion later in history. Pinhas Rosenblit has written two articles on Hirsch’s attitude towards the Land of Israel where he discusses the prominent “duality” featuring in the thought of Hirsch and his disciples in regards to the Land of Israel.52 He bases this view, among other things, on Hirsch’s commentary to the Rebuke in Leviticus, Parashat Beh. ukotai,   where Hirsch describes two paths to redemption: a short path accompanied by miracles and a long, “natural” path with none. According to Rosenblit’s reading, Hirsch believes that the redemption will occur within history and without miracles.

51 On this failed attempt see Chamiel, The Middle Way, in the appendix to Chapter One— “Who is a Ger?,” 319–326. Hirsch’s approach is identical to Rashi’s in his commentary on Ex. 22:2, which some have mistakenly interpreted as an expression of humane universalism. It seems to me that Rashi was bothered by the Torah’s justification of the commandment not to oppress the ger (which is a convert) with the argument “for you were gerim in the land of Egypt.” The Hebrews were not converts in Egypt but foreigners!? To resolve this difficulty Rashi explains that the term ger is a shared term which refers to the foreignness of anyone entering a society from without. That being said, it is clear that Rashi does not deviate from the interpretation of the Sages—that the commandment not to oppress the ger is directed only at the convert who accepts the religion of the society which he has joined. 52 P. Rosenblit, “Galut Veerets Yisrael Al Pi S.R Hirsch Uvnei Doro,” in Sefer Zikaron Lemordekhai Viser Pirqei Ma’as Vehagut, ed. S. Schmidt (Qevutsat Yavna, 1981), 160–169. Idem, “Bein Shnei ‘Olamot” in Torah ‘Im Derekh Erets Hatenu’a Isheiha Ra’ayonteiha, ed. M. Breuer (Ramat Gan, 1987), 33–43.

59

60

The Dual Truth

Rivka Horwitz develops this position further, and in a detailed article presents the duality discussed by Rosenblit.53 Like him, she bases herself on Hirsch’s commentary on Parashat Beh . ukotai. She cites Hirsch’s words about the long, less desirable path to redemption and reads it as a short path to redemption occurring within history. I believe that an examination of this passage must take account of what follows: Hirsch’s description of the preferable path to redemption, arriving swiftly and miraculously. According to my reading, even the long, undesirable path to redemption only materializes beyond history and not within it. As a rule, Horwitz’s article is an unorganized and unsystematic collection of excerpts from Hirsch’s writings. It therefore contains contradictions and errors, and portrays Hirsch as an incoherent figure. According to Horwitz: there are “two faces” to Hirsch’s approach, he has a complex philosophy which allowed many good people to rely upon it (464–465): on the one hand, the Land of Israel lies at the center of Jewish existence (448, 451) and possesses uniqueness (459) “an approach close to the opinion of Judah Halevi” (458). On the other hand, it is an approach which condenses the role of the Land of Israel in favor of the Diaspora (456), focusing on a universal closeness to God—“like the views of Mendelssohn and Maimonides” (459), claiming that the Land’s sanctity is not intrinsic” (458). Horwitz does not distinguish between historical time and utopian time in Hirsch’s system. She therefore accepts Rosenblit’s view that Hirsch’s redemption occurs within history and without miracles (455): “at times he envisioned the return to Zion as closer” (456). However, Horwitz also cites sources which show that the redemption is postponed until the end of days and is linked to the elevation of humanity (451), and that Hirsch (unlike Kalischer) “spoke of a heavenly Land of Israel” (462). The excerpts she uses to demonstrate the uniqueness of the Land of Israel in Hirsch’s thought (458–460) do not refer to the intrinsic uniqueness of the land, but as she herself says, to a uniqueness deriving from the observance of the Torah’s commandments within its boundaries, its value entirely dependent on the morality of its inhabitants. Horwitz maintains that Hirsch’s attitude towards the non-centrality of the land only “applies to his generation” (460) and that “Hirsch’s treatment of the real Land of Israel was problematic” (463). In her opinion (similar to Rosenberg’s), Hirsch’s view is also comparable to that of Judah Halevi in terms of his ­perception of the 53 R. Horwitz, “Yah  . aso Shel Shimshon Refael Hirsch Leerets-Yisrael,” in Erets Yisrael Bahagut Hayehudit Hah  . adasha, ed. A. Ravitzky ( Jerusalem, 1998), 447–466.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

Jewish people among the nations like a heart among organs (461). She does not however recognize that Hirsch considers this uniqueness a temporary state of affairs. I try to show that when it comes to the uniqueness of the people and the land, Hirsch is far from Judah Halevi’s position, and his approach cannot be used as springboard to arrive at a real-messianic-Torah Zionism as proposed by I. Breuer (464). A close reading of Hirsch’s writings reveals his view that the Jewish people and the Land of Israel are only instruments, and their purpose is to allow a nation to live a full Torah lifestyle, an example to humanity, a catalyst for mankind’s moral awakening.54 The Torah is the nation’s only essence and purpose. It was and continues to be the Jews’ portable homeland, before they ever entered the land and long after they were exiled from it.55 Corrupted by the bounty of the land, the nation failed at its mission twice.56 It is actually in Diaspora life that the Jewish people succeeded in educating the gentiles in the light of the Torah’s morality, and it is that success which has brought the Jews lives of happiness and fortune in their Diaspora homelands.57 The Sages of the Talmud stated that God adjured three oaths (two to the Jewish people and one to the nations of the world) which forbid the Jewish people from initiating an 54 See Hirsch, Gen. 12:2–3; Ex. 6:7–8; 25:12–15; Lev. 2:1; 18:24–28; Deut. 4:5; 16:9; 27:18– 19; 32:9. 55 See Hirsch, Ex. 6:8; idem, Writings, 1:122. This is the idea of Heinrich Heine (which is based on inverting the same idea expressed by Spinoza—see Y. Yovel, Spinoza Vekofrim Ah  . erim (Tel Aviv, 1988), 204–206). For the concept of Torah as the portable homeland of the Jewish People see M. Weiner, Hadat Hayehudit Bitqufat Haemantsipatsia, trans. L. Zagagi ( Jerusalem, 1974), 105; and A. Ravitzky, “‘Hatsivi Lakh Tsiunim’ Letsion: Gilgulo Shel Ra’ayon,” in Al Da’at Hamaqom, ed. idem ( Jerusalem, 1991), 70 and the additional source from Hirsch he cites there, Deut. 11:18. See also Hirsch, Writings, 6:37: “there has always been only one national territory to protect and defend and that national territory is the ‫”!חרות‬ 56 See Hirsch, Nineteen Letters, 79; Hirsch, Writings, 1:286; 8:293. 57 See Hirsch, Nineteen Letters, 82; Writings, 2:223. Within history Hirsch preferred the blessed Diaspora, where the Jewish people fulfills its mission as the nation of the Torah, and he opposed rushing the end and violating the Halakhah. Interestingly, we find refusal to see intrinsic value in the land later on (under Hirsch’s influence?) in the writing of Rosenzweig and Leibowitz, too. Rosenzweig (Franz Rosenzweig, The Star of Redemption, trans. William W. Hallo [New York-Chicago-San Francisco, 1970], 299–309, 334–335; note that there is some similarity in language to that of Hirsch in the Nineteen Letters) believed that the Jewish people does not have a task in history, that it lives in eternity, and it is unified by blood relationships—the nation itself. He was apprehensive about normalization. Leibowitz (see, for example, Y. Leibowitz, Yahadut, ‘Am Yisrael Umedinat Yisrael [ Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, 1975], 404–422) who lived in the sovereign State of Israel, was afraid that the land, as “Holy Soil,” would become a focus of idolatry and false messianism, and he regarded the Halakhah as the factor that bound the Jews together as a nation.

61

62

The Dual Truth

organized return to the Land of Israel. With love for their host countries, the Jewish people must wait with passive faith until God reinstalls them in the Holy Land, in a miraculous process, at the end of history: But this very vocation obliges us, until God shall call us back to the Holy Land, to live and to work as patriots wherever He has placed us, to collect all the physical, material and spiritual forces and all that is noble in Israel to further the weal of the nations which have given us shelter. [. . .] It forbids us to strive for the reunion or the possession of the land by any but spiritual means. Our Sages say God imposed three vows when He sent Israel into the wilderness: (1) that the Children of Israel shall never seek to re-establish their nation by themselves; (2) that they shall never be disloyal to the nations which have given them shelter; (3) that these nations shall not oppress them excessively (Kethuboth, 111a). The fulfillment of the first two vows is confirmed in the pages of history; about the third, the nations concerned must judge themselves.58

What then is the nature of this historical messianic future and what role do the nation and land play in its process? What future is Hirsch preparing for us? Will the nations really adopt the entire Torah or just its theological and ethical truths? Will there really be a need for a Jewish state in this utopian era, when humanity has attained the pinnacle of universal moral unity, acknowledging God’s kingdom and his will, and if so what will be its purpose? We find that Hirsch’s description of this unreal future is vague, and he vacillates between his neo-fundamentalist traditionalism and his philosophy influenced by the thought of his time. That being said, his attitude towards active, institutional Zionism occurring within history is firm and consistent. Hirsch interprets the verses of the Rebuke in Beh  . ukotai, using them to demonstrate that punishment for sin and the bitter exile need not continue until the end of days. We can change the Diaspora into something favorable, by observing the Torah, and joyfully carrying out the task given to us, fulfilling our divine mission to the nations. Hirsch distinguishes between the long path to redemption and the swift path to redemption, the latter unfolding in three stages. The long path to redemption is thus described: ‫[ בקרי‬in opposition]: in all the events of world history—which do not appear at all to be directed toward the return of the exiles—I will walk 58 Hirsch, Horeb, v. 2, 461.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two with them. Their whole experience in the land of their enemies—with all the effects of this experience, which educate through suffering—and the whole course of the development of world history itself will ultimately lead to the result that the exiles will be ripe to return to independence. And the events of the history of the nations—the events themselves—will restore the exiles to their homeland. Thus, the whole long and extended exile “in the land of their enemies”—including all the old and new sins—in essence merely actualizes ‫[ והבאתי אותם‬and I will bring them]. God Who conceals Himself brings them home by long, roundabout paths; He brings them back to their ancient homeland and to their original, eternal mission. ‫[ או אז‬if… then…]: or, perhaps, the other possibility for the future will come to pass. They will not continue the iniquity of their fathers, and will not augment it with new iniquity born of exile. Rather, ‫אז‬, after all the crushing blows of the initial period of exile, the hearts of ‫[ הנשארים בהם‬those remaining of them], those who survive this difficult period, will be humbled. They will not “rot away in sins old and new”; rather, their hearts will be humbled before God, and will ceased to be “‫[ ”ערל‬uncircumcised] and recalcitrant toward Him (see Commentary, Bereshis [Bereshit] 17:10). ‫ואז‬, and then—not only in the end of days—‫[ ירצו את עונם‬they expiate their iniquity]: They will cheerfully accept their destiny in exile and gladly carry out their mission in exile, regarding this as ‫ריצוי עונם‬ [expiating their sin], a means of redressing the wrong of their past sins. Their destiny and mission will satisfy themselves and also “satisfy” the debt they have incurred. If this happens, the ‫[ גלות‬exile] will assume an entirely new form. Instead of being a grave of decay, exile will become ground for new fulfillment of Israel’s God-ordained mission, fruitful soil for a ‫גלות‬-life directed toward God and bound up with Him.59

That is to say, there are two paths to redemption. The path which leads to redemption “in its time”60 is long and full of suffering, lasting through the whole duration of history, and sins committed in exile serve to prolong it, preventing a swift and openly miraculous redemption. On this path, God will return 59 Hirsch on Lev. 26:39–41. 60 See Lev. 26:44. Hirsch uses a rabbinic midrash from BT Sanhedrin 98a, on the verse in Isaiah 60:22.

63

64

The Dual Truth

the Jewish people to their land naturally, with concealed miracles, through the tortuous and prolonged processes of history. The End of Days at the culmination of this path, which also lies beyond history, will transpire through divine involvement as if unfolding by itself. It will not be perceived until it happens, and only then will the Jewish people receive the reward promised to them. This is the only time that Hirsch addresses redemption in the form of concealed miracles as opposed to overt ones, and the exception only serves to prove the rule. Hirsch candidly regards this exception as the less desirable option, and prefers the short path, expressed with the words “I will hasten it,” on which the Jews submit to God, refrain from committing further sins while in exile, and happily accept the task assigned to them. This kind of behavior begins a process of expiation for Jewish sins in the Land of Israel, allowing a more favorable exile, one in which the Jewish people do not decay in their own grave over the long course of history, as in the first way.61 The short path of Jewish historical destiny is comprised of three stages which are described here as three covenants. “The covenant of Jacob” is the time of bitter exile, suffering, pogroms and martyrdom, serving to expiate sin; “the covenant of Isaac,” follows in our own day, a new dawn among nations. The Jewish people begin to flourish upon a land which was until now foreign, its fortune growing greatly, and it is then that it will suffer from the jealousy of the nations who will vacillate between envy and humanity. The Jews will utilize their powers which have been liberated and enriched to fulfill their task in exile, observing the Torah in fortune and health, with greater perfection and diversity. Once they have withstood this trial then the “covenant of Abraham” will arrive: Like Abraham, they will observe the Torah, which has been entrusted to them for the salvation of mankind, and they will actualize the full goodness and truth of the Torah in the midst of many peoples. Ultimately, the nations will tolerate and respect Israel—not even though they are the people of the God of Abraham, but because they are the people of the God of Abraham; because they know and observe God’s Torah, which brings salvation to mankind. [. . .] They will overcome all the obstacles over which they stumbled while dwelling in their own land, and only then—‫[ והארץ אזכר‬I will remember the Land]: When they have become “Abraham,” I will restore them to the land, so that they should fulfill their mission as the people of the Torah on the land of the Torah. 61 See Horwitz, “Yah  . aso Shel Shimshon Rafael Hirsch,” 456.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two We see then that [the Covenant of Jacob, the Covenant of Isaac, and the Covenant of Abraham] are the three stages in which they are to perform their task in the ‫[ גלות‬exile]. When they have gone through these three stages, their sin will be atoned for, and at the same time they will be ready to return forever to the land of their independence. 43 ‫[ ’והארץ וגו‬And the land…] When the people will be ready for their mission, the land, too, will be restored to its mission. For the mission of the land is to be the soil of Torah observance for God’s people. But until the people are ready for this, the land will await them in desolation. The land will not be given to another people, and its soil will not promote the development of strangers. In its desolation it will atone for its Sabbaths— as long as the people in their exile must atone for their sin..62

Hirsch offers no details about the Jews’ ultimate purpose in the Land. He only says that it constitutes a prize for successful atonement and will be a means of observing the commandments in their entirety. These are both simple Haredi goals, which do not mesh with any kind of redemptive, worldly zenith in a land repopulated by its inhabitants. It is an eventuality the reader would expect after this long historical odyssey. He describes the Land of God for the people of God—nice words which he fails to give substance. He never sets an end-date for the third stage—the return to the land—nor does he explain how we will know that the time is ripe to return to the land—assuming that the return is a real event within history—in spite of the oaths and dangerous temptations of the land’s bounty. Elsewhere, Hirsch describes the shrinking gap between the Jewish people and the nations over the course of human history. During its history, the Jewish people reveals the one God, orchestrator of history. Its activity also constitutes a divine revelation of sorts in that the Jewish people submits its actions to God’s laws. In the case of the gentiles, however, only their histories attest to divine revelation, not their actions. They act according to their nature, and submit only to their own impulses and preferences, not to the will of their creator: But this contrast diminishes more and more. Under the influence of Israel’s mission and under the influence of the example that Israel quietly sets among the nations, this contrast becomes smaller and smaller. [. . .] The seventh day [of the Succot sacrifices] is the goal of the development of 62 Hirsch on Lev. 26:42–43.

65

66

The Dual Truth mankind and of Israel’s mission for it, and on this day the contrast will cease to exist. Israel and all of mankind will be united in their acknowledgement of God and in the life-service of deeds. [. . .] However, as regards the historical guidance and their role in fulfilling the mission of mankind, the special standing of Israel amidst the nations will not be discontinued. For Israel and the nations differ in their historical development and in their ability to realize the purposes of mankind; hence Israel and the nations, the nations and Israel, will continue to be separate and distinct, even though they will be equal in their value. Both will be close to God in His direction of their history, and both will lead the world for the achievement of mankind’s purposes, but they will continue to be seven and another seven ‫[ כבשים‬sheep], one and another ‫[ איל‬ram]. Nonetheless, they will be identical in rendering homage to God by fulfilling the commandments given to each respectively; the Sinaitic Teaching given to Israel, and the general Teaching given to mankind. In rendering homage to God by doing His Will, Israel and mankind will become one. The active life of all people will bear the stamp of faithfulness to moral duty, just like the active life of Israel. . . ‫הָ אָ ֶרץ‬-‫ּכָל‬-‫ עַל‬,‫ד—ּוׁשמֹו אֶ חָ ד וְ הָ יָה יְ הוָה לְ מֶ לְֶך‬ ְ ָ‫ יִ הְ יֶה יְ הוָה אֶ ח‬,‫“[ ּבַ ּיֹום הַ הּוא‬And the LORD shall be King over all the earth; in that day shall the LORD be One, and His name one”] (Zechariah 14:9).63

Hirsch never states explicitly when this unification is meant to be realized, and also gives no substantial meaning or justification for the Jews’ continued separate existence in its own land in an age of Jewish unity with the rest of humanity, an era in which Jews and Gentiles are identical in terms of history and activity. The second, shorter path is nothing more than an idealization of exile. Hirsch does not follow Maimonides who completely denies the exile, and who believes that its persecutions and suffering are the cause of the nation’s spiritual decline. Nor does he follow Judah Halevi’s view that the nation in exile plays the role of God’s servant, bearing the sufferings of mankind as a passive messenger of progress, continuing to yearn for a real return to its land as soon as possible, its extended languishing in exile a disgrace. Hirsch certainly does not 63 Hirsch on Num. 29:13. In his commentary on Psalms 25:4, he distinguishes between forbidden foods and sexual relations, most of which apply only to the Jews, whereas the laws of justice and truth, honesty and compassion, and the social obligations of the Torah will be observed by all mankind.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two

follow Nachmanides who accords no ideal value to commandments observed outside the Land of Israel, regarding them as nothing more than an exercise to ensure that the commandments are never forgotten. These three thinkers yearned for a Zion within history. Judah Halevi and Nachmanides believed that the Land has inherent value, distinct from the impure ground of the Diaspora (a stance Hirsch refuses to accept), and even implemented and realized (or at least attempted to realize) their dreams within their own personal lives. Hirsch’s view is similar to that of Mendelssohn—exile as a mission to the nations, serving as a personal and communal example of a people nursing from the two sources of culture. However, they still disagree on several points: the relationship between these two sources, human progress, and the active pursuit of their mission. Mendelssohn believes that the two sources of culture are two separate realms, each dealing with its own domain; Hirsch believes they are identical. Mendelssohn rejects Gotthold Ephraim Lessing’s (1729–1781) ideas of human progress; Hirsch adopts it. Mendelssohn believes that Jews are forbidden from being active and taking initiative in their passive mission; Hirsch believes that the task must be undertaken actively within the midst of humanity. One can read these descriptions of the different stages of redemption like Hirsch’s grandson Isaac Breuer,64 who was a Haredi, Zionist-Messianist. As I explained, he sees in Hirsch’s descriptions of redemption identification with Zionism and Torah messianism, a religious vision of Zionism preceding the secular vision of Herzl. It is also possible to read these descriptions like Rosenblit65 and Horwitz,66 who were aware of Hirsch’s reservations about an active Return to Zion in his time, but who, as I have shown, limited this to his own generation, and regard Hirsch’s description of the future as a final stage taking place within history. They thus try to keep him within their own general consensus: their yearning for a real Return to Zion. It seems to me that this reading is mistaken and is captive to a Religious-Zionist perception hiding behind the apparent “duality” of Hirsch’s statements. I prefer the 64 Breuer, “Rashar Hirsch Kemore Derekh,” 16–21. It is not surprising that the essay does not contain even one excerpt from Hirsch. There were some who thought like Breuer, that Hirsch preceded Herzl in a vision of the future establishment of a real Jewish State. In my opinion, wherever Hirsch discusses a “Jewish state” in his Torah commentary he has one of two things in mind: (1) the state—operating according to the laws established by Moses received from the mouth of God—which Joshua was meant to establish; and (2) the state which will be established at the end of history, miraculously created by the hand of God. 65 See Rosenblit, “Galut Veerets Yisrael,” 37–38. 66 See Horwitz, “Yah  . aso Shel Shimshon Rafael Hirsch,” 455–456.

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balanced reading of M. Breuer.67 In my opinion, the future described by Hirsch is utopian, lying beyond history. Within history the Land and the temple are neutralized, replaced by the fatherland of Germany, replaced by the Torah, and replaced by the hearts and homes of halakhically observant Jews. Only beyond history will the sins of the Jewish people be fully expatiated allowing it to return to the Land of Israel, free of the sensual temptations posed by its goodness. Only beyond history will mankind achieve unity, proclaiming the oneness of God. In his essay “The Educational Value of Judaism” from 1873 (which was only published in his collected writings, in 1937 for unknown reasons), Hirsch expresses some unusual opinions about Torah and science which perhaps the editors wished to conceal. This essay contains an important passage about universalism and the mission of the Jewish people in the messianic future. Hirsch explicitly addresses the miraculous character of the End of Days—a time when the wolf will dwell with the lamb and peace and brotherhood will prevail worldwide—paraphrasing the words of the prophets in their literal meaning without interpreting them as allegory: The enlightenment of all the nations on earth was expressly named as the purpose of all the momentous events in the history of the Jewish people. [. . .] The gathering of all mankind around God was stated as the ultimate objective of the many sorrows that the Jewish people had to endure over the centuries of its history. [. . .] The Prophets of Judaism, which has been so unjustly maligned as exclusivist, were the ones who portrayed as the ultimate goal of the history of the Jews, as well as of the rest of mankind, a future era in which all the nations will go to Mount Zion in order to receive the Word of God. On that day, all men will learn to break up their swords and spears and no longer lift up the sword against each other; they will no longer practice the arts of war but will walk, together with the House of Jacob, in the light of the Lord (Isaiah 2:3–4). In that future world, righteousness sill gird the loins and faithfulness will gird the hips, the wolf will dwell together with the lamb and the leopard with the kid, evil and destruction will no longer be practiced, and the earth will be filled with the knowledge of God just as waters cover the bottom of the sea (Isaiah 11:5–9; Micah 4:1–4; Habakkuk 2:14). This will be a world in which God will pour out His spirit upon all flesh ( Joel 3:1), the language of the nations will become 67 See Breuer, Eda, 79–81.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two pure, and they all will call upon the Name of the one, sole God and serve Him dutifully as with one voice (Zephaniah 3:9).68

If Hirsch really had in mind an event taking place within history, in which the nation is forbidden to participate actively, and which occurs only when God wills it, the obvious question emerges: when and how will we know that this is God’s will? Horwitz asks this question and provides no answer.69 In my ­opinion, the decisions of divine providence, at least within Hirsch’s preferred short path to redemption, will be accompanied by supernatural, miraculous ­activity, which we will certainly notice. He asserts this again in 1884, in the essay “Talmudic Judaism and Society.” There, he states that the talmudic liturgy links the return of the Jewish people to its land to the redemption of mankind as a whole. In order to dispel the claim that Hirsch changed his views in his old age, and drew closer, if only slightly, to the Hovevei Tsiyon movement, it is worth looking at this essay in which he says the following: The Talmud incorporated into our daily prayers the assurance of our ultimate return to the land of our fathers and the restoration of the Temple in order that the Law of God may then be carried out in its entirety upon the soil of the Promised Land, which this Law has claimed as its own from time immemorial. This restoration will come hand in hand with the dawn of the Kingdom of God on earth, which will bring everlasting peace to the whole world, because at that time all mankind will recognize God and unite to worship Him by living a life of duty, justice and mercy. According to that same Talmud which proclaims this promise and those hopes as fundamental components of Jewish belief, any self-willed attempt on the part of its adherents to return to the Land would be an act of criminal rebellion against the Will of God; the Jews must leave the fulfillment of the Divine promise to the Will of God, Who alone can sound the call for their ingathering. Until that time, the Jews are expected to endure their exile patiently in the lands to which they have been scattered, to love those lands as their fatherlands, to promote the welfare of those countries, and to conduct themselves as loyal subjects to their fellow citizens, even as Jeremiah (29:1–7) bade them do when they were exiled to Babylonia. [. . .]70 68 Writings, 7:267. See also Hirsch on Gen. 22:17, 49:1–2, 11, 26, 27; Deut. 17:14. 69 Horwitz, “Yah  . aso Shel Shimshon Rafael Hirsch,” 453. 70 Writings, 7:224–225.

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Two issues remain unclear, and Hirsch appears to have left them intentionally vague and ambiguous, situated as he was between maskilic universalism and the traditionalist fundamentalism of Scripture and the Sages. These issues are related to the substance and meaning of a nation living in its land in a messianic utopia, and which laws mankind as a whole will observe in that age. As opposed to Rosenblit and Horwitz, Zeev Levi,71 in his discussion of Hirsch’s philosophy of the Land of Israel, argues that Hirsch severed any real connection between Judaism and the Land of Israel, and that Hirsch maintains that affinity to the Land is not nor ever was an essential part of Jewish religious belief. Levi identifies Hirsch’s approach with the views of Geiger and Rosenzweig. Levi pulls Hirsch even farther to the left than Rosenblit and Horwitz, turning him, at least in terms of Zionism, into a nineteenth-century Reform Jew. I believe however that Hirsch was unable to estrange himself from canonical Jewish sources and therefore, to avoid duality, transferred the return to the land to an unreal messianic future—an eventuality which the Reform movement of the nineteenth century did not believe could or would transpire. I believe that Hirsch would have been happy to abolish the need for a separate nation in its land, even beyond history (like the Reform), and would have liked to believe, as much as possible, that the entire Torah would be observed by all of mankind—in complete opposition to the Reform. However, the traditional Return to Zion, appearing already in Scripture, as well as the halakhic distinction between commandments given exclusively to the Jewish people and seven Noahide commandments given to other nations, prevented Hirsch from saying this explicitly, and required him as an Orthodox ideologue to conform to tradition. Frequently he has difficulty adhering to these boundaries, implying that the entire Torah, or at least large parts of it, are the focus of the Jewish mission to mankind as a whole. Similarly, he does not succeed in providing substance and meaning to the Jewish life in its land in this supra-historical era, confining himself to pleasant, generic words on the matter. According to the balanced reading, Hirsch’s utopian future is indeed imbued with a spirit of universalist humanity, but is also completely infused with Torah Judaism entailing a Return to Zion.

71 Z. Levi, “Erets-Yisrael Bamah  . shava Hayehudit Begermania Mehirsch V’ad Rosenzweig,” Kivunim 4 ( Jerusalem 1979), 54–67.

Interpretations of Hirsch’s Thought from the Right and the Left    Chapter Two The day will come when Jerusalem and Zion will rise again and nations will make pilgrimages to the mountain of God so they, too, may learn to know the ways of that Law and to walk in its paths.72 All the holy ones of Israel serve as Your instruments to this end. Not only Israel but all of mankind will benefit from the educational and moral influence of those among Israel who sanctify their lives through faithful fulfillment of the Torah. They tacitly serve as a light to all mankind, as models showing how man’s sacred calling is to be put into practice. [. . .] Through Israel they will all band together and form a single group to do God’s Will and to fulfill His command.”73

In an essay on “Principles of Education,”74 Hirsch notes that the nations today have already accepted the practical duties dictated by the will of God, and therefore the observance of commandments discussed here alludes to something more than the commandments of the Torah. In many places in Hirsch’s writings, the word “Torah” is used within the context of the Jewish people’s mission to mankind, and my view on the matter is based on this usage.

72 Writings, 2:303. This passage and others like it emphasize the difference between Hirsch and the Reform on the place of the Land of Israel in the Jewish religion. This is as opposed to the opinion Z. Levi. 73 Hirsch on Deut. 33:3. It is interesting to note that Luzzatto writes in a letter that he loved and admired the author of the Nineteen Letters because of his Jewish national pride, which he openly bears with honor, but he thought that his positions and opinions were too conservative and inappropriate to the spirit of the age, and therefore could not influence the thinking and actions of the generation. He read the Nineteen Letters and attacked the position of its author, which is also expressed in the source just cited, according to which the mission of mankind is to serve God according to the commandments of the Torah. “Since the explicit revelation is not a natural event, but entirely supernatural, it follows from this that obedience to it cannot be regarded as the natural fulfillment of man’s mission; for this appears to be something irrefutable, that this perfection must be attainable without any external, supernatural condition. Furthermore, obedience to the explicit revelation cannot be considered as the universal mission of mankind, until a specific revelation (be it what it may) is known to all of mankind and becomes its full belief.” See Luzzatto, Epistolario italiano, francese, latino di S. D. Luzzatto, publicato da suoi figle (Padova, 1890), 214–218, in a letter to Abraham Randegger of Trieste, 1837. Dita Campagnano translated this letter for me and I later found a Hebrew translation in Luzzatto, Peraqim Bemishnato Shel Shadal, trans. M. E. Artom ( Jerusalem, 1968). Artom stresses in his introduction to the selected letters that, at the time he read them, Luzzatto apparently did not know the identity of the author of the Nineteen Letters, which was published under the pseudonym “Ben Uziel.” 74 Hirsch, Writings, 7:226–227.

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SUMMARY In this chapter I have attempted to illustrate how many researchers and Rabbis interpreted Hirsch in the spirit of their own views, some drawing him to the left, others to the right. This, once again, demonstrates the fact that interpreters and scholars bring their own personal views into their readings and interpretations of texts, highlighting the need for awareness and self-criticism, with the understanding that some degree of biased interpretation is inevitable, and that interpretation is ultimately the brainchild of the interpreter. A careful reading of Hirsch’s writings reinforces the balanced view that (1) his system of “Torah im Derekh Erets” was not a compromise post-factum, but the firm stance of one promoting a middle path between Haredism and Reform, deriving from a neo-fundamentalist ideology anchored in modernity and the Haskalah. To understand Hirsch’s approach, one must distinguish between identicality, on the theoretical level, between pure revelation and pure reason, and the practical level of purifying and the attainment of reason and science and examining them according to the criterion of revelation. That being said, if an achievement of reason or science has been proven beyond a doubt and still contradicts revelation, the Torah should be reinterpreted in order to suit science. (2) His attitude towards an active return to the land of Israel within real history is far closer to the Haredi view inasmuch as it is not kabbalistic or mystical (with the ­exception of the universal elements and opposition to chosenness and uniqueness in Hirsch approach) and dissimilar to the messianic religious-Zionist stance, the national religious stance or the classic Reform stance. The next chapter will be dedicated to the philosophy of Samuel David Luzzatto with a focus on his approach of the “dual truth” and its repercussions on his philosophy of divine reward, retribution and providence.

CHAPTER THREE

“Heavenly Reward”—Samuel David Luzzatto’s Doctrine of Divine Providence—between Revelation and Philosophy INTRODUCTION

I

n 1936 Joseph Klausner published the second volume of his magnum opus Historia Shel Hasifrut Haivrit Hah  . adasha (History of Modern Hebrew Literature). The fourth lecture in his book is dedicated to Samuel David Luzzatto, portraying him from a perspective of respect and admiration.1 In this lecture, Klausner reveals the problematic duality he found in Luzzatto’s writings.2 On the one hand, Luzzatto praises philosophy, considers enlightenment and rational research important tools for uncovering the truth, and spurns naïve fanaticism, rejecting Kabbalah and mysticism as charlatanism. On the other hand, he often speaks like a Romantic, directing sharp criticism against Rationalist philosophies based on Maimonides, Ibn Ezra and Baruch Spinoza, and attacks Bible criticism and the Reform movement. According to Klausner, this duality can be traced to two factors—the one societal, the other hereditary, psychological, and personal. His age was one of transition, a time when rationalism and romanticism stood side by side. His father was an admirer of Kabbalah and mysticism, a spiritualist detached from reality, and his mother a 1 J. Klausner, Hahistoria Shel Hasifrut Ha’ivrit Hah  . adasha, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem, 1937), 2nd Amended Edition ( Jerusalem, 1952), 40–121. 2 Ibid., 47–48, 74–75.

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rational pragmatist with both feet planted solidly on the ground. Due to these influences, Luzzatto’s “complex work is full of riddles,” and his personality is one of “contradictions and oppositions, two faced: on the one hand a researcher on the other hand a believer, a rationalist in his scholarship and some of his views [. . .] a Romantic in his overall Jewish worldview.”3 This complexity, Klausner argues, created Luzzatto’s genius character, one that is comprehensive, consistent, and all-encompassing. Scholars after Klausner agree with his identification of a problem in Luzzatto’s approach and personality, but dispute Klausner’s explanation of the phenomenon as well as his positive but strange conclusions about Luzzatto’s character. Noah Rosenbloom believes that Luzzatto’s approach is inconsistent and compromising and considers him similar to his intellectual colleagues: selective, apologetic, and concessionary, willing to use any means available to attain his compromising goals.4 Rivka Horowitz points to the variety of colors in Luzzatto’s personality, and also identifies inconsistencies in his statements.5 Shlomo Baron gently writes: “two opposing orientations ran about in the depths of his heart,”6 and Peter Slymovics adopts a similar view adding that Luzzatto’s personality is an unresolved paradox.7 Shmuel Feiner maintains that Luzzatto is a right-wing radical, an “anti-maskil”8 and Zeev Levi ascribes to him a split personality.9 Recently Hanan Gafni writes that “his multi-faceted and self-contradictory character is a difficult riddle to crack, as is peculiar his ability to combine rational research, devoid of compromises, with his strong Romantic worldview and his tumultuous religious feelings.”10

  3 Ibid., 74–75.   4 N. Rosenbloom, ‘Iyunei Sifrut Vehagut Mishilhei Hameah Ha Shmone-’Esre ‘Ad Yameinu ( Jerusalem, 1989), 121, 160–163.  5 R. Horwitz, “Mendelssohn Veshadal Vehamodelim Shel Dat Bnei Noah .  Vedat Avraham Behagutam” in Avraham Avi Hamaaminim, ed. M. Halamish et al. (Ramat Gan, 2002) 268–269.   6 S. Baron, “Shadal Vehamahapekha Bishnot 1848–1849,” in Sefer Asaf: Qovets Maamarei Meh  . qar., ed. M. D. Cassutto et al. ( Jerusalem, 1953), 40–63 (quotation from p. 42).   7 P. Slymovics, “Romantic and Jewish Orthodox Influence in the Political Philosophy of S. D. Luzzatto,” Italia 4 (1985): 94–126.   8 S. Feiner, “Shadal Vehahaskalah Shekeneged,” in Italia: Shmuel David Luzzatto Matayim Shana Lehuladeto, ed. R. Bonfil et al. ( Jerusalem, 2004), 145–165.   9 Z. Levi, Hermenoitika Bamah  . shavah Hayehudit Ba’et Hah  . adasha (Haifa-Jerusalem, 2006), 35. 10 Gafni,“Peshuta shel Mishna,” 121. Can a Romantic really not conduct objective and rational research with any kind of intelligence? This is certainly surprising!

“Heavenly Reward”    Chapter Three

In this chapter I will attempt to solve this riddle and offer a new reading and understanding of Luzzatto’s views without delving into the recesses of his personality, a task I leave to psychologists. As I understand it, over the course of his life, Luzzatto changed his views several times, in step with the maturation and deepening of his thought. That being said, in every stage of his life— from rationalist youth to neo-romantic maturity—Luzzatto maintained a clear, consistent and uncompromising stance. Without resorting to apologetics, he sought to contend with the contradiction between intellectualism and the belief in revelation, and his different statements stemmed from this challenge. At the end of this process, Luzzatto formulated a position reminiscent of the medieval “dual truth”—a characteristic, uncompromising middle stance. I will begin by examining developments in Luzzatto’s thought in the context of debates with his cousin Samuel Haim Loli (1788–1843) and against the backdrop of Jewish philosophy in the tumultuous nineteenth century, which offered different approaches to the relationship between revelation and reason, and the relationship between the statements of Holy Scripture and the implications of scientific discoveries. I intend to present the stages of Luzzatto’s changing approach towards the apparent contradiction between philosophical determinism and the Torah’s notion of free will and divine providence. With this analysis, I hope to strengthen my claims about Luzzatto’s difficult statements, a problem which led scholars to speak about the “duality” manifest in his views and character. Everything taken into consideration, I agree with Klausner’s conclusion about Luzzatto’s greatness but for completely different reasons, related to his bold and revolutionary character. In order to identify different periods and stages of development in Luzzatto’s life, I have used all the sources at my disposal, both Luzzatto’s writings and his letters,11 most of which he dated meticulously. It appears that my scholarly predecessors contented themselves with reading one or a few of Luzzatto’s sources and therefore reached different conclusions than mine. Does divine providence really control the world? Does it control human history and a person’s actions? Does man really have free will? Is God the source of evil? And how does the system of divine reward and punishment operate? These are the questions which preoccupy Luzzatto his entire life, as they preoccupied many of his Jewish and non-Jewish contemporaries and p­ redecessors. 11 He deals with this issue in both his Italian and Hebrew writings and letters. For Italian letters see below notes 41, 42.

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He is well acquainted with the views of the medieval Jewish philosophers on these issues—Judah Halevi, Maimonides, Gersonides, Hasdai Crescas and others. As a modern Jewish maskil, Luzzatto could not disregard the rational assessment that humans act according to their heredity and environment and that if there is divine justice in the world, it is not readily apparent. That being said, he also possesses a deep religious consciousness of God’s divine providence over his creations and the Torah’s divine origins—a text providing ethical education based on the principles of free will, divine providence, and divine reward and punishment. Luzzatto studied mostly Jewish and Christian literature which served as a backdrop for deep contemplation, participation in (sometimes heated) debates, and development of his views over the course of his life, until he settled on his final position. This final position maintains, like the medieval “dual truth”—or in modern terminology “the irresolvable dialectic”—that the true philosopher-believer must consciously and paradoxically encompass two contradictory truths, and live a life pervaded with fate and free will, with revelation and reason.

YOUNG PERIOD—A TRADITIONAL RELIGIOUS POSITION Luzzatto’s young views on reward and punishment were never distilled into a written essay, but we know them from letters to his cousin Loli and to the famous scholar from Gorizia, Isaac Samuel Reggio (1784–1855), and from a later exchange of letters with the editor of the annual Otsar Neh  . mad, Ignaz (Isaac) Blumenfeld of Brody (1857–1864). From these sources we learn that Loli resided in Trieste from 1816 to 1819 during which he and Luzzatto spent many hours together engaged in extended debates over the issue of free will. At that time, Luzzatto was studying the book of Ecclesiastes which also deals with this subject. In 1819 Loli left Trieste but the two continued a written correspondence. In 1820 Luzzatto wrote his commentary on Ecclesiastes and in 1821 composed an introduction. As he never published anything until he had thoroughly confirmed its veracity, these both remained in his drawer for many years. In the end, both introduction and commentary were published years later, after Luzzatto had already changed his opinion about Ecclesiastes’s author and views. It was only in 1860, in Otsar Neh  . mad 3, that Luzzatto published the introduction to his commentary on Ecclesiastes.12 He sent the introduction to 12 Luzzatto, “Mikhtav Hesber Vehaqdama Leperush Qohelet,” in Otsar Neh  . mad 3 (Vienna, 1860), facsimile edition Jerusalem 1967, 17–25, and in Meh  . qerei Hayahadut (Warsaw, 1913), vol. 2, pt. 1, 60–69.

“Heavenly Reward”    Chapter Three

Blumenfeld in 1857 attached with an explanatory letter.13 The body of the commentary and its conclusion were published in Otsar Neh  . mad in 1864.14 Before the commentary, he added a long note (written in 1860), in which he discusses the circumstances of the commentary’s composition, forty years prior.15 According to this account, Loli had adopted the view of Hasdai Crescas in Or Hashem—that man has no free will and all his actions are predetermined by God whereas Luzzatto endeavored to prove the existence of free will, based on Maimonides’s position. In 1818 he even wrote three poems on the subject, calling them Beit Habeh . ira, and dedicating them to Loli.16 In these poems Luzzatto enumerates the praises of the doctrine of free will. It is sign of man’s freedom, it emphasizes the superiority of the ethical person over the corrupt, and it impels man to act in hope of reward and fear of punishment. In this note, Luzzatto admits that he ultimately failed to persuade his cousin. To the contrary, he was actually drawn closer to Loli’s views eventually conceding that man’s will is indeed subject to internal causes (man’s spiritual and physical nature) and external causes (man’s experience and the events of his time), all stretching back in a chain of causality to the first cause—God. But unlike his cousin, who believed that human evil should be attributed to God, 13 In his explanatory note Luzzatto writes to the editor why he thinks it appropriate to publish his commentary even though in the years since its writing he has completely changed his views on Ecclesiastes and has learned to recognize the book’s virtues. He gives two reasons: firstly, the commentary which is revolutionary and at odds with tradition is proof that already in his youth he was a lover of free inquiry, and his attacks against rationalism do not stem from a pious fundamentalist worldview. Secondly, he considers it important to present the gradual intellectual developments of a scholar who has studied thoroughly from his youth until his older age, against the backdrop of the events that have befallen him. This, he believes, is true science. There are many scholars and sages who hide what they believed before they became famous, afraid to damage their reputation. See Otsar Neh . mad (ibid.) 15–16. 14 Luzzatto, “Perush Qohelet,” Otsar Neh  . mad 4 (Vienna, 1860), facsimile edition, Jerusalem, 1967, 17–25. In the version of the commentary published in Luzzatto, Meh . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, there is an attached explanatory letter (70–71) which Luzzatto sent the publisher in 1858 alongside the manuscript. In this letter he notes an additional reason for publishing the commentary apart for the reasons he gave in his letter in 1857 (see previous note); the book of Ecclesiastes and his commentary contain ethical guidance against egoism which is important for his intellectual battle against his nemesis Spinoza and his rationalist, Jewish followers. The ethics of Spinoza are antithetical to the true morality of Judaism which maintains that the true ethical norm is not “seeking our pleasure and wellbeing, or our honor and glory, but rather seeking good for others.” 15 Luzzatto, Qohelet, 47–54; Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 114–122. 16 Luzzatto, Kinor Na’im (Warsaw, 1913), 130.

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Luzzatto preferred Judah Halevi’s view that distinguishes between the first cause which is God and the first intention which comes from man. Nevertheless, this view also had its problems in his opinion, because it turns God into the cause of evil and because it attributes weakness to God by claiming that human intention does not stem from him. Luzzatto therefore was aided by the views of Plato and Gersonides who believed in a primordial matter, pre-existing alongside God, and who maintained that it is this matter which is responsible for the existence of evil. In 1820 Luzzatto writes about this in a letter to Loli. At the beginning of the letter he reminds him how over the last four years he has contemplated a solution to the question of free will with the sincerity of a truth seeker. He admits that it was impossible for him to ignore the fact that every action has a necessary cause, and that man is not free to choose. A person is subject to his intellect and temperament, elements which lie beyond his control. That being said, he does not agree with the notion of absolute predestination and prefers Judah Halevi’s view that while all actions are attributed to God in a causal chain, intentions still belong to a person not to God.17 Reward and punishment are among the causes influencing a person’s actions, and their goal is to draw him closer to justice and to dissuade him from corruption. As to why God created matter, the source of all evil, Luzzatto cites the views of Judah Halevi (Kuzari, 1:67), Maimonides (Guide for the Perplexed, part 2, 25), Ibn Ezra, and Gersonides who believe that this matter is primordial and not God’s creation ex nihilo. Luzzatto recounts that three days after writing this letter, he began to write his commentary on Ecclesiastes, in a storm of emotion and with youthful zealousness for God, to grapple with the book’s view that everything, including evil, is decreed by God.18 As mentioned, as early as their debate in 1818 (when he was eighteen, and Loli was still in Trieste), Luzzatto began to study Ecclesiastes which deals with the problems of reward, punishment and free will. At first, he tried to harmonize the views of Ecclesiastes with the accepted, traditional Jewish belief in reward and punishment in the World to Come. In that year, November 1818, Luzzatto writes to Reggio: And our friend Samuel David ben Haim Loli asks after you and after your household, with all his heart and soul. Yet it must be surely said 17 Kuzari, 5:2. 18 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 70 in the note, and on p. 118.

“Heavenly Reward”    Chapter Three that he does not know whence you received the notion that he admits that one should doubt whether Rabbi Moses Mendelssohn believes in free will or not, and he insists that in his opinion that that great man denies this belief, which in my opinion and in the opinion of the great Sages is truly the foundation of the entire Torah; the entire world rests upon it, without it there is no judge and no justice, political association would be destroyed and the world would become formless and void. Anyone who denies it curses and blasphemes [God], more than one who denies the Blessed One’s very existence. Who can deny that it is greater evil for a person to say: there is a creator, but he forces his creations to sin, afterwards dispatching his wrath against them, than a person who says: I do not know God at all? Did not the atheist Bayle19 himself write: I prefer a person who says: I am not in this city to a person who says: I am in this city but my actions are evil and sinful. And if this matter is true (which in spite of myself it is) and Rabbi Moses Mendelsohhn denied free will, then this was an error on his part, because he was ensnared in Leibniz’s net of dreams which led him to believe in the existence of monads, which that scholar invented, and he therefore also believed in the existence of armonia prestabilita (predetermined harmony); his faith in that scholar led him to believe in divine fate, and he was unwittingly guilty.20

It is impressive to see the deep and excited religiosity of the young Luzzatto, who accepts the biblical and classic rabbinic belief in a creator who granted man free will, expects him to behave properly, and judges him fairly according to his actions. These principles are anchored in biblical revelation and constitute its foundation. Luzzatto absolutely refuses to accept divine fate—that all is predestined and that man lacks free will—and he opposes this view more than atheism. Such a view sanctions corruption and its implication is complete societal chaos. According to Luzzatto, Mendelssohn was mistaken on this matter, trapped by the Leibnizian system of monads which entails a deterministic worldview. At that time, Luzzatto believed that the Torah and science reach identical conclusions, and although tensions between them exist, these can be

19 The French Christian philosopher Pierre Bayle (1647–1706). 20 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, vols. 1–9 (Przemyśl-Cracow, 1882–1898), 12–13. These letters are a treasure trove of information for every scholar studying the period.

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resolved by disputing scientific speculations or by reinterpreting the Torah to harmonize it with science.21 21 Irene Kajon identifies among earlier European-Christian thinkers an approach similar to that of the young Luzzatto, examining the possibility that some of them may have influenced him. Kajon puts special emphasis on Luzzatto’s statement in his autobiography that he spent a great deal of time reading the writings of Italian and French thinkers. She proves that there is a clear link between Luzzatto’s methods of thinking in Torah Nidreshet (1818) and those of Catholic philosopher Francesco Soave in his “Institutions of Logic, metaphysics and ethics” (Istituzioni di logica, di metafisica e di etica) which was published in Vienna in 1791, and in a second edition in 1795. Soave, who was loyal to the truths and dogmas of Christianity but also to modern European scientific thinking, argued that modern science does not contradict the existence of God. To the contrary, it absolutely supports his existence and religion and science are identical. According to Kajon the identical conclusions reached by Luzzatto and Soave clearly attest to the Catholic philosopher’s influence on the Jewish thinker. Kajon adds to the list of Luzzatto’s influences Immanuel Kant and Johann Gottlieb Fichte, who conceived practical reason as the adjudicator of morality. See I. Kajon, “L’influenza di Franceso Soave sul concetto di ebraismo di Samuel David Luzzatto,” in Italia: Shmuel David Luzzatto Matayim Shana Lehuladeto, 68–70. Klausner already noted Soave’s influence on Luzzatto in lessons he published on Romanticism and philosophy of the era and in his biography of Luzzatto. He claims that Luzzatto was influenced by the precursors of the Romantic movement, and by romantic and practical empiricist philosophers such as John Locke, Jean Jacque Rousseau, CharlesLouis  Montesquieu, David Hume, Immanuel Kant, Johann Gottlieb Fichte, Étienne Bonnot de Condillac, Francesco Soave, and Alessandro Manzoni. Klausner notes that in his autobiography Luzzatto says that when he was young (1814–1818), he assiduously read the works of Christian philosophers such as Locke (using the translation of Soave or another philosopher), Condillac, Montesquieu and others, and they greatly influenced him. As to Soave, Klausner writes in a note that it appears that Luzzatto was heavily influenced by him and recommends researching this influence further. He mentions that Luzzatto recounts in his autobiography that in 1814 he purchased Soave’s “Ethical Obligations” volume by volume as well as his “Institutions of logic, metaphysics and ethics” (the work examined by Kajon). See Klausner, Hasifrut Haivrit, 9–17 n. 36, 52–53, 75, 85–87. Similarly, Luzzatto writes in his autobiography that reading Soave’s works filled him with admiration of their author, and that Locke’s ideas and Condillac’s system always had some sway over him. See Luzzatto, Pirqei H .  ayim, ed. M. Schulvas (New York, 1951), 23. For a discussion of Rousseau’s influence on Luzzatto see M. Artom in his introduction to his edition of Luzzatto’s writings: Ketavim, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem, 1976), 17. Luzzatto was influenced by the doctrine of Rousseau who was a precursor of Romanticism, specifically his preaching of religious tolerance (influenced in turn by Locke), his belief in man’s good nature and natural compassion, and his recognition of natural religion and the importance of ethics. Rivka Horwitz notes that in his autobiography Luzzatto discusses his ideological leanings towards the thinkers of his era, John Locke, Condillac and others and like them he prefers positivist empiricism over philosophical metaphysics. See R. Horwitz, “Shadal Uspinoza” in Barukh Spinoza: 300 Shana Lemoto, ed. S. Fuchs (Haifa, 1978), 174–175. On the growing preoccupation with the conflict between the attainments of a developing science and the beliefs and doctrines of religion, a conflict which was amplified in

“Heavenly Reward”    Chapter Three

In a letter to his cousin Loli, a year later, on September 26, 1819, Luzzatto explains his interpretation of Ecclesiastes 7:14–15, as a solution to the problem of reward and punishment: On a good day be happy and joyful, and do not be apprehensive that misfortune may befall you, negating that good. For if you do this, all your days will be unfavorable. Likewise, on a bad day do not be overly apprehensive, but rather observe that misfortune will not last forever and in the future it will be replaced by good, or that you have already received your [portion in this] world. In any case your sorrow and anger will abate when you look at the good you have already received, or the good that is still to come, because “this opposite that God has created,” good opposite bad, bad opposite good [. . .] know that this was the intention of Ecclesiastes [. . .] and this is true, because portion for portion they shall eat [veheleq ke-heleq yokhelu] [Deut. 18:8] and there is no reward for the observance of commandments in this world.22

In his poem H  .  eleq Keh . eleq Yokhelu, written in 1818, Luzzatto also discusses questions of theodicy. There he offers a similar solution to the one he proposed in his letter to Loli, and also discusses the issue of reward in the World to Come.23 At the beginning of the poem, Luzzatto raises the famous question: “Why have you surely differed between one man and another? This one, why have you made him great? that one, why have you crushed him?” If one tries to argue that this is because one man is good and the other is evil then immediately the second part of the question emerges: “The souls of the righteous, pure of sin, why are they hurled in the hollow of the sling? And in silence sinners rejoice together, they live tranquilly in their homes, confident from fear.” To the observer it appears that “there is no order to good, no law or order to bad, they arrive by happenstance. […] Is it like a wheel turning around non-Jewish philosophy as well during the modern period, influencing Jewish thinkers, see Rotenstreich, Hamah . shava Hayehudit, 8, in the chapter about the sovereignty of morality, part of which is dedicated to Luzzatto. Rotenstreich argues that non-Jewish philosophy also tried to overcome this problem using the compartmental approach, and later in the chapter he explains how this position is reflected in Luzzatto’s thought. See ibid., 32–34, and see below about the compartmental approach. 22 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 47; idem, Kinor Na’im, 110, in the note there. 23 Ibid. The poem’s name is based on Deut. 18:8. It says there that the Priests and Levites who serve in the Temple equally split the tithes and priestly gifts they receive from the nation, as they did not receive any property in the Land of Israel.

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and around with no one driving it?—silence! silence! God forbid!” A young Luzzatto, conflicted between his faith and the conclusions of logic and empirical observation, explains God’s methods of providence in the world according to Ecclesiastes. He asserts that no person in the world has an advantage over another. All people according to their status—rich or poor, farmer or king— receive equal portions of fortune and suffering, happiness and sorrow, pleasure and pain, laughter and tears. Nature, on every point on the surface of the globe, operates according to the same principle: over the course of a full year, time is equally divided between light and darkness, “and this is a fitting analogy to our situation in This World, in which light and darkness, good and bad (in my opinion) are present equally in every person, large and small.”24 Someone who does not realize this is only looking at the matter superficially. With youthful naïveté Luzzatto adds that wealth does not always bring happiness, which cannot be purchased with money. Someone accustomed to suffering who experiences one moment of happiness is equivalent to someone accustomed to years of good who is suddenly beset by a disaster. Every social class has its own troubles—wealth increases worries and enemies, and a pauper happy with his lot can be content. God bestows upon people qualities and talents c­ ompensating those who have lost certain abilities. Luzzatto concludes that there is “one law: a cup of poison and a handful of tranquility; we all will drink from both in the world below.” This conclusion may seem surprising as it seems to suggest equality between the righteous and the wicked. Therefore, Luzzatto falls back on the classic Jewish response in Ecclesiastes, in his own words: “every action done, the Lord will bring in judgment, on the day that all dead will live once again.” In other words, the reward of the righteous and punishment of the wicked will be in the World to Come. But in the current world “on a day of good fortune you will be joyful and happy, and on a day of misfortune you will reflect, thus said Koheleth, [. . .] for one opposite the other the Lord has made.” At this stage Luzzatto had created a simplistic harmony between the observations of reason (that good and bad are balanced) and the statements of revelation (that the righteous man benefits), by consigning reward to the World to Come. Only in 1820, after further deliberation, did Luzzatto move closer to Loli’s view. He concluded that Ecclesiastes fully accepted the deterministic worldview and at this point began to write his commentary on Ecclesiastes. In the introduction to his commentary, he notes that the book was written by a man named Koheleth, who lived after the time of Ezra and who held opinions invalid 24 Ibid., 116 in the note. The poem itself can be found in ibid., 110–129.

“Heavenly Reward”    Chapter Three

and antithetical to Judaism. He argues that Koheleth wrote the book pseudopigraphically, hoping to gain endorsement by attributing it to King Solomon. The sages of his day erased Solomon’s name from the book replacing it with the author’s true name, to express their loathing of forgery and to mock the author by exposing his shamefulness. As time passed, people began to mistakenly attribute the work to Solomon, and commentators piled stacks upon stacks of exegesis and interpretation on the book. Later interpreters, who inclined towards the peshat, explained Ecclesiastes according to its simple meaning, concluding from it that all is predestined and that there is neither free will nor justice in the world. Luzzatto wishes to save Judaism and show that Koheleth is not Solomon and that his views are unacceptable to Judaism. At the end of his introduction he expresses his surprise at Mendelssohn’s claim that the book is authentic, even after he had revealed its secret—the secret of predestination. He concludes that this was only because Mendelssohn was ensnared by the deterministic philosophy of Leibniz which is antithetical to logic and the Torah. In this interpretation, written in 1820, there is no allusion to his earlier attempt to interpret Ecclesiastes 7:14–15 in the spirit of tradition. From 1821, the year he began writing his commentary, until 1857, when he sent it to Blumenfeld to be published in Otsar Neh  . mad, Luzzatto’s views on free will, divine providence, evil’s origins, and divine reward and punishment developed and matured. In 1824, he, and his cousin Loli, each sent each other two letters on the subject of dreams. In 1856 Luzzatto sent the four letters to Blumenfeld for publication, and they were published that same year in Otsar Neh  . mad 1. At the time of their writing in 1824, Luzzatto believed that dreams, happy and sad, are spiritual beings sent at God’s behest like divine angels. Fortune and misfortune befall a person, portion for portion, through these agents. In an attached letter to Blumenfeld, he stresses that he has since changed his view on certain issues, including the subject of dreams, but he believes that maskilic readers, lovers of the Hebrew language, will nevertheless enjoy and be gladdened by these letters. He writes in his second letter: Therefore, those responsible for these accurate dreams must be other, spiritual beings. But who are they and what is their nature? Harken and listen. My friend, you already know how much I believe in individual providence over each and every person, and each and every incident and misfortune; nothing is hidden from God’s providence. You also know, my friend, the tremendous faith I have in the matter of good and evil, and my belief that they are all balanced, each and every person opposite the other,

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The Dual Truth each and every person’s number of days half fortune and half misfortune; nothing is missing, and there is no slack on the rope, for it is certainly weighed as silver upon scales [. . .] However, as it is well known, the kingdom of heaven is like the kingdom of earth, and therefore I will not believe that the Creator, blessed is he, would personally observe the affairs of each and every man and every small movement he makes. Rather I believe that his individual providence is executed by his servants, who perform his will. The exalted king appoints attendants to watch over a man’s steps, from the day of his birth until the day of his death, so that his fortune and misfortune will be precisely equal. I believe that each and every person is watched from the day of his birth until the day of his death by two angels whom God has appointed, one for fortune and one for misfortune, a good angel-good fortune, and a bad angel-bad fortune, their power is equal, and by their hands a person lives a life intermingled with exactly half pleasure and half pain [. . .] they are the masters of terrifying dreams, causing a person sorrow, and they are the masters of accurate dreams, which rescue him from misfortunes, or which consecrate him with good and with a greater or lesser measure of rejoicing; they also perform acts of magic and the like.25

These letters show the immaturity of Luzzatto’s thought at the time of their writing. Nevertheless, even then it was clear to him that God is the source of evil, misfortune being conveyed to a person through divine agents, the angels of misfortune. He clung to the doctrine of divine providence over individuals and that people receive equal portions of pleasure and pain, a principle he would never abandon. In addition to Ecclesiastes, Luzzatto also studied the book of Job. In 1831 he wrote a letter to Issachar Blumenfeld of Brody criticizing the latter’s commentary on Job which he had received from him as a gift. In his commentary, Blumenfeld brings evidence to prove that Job should be dated to only after the Babylonian exile and the return to Zion. One of his arguments is that accounts of Satan and the Kingdom of Heaven were unknown in Israel and were imported during the Jewish return from exile. Luzzatto argues that already 25 Otsar Neh  . mad (Vienna, 1856), 91–93. On Luzzatto’s change in views see ibid., 78. In his letter to the editor Isaac Blumenfeld from 1857, Luzzatto mentions his letter from the previous year which he attached to his letters on dreams, that “I was twenty four when I wrote them, and I did not publish them to teach mysteries of wisdom but to teach the children of Judah writing and eloquence,” because “not everything I wrote and believed when I was young is still true in my eyes today.”

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Micah (in his prophecy in the days of Jehoshaphat, recorded in Kings I, 22:19) describes the kingdom of heaven, as well as Isaiah and even Moses who speaks of a God who came “with myriads of holy ones” (Deut. 33:2). The Satan featuring in the books of Zacharias, Daniel and Job is not Babylonian. The Babylonians were dualists, believing in a god of good and a god of evil, whereas the Satan, described in the Later Prophets and the Writings, is a servant of the one God, executing his will. In other words, Luzzatto had already abandoned his earlier belief in a primordial matter, preexisting alongside God, and constituting the source of evil. He argues further that Satan’s appearance in the account supports his view that the statements made by the book’s protagonists attest to its non-Jewish author: The god of Job is not the God of Israel, for the God of Israel is a compassionate and merciful God, repaying his creations according to their handiwork. He is a God of faith, never false; righteous and upright is he, treating his creatures like a merciful father. But the god of Job is a tyrannical king; when he hears the complaints of the oppressed righteous, how does he respond?—“Be silent, put a hand to your mouth, be shamed before me; look at my might and your weakness, do you have an arm like a god, and can you thunder with a voice like his?” No sir, this is not a portrayal of the God of Israel; this is not the heritage of Jacob, neither before Exile, nor after it. [. . .] All of this, in my view, clearly indicates that Job’s author never saw the light of the true Torah.26

MATURE PERIOD The Compartmental Approach In 1828 Luzzatto was appointed head of the rabbinical seminary in Padua and in 1832 prepared lessons for his students on Judaism. These were written for educational and instructional purposes for young men preparing themselves 26 Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 2, ed. S. L. Goldenberg (Prague, 1836), 119. It was reprinted in Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 52–53. See S. Vargon, “She’elat Zeman h  . ibburo shel Sefer Iyov KeH  .  eleq Metfisat Olamo shel Shadal,” Meh  . qerei Morashtenu, vol. 1, 1999, 7–27. In an addendum to his article, Vargon persuasively argues that Luzzatto’s insistence on the early dating of Job was due to his fear of the spreading heresy which post-dated the Torah and denied its divinity, and the assimilation which would develop as a result.

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for the rabbinate, and it is reasonable to assume that Luzzatto did not reveal the full extent of his philosophical views through this medium. In these lessons, in a discussion of the Jewish morality of the Torah, he includes the subject of reward and punishment. Although natural law is positive and derives from a person’s inner emotions (mercy, justice, sociality, and respect), the morality of the Torah is still superior. This is due first and foremost to the difficulty in enforcing natural morality, which is liable to be brushed aside by a person’s sensual desires, and which contains no efficient system of sanctions. The sanctions of nature are not apparent, especially to those who ignore them, and natural morality includes no preparatory guidance. However, the morality of revelation explicitly opposes outbursts of human desire: Second, it [the law of revelation] gives the law of nature the most effective sanction because reward and punishment heralded by God, cannot, due to his omnipotence, be without effect; nor can the faithful servant of his laws be afraid that he will be ignored, nor the sinner seduce himself into thinking that he will go undetected, due to divine omniscience. Finally, the divine law can and does in fact contain the necessary Propedeutica [preliminary instruction].27

Luzzatto uses these lessons in his essay Yesodei Hatora, which he began to write in 1838, and published in 1842. His ethical philosophy (which he gave the title Rah  . em Ugemul Shamayim in his poem Derekh Erets from 1840) 28 is more thoroughly developed at this stage. In this article, Luzzatto compares and contrasts all systems of morality to Judaism, concluding that the morality of the Torah is preferable to them all. This is because the morality of the Torah is based on man’s natural emotion of compassion, and even works to instill and cultivate this emotion within a person through the guidance of the commandments. However, the power [of compassion] is not enough to give a person dominion over his spirit, to completely overpower his want and desires; therefore look, the Blessed Giver of the Torah saw fitting to add an additional element to the improvement of morals and this is the hope for reward and the fear 27 Luzzatto, “Shiurin Beteologia Yehudit Musarit,” in Ketavim, vol. 1, 113 (first appeared in Italian in Padua 1862 under the title Lezioni di Teologia Morale Israelitica). 28 Luzzatto, Kinor Na’im, 290.

“Heavenly Reward”    Chapter Three of punishment; this is because reward and punishment, related as they are to a person’s essence and flesh, leave a deep imprint upon his heart, sometimes even stronger than the mark left by his want and desires, preventing him from satisfying his want and desire, out of fear of punishment and hope for reward. The reward and punishment, which he established as the basis of moral improvement, are not from the hand of man, who sees only what is visible, and several matters are hidden from his eyes; it is from the hand of God, who sees into the heart and nothing is concealed from him. 29

These pedagogical-religious essays do not raise the philosophical questions of Luzzatto’s youth, although he did contend with them at that time. The impression created is that a distinction between the truth of philosophy and the morality of revelation had developed and matured in Luzzatto’s mind, but was yet to be expressed explicitly. This distinction is reflected in a letter Luzzatto sent on November 8, 1837 to David Morpurgo to Trieste, responding to the latter’s questions. In response to a question on prayer (the seventh question), he writes that God is not subject to the influence of emotions, and that ritual activity, including prayer, are for a person’s own benefit. But this truth is not beneficial and even causes harm; therefore, religion does not specifically teach it, leaving humans to believe the opposite. Answering a question about reward and punishment (the eleventh question), he writes that knowledge of the truth that there is no divine reward and punishment is not beneficial and even causes harm. Therefore, religion instills the opposite notion.30 Later in his life, Luzzatto would clarify and sharpen these distinctions. In 1838, Luzzatto had already begun to express strong opposition to speculative and egoistic rationalism, replacing it with the Jewish morality of compassion embodied in the commandments of the Torah. In that year he added a passage to his poem H  .  eleq Keh . eleq Yokhelu. He realized that the principle of “portion for portion” was liable to pose a moral obstacle, dissuading a person from showing compassion to the weak, a consequence of the belief that every person is meted their fair lot regardless. Luzzatto warns his readers about this evil thought, and cautions them to avoid being shrewd and wicked. God instilled within us the quality of compassion so that we would have mercy 29 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 21; Luzzatto, Al Hah  . emla Vehahashgakha. Bassi Edition (Tel Aviv, 2008), 53. 30 Luzzatto, Peraqim Bemishnato Shel Shadal, trans. M. Artom ( Jerusalem, 1968), 13–15. The source is letter 154 in Luzzatto, Epistolario.

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on those suffering, giving them aid as God’s messengers. We were not given reason and science to be clever, to act with guile, or to present philosophical explanations to justify our stubbornness. These gifts are meant to teach us the superiority of kindness and peace over hatred and war.31 In a letter written in 1840 to the historian Isaac Mordechai Jost (1793– 1860), Luzzatto for the first time discusses explicitly his bold distinction between philosophy and revelation, a distinction he wished to keep secret from the public. He concludes that the two are completely separate realms.32 Philosophy concerned with rational truth, recognizes an eternal world ruled by necessity. The Torah, concerned with morality and good education, teaches about a created world and preaches the principle of reward and punishment, even if these theological principles are not based on absolute truth. Therefore, at least from a philosophical point of view, Luzzatto inclined towards the impossibility of free will, human actions being determined by heredity and environment. That being said, he favored, as empirical-ethical practice, the need to instill a belief in reward for the righteous and punishment for the wicked, as well as a belief in human endeavor as the key to success, even if a person always remains with a sum total of equal parts pleasure and misfortune. He writes as much to Jost: Here it is hinted that the entire foundation of my thinking is that religion is not desirable to God because of its truth but because of its usefulness to improve morality, and therefore there is no need for everything to be true, and despite all this we should not distance his divinity, and we should not distance God for saying untrue things, because it is impossible to tell the power of the creation to flesh and blood, and the maintenance of society 31 Luzzatto, Kinor Na’im, 126–127. 32 The different approaches to the relationship between the statements of revelation and the statements of reason are presented here according to the model proposed by Shalom Rosenberg, Torah Umada, 23–45. Rosenberg distinguishes between two approaches which claim identicality between Torah and science: the first restricts scientific statements; the second reinterprets the Torah to make it suit the scientific statements. Besides these two positions he also discusses the compartmental approach and the dialectical approach. Rosenberg places Luzzatto in the category of the compartmental approach. I however put Luzzatto’s later position, that is the “dual truth,” in the category of the dialectic approach, in which one must distinguish between a resolvable dialectic and an irresolvable dialectic—the latter the view of Luzzatto. See also Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 351–357. On the development of Luzzatto’s view from an interpretive identicality approach (Maimonides’s position) to a compartmental approach, and from there to the “dual truth” approach, see ibid., 447–492.

“Heavenly Reward”    Chapter Three and man’s success is impossible with knowledge of the truth, but [only] with illusion. [. . .] And greater than that, it is clear that society could not exist without reward and punishment and without belief in the superiority of some things and the condemnation of others, and indeed in truth all of our actions are only the results of outer and inner causes, and justice and evil are truth with respect to the action (whether it is beneficial or damaging) but not with respect to the character of the actor. And more than this, is it possible for a person to be a person and not endeavor to attain success? Despite all this, in my estimation, this is vanity, too, because in whatever situation a person may be, it will always be half joy and half a plague, and in my youth, for twenty-three years I gathered together a collection and called it H  .  eleq Keh . eleq Yokhelu [“portion for portion shall they eat”](Deut. 18:8) […] All of these things I spoke in a whisper to your ear.33

In 1846 Luzzatto retracted his position that Job’s author was not Jewish. He writes as much in an addition to his essay Imqei Safa dedicated to Hebrew ­synonyms, a field he researched primarily in his youth. This essay was edited and published in Beit Haotsar, Lishka B, in 1888 by his sons. Luzzatto writes that he considers his previous statements about Job’s author to be greatly in error. He had ignored the story’s conclusion where Job’s end is described as ­surpassing his beginning. That is to say, the author’s goal was not only to humble Job with words about God’s might: but to show that there is no injustice or evil-doing in the world, and that even if a righteous man is oppressed with all manners of torment, n­ othing can stop God from removing them and rescuing him from his troubles, bestowing more good upon him in his end than in his beginning, and to gladden him [with pleasure] equivalent to his days of affliction. Therefore, whatever the beliefs of Job and his companions (for they were not of the Children of Israel) there is no doubt that the author of the book of Job was of our nation and a believer in our God, a faithful God, never false, r­ ighteous and upright is He, [. . .] one of the early, great sages of Israel wrote this book in the Holy Tongue [. . .] to teach the nation that God tries the righteous, sometimes with misfortune and troubles, but will never abandon or forsake them, and will once again have mercy upon them, transforming curse into blessing. 33 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 661.

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The Dual Truth Therefore, a person should seize hold of his righteousness and never let go, for his employer is trustworthy to pay the reward of his labor.34

Here Luzzatto focuses on the religious realm of Torah, disregarding the philosophical side of the issue. He portrays Job’s author as a romantic believer, disappointed by reason and intellect. Luzzatto returns with him to the warm embrace of tradition, to the belief that the suffering of the righteous should at times be seen as a divine trial, and that one who maintains his righteousness will receive his reward already in this world. In that same year, Luzzatto made a second addition to his poem H  .  eleq Keh  . eleq Yokhelu. In this romantic addition, he emphasizes that it is an illusion to think that salvation can be attained by relying on reason. Fortune and misfortune are measured out, and therefore new misfortunes are inevitable. A person’s only hope is that ethical behavior (kindness, generosity, and charity) is in human hands and that a person is subject to free will and not to divine decree; “all is in the hands of heaven except for the fear of heaven.” But Luzzatto does not ignore the philosophical aspect of this issue, distinct from its ethical aspect, and maintains that these are two separate realms—reason and revelation, philosophy and religion, truth and ethical good, intellect and emotion—and they are not to be harmonized. He writes to Shneur Sachs in 1842: Philosophy and poetry are rivals, and if we remove the spirit of hatred and jealously from the ground of poetry, “who can stand before its cold?” [Ps. 147:17] [. . .] Maimonides and his friends, who wanted to bring ­philosophy into the estate of religion, neither knew nor understood that the god of philosophy has no relation or connection to man, and all ­worship and all prayer to a god who does not respond and does not change is useless and vain—and everything that is in the world (both natural events and the action of people by choice) all is linked back by its causes to the first cause, and the first cause does not change, and the structure of events will not change because of our worship and our prayer. But the truth is that which guides philosophy is truth, and that which guides religion is the good and the just. Man is not only reason, for he is also poesia, and poesia is most of man, it is his life and his soul. Religion was given to man to guide the poesia that is in him along with the good and the just; 34 Luzzatto, Beit Haotsar Lishka B (Przemyśl, 1848), 28–29; Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 53 in editor’s note.

“Heavenly Reward”    Chapter Three and if philosophy comes and guides religion, both religion and poesia will be cut off and perish. And this is sufficient for now, because the matters are lengthy.35

Luzzatto uses this principle to interpret scriptural verses that seem to contradict scientific truth. For example, he explains that the biblical injunction to ostracize an impure leper does not stem from a fear of infection but rather: It appears to me that the change in skin color was in the minds of our ancestors a sign of God’s wrath, and they believed that the leper was stricken by God as punishment for some terrible sin he had committed. Therefore, they would separate from him as if he was a person castigated by God [. . .] and because all of this reinforced the belief in divine providence and the belief in reward and punishment, the Torah upheld this belief and commanded that the leper be ostracized.36

In other words, the notion of leprosy as a divine sign attesting to one’s sinfulness is apparently not true. Nevertheless, the Torah adopted this belief in order to educate us to be ethical and good and to instill within us the belief in divine reward and punishment. In his full commentary to the Pentateuch, Luzzatto writes in the same vein. He comments on the verse “visiting the guilt of the parents upon the children” (Ex. 20:5) that now in 1845 he has retracted the question he posed in 1834 in Hamishtadel against Gersonides. Now he agrees with him: For this is the manner of the Torah, to portray fortune and misfortune as purposefully descending from above as reward and punishment even though they proceed and occur naturally according to the world’s natural course; [. . .] and just as the Torah threatens the Children of Israel saying that God is vengeful, jealous and full of wrath, so too it says that he visits the guilt of the parents upon children as if he does this out of vengeance and rage, even though in truth this only occurs naturally and not, God forbid, as vengeance; rather everything is for the benefit of mankind. 37 35 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 779–780. 36 Luzzatto, Hamishtadel (Vienna, 1847), Lev. 12:2. 37 Luzzatto, Ex. 20:5. Compare to Luzzatto, Hamishtadel, on the same verse. This shift in views is also significant in relation to Luzzatto’s statements in his work Yesodei Hatorah, from 1845 where he argues that the Torah has two purposes: the improvement of morals

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The contrast between Luzzatto’s interpretation in 1836 and his interpretation in 1845, demonstrates his transition from naïve religiosity to a more daring approach, which contends with the tensions between the Torah and philosophy. Luzzatto uses the same idea to explain the Torah’s emphasis on the uniqueness of the people of Israel and its closeness to God, ideas which are not purely true as all humans are equally children of God. The plan of the Torah’s providence is to tell the nation of Israel that it is God’s unique nation. This is to draw it closer to God and to guarantee that it remain loyal to him and continue to bear the yoke of the Torah. This is for the sake of the nations of the world who are destined to have equal status to the Israelite people. The nation of Israel precedes the nations in their unification of God and their superior ethical qualities only in terms of time but not in terms of essence. Luzzatto is aware how bold this idea is and therefore adds: “it is unbefitting to explain this matter to an ignoramus.”38 and preservation of the religion. These goals are achieved through the three foundations of the Pentateuch: reinforcing the natural moral of compassion; inculcating a belief in reward and punishment; belief in the uniqueness of the Jewish people. Already in Yesodei Hatorah, Luzzatto restricted the foundation of uniqueness, stating that this uniqueness is not one of essence but only represents precedence in time. In Hamishtadel he adds that the uniqueness is not true and is a divine tactic for achieving certain goals (see the next note). As for the foundation of reward and punishment Luzzatto states in his Torah commentary, cited here, that it is not literally true and reflects God’s establishment of the laws of nature (like Maimonides Guide for the Perplexed, part 2, 48; part 3, 17—see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 490, n. 197) and God’s commandments in the Torah are only an educational means of attaining the goals. This new approach of Luzzatto is reminiscent of Maimonides (Guide for the Perplexed, part 3, 28) who divided the commandments into true and necessary, in order to explain commandments that do not accord with science and philosophy. The true commandments, such as the unification of God and belief in his preexistence are few, and are meant to lead a person to higher intellectual perfection. The necessary commandments however, such as belief in Divine Providence and reward and punishment, are numerous and are meant to educate the nation and improve society, and are not always purely true. That being said, Maimonides’s view stems from a philosophical stance that maintains that the Torah contains an esoteric philosophy for the benefit of an intellectual elite, not to be revealed to the simple masses lest they become heretics, whereas Luzzatto’s view derives from a romantic position that the Torah contains no philosophy and no secrets, and is meant for all people, its goal to educate people to perform good, which is their life’s purpose. See M. Halberal, Harambam ( Jerusalem, 2009), 239–241, 291–293. Luzzatto does not hint to a link between his view and that of Maimonides; on this see below, Chapter Six. 38 See Luzzatto, Hamishtadel, Ex. 20:3. This source as well as others demonstrate that Luzzatto rejects Judah Halevi’s notion of Jewish chosenness, unlike the interpretations of S. Rostovsky-Halprin, Shadal Vehitnagduto Larambam (Tel Aviv, 1954), 20; Rosenberg, Be’iqvot Hakuzari, 63; idem, “Lev Usegula,” 109–119. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 78–81, n. 113, and 423–426. Luzzatto interprets along similar lines the prohibition of conducting a census directly and without good cause out of concern for the evil eye. This idea

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The “Dual Truth” Approach In 1846 Luzzatto revealed for the first time that, due to his lack of success in bridging the gap between philosophy and God’s Torah, he was considering the “dual truth” approach. On the one hand, he concluded that both the identicality approach and the compartmental approach are delusional, and they ignore the contradiction between Torah and science. On the other hand, loyal to a divine Written Torah, he had difficulty accepting that revelation contained no truth, and as a maskil had difficulty accepting that true philosophy does not lead to the good. According to this approach, these two realms are not separate—one concerned with truth the other with good, standing alongside each other with no contradiction—but two realms, philosophy and revelation, contradicting each other but both true. According to philosophy, all things progress from a first cause—God. According to revelation, man possesses free will and is subject to reward and punishment. We are required to live with these two truths, which cannot be reconciled logically in our world, and can only be resolved in the infinite realm of God. To use modern Hegelian terminology, Luzzatto’s system has a thesis and an antithesis. Each one represents a complete truth contradicting the other. However, one cannot create a synthesis out of these two truths, and their relationship is one of irresolvable dialectic. In in his first commentary on the Pentateuch (published originally as an appendix to Mendelssohn’s Biur, printed in 1846 in Vienna, and afterwards in 1847 as a separate work entitled Hamishtadel) Luzzatto writes on Deut. 6:5: However, these two things are opposites and contraries, because if a person knows the perfection of God, which has no end, and if he believes in His is mistaken, but because it is difficult to uproot and because it assists in instilling the belief in God and his providence, and dissuades a person from relying on his own strength and wealth, the Torah adopted it. See Luzzatto on Ex. 30:11. He also uses this method to explain animal sacrifice (Lev. 1:2) not as a genuine, intrinsic need but rather a harnessing of the masses’ belief in their importance in order to educate them to obey the norms of God greater than them all, and thus to guarantee for the future of mankind as a whole the persistence of the great ideas of Judaism—the unity of God and the unity of mankind. Here also his view is similar to that of Maimonides even though he gives no indication of this fact. According to Maimonides also, the commandments of the sacrifices belong to the second order, that is they are not “real” but are required for a pedagogical purpose—abolishing idolatry. Verses in Genesis which do not correspond to the science and theology of our day such as “let there be a firmament in the middle of the waters” (1:6) or “the two greater lights” (1:16) “a sweet scent” (8:21) Luzzatto explains in his commentary as corresponding to the widely-held worldview and cosmology of ancient cultures at the time these words were written, and corresponding to what man sees before of him.

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The Dual Truth absolute unity as explained by the philosophers, then he will fall in one of these two: if he thinks that He is exalted and raised up too high to supervise individuals, or he will think that everything that is in the world is nothing but His decree, blessed be He; and one way or another it is not possible that he will still think to himself to do what will be pleasing in the eyes of God, because he will think that everything is good in His eyes equally. Thus, I am greatly astonished by the philosophers; how could they not have understood that what the Torah’s intention is not that of philosophy, since philosophy is knowledge and perception of truth, and the Torah is the doing of what is good and just; and if the Torah teaches us the unity of God and that the world is a new creation, it is not in order to endow us with knowledge of God and perception of His perfection as it is in their saying, but everything is to plant useful faith in our souls to guide us in the paths of righteousness and justice. Therefore, the Torah and the prophets always diminish the image of God and bring Him to the level of man, and they attribute anger and will to Him, love and hatred, joy and sadness, and other emotions and lacks, and this is all done to depict a relation and connection between Him and us; and if on the contrary we picture to ourselves the god of the philosophers, who is perfect in endless perfection, then it is no longer possible to depict any relation or connection between him and human beings, and no religion will be possible in the world anymore. And what is the place of prayer, if God is unmoved? And what is the place of repentance, if God is unchanging?—and perhaps a man might say: if as you state that the Torah and philosophy oppose each other, then one of them is a lie, so you are contemptuous of wisdom or repudiate the Torah—know that it is neither one nor the other, but I see man composed of two opposite forces, thinking and inner emotions (see the introduction to Beit Haotsar), and it is impossible to increase one of these forces and cancel the other, because man is necessarily subject to both of them, therefore the (true) Torah and (true) philosophy, which is not yet written in a book by itself, but it is scattered in a ten thousand books, always mingled with errors and failures, both are the words of the living God, because both of them agree with human nature, and both of them are the truth alternatively. This is not the place to go into this at length.39 39 See note 43 and 44 below. On the “dual truth” approach, see J. Ross, Mavo Lesefer Beh  . inat Hadat Le-rabbi Elijah Delmedigo (Tel Aviv, 1987), 49–53. In his introduction to Elijah Delmedigo’s work, Ross introduces the “dual truth” approach, defining it, and using it to explain the author’s statements. On pp. 49–50 he indicates its source in the Christian

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At this stage Luzzatto uses both the compartmental approach as well as the “dual truth” approach, without sensing that the two are mutually exclusive. One could read my proof texts more moderately, understanding Luzzatto’s two realms as two viewpoints of the same truth, and not a shift on his part from the compartmental approach. However, if we delve deeper we can begin to identify a sort of medieval “dual truth,” or to use modern Hegelian terminology—an irresolvable dialectic. This reading is supported by Luzzatto’s use of expressions such as “opposites and contraries,” “two opposite forces,” “both are the truth alternatively” as well as “both are true” in the excerpt below (from the period of his old age). In 1848, still excited by the Spring of Nations’ potential for the Jews, and free from all censorship, Luzzatto wrote his essay “The Essence of Judaism” and published it in the journal Il Giudaismo Illustrato ( Judaism Illustrated) which he published in Italian in Padua. In this essay Luzzatto summarizes his current philosophical system for a broader readership. He states there, that Judaism has two faces, a practical aspect and an intellectual one. The basic principle of the intellectual aspect is providence, and of the practical— compassion. Discussing providence, Luzzatto explains, that this principle has two viewpoints. From a religious perspective, providence is understood traditionally: fortune and misfortune befall a person not by happenstance but as a result of divine justice, meted out to man according to his actions. He brings as an example Abraham, who spoke of “the judge of the world” (Gen. 18:25), and Job, whose prosperity is ultimately restored by God. All of Holy Scripture, both its legal and narrative elements, is infused with this principle. Only the Jewish philosophers of the Middle Ages (by which Luzzatto means Maimonides) tried to undermine this principle, arguing that providence is applied generally not to the individual, and that an individual merits providence only by excelling in metaphysical studies. In Luzzatto’s opinion, this attempt had failed by the beginning of the sixteenth century, and ever since, the dominant opinion in Judaism is that divine providence is all-encompassing. From another point of view, the philosophical perspective, one Averroists (followers of the Muslim philosopher ibn Rushd, known in the West as Averroes), and notes that Padua was one of the places where this philosophy was current. On pp. 50–51 he quotes Delmedigo, and on p. 53 he presents the position of “the disappointed rationalist,” which, in his opinion was that of Delmedigo, and a position that he calls “complementarist,” which in my opinion, is also Luzzatto’s position. See also Rosenberg, Torah Umada, 36. On the semantic difference between J. Gutman and H. Wolfson regarding the term “dual truth” see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 354 n. 14.

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must assume another form of providence. The ­majority of h­ istory unfolds according to established natural laws, formulated by God when he created the world. All natural and historical phenomena and man’s actions whether good or bad, are therefore necessary results of these laws: If we wish to speak in philosophical terms we could on the other hand, conceive the actions of providence as necessary results of natural laws, established by God during the creation of the world, similar to other laws which guide the physical and ethical world; for if we agree that God foresees the future, there is nothing to prevent the belief that there is some kind of pre-established harmony between our behavior and our fates.40

Nevertheless, Luzzatto believes that a small number of events and phenomena are the result of miraculous or super-natural providence and not natural providence. This explains revelation and the miracles of Scripture, and it is revelation which is the source of the covenant with Abraham and the commandments in the Pentateuch. Luzzatto emphasizes that although the world follows a natural course, biblical language draws no distinction between different forms of providence; everything there is miraculous, and providence operates there upon all nations. Indeed Scripture includes accounts of revelations, miracles, and prophetic dreams for the other nations as well. For reasons known only to him, Luzzatto does not reveal that he is basically close to Maimonides’s approach from the Guide for the Perplexed and in a note says that Maimonides’s position is that even biblical miracles were established at creation. In the next paragraph, Luzzatto proceeds to vigorously attack Maimonides views.41 Likewise, Luzzatto does not reveal—it seems intentionally—the paradoxical nature of the “dual truth” and with unsuccessful mental gymnastics attempts to bridge the gap between its contradictory worldviews. Luzzatto articulates a stronger conception of the “dual truth”—­maintaining the existence of necessary causality alongside divine providence and free will,

40 Luzzatto, “Mahut Hayahadut,” in Ketavim, vol. 1, 50 and in Al Hah . emla, 93–94. 41 Luzzatto detests the philosophical, rationalist and speculative views of Maimonides, arguing that they derive from Aristotelian-Muslim sources foreign to Judaism. Based on his statements in a letter to Giuseppe Besso (see note 43 [see next citation]) it is possible that he did not understand Maimonides’s view on this issue.

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without resolving the inherent contradiction—in a letter to Giuseppe Besso, written in 1857 in Italian: True freedom does not exclude obedience to arguments and logic, but demands it. So if free will follows arguments and traces the internal and external causes operating on human will (without which there is only madness), a perfect knowledge of all of these causes (which can only be found in God) predicts a person’s choices without limiting, even slightly, this freedom. The solution of Boethius42 is similar to the solution of Maimonides and it is more capable of calming the youth than my own solution, for it almost says: worship God and be silent. In conclusion, I will say again, that these issues are not suitable for the youth, or most people for that matter, and generally speaking it is enough for them to recognize human freedom and divine omnipotence and omniscience.43

In 1850 Luzzatto made a third and final addition to his poem H  .  eleq Keh . eleq Yokhelu, following his disillusionment with short-lived revolution of 1848. Luzzatto mocks the gentiles who believed that their redemption from slavery to the nobility, the church, and the king, was at hand. Their reliance on intellect and their denial of God was their downfall: But He who dwells in heaven will laugh at them; both their fortune and misfortune remain as was. In vain was their blood spilled, and to straighten all that is crooked they labored in vain. Soon freedom they will abhor and they will even bend their shoulders under a king. In him they will find glory—God has a scale, all affliction is in his hand, and in freedom and slavery there is pleasure and pain.

That is to say, man cannot overpower God and his intellect cannot help him change his circumstances or broaden his share of fortune in his life. Luzzatto writes along similar lines in a letter in Italian from that time.44

42 An Aristotelian Christian philosopher who lived in Rome in the sixth century. 43 Published in Italian in Luzzatto, Epistolario, vol. 2, letter 592. Translated into Hebrew in Luzzatto, Peraqim, 67–68. 44 See Luzzatto, Episotlario, 536.

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OLD PERIOD—CONSOLIDATION OF THE “DUAL TRUTH” As mentioned, in a note written in 1860, and published at the beginning of his commentary on Ecclesiastes, Luzzatto wrote about his young views on providence and the book of Ecclesiastes, describing the shift in his views inspired by his cousin. Later in the note, he recounts how, over the course of time, he changed his views once again. After reading the book of the English scholar Samuel Clark (1675–1729), he realized that there is no need to believe in primordial matter. It is the nature of created things to have deficiencies and this is the cause of evil. The word “create” (bara) used in the Torah is meant to teach us that this was a supernatural creation of God, not the natural creation of a human. In regards to the contradiction between free will and scientific determinism, Luzzatto states “both fate and free will are, in my opinion, true.” On the one hand, he explains, it is impossible to deny that God is the first cause of all that exists and occurs in the world; ever since creation he sees and knows everything. Evil also derives from God for it is only through evil that we can identify good. On the other hand, it is clear that everything a person does derives from his own free will and that a person deserves reward and punishment for his choices, even when they stem from causes rooted in his mind and his nature. And, perhaps, this is exactly why there is reward and punishment, because if actions had no cause then it would be impossible to repay them. In this passage Luzzatto no longer mentions the compartmental approach. It seems that he had finally fully adopted “dual truth” approach, employing it whenever encountering an irresolvable contradiction, even though he was aware that this position is paradoxical and difficult to understand. He writes “I will not go into detail justifying my opinion which most people lack the power to understand.”45 As mentioned, he maintains that a contradiction prevails not only between the necessary predestination of philosophy and the free will of Jewish faith, but also generally between the truth of philosophy and the truth of revelation.46 45 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 119. In his commentary on Deut 6:5 (see next note) in his discussion of the contradiction between the truth of philosophy and the truth of revelation cited above, Luzzatto says things along similar lines: “and there is no space here to go into detail.” Even though he replaced his compartmental approach with the “dual truth,” Luzzatto did not make corrections or changes to his commentary on the Pentateuch in verses which contain contradictions between the statements of rational science and the statements of the Torah such as my citations above. It seems that he preferred to interpret along logical-historical lines whenever possible (even when this entailed a daring interpretation) and not to claim that the Torah represents divine truth that cannot always be expressed in human language and which cannot be fully understood. 46 See Luzzatto, Hamishtadel, in the introduction as well as his commentary on Gen. 1:1 and Deut. 6:6, cited above. I discussed this in detail in my book The Middle Way, vol.

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Luzzatto also includes here his explanation for the suffering of the righteous (mentioned above), adding that according to his rational, philosophical observation of the word “the evil in the world is also directed by Him the Blessed One and is not happenstance, but according to quantity and amount, a measure of pleasure and suffering for every head.”47 Luzzatto concludes his remarks on the “dual truth” explaining that this approach can only be grasped by an experienced and mentally settled person. He uses this to explain his earlier interpretation and criticism of Ecclesiastes in his youth. Complex ideas such as those he presents in his old age, cannot be understood by a young man, his heart aflame with the fire of his youth, his blood boiling in his organs, his spirit roaring tempestuously, his waves and swells surging. Therefore, for forty years, I was incensed at Ecclesiastes. But now that the wrath of youth has ceased, and after much experience, after many hardships and after clearheaded observation, I maintain with faith and research, [the existence of] fate and free will and I justify the actions of the creator for all the misfortune that prevails in the world, and for all the misfortune that has befallen me. And I am not (as one journalist wrote) a member of the Stoics, for they say that physical evil is not truly evil, and only imaginary. But I say that it is truly evil, but always measured and weighed, nothing is happenstance, and everything is done with wisdom, and prior providence.48

Luzzatto is aware of the dangers of the deterministic approach, and emphasizes that one should not sit idly by, but diligently strive for the good, improve all the 1, 482–492. My explanation for Luzzatto’s “dual truth” leads to two conclusions: firstly, Luzzatto is not a fundamentalist nor a right-wing radical as is often claimed by scholarship (Lawrence Kaplan and Shmuel Feiner respectively); one cannot say this about someone who maintained both the compartmental approach, which stipulates that the revelation embodied in the Holy Scripture is not always true, and the “dual truth” approach, which stipulates that there is an opposing philosophical approach which is no less true than that of the Holy Scripture. See also the interpretation of P. Mendes-Flohr, Qidma Venaftuleha (Tel Aviv, 2010), 96. In his opinion, Luzzatto believes that these are different realms of one greater truth. I believe that he was influenced by Rosenzweig’s approach (see below, Chapter Nine, n. 164). The second conclusion is that Luzzatto is not a cryptic, unstable two-faced figure as the researchers whom I cited at the beginning of the chapter have argued. 47 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 119. 48 Ibid.

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means at one’s disposal to attain it, and fight the seduction of the evil impulse. Moreover, a person must pray and beseech and never surrender to fate, for it is fate which also determines that the supplicant will be saved. For many years Luzzatto battled the views of Spinoza and his Jewish followers, and takes the opportunity to do so again in this long note. He cites the view of Hasdai Crescas in Or Hashem that revealing the deterministic stance to the masses is dangerous, adding that Crescas’s statements about free will may have been the impetus behind Spinoza’s heresy. Spinoza uses Crescas’s statements in his writings, from which Luzzatto concludes that Spinoza studied Crescas’s works. Moreover, the systems of the two scholars are similar to each other with one important distinction: Spinoza maintains that everything is necessarily caused, stretching back into eternity with no beginning, whereas Crescas maintains that everything is necessarily caused but stretches back to a beginning (creation), which the Creator established according to his will. In summary Luzzatto enumerates the possible solutions to the source of evil, listing them according to the character and value of the solver: 1. The simple believer to the right is not perturbed by philosophical inquiries and lives with his naïve faith. 2. The scholar who believes and thinks deeply, living in two worlds, an advocate of “the middle way,”49 has two possible solutions: a. Primordial matter existing alongside God is the source of evil (as I have shown, this is not Luzzatto’s preferred solution). b. There is no absolute evil, and everything occurs according to divine wisdom. Fate and free will are both true, even though they contradict one another; one must learn to live with this paradox which can only be resolved within the infinite wisdom of God.50 49 Haderekh hamemutsa’at is Luzzatto’s expression. See Luzzatto, Igrot, 322, 599. The terms “right,” “left,” and “middle,” which are used today to denote Ultra-Orthodox, secular, and Modern Orthodox respectively, were used by thinkers of the period to denote devout Orthodox, Reform, and Modern Orthodox respectively. See the introduction to my book The Middle Way, vol. 1, 13–22. 50 Luzzatto even anticipated modern day science. Postmodernist philosophy teaches about different narratives with equal validity, and even science today admits that there is not one truth. For example, according to particle-wave duality, light photons and electrons can exhibit qualities of both waves and particles. This theory is an integral part of quantum mechanics. Chaos theory, which is built into nature, is based on this, and its discussions recognize the existence of free will and determinism at the same time. Determinism is not

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3. The superficial atheist to the left—there is no creator, and everything is eternal and happens out of predetermined necessity. This last philosopher will stumble over his own statements and will be forced to deny what intellect demands: the signs of wisdom in nature attesting to the intelligent design and the causal teleology imprinted into the world. According to Luzzatto, this is the invalid position of Spinoza. In his expanded commentary on Gen. 1:1, Luzzatto writes explicitly about the impossibility of human wisdom encompassing the contradiction between these two truths: And just as the matter of providence and reward was not explained (and it was not proper for it to be explained) philosophically in the Torah, but rather the Torah spoke in the language of man. [. . .] Similarly the matter of creation was not recounted (and it was not proper that it be recounted) philosophically in the Torah, as the Sages said (Midrash Hagadol on Gen. 6:6 and many similar passages): to tell the power of the act of creation to flesh and blood is impossible. Thus, it is not proper for a man of the Torah to remove verses from their meaning to make them agree with natural sciences, nor is it proper for a scholar to deny Torah from heaven, if he finds things in its stories that do not agree with natural research.

In 1864 Luzzatto wrote another letter on the subject of Ecclesiastes in which he explicitly retracts his claim that at the book’s basis lies Koheleth’s study of Greek wisdom. He now believes that the book was written at the end of the First Temple era by a man who believed in divine providence. Therefore, the book opens and closes with the theme of fear of heaven. He argues that the passages comprising the body of the book do not suit these worldviews but rather represent the doubts and deliberations of a thoughtful believer. In this respect Ecclesiastes can be considered the beginning of an unripe Jewish philosophy, prematurely cut short by the temple’s destruction. Luzzatto, therefore, holds the book in high esteem. He says that throughout his life he taught that one should distinguish between pristine Jewish wisdom and foreign wisdom, blessing and upholding the Jewish and rejecting the foreign. The conclusion of Ecclesiastes attests to the author’s comprehensive position on the importance unidirectional, and randomness is an inseparable part of it. God plays with loaded dice as it were, so that everything is both random and intended. The argument is that man’s limited brain cannot, and never will be able to encompass all these contradictions and paradoxes.

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of fearing heaven and maintaining the doctrines of divine reward and punishment. The different essays of Ecclesiastes are intended to educate the nation, teaching them not to stray after futile, material luxuries, but to find satisfaction in their lot: I, who in my youth slandered Ecclesiastes, admit that he was my rabbi and my teacher, instructing me for my benefit; it was he who guided me along the path which I walked all my life: to be happy with my lot, and to realize that there is no profit for man in all his labor; if he does something indecent in order to increase his success, it will not benefit him at all, and if he accumulates money it will add no happiness or peace to his soul.51

SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS The issue of divine providence and free will preoccupied Luzzatto for most of his life. Like in other subjects in his philosophy, he is contending with the contradiction between philosophy and religious faith in revelation, between the notion that there is divine providence, all-encompassing and intimate, granting man free will and judging him according to his choices, and the notion that man’s actions are necessarily determined by his heredity and environment and only remotely by God. I have presented the different stages of his developing conception of evil and divine providence which stem from his attempts to contend with this problem. I have shown that he concludes that fate and providence (like revelation and philosophy) should be considered contradictory—a “dual truth,” or an “irresolvable dialectic” (also paradoxical), which should be happily accepted in its entirety. This position, besides being difficult to explain and understand, is also extremely daring and was not an accepted position among believing halakhically observant scholars in the nineteenth century, the era of romantic idealism. The modern period was characterized by a firm belief in a grand, super-narrative and a single overarching truth. It was only in the twentieth century that cracks began to appear in this position, and towards the

51 A letter to H. Z. Halberstam, printed in Yeshurun 4 (1864), 77–82; Luzzatto, Meh . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 124–125. See also S. Vargon, “Mihutu Uzemano shel Sefer Qohelet al Pi Shadal,” in Iyunei Miqra Uparshanut, vol. 5 (Ramat Gan, 2000), 365–384.

“Heavenly Reward”    Chapter Three

second third of that century it was already considered naïve.52 Even Luzzatto’s ­contemporaries, like Samson Raphael Hirsch and Maharats Chajes, accepted western culture only on the condition that revelation be used as the criterion to evaluate and confirm its particulars. In the realm of theodicy, Luzzatto also developed a unique position based on the doctrine of the “dual truth.” Nonspeculative philosophy maintains that every person receives equal portions of pleasure and pain in this world—according to his class and level. According to revelation, however, a person must consciously plan his actions to be ethical and in accordance with God’s will, as he will be rewarded or punished ­accordingly. Luzzatto’s different positions—the “dual truth,” the “irresolvable dialectical approach,” and even the compartmental approach which he maintained prior to this—all of these explain, in my opinion, the ambiguity and enigma that Klausner and other researchers sensed in Luzzatto’s writings. According to the compartmental approach, there are two perspectives of the truth, each dealing with a completely separate realm, and when both are purified, they emerge as two sides of the one truth, with no contradiction between them. According to the daring and inclusive “dual truth,” philosophy and revelation, even when purified, still represent two truths which contradict 52 Its seems that Elijah Delmedigo, father of the Jewish “dual truth,” as well as Samuel Hugo Bergman maintained views similar to those of Luzzatto, who believes that the two poles of the dialectic are irresolvable. As to the position of Rabbi Nahman of Breslov, researchers are divided as to whether he even though in terms of a dialectic. As to Rabbi Joseph Ber Soloveitchik, researchers are divided as to whether he believed the dialectic to be resolvable or not. Nahman Krochmal and Rav Avraham Yitshak Kook, following the philosophy of Hegel and his disciples, dispute the notion of an irresolvable dialectic and believed in the possibility of harmonization in the world. Scholars who studied Rabbi Soloveitchik and Rav Kook dealt at length with their indecisiveness, a consequence of the dialectic and contradiction in which they lived, as the solutions they offered were only solutions for a short time. Nevertheless, Luzzatto makes peace with the contradiction, accepting it with serenity, and his system seems the boldest of them all. On Rav Kook, see Chapter Twelve below. In my opinion, Luzzatto developed a unique dialectical approach different than the kabbalistic-Hassidic system ( Judah Loew ben Bezalel, Habad Hasidism) as well as the systems of Hegel and Schelling and their Jewish disciples. According to those other dialectical approaches each pole represents part of one overarching truth, and therefore one should make a dialectical effort to unite them, and one who fails suffers. As mentioned, Luzzatto adopts the well-known medieval “dual truth.” According to this system, philosophy and science, when they are purified of errors, and revelation, purified of fundamentalism, each constitute their own complete truths, and in man’s world they contradict one another and cannot be united. This is an inherently irresolvable dialectic. We must live fully and peacefully with these two truths without invalidating even one of them, in spite of the contradiction, knowing that in the world of God they unite to one identical truth. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 482–489 and in the notes there.

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one another. In this manner, one can explain different attitudes in Luzzatto’s writings to these two realms or truths: praise when they are purified and criticism when they are intermingled with improper dross. Philosophy mixed with immoral speculative or egoistic rationalism, which negates pure revelation (Torah from Sinai) as irrelevant and removes it from discussion (“Atticism” in Luzzatto’s terminology), is invalid and contemptible. Similarly contemptible is Judaism mixed with zealotry and mysticism, which rejects philosophy, pure research and study, considering these dangerous heresies (in Luzzatto’s terminology “fanaticism”). On the other hand, Luzzatto praises all who attempt to live in both realms, in their purified forms, at the same time, even when they continue to contradict each other (in Luzzatto’s terminology “Judaism” [‫)]יודאיסמוס‬. Accordingly, there is no need to explain Luzzatto’s position with pseudo-psychological explanations which do not suit his true character, as was done by scholars quoted at the beginning of the chapter. Indeed, we have before us an impressive and special character, possessing an uncompromising middle approach, ahead of its time. I will dedicate the next chapter to delving into another important position of Luzzatto, on the evolution of Halakhah in the Mishnah and Talmud called the “Oral Torah.” Luzzatto believes that the majority of this body of law was not transmitted at Sinai and I will try to show how his position on this issue developed.

CHAPTER FOUR

Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views

I

n my previous book, The Middle Way,1 I discussed Luzzatto’s evolving views about the origins of mishnaic and talmudic law and the circumstances which drove the Sages to interpret biblical verses against their simple meaning (peshat). Due to the confines of space in an already very large text, I was forced to discuss the issue there concisely. In this chapter I will fully describe each stage of Luzzatto’s developing treatment of classic rabbinic literature, specifically his views on rabbinic understandings of Scripture and the origins of laws appearing in tanaitic (Mishnah, Baraita, Tosefta, Midrash Halakhah) and amoraic (Babylonian and Palestinian Talmud) literature. Scholarship on this topic has recently been enriched considerably by the publication of Hanan Gafni’s book, Peshuta Shel Mishna.2 Gafni presents the views of nineteenth-century scholars in Eastern and Western Europe on the amoraic interpretation of the Mishnah: whether or not they deviated from the Mishnah’s literal meaning and if so why? The author describes the bitter controversies between Orthodox fundamentalists and researchers. These researchers— most of them rabbis, and influenced by Europe’s academic air of historical-critical research—had difficulty (some more, some less) ignoring the errors and contradictions they observed in tannaitic and amoraic sources, and struggled to paint a harmonious picture. Gafni presents the views of fifteen scholars hailing from five geographical areas. While such an overview obviously does not allow a detailed, in-depth discussion of any single scholar’s comprehensive methodology, the 1 Chapter Two. Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 314–326. 2 H. Gafni, “Peshuta Shel Mishnah”: Iyunim Beheqer Sifrut Hazal Baet Hahaddasha (Tel Aviv, 2011).

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author stands up well to the task he has set for himself. He presents the views of scholars who cast doubt on the value of the talmudic interpretation of the Mishnah, and who argued that such interpretations, for a variety of reasons, do not capture the Mishnah’s simple meaning. According to them, this leaves open the possibility to offer alternative interpretations of the Mishnah. In the third chapter, dedicated to the scholars of Italy, he briefly discusses the views of Isaac Samuel Reggio and Samuel David Luzzatto. Gafni seldom links scholars’ attitudes on the rabbinic interpretation of the Bible to their views on the rabbinic (amoraic) interpretation of the Mishnah nor does he connect these to their views regarding the divine origins of the Written and Oral Torah. Nonetheless, he accurately demonstrates the clear ideological-religious distortions that infected nineteenth-century scholarship; twentieth-century scholarship, having disconnected itself from the world of Torah-observance, had far less difficulty presenting its findings without pangs of guilt or fear. Gafni’s accurately portrays Luzzatto’s views on the amoraic interpretations of the Mishnah; Luzzatto’s did not modify his views on this issue. By contrast, Luzzatto’s position on the more general subject of halakhic development would change over the course of his life—a process inadequately described by Gafni’s model. In this chapter I will fill in the blanks left by Gafni, describing Luzzatto’s views on the development of Halakhah (from the Bible, Mishnah, Midrash Halakhah until the Talmud), and demonstrating that his position was not static (as implied by Gafni’s portrayal) but grew in sophistication over time. Moshe Halbertal, Shalom Rosenberg and Avi Sagi3 propose models to explain different medieval opinions regarding the Oral Torah, answering questions such as: what precisely did Moses receive at Sinai? what was included in the “Oral Torah”? what role did the Sages play? and what caused disputes between them? To very briefly summarize: according to the Geonim, while the majority of laws appearing in the Mishnah and Talmud were transmitted at Sinai, some of these were forgotten due to war and oppression, and had to be recovered by the Sages, using the thirteen hermeneutical principles (also transmitted at Sinai). According to Maimonides, only the 613 commandments directly related to the Written Torah were transmitted to Moses 3

Halbertal, Al Derekh Haemet: Haramban Viyetsirata Shel Masoret. ( Jerusalem, 2007), 21–79; Rosenberg, Lo Bashamayim Hi, throughout the book; A. Sagi, Elu Vaelu (Tel Aviv, 1996) throughout the book. For an overview of these models see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 158–172. Harris in his book How Do We Know This? (Albany, New York, 1995) also presents a model on the same topic, explaining various nineteenth century views on the topic. I criticize this model in my book, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 167, n. 11.

Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views    Chapter Four

and the remainder represents rabbinic creation. According to Nahmanides and his disciples, Moses received the entire spectrum of halakhic opinions on every law and the task of the Sages was to uncover and constitute proper halakhic rulings for us from this gamut of options. The appearance of the Reform movement—which claimed, on the basis of biblical criticism, that the Written Torah and certainly the Oral Torah are human creations—initiated an extensive debate among Jewish scholars, who were split along ideological lines. The devout Orthodox, led by the Hatam Sofer, invalidated all new positions. The Neo-Orthodox led by Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, upheld the view of the Geonim. Members of the historical-positivist school (later known as the Conservative movement) and their predecessors led by Luzzatto, maintained a position similar to that of Maimonides, arguing that the halakhic codex in the Mishnah and Talmud is an evolving corpus.

THE BEGINNING 1829 marked the official opening of The Rabbinic Seminary of Padua. Luzzatto was appointed one of the seminary’s co-heads and was also entrusted responsibility for its Bible studies. In his first year, in preparation for the role, he wrote an essay for his students describing the origins of the Bible, its text, and the methods of its interpretation. Originally written in Italian, this essay was later published as the introduction to Luzzatto’s Italian translation and Hebrew commentary on the Pentateuch (published in five volumes, Padua 1871). The second part of the essay was translated into Hebrew by Gad Tsarfati. Pinchas Schlesinger incorporated this translation into his edition of Luzzatto’s commentary on the Pentateuch (1966). Menahem Emanuel Artom translated the entire essay into Hebrew in 1976, in the second volume of his Kitvei Shadal, and gave it the title Mavo Lebiqoret Uparshanut Hatorah (“Introduction to the Criticism and Interpretation of the Pentateuch”). In this essay Luzzatto examines for his students rabbinic interpretations of Scripture, exegesis which often conflicts with the text’s primary, simple meaning, clarifying his own method of biblical interpretation as well. He writes: We therefore should rely on that which our theologians unanimously accepted, and that is that our ancient Sages often used the scriptural text to support laws and principles which they received from the infallible tradition of their predecessors; their intention was not to say that this was the text’s precise meaning, but only to fix these traditions in the memories

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The Dual Truth of their pupils, or to accord them the importance they deserved, an importance the people may have denied had they not felt that they derived from the Sacred Text. And in this sense the Talmudists themselves frequently conclude that this is “merely an asmakhta.”4

We have here a short, broad explanation of a comprehensive system already lying in Luzzatto’s drawer, which he would later develop and expand further. Luzzatto speaks about the Sages as a single body and writes about an ancient chain of tradition, conveying laws not recorded in the Torah. However, he does not indicate the beginnings of this transmission and at this point he was yet to explicitly claim that the Sages created their own laws. The Sages employed verses as asmakhtaot (textual support) to bolster the laws of the Oral Torah, traditions they had received from their predecessors, even though this was not the intention of the biblical text. They did this to meet two needs: to ensure students would remember unwritten laws and to reinforce the validity of the ancient Oral Law, anchoring it in the written text to imbue it with importance comparable to that of the Written Torah.

FIRST PRESENTATION OF LUZZATTO’S POSITION: THE ORAL TORAH IS NOT FROM SINAI The first time Luzzatto drew a detailed model of the relationship between the laws of the Oral Torah on the one hand and tannaitic interpretation of Scripture and amoraic interpretation of the Mishnah on the other was a year prior. This was in an essay he wrote on the disputes between Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel, part of a larger project to elucidate the language of the Mishnah. This project was cut short after he was appointed joint head of the rabbinical seminary in 1829. He attached this essay to paragraph 5 of a letter he sent to his friend Solomon Juda Rapoport on July 7, 1831.5 Seven years later, Luzzatto published the essay as a letter, in Kerem H  .  emed, volume 3, 1838. The essay was printed again posthumously in a collection of his essays and letters, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, and was given the title “Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel”.6 4 Luzzatto, Ketavim, vol. 2, 123. See, for example, Ibn Ezra, Ex. 21:8, Lev. 19:20; Judah Halevi, Kuzari, 3:72–73; Maimonides, Introduction to his Perush Hamishnah. 5 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 195. 6 Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 3 (1838), 219–223; Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 154– 155. See Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 195. Luzzatto and Rapoport would continue to correspond regarding this issue. See Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 226.

Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views    Chapter Four

In a note Luzzatto writes: The words of the Sages are like the spurs used to drive an animal—and it is known that the masses are for the most part like horses and donkeys, lacking understanding. Therefore, when the Sages would make a decree they would not announce its rationale for twelve months, lest some be displeased by a law’s reasoning, leading them to disparage it (BT Avoda Zara 35a). Similarly, we find that the rationales of three commandments were explained in the Torah, and the wise King Solomon stumbled over all three of them. And because the Sages were careful not to publicize the rationales of their decrees, this led to them being mostly forgotten, and the decrees remained, no one knowing their source or their reason. And when the Sages of Talmud wished to interpret the rationales of the Mishnah, in most cases they lacked a tradition regarding the reasoning of these rulings and would create their own explanations. Sometimes they would give a law a logical rationale, and sometimes they would link a law to scriptural statements, employing derashot [exegetical derivations], distant from the [Torah’s] simple meaning. This led to the numerous opinions of the talmudic authors in providing a rationale for a single ruling. Therefore, one who is wise and insightful will judge without a doubt, that the gate is not closed before us in seeking rationales for the laws of the Mishnah, besides those rationales provided by the Talmud. And I have done this here with my own explanation of the prohibition of [levirate marriage to] a relative’s co-wife [tsara], which the talmudic authors based on the word litsror. And from this it is clear how far from the truth are those scholars who forced Scripture to accord with Halakhah; they overturn the words of the living God in order to uphold interpretations which are merely an asmakhta. This also caused great damage to the Oral Torah, many of its statements being loathed by the masses and the intellectuals of the nation (certainly by the gentile scholars), as they thought that these were entirely based on the asmakhtaot mentioned in the Talmud. But in truth, the words of the early Sages are all sensible to those who understand them, and were established on foundations of deep wisdom for the good of the nation, and according to the needs of the time and the vicissitudes of the generations. But in their deep wisdom they knew that it was inappropriate to reveal the rationales of these matters to all their disciples, only a minority of them, and not in the study hall which was open to all, but in the secrecy of their tents—as is the case with other secrets of the Torah. And because

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The Dual Truth few disciples received these secrets this led to them being forgotten. Later generations tried to retrieve them using their logic-chopping, but they did not always succeed. And behold, our forefathers left us a wide space in which to conduct our inquiry: First, we must interpret the Torah according to the depths of its true intention; afterwards we must interpret the rationales of the Mishnah and Halakhah, explaining why they [the Sages] saw fit to adjudicate in opposition to Scripture’s simple meaning. And I have already worked on this task in my commentary on Parashat Mishpatim. Second, we must give the Mishnah an innovative interpretation, which is not entirely based on the statements of the Talmud; rather the interpreter should weigh the statements of the Amoraim with scales of wisdom, adding to them on his own. And these matters are broad and deep; this is not the place to clarify them; I have only opened for the enlightened a door, small as the eye of a needle, a gift to the wise man and he will be yet wiser.7

The main principles of the young Luzzatto’s view of the Oral Torah are as follows: 1. Most of the laws in the Mishnah are products of rabbinic legislation, based on the Sages’ own insight and their serious, profound assessment of the good of the nation and the changing needs of the times. Therefore, the laws of the Tannaim, and certainly those of the Amoraim, were never transmitted alongside the Written Torah to Moses at Sinai. 7 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 156–157. Luzzatto cites there the dispute between Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel regarding levirate marriage to a relative’s “co-wife”. The case is as follows: there are two brothers. The one marries two women, the other brother’s relative (for example, his daughter) and another woman (who becomes the co-wife of the second brother’s daughter). The married brother dies without children, and both wives are eligible for levirate marriage to the living brother. Bet Shammai maintains that the brother must marry the co-wife, while his daughter is free to remarry without performing h . alitsa. Beit Hillel however maintains that both women—both the living brother’s daughter and her co-wife— are free to remarry without h . alitsa. Luzzatto explains the reasoning of the peace loving Beit Hillel: they forbade marrying a co-wife because such a relationship would not be successful. It would only lead to strife due to the ensuing hatred and jealousy between the living brother’s new wife, his relative (in this case his daughter), and his current wife. Luzzatto considers the derasha from the word litsror an asmakhta. Gafni, Peshuta, 121–130, focuses primarily on this text. Luzzatto’s views on the talmudic interpretation of the Mishnah—Gafni’s focus— did not change since his discussion of Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai. However, as I will show, his larger view of halakhic development did change.

Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views    Chapter Four

2. Luzzatto distinguishes between two time periods: the period of the tannaitic Mishnah and the period of the amoraic Talmud. The Tannaim created new laws and consciously refrained from publicizing their rationales for a complete year. They did this fearing the public would disapprove or question the applicability of a law’s rationale, and eventually come to disparage it. 3. Therefore, the true rationales were transmitted only to a small chosen few, and were taught privately and not in the study hall. This same system was also used to transmit the “secrets of the Torah,” which were given to Moses at Sinai, and subsequently transmitted from great sage to worthy disciple. Luzzatto does not clarify here the nature of these secrets. 4. For these reasons, the rationales of the Mishnah’s new laws were eventually forgotten. 5. The Amoraim wished to understand the rationales behind the Mishnah’s laws but, possessing no tradition on the matter, they provided their own explanations. These were based on logic or derashot of the Written Torah. These diverged from the peshat of the Torah as they were meant to support laws which differed from the Torah’s commandments. For this reason the Amoraim of the Talmud were divided over the rationales of mishnaic laws. This also led intellectuals, the masses, and gentile scholars to despise the words of the Amoraim, which seemed strange and inconsistent with the text’s simple meaning. Luzzatto does not mention here that rabbinic derashot represent mere scriptural mnemonics—nor does he explicitly mention the necessity of anchoring orally received laws to the text of the written Torah to reinforce their validity. He would, however, revisit these explanations again. 6. Bible commentators, who wished to suit the Bible to Halakhah, and turned the loose exegesis of the Amoraim into the text’s primary reading, distorted the biblical text and turned mere asmakhtaot into the word of God. 7. The amoraic Talmud’s interpretation of the tannaitic Mishnah is not definitive, and every scholar is allowed to provide his own explanation and rationale for the tannaitic statements and rulings appearing in the Mishnah. 8. The scholars in every generation after the Talmud (and in our era as well) have a double task. They must first interpret Scripture to the best of their abilities according to the depths of peshat. Likewise, they must interpret the rationales of tannaitic rulings in the Mishnah according to their simple meaning, explaining the motivation behind rabbinic legislation which conflicts with the peshat of the

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Bible. After this, following a critical, rational analysis of amoraic interpretations, they themselves should provide a new comprehensive interpretation of the Mishnah, sifting out statements which do not suit a literal reading.8 It is not surprising that Luzzatto refrained from widely publicizing these bold views, as he feared the ire of the religiously devout who adhered to the doctrine of an Oral Torah transmitted at Sinai. While Luzzatto’s system seems consistent and comprehensive, a number of problems emerge upon further consideration. First, Luzzatto’s distinguishes between Tannaim who provided no rationales for laws and Amoraim who did. Yet the Tosefta, baraitot, and halakhic midrashim, which were contemporaneous with Mishnah, do provide rationales for laws—primarily derashot from verses. Moreover, only a minority of the derashot cited in the Talmud, are attributed to Amoraim, most being attributed to Tannaim. Second, why did the Amoraim not share the Tannaim’s concern about publicizing the rationales for laws? Third, by what authority did the Tannaim create innovative laws which were not given at Sinai and what gave them the right to take measures to ensure their public acceptance? Fourth, Luzzatto’s reliance on unknown “secrets of the Torah” is inconsistent with his statements in his 1826 work Vikuah  .  al H  .  okhmat Haqabbala, in which he claims that the entire mystical system of Kabbalah derives from an act of charlatanism meant to combat the dangerous, speculative system of philosophical esotericism. Finally, how will Luzzatto respond to the religiously devout who consider belief in the Sinaitic origins of the Oral Torah a fundamental principle of Judaism? The bridge of the “secrets of the Torah” does not seem to be enough to connect tannaitic creation to revelation. It seems that Luzzatto sensed these difficulties and therefore continued to refine his system. 8 Gafni demonstrates that Luzzatto regarded himself the first to argue that every scholar has the right to attempt to interpret the Mishnah divergently from the interpretation of the Amoraim because they did not know the rationales of laws created by the Tannaim, the Tannaim hiding the rationales of their decrees so they would not be disparaged, and the Amoraim only guessing them using their own logic or interpretations of verses. See Gafni, Peshuta, 124. See there n. 77 about Luzzatto’s wish that Schorr continue his work of interpreting the Mishnah, an interpretation not based on the explanations given in the Talmud, and that he research textual variants in the Mishnah and the Tosefta “according to the door I opened in Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 3, 222 [in the notes].” See also ibid., 125, on the debate between Luzzatto and Hirsch Mendel Pineles in 1864. Later I will show that Luzzatto would eventually change his position. Nevertheless, he would continue to maintain that interpretation of the Bible and the Mishnah remains open to us and that rabbinic interpretations are not from Sinai.

Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views    Chapter Four

SOURCE OF AUTHORITY AND THE POSITION OF THE DEVOUT ORTHODOX Seven years after he had formulated the first version of his system, Luzzatto once again dealt with this issue in a letter to Reggio ( June 15, 1837), responding to his request that he publicize his views on Jewish belief. This letter was also published in Kerem H  .  emed, volume 3, and was given the title “H  .  aqirot Shonot” (“Miscellaneous Investigations”). It was printed again in Meh  . qerei Hayahadut under the title “Ketivat Hamishna Veharambam” (“The Writing of the Mishnah and Maimonides”).9 This letter includes criticism of Geiger’s essays published in his journal on Jewish theology, in which he claimed that Rabbi Judah Hanasi wrote the Mishnah and that it is possible, even today, to change the rulings of the ancient Sages. The letter also includes fierce and daring criticism of Maimonides, condemning his attempt to introduce alien philosophy into Judaism, and attacking his decisive halakhic rulings in his Mishneh Torah which were unaccompanied by sources. This marked the beginning of Luzzatto’s comprehensive polemic against Maimonides which is beyond the scope of the current chapter. Discussing Geiger’s statements about the laws of the Tannaim and the Amoraim, Luzzatto writes: Behold, I was most astonished and shocked to see that this scholar [Geiger] maintains that our holy rabbi [Rabbi Judah Hanasi] wrote the Mishnah and that other Tannaim before him also wrote mishnayot. For forty years I have written to you, my friend, of the evidence supporting my opinion (which I wrote in Ohev Ger) that our holy rabbi did not write the Mishnah nor Rav Ashi the Talmud; only in the days of the Savoraim was the entire Oral Torah committed to writing. [. . .] So long as we do not know that the Sages refrained from writing the Oral Torah in a book, so that a court in every single generation would be able to correct and change according to the need of the place and time, we will not know the foundation of the Oral Torah. [. . .] Because individual dissenting opinions were also recorded in the Mishnah, so that men in a later generation should know both opinions together, and they will investigate them and rule on the Halakhah according to this one or that one, as they see fit and according to the need of the time. [. . .] If it had occurred to Rav Ashi and his court that their words would be

9

Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 3 (1838), 61–76; Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 159–160, 164–165, 169, 172, 174.

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The Dual Truth written in a book, they would have expurgated quite a few things, that were good and appropriate at the hour they were spoken, but not to the credit of him who said them if they were written in a book and read in every place and time. [. . .] I have been told that the sentence, “a court cannot annul the words of its fellow court unless it is greater than it in wisdom and number,” is a new ruling, instituted by our holy rabbi (for reasons known to him). [. . .] And perhaps our holy rabbi foresaw that the Jews would be dispersed outside of the Land of Israel, and the Children of Israel would no longer have a place that would be like a center for them, from which the Torah would go forth for everyone. [. . .] So that if every single court were permitted to annul the words of earlier ones, the bond of the nation would dissolve, and the unity would be lost.10

In 1837 Luzzatto maintained that the early Tannaim derived their authority from a court, in which judges were split into majority and minority opinions, Halakhah being adjudicated according to the majority. These rulings were never written down, and both opinions continued to be studied orally. This allowed courts in subsequent generations (if changing circumstances justified this) to review previous rulings. The mishnah in Eduyot states that a court in any generation is allowed to rescind earlier rulings or create new ones on the basis of a new majority vote—on the condition that they rely on a previous minority opinion recorded in the Mishnah. This is the source of the Sages’ authority. Luzzatto argues that Geiger in his essay tries to negate this understanding of the Mishnah in Eduyot. According to Geiger, the mishnah only stipulates one condition—if a court adopts a minority opinion, overturning the previous majority ruling, another court in that same generation cannot revoke this new ruling unless it is greater in wisdom and number. Luzzatto claims that Geiger interpreted this mishnah according to predetermined goals to suit his needs, thinking that he could thus ensure the freedom of a court in any generation to overturn rabbinic rulings with a majority vote. According to Luzzatto, the m ­ ishnah’s two sections are disconnected from each other: the second is the explanation of the first and not part of the same passage as maintained by Geiger. The first m ­ ishnah discusses a case in which a court bases its ruling on a minority opinion from a previous ­generation, using it as a precedent for change. The second mishnah is a separate statement about the relationship between two courts in different generations. If a later court wishes to change a ruling without having a minority opinion as precedent, it would need to be greater than its predecessor in wisdom and number— 10 Ibid., 159–174.

Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views    Chapter Four

practically speaking, impossible. Luzzatto thus situated himself between the Reform who argued that one could make sweeping changes to Halakhah, and the devout Orthodox who maintained that no changes could be made at all. Luzzatto adds that in his opinion, Geiger had accomplished nothing with his interpretation, as even according to him, the mishnah still demands a previous minority opinion on which to base a halakhic change. Luzzatto adds that it seems that the statements of the mishnah in Eduyot are those of Rabbi Judah Hanasi himself. Until the time of Rabbi Judah Hanasi a court in any generation could rescind the rulings of its predecessors with a ­majority vote. After the Jews were dispersed throughout the world, Rabbi Judah Hanasi ruled that a court could no longer rescind a previous court’s ruling (i.e., his court) unless it based itself on a previous minority opinion or was greater in wisdom and number. This effectively blocked any halakhic reform which lacked precedent ever since the time of Judah Hanasi. Consequently, the Amoraim ceased to create new laws, and were only interpreters of the Mishnah, offering interpretations based on logic or their own derashot of the Bible. Luzzatto mentions here for the first time the issue of tannaitic sources besides the Mishnah, arguing that these were studied in secrecy alongside Judah Hanasi’s Mishnah, dissenting from his rulings. Nevertheless, Luzzatto still does not clarify by what authority the tannaitic courts created new legislation which was not transmitted at Sinai.11 A year later, on June 27, 1838, in the heat of the controversy over Maimonides led by Nahman Krochmal, Maharats Chajes and other Galician maskilim, Luzzatto wrote to Joshua Heschl Schorr (1818–1895), telling of Isaac Reggio’s request and his response, which had been published a year prior in Kerem H  .  emed, volume 3. He planned to publish this letter to Schorr in Kerem H  .  emed, volume 4, but decided to shelve it, presumably because of the bold, revolutionary claims it contained. It was only published twenty-five years later in Otsar Neh  . mad (1863) under the title “Mikhtav” (“A Letter”) and again in Mehqerei Hayahadut under the title “Tamtsit Deotav Shel Shadal” (“A Summary of Luzzatto’s Views”).12 In this letter Luzzatto once again elucidates the content of his response to Reggio but adds here details which answer two questions he had left unresolved in previous letters. He writes: For our ancient Sages did not derive rulings by distorting verses and by interpretations far from the literal meaning of the Bible, but they were 11 This claim also seems to be original to Luzzatto. It was later adopted by Joshua Heschel Schorr and Avraham Krochmal. See Gafni, Peshuta, 151–155. See also Luzzatto’s letter to Schorr from 12.3.1840 on the same subject, Luzzatto, Igrot, 677. 12 Otsar Neh  . mad 4, 108–131 (see also note on p. 108); Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 237–249.

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Luzzatto’s letter begins with the issue of authority. He no longer bases tannaitic authority on the court system, and now states that there were two types of rabbinical legislation. One was based on ancient tradition transmitted from master to disciple (Luzzatto refrains from stating that this chain of tradition began with Moses at Sinai). The other (which he had already discussed eight years prior) was the Sages’ own independent legislation which was introduced 13 Ibid., 242–248.

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“with deep and wondrous wisdom according to the needs of the times.” Using Maimonides’s approach (but without saying so), he explains that the authority for this latter type of legislation was of a second-order—a biblical commandment: “and you shall appear before the levitical priests or the judge who will be at that time. . . observing all of their instructions” (Deut. 17:9–11).14 In this letter Luzzatto also discusses the views of the devout Orthodox. They could be expected to accuse him of disparaging Maimonides under the pretense of invalidating Greek philosophy and disparaging the Oral Torah under the pretense of elevating the prestige of the Sages —claiming that they legislated their own laws, undermining the basis of Torah Judaism and its belief in an Oral Torah from Sinai, compromising its only firm source of authority. To this Luzzatto responds that his statements are not directed at them and are only meant for lovers of free inquiry. He even recommends that the devout keep their young children from studying maskilic writings published in journals like Kerem H  .  emed, until they have studied Torah and Halakhah and have consolidated their views. At that point they will regardless be exposed to his views, and one of two things will happen: they will either cast aside his writings and not be swayed by them, like their fathers before them, or they will accept his writings, alter their views, and adopt a Jewish faith based on reason and not the foreign philosophy of Maimonides—and this will be for the greater glory of the Jewish people.

THE SECOND SYSTEM: RE-DIVISION OF ORAL TORAH’S HALAKHIC STRATA Six years later, in 1847, Luzzatto published a collection of his essays entitled Beit Haotsar. In the introduction to the book, he explains that publishing his articles alongside unworthy writers in various journals, agitates him like a thorn in his side and he has therefore decided to collect the remaining essays from his archives and publish them in books of his own. He says that Brody resident Joshua Heschel Schor (Luzzatto’s affluent friend) had lent him all the money needed to publish the first book. Luzzatto planned to publish further volumes and therefore called this book Lishka Alef (“Chamber A”). These anthologies were dedicated to poetry, biblical interpretation, Hebrew, Jewish history, and studies of and excerpts from ancient texts. 14 On Maimonides’s system of an accumulative halakhic codex see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 160–164.

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The first essay in the book, apparently written in the thirties, is called “Imqei Safa” (Depths of Language). Written as a letter to a friend, it discusses Hebrew synonyms, specific Hebrew verbs (‫ ירא‬,‫ רגל‬,‫)תור‬, and the praises of the Hebrew language. In 1846 Luzzatto added an addendum to this essay, which was printed alongside it in Beit Haotsar. In this addendum Luzzatto presents corrections and additions to his earlier views on the development of Halakhah, answering questions which he had left unresolved in 1828. The topic reemerges in a discussion of Saadya Gaon’s contributions to the Hebrew language. Among other things, he discusses Saadya’s battle against Karaism, and tries to prove that this rebellious Jewish sect was unknown to the Sages of Talmud, as opposed to the claims of the Leiden University professor Jacob Tringland (1652–1705) who, along with others, argued for Karaism’s antiquity. Luzzatto claims that the Sadducees of the talmudic era were worse than their successors the Karaites. While the Sadducees pursued Greek culture, the early Karaites adhered to the Pentateuch and its morality. Nevertheless, the students of the early Karaites erred: They did not plumb the depths of the Oral Law, and they did not understand that the Scribes (from the time of Ezra on) made regulations for the benefit of the nation according to the need of the generation, and they explained and defined everything that was unexplained and undefined in the Torah of Moses according to their wisdom, with the power given to them from Sinai, according to the foundations and secrets of the Torah received by them from Sinai, and thus did Sages and Scribes in every single generation, and the Torah in their hand was not like books of the dead and something that has no vital spirit, but it was in their hand like the words of the living God, and as something that is always living and existing, and good and beneficial at all time, according to the need of every single generation. Therefore, they did not wish to record their teachings in a book, so as not to lock the door before those who would come after them, but they, too, could institute regulations according to the need of the times. And behold, the Scribes, they are the first Sages who arose after Ezra, and their names are not known to us, but their regulations are known by the name of divrei sofrim [words of the Scribes], and they did not fear to force the words of the Torah so that they would agree with their regulations, because there was no one among the people who would open his mouth and chatter against them, but everyone obeyed the judge who was in their time, as written in the Torah of Moses; and only for the need of the hour, when the Sadducees raised

Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views    Chapter Four arguments against them, did the Sages produce evidence from the Torah. [. . .] But at the close of the Temple period, with the end of the Hasmonean dynasty, the [beginning of] Herod’s reign and the decline of morality, and strongmen took over, and the honor of rule was taken from the Sages, and they were no longer as before the judges and magistrates of the people, but their Sages and teachers, then they began to attach the laws and judgments, which had been received by them, to verses from the Torah, and they invented some ways and principles by which the Torah was interpreted, and they began to teach the interpretation of verses to their students (Mekhilta, Sifra, and Sifri [compendia of midrash]), but to the greatest of their disciples, they would confide in secret (with other Torah secrets) that these were merely references (asmakhta be’alma), and that the Bible is not to be removed from its simple meaning. And from that time on, midrash began in Mishnah and Baraita, and then it proliferated in talmudic logic-chopping, especially among the Babylonians, who were sharper of wit. [. . .] Then the Talmud was sealed and recorded in writing, but the Torah secrets were not written. Perhaps they were forgotten, because they were only transmitted to outstanding individuals, and perhaps they were not written intentionally, because it is not worthy to communicate them to everyone. And then the references, which had been secondary, became primary.15 15 Luzzatto, Beit Haotsar, Lishka A, 13–14. As is well known, Spinoza claimed that Ezra wrote the Torah, and it was he who introduced Ezra the Scribe into the minds of researchers of Jewish Scripture. See Spinoza, Theological-Political Treatise, Michael Silverthorne and Jonathan Israel, trans. (Cambridge, 2007), 127–128. Luzzatto was well-versed in Spinoza’s views and combatted them with ferocity. The status of Ezra and the Scribes is discussed in the third volume of I. M. Jost’s Geschichte der Israeliten (History of the Israelites) published in 1822. Likewise, the status of the Scribes is discussed in Krochmal’s Moreh Nevukhei Hazman printed in 1851, 194–217, and in the works of the first members of the historical-positivist school Zacharias Frankel, Darkhei Hamishnah, 1859, 3–20 and Heinrich Graetz, Geschichte der Juden, vol. 2, published in 1876 (in Hebrew Divrei Yemei Yisrael [Warsaw, 1893], 157–195). Frankel, who wrote essays on the subject as early as 1841, declared his historical-positivist approach in the second rabbinic gathering of 1845, explaining the basis of his thought—the evolving nature of Halakhah. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 230–231 and n. 119 ibid. Luzzatto was well aware of Jost’s works in which he argued that Ezra and the Scribes gathered fragments of Scripture which had survived and redacted them into the books we know. Luzzatto fiercely criticized this stance. However, Jost adds that the Scribes also interpreted the books of Scripture anew, in order to make their views and the views of their teachers accord with the contradictory views of Scripture. This is

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The main principles of Luzzatto’s approach in its new formulation are as follows: 1. The rulings of the Scribes, from the time of Ezra onward, are the first layer of rabbinic legislation—predating the layer of the Tannaim. how the views of the Scribes came to be regarded as holy. It follows that this theory—that the Scribes and their status constitute the first stage in the evolution of Halakhah—was brought up for discussions during the period in which Luzzatto incorporated it into his own theory. Michael Reuben in his book J. M. Jost ( Jerusalem, 1983) summarizes the historical evolution of Judaism and its holy texts according to Jost. He describes Rapoport’s positive attitude towards Jost’s important studies and Luzzatto’s negative attitude towards Jost’s adoption of the documentary hypothesis, which maintains that the Torah is human not divine, a theory Jost had learned from Eichhorn and Ilgen. See Luzzatto in a letter to Rapoport from January 1831, Igrot Shadal, 178. That being said, as time passed Luzzatto would come to appreciate Jost’s profound research, even his study of the evolution of Halakhah, praising it in a letter from January 24, 1840): “I see in your books profound research which is lacking in the books of all the aforementioned (Zunz, Rapoport, and Reggio). Therefore, you are more precious in my eyes than everyone else, and I hope that your heart also knows this, and only out of modesty and etiquette would you say the opposite” (Igrot Shadal, 660). See Michael, Jost, 27–31, 36, 79–81; Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 59–63, 232–235. On January 29, Luzzatto sent a letter to Leopold Löw, editor of Ben Chananja. He added to the letter a short response essay, which Löw published in the sixth volume of the journal, February 1863, 150–151. The letter and the essay were printed again in Igrot Shadal, vol. 9, 1403, and in Meh  . qerei Yahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 185–187 (without the letter). In this essay Luzzatto quotes Mordechai Gumpel Schnaber’s “Maamar Hatorah Vehah  . okhma,” (printed in London in 1771) as an important source for his notion of an evolving Oral Torah, created from innovative rabbinic legislation based on the thirteen hermeneutical principles. Luzzatto does not disclose when he read this essay. Luzzatto would revisit the Sages’ invention of the thirteen principles in 1854 in a letter to Shneur Sachs (1815–1892) the new editor of Kerem H  .  emed. Sachs printed the letter in the eighth volume of the journal (1854), 5–9, with the title “Al Inyan Qadmut H  .  elqei Hatanah . .” This letter was reprinted in Meh  . qerei Yahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 56–59 with the title “Zeman H    ibburam shel Ah   adim Memizmorei . . Hatehilim.” Among other things, Luzzatto writes: “the Sages of the Mishnah would interpret the verses in various fashions, and invented the thirteen principles in order to base their decrees and the decrees of their predecessors on one of the verses.” (ibid., 57). This sentence summarizes Luzzatto’s entire system. Luzzatto held this model in high esteem and refers the reader to it in the introduction to his first commentary on the Torah, Hamishtadel.

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2. The Scribes explained and defined the laws of the Written Torah wherever it lacked instruction or provided insufficient detail. They also created new laws of their own, for the good of the nation, suiting the changing needs of the time. 3. The Scribes’ authority to create new laws derived from two factors: the power given to them at Sinai by the commandment “observe to do according to all they teach you,” and their knowledge of the principles and secrets of the Torah—transmitted at Sinai and passed down from generation to generation. 4. The Scribes did not commit this legislation to writing lest it hinder future generations from reforming the legislation of their predecessors as new needs arose. 5. The Scribes from Ezra’s time and onward did not need to support their laws by distorting biblical verses, even when their laws conflicted with the peshat of the biblical text. Because of their great power and influence as judges and officials, the nation did not question their authority, and adhered to the biblical commandment to obey the judge of one’s era. It was only seldom, when combating the claims of the Sadducees, that the scribes were impelled to cite verses. 6. With the decline and deterioration of virtues in the days of Herod, the Sages lost the power and the respect of the nation, becoming mere teachers and wise-men. At that point the Tannaim began to use Scripture to support the laws they had received from the Scribes, wishing to ensure their continued acceptance. To do this they created and employed the thirteen hermeneutical principles, teaching their disciples Midrash Halakhah—Mekhilta, Sifra and Sifri. That being said, they did their best to teach handpicked disciples (to whom they also transmitted the secrets of the Torah) that these midrashim were not the true rationales for the Halakhah but mere support-texts, and that Scripture should be understood and interpreted only according to its simple meaning. 7. The Amoraim continued to discuss the Mishnah and the Midrash Halakhah of the Tannaim. However, especially in Babylonia, they overanalyzed these derashot. 8. The Talmud was eventually sealed and even committed to writing when the Sages were forbidden from teaching and adjudicating. From that time onward the Sages are referred to as Savoraim. Naturally the secrets of the Torah were never written down and as time passed were forgotten. Thus, the midrash of verses, which was of secondary importance to the Tannaim and Amoraim, in time, came to be considered the primary rationale for the commandments.

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Luzzatto thus adds an additional layer to his model: the stratum of the Scribes. Due to their power, the early Scribes did not need to give reasons for the laws they created. Ever since the reign of Herod, this power sharply declined, and already the Tannaim began to resort to midrash, twisting Scripture’s simple meaning to ensure obedience. According to this reason, the Tannaim feared to divulge the rationales of their laws not because the nation might not obey them (if they did not agree or did not consider them applicable, Luzzatto’s explanation in 1828) but rather because they feared that their laws would be denigrated due to the decline of their powers of deterrence. The tannaitic Midrash Halakhah is a reflection of this trend. Luzzatto also attributes the creation of the thirteen principles to the Tannaim. The Sages thus derived their authority from three factors: their knowledge of the secrets of the Torah, the biblical commandment to obey their rulings, and from scriptural verses they interpreted using the thirteen hermeneutical principles (their own invention) to suit their needs. All aspects of Luzzatto’s original system of 1828, which were not revised or replaced, remained in force (see above in the description of his system in 1828) including his statements about the amoraic interpretation of tannaitic statements and rationales for their laws in the Mishnah and the midrashim in the Talmud. Luzzatto does not explain in this essay, why the Tanna Rabbi Judah Hanasi did not cite rationales for laws in his Mishnah. This can be explained by a letter Luzzatto sent to Reggio in 1837. There Luzzatto argues that Judah Hanasi wished to guarantee the supremacy of mishnaic ruling, barring future legislation and preventing halakhic change—presumably a good reason for not divulging rationales. Luzzatto argues that this is exactly what Maimonides did in his Mishneh Torah: not citing sources and dissenting views to guarantee the supremacy of talmudic Halakhah or his preferred halakhic rulings, and in that same letter Luzzatto harshly criticizes Maimonides for this.16 With great anger, Luzzatto links Maimonides’s action in the Mishneh Torah to the erroneous view (shared by both Maimonides and Geiger), that Judah Hanasi committed the Mishnah to writing. Luzzatto explains that only Judah Hanasi’s opponents provided rationales for their statements in the Midrash Halakhah and it is clear that Luzzatto believed that this was due to the weakness of their position. That being said, Luzzatto excuses Judah Hanasi’s activity for a number of reasons: he did not commit the Mishnah to writing, he presented minority opinions to still allow future change, and his hand was forced by the difficult circumstances facing the Jewish people in his day. Luzzatto believes that Judah Hanasi’s power 16 See note 10 above; Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 165.

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was very strong, and like the Scribes in their time, he felt confident enough to refrain from providing rationales for his laws.17 This answers the first three questions I raised above in my discussion of Luzzatto’s system as articulated in 1828: why rationales for laws are provided in tannaitic sources besides the Mishnah; why the Amoraim publicized the rationales of laws, and what was the source of the Tannaim’s authority. The question of the source of authority, which is relevant to those who considers a Sinaitic Oral Torah a primary foundation of Judaism, was already resolved in Luzzatto’s letter to Schorr in 1838. One question still remains: my question regarding the secrets of Torah and this in turn raises a new question: did Luzzatto abandon his position from 1828 that the Tannaim created their own laws, now attributing this role to the Scribes instead? Or perhaps, he now believed that the Tannaim continued the practice of the Scribes—by virtue of their knowledge of the secrets of the Torah, their invention of the thirteen principles and the commandment “observe to do according to all they teach you” which applied to them as well? On Purim of 1847 Luzzatto completed his system as he explicitly made clear. The Tannaim used Midrash Halakhah not only to support laws inherited from the Scribes, but also to support their own independent legislation. In his first commentary on the Pentateuch (Hamishtadel, printed in that year for the first time), writing on Lev. 7:18, Luzzatto explains that according to verse’s simple reading, if one brings a shelamim offering, fails to burn its remains by the end of the second day, instead leaving it for himself or for others to be eaten on the third day—his sacrifice is not accepted and is pigul (invalid). Once the sacrifice is thus invalidated, anyone who ate from it, even on the first and second days, retroactively incurs guilt. In Luzzatto’s opinion, it is extremely stringent to consider equally culpable one who eats of the sacrifice on the first and second days, when the flesh of the offering was still permitted, and one who ate on the third day, when it was already forbidden. The Tanna Rabbi Eliezer, wondering how the Torah could retroactively invalidate something which had previously 17 It is possible that this model espoused by Luzzatto represents a precursor to the system later developed by Rabbi David Zvi Hoffmann in his 1882 work Die erste Mishnah und die Controversen der Tannaim (The First Mishnah and the Disputes of the Tannaim). Perhaps the early stratum of the Mishnah discovered by Hoffman is analogous to Luzzatto’s stratum of the Scribes—the rationales of their laws the subject of dispute between Judah Hanasi’s Mishnah and the midrashei halakhah of other Tannaim. The primary difference between Hoffman and Luzzatto is that according to Hoffman no stratum ever created new laws, and all the Sages were merely trying to understand the words of their predecessors which all ultimately originated at Sinai.

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been permitted, explained that the verse should be interpreted against its literal meaning as follows: a sacrifice that was eaten on the third day is invalid on the first and second days as well only if at the time of the offering the owner already intended to leave over meat until the third day. If others know of his intention then they too cannot eat of it, and if they do so, they will incur guilt even if they eat from the sacrifice on the first two days. Luzzatto writes that until now he had not understood why Rabbi Eliezer had displaced the literal meaning of the verse and annulled the stringency emerging from it, against the Torah’s will: After some years when I was surprised by the Sages, why (as in the words of Rashbam [Rabbi Samuel ben Meir]) they removed a certain verse from its simple meaning, today (Purim 1847) I was privileged to understand what they were after. Indeed, in every place where the Sages deviated from the simple meaning of the verse, when the matter is not a single man’s opinion, but something agreed upon without demurral, this is not an error that they made, but it is a regulation they instituted, because of the need of the generations, and who is a reformer like them? But their regulations were with deep wisdom, and fear of God and love of man, not their own pleasure or honor, and not to find favor in the eyes of flesh and blood.

Luzzatto does not accept the Orthodox position that rabbinic exegesis represents the primary meaning of the biblical text. Conversely, he does not accept the Reform position that the Midrash is at worst a falsehood contrived by the Sages, contrary to the good of the nation and at best a terrible interpretive failure in understanding the Bible and the Mishna—a view maintained by (those Luzzatto considers) irresponsible researchers of Judaism in all un-devout streams (whom Gafni quotes at length in his book) including Geiger and Schorr. In Luzzatto’s opinion, Midrash Halakhah represents tannaitic innovation. The Tannaim wished to anchor the laws of the Scribes to the text and to add new decrees of their own, sometime conflicting with prior rulings. They did this for the good of the nation according to the needs of the time, ensuring obedience by basing their laws on Scripture. Luzzatto sensed that his discovery was a dangerous one, which was liable to cause the religious deterioration of those who accept it, leading them to initiate their own religious reforms. Therefore, he stressed the broad difference between the innovations of the Scribes and the Tannaim and the modern innovations of the Reform in his own day, saying that until there are people on the level of the Sages, no reformation is possible. He was careful to note that one

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can only speak of errors in the words of the Sages when a midrash is the individual opinion of one sage whose opinion was not accepted. In summary, according to Luzzatto, the halakhic codex of Judaism is comprised of four strata: the first is the Sinaitic stratum including the Written Torah and the secrets of Torah. The second is the stratum of the Scribes from Ezra onwards. They elucidated and elaborated commandments which were transmitted, only in general terms, at Sinai, and also created new laws which oppose the peshat of the Torah. They did this by virtue of the authority granted to them by the Written Torah in the law of “observe to do according to all they teach you” (Deut. 17:1–11) and were also aided by the secrets of Torah which were only transmitted to unique individuals. The third stratum is that of the Tannaim beginning at the end of the Second Temple period. The Tannaim continued to teach the laws formulated by their predecessors and also created new laws of their own. However, due to their weakened authority they also created the thirteen hermeneutical principles and employed scriptural midrash to reinforce their legislation. The fourth stratum is that of the Amoraim. They continued to deeply analyze the laws of their predecessors and cited scriptural derashot in the names of the Tannaim, anchoring tannaitic laws to the biblical text. They also interpreted verses themselves (sometimes using peculiar derashot) to anchor laws which otherwise lacked a scriptural basis, though they ceased to use Midrash to legislate new laws of their own. In this way, they guaranteed observance, as the nation accepted the Midrash as the authentic interpretation of the text. Only unique individuals were given the secrets of Torah, and only they were informed that Midrash is nothing more than textual support, and not the text’s simple meaning. As time passed, the secrets of Torah were forgotten, and the asmakhta and Midrash became primary. Only the first layer of the Torah is from Sinai, and the majority of Jewish law is rabbinic. Luzzatto’s invention of the secrets of Torah, for which he provides no textual support (as it was always kept esoteric), allowed him to give obligatory authority of the first order to the non-Sinaitic innovations of the Scribes and Sages and non-obligatory authority to scriptural Midrash. Thus, Luzzatto remains loyal to the rabbinic Halakhah, while still adhering to the simple meaning of Scripture—at odds with the rabbinic Midrash (which is merely an asmakhta and sometimes even foreign to the text’s true meaning). Luzzatto does not see fit to explain the appearance of several derashot in the Talmud used to anchor amoraic laws, nor does he explain innovative amoraic

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laws which are justified by using thirteen hermeneutical principles. Geiger, Zacharias Frankel, Heinrich Graetz and Isaac Hirsch Weiss (1815–1905) took this step without qualms, contributing additional layers to research of halakhic literature and its development, maintaining that the Amoraim did create new laws.18 Did Luzzatto remain loyal to his views regarding the secrets of the Torah? Perhaps this can be answered by a letter Luzzatto sent on December 16, 1857 to Eliezer Zilberman, the editor of the weekly Hamagid, printed there a month later.19 In this letter Luzzatto explains that although his name appears alongside other scholars in an album issued in honor of Geiger (blessing him on the twenty fifth anniversary of his appointment as a communal rabbi), this does not mean that he agrees with the claims of Geiger’s book Urschrift und Übersetzungen der Bibel (“Texts and Translations of the Bible,” Breslau, 1857).20 He cites a letter he sent at the time to the editor of the album for publication (although it was, presumably, not published), which he opens with a short poem dedicated to Geiger: Blessed be Avram from God Most High. May he succeed in all his endeavors. May his years be long, and his loins be girded. And that which he destroyed, may he build again.

Luzzatto continues to sharply criticize Geiger. He recounts that five years prior he sent Geiger a summary of his views on the historical development of Judaism and its literature, fifteen years worth of writing and reflection. The subjects he researched, in order, were: changes made by Onkelos’s Targum, the vowelists, the accenters, and the Sages—in their work of interpreting the peshat in order to remove obstacles and for the sake of the people. Luzzatto argues that Geiger used these statements as the basis of his own argument that the Sages went as far as editing and correcting the text of Scripture. Geiger argues 18 See, for example, Z. Frankel, Darkhei Hamishnah, ed. I. Nissenbaum (Tel Aviv, 1959), 336. Frankel’s position, which was published in this book from 1859, is similar to that of Luzzatto’s regarding the derashot of the Tannaim and Amoraim. See ibid., 17–18. On academic views regarding the relationship between Halakhah, the derashot of the Scribes, and the derashot of the Tannaim and Amoraim, see Y. Gilat, Peraqim Behishtalshelut Hahalakhah (Ramat Gan, 1992), 374–376. 19 Hamagid 2.2 14 January 1858. 20 Translated into Hebrew in Geiger, Hamiqra Vetargumav, trans. Y. L. Baruch ( Jerusalem, 1940).

Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views    Chapter Four

that the Sages did this to reform laws for the good of the nation according to the needs of the time. Now, Luzzatto wishes to prove that Geiger was mistaken in accusing the Sages of falsifying Scripture: And as time passed I observed (or thought) that these strange interpretations—at odds with the simple meaning of the verses, scattered throughout the Talmud, the Mekhilta, the Sifra and the Sifri—were also not products of ignorance but were done intentionally to support the decrees they [the Sages] would make to meet the needs of the times. Therefore, it is not our obligation to distort verses to make them accord with Halakhah; rather, our obligation is to follow Halakhah, as it says “according to all they teach you.”

Luzzatto discusses here the derashot of the Tannaim which appear in the Midrash Halakhah and the Talmud (as mentioned, the Mishnah does not generally include derashot and does not provide explanations for its laws). He reiterates his statements from the previous year: the Sages did not misunderstand the text and were fully aware that their interpretations diverged from the Torah’s literal meaning. The Tannaim intentionally interpreted verses in this manner (from a position of weakness) in order to underpin the laws they had created, according them validity and giving them textual support. The Amoraim continued to rely on these interpretations for the same reason. Luzzatto does not specify when he conducted research on this subject, but according to my analysis here, he dealt with the issue of Midrash Halakhah between 1828 and 1847.21 21 If Luzzatto is being precise in his dates, it seems that the letter he sent to Geiger fifteen years prior (1842–1843) reached its destination even before Geiger published his essay on the relationship between the peshat and rabbinic interpretation of Scripture and his reader of mishnaic language from 1844. That being said, the only inspiration Geiger received from Luzzatto’s letter was regarding the innovation of laws by the ancients, for the needs of the time, which deviated from the simple meaning of the Torah. However, when discussing the treatment of the Bible and the Mishnah by the Tannaim and Amoraim he is critical, claiming they had erred in their understanding, conducting strained and inadequate exegesis of the Bible to anchor the laws of their predecessors (and we can therefore ignore their interpretations). After Graetz published sharp criticism of Geiger in 1845, Geiger changed his approach, and actually praised the Sages, utilizing additional ideas of Luzzatto. In a response essay to Graetz that same year, Geiger wrote what he seems to have learned from Luzzatto—that the Midrash Halakhah of the Tannaim and the midrashim of the Talmud, cited by the Amoraim, were not attempts to interpret Scripture or the statements of their predecessors but only attempts to support laws created by the Tannaim (Geiger adds the Amoraim as well)

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If most Scribal and tannaitic laws represent independent innovation on their part, then they were not transmitted to Moses by the Almighty. If so, what authority obligates us to observe these laws? Why not to overturn or alter them according to the needs of the nation and changing times? Why not modify laws as already done by the Reform and as advocated by the historical-positivist school? Luzzatto answers that the authority to innovate laws derives from the biblical commandment “observe to do according to all they teach you,” an explanation already provided in 1828. According to Luzzatto—unlike Geiger, Frankel and Graetz—this commandment remained in force until the time of Judah Hanasi, and the authors of the tannaitic midrashei halakhah (who secretly disagreed with Judah Hanasi). The permission to adjudicate, teach and rely on the minority opinions of the Mishnah ceased with the sealing of the Talmud and the beginning of the Savoraic period. It is important to note that Luzzatto does not reiterate here his claim that chosen sages possessed the secrets of Torah. It seems that this is due to the impossibility of demonstrating the existence of such secrets and to his growing opposition to mysticism and its Hasidic adherents. The thirteen principles are also not mentioned here. According to Luzzatto, while these were used as explanations by the Sages in their own time, in our day, they are no longer relevant. Nowadays we clearly know that the thirteen principles were not transmitted at Sinai, as was claimed by earlier generations. They were the invention of the Tannaim, a means of strengthening their authority, a method allowing them to read verses exegetically in a manner far from their literal meaning. In the same letter, Luzzatto discusses the occasional contradictions between the statements of the Torah and the conclusions of scientific research: And after time I observed (or reflected) that the Torah itself spoke in human language and it was impossible to explain the secrets of creation and the wonders of wisdom to flesh and blood, in any generation, and especially not to those who left Egypt. Therefore, it is improper to distort the Bible to make it agree with science, or to force science to agree with everything that appears in the Bible, and all the more so one should not deny the divinity of the Torah. Rather we should believe that God spoke the entire Torah to Moses, according to what His blessed wisdom saw was good and beneficial to flesh and blood. And this idea is what makes themselves according to the needs of the time. It follows that in our day too we can do as they did, something Luzzatto never proposed. See Gafni, Peshuta, 228–240 and n. 50 there.

Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views    Chapter Four me faithful to philosophy, free in all my investigations, and also faithful to belief in the Torah’s divinity.22

Unlike some of his contemporaries, who maintained that the Tannaim did not understand Scripture, that the Amoraim did not understand the Mishnah, and that both erred out of ignorance and misunderstanding, Luzzatto maintains that they were men of great stature, with a clear goal in mind, fully aware of the nature of the texts they were interpreting. He writes as much to his disciple and friend Joshua Heschel Schorr on January 1, 1840: This I ask of you, my dear brother, that you should be cautious in your words, and not sully the honor of the Sages of the Talmud, to speak of them as lowly men, as when you say that their eyes were blinded— far be it from us to say that. Every person errs, and they, too, erred, and you and I have erred and will err; but in any event the Sages of the Talmud were sharp-witted, they inquired deeply in love of truth for the benefit of their brethren, and it is unworthy of us to depend upon them as a blind man depends on one who sees, but it is also not worthy of us to be contemptuous of their honor [. . .] and if you reflect that the Mishnah, Tosefta, Sifra and Sifri which are now available to us in print were available to the sages of the Talmud orally, preserved only in their hearts, you will be amazed by their wisdom, and not by their errors23

In other words, the sages of the Talmud were intelligent people, who certainly understood the Mishnah just as well as we do, and they should not be disparaged. Quite the opposite: we should honor and thank them for benefitting the nation by delving into the words of the Tannaim, who with deep insight suited Halakhah to their own times according to the needs of the nation. That being said, they were not angels, and like all humans, no matter how intelligent, they also erred. However, their mistakes were accidental and were not sweeping methodological errors. 22 Reprinted in Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 21 (first printed in Hamagid 2, 2). On Luzzatto’s position on the conflict between philosophy and Torah see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 474–491. 23 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 657. Luzzatto’s reprimand was ineffective. Not only did Schorr continue with redoubled energy to invalidate the words of the Sages in the Mishnah and the Talmud, a few years later he also began to criticize the Bible, regarding it a human creation. Luzzatto never forgave him for this and cut off contact with him in disappointment. See E. Spicehandler, “Mavo Leyehoshu’a Heshel Schorr,” Maamarim ( Jerusalem, 1972), 7–37.

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Truth be told, Luzzatto’s comments on Leviticus, cited above, clearly demonstrate that he considered the Sages our superiors in intellect and virtue. He, therefore, opposes any attempt on the part of his contemporaries to alter Halakhah to suit the needs of the time, as done by the Sages. He explains that the Sages were worthy reformers, their innovative laws benefitting the Jewish people for many centuries to come. The reformers of his time however, are neither learned nor virtuous. In the aforementioned letter to Schorr from 1838, he writes about the reformers of his time, directing his statements to devout, observant individuals who reject him due to his statements about Maimonides and the laws of the Oral Torah: And in addition to this, I also believe with complete faith that all those who wish to make new decrees for Israel, they are all like babes and suckling infants compared to our ancient Sages; they with their Jewish wisdom, received from Sinai, succeeded in erecting Israel like an iron post and a bronze wall, against all the events which have befallen us, and all the hatred which has pursued us. But these [the Reform movement] with their Greek wisdom, cause each day the loss of thousands of Jewish souls; our ancient Sages acted to make Israel joyous and goodhearted in times of misfortune while these make their brethren bitter in times of happiness. Therefore, you, my honest and upright brothers, crying and wailing at all the abominations performed in our midst, do not provoke war against me, for I am yours, and not for your adversaries, God forbid! And truly, my heart is resolute and certain, that only the middle faith which I profess is the only will of God, and it will abide forever. So, even if it is assumed that you will stand against me as well, and I will fight a two-front war, with you on my one side, and the heretics on the other, nevertheless it is the counsel of God which will stand. Whether by me or by others, the pure Jewish faith will spread throughout Israel, and shall reign for eternity.

Has the possibility of creating new laws been barred forever? Luzzatto answers in the negative. Already in the aforementioned letter to Reggio from 1837 he writes about Rabbi Judah Hanasi’s abundant wisdom, in permitting future courts to create new laws contravening those of the Tannaim, as long as the court in question is greater than Judah Hanasi’s in size and wisdom.

Development of Halakhah: Luzzatto’s Evolving Views    Chapter Four And because our holy rabbi [ Judah Hanasi] foresaw the possibility of restored glory, even during exile—for it is possible that all of Israel or a great part of the nation will establish a court for themselves, which all will submit to—therefore he wisely added, that if this later court be greater in size and wisdom than the first one, then it can annul the statements of the former. And based on this consideration, the decree of our holy teacher was full of wondrous wisdom. And how fitting for the scholars of our time to realize this, that is to preserve the unity of the nation.24

It should be noted that none of this has ever come to pass, certainly not in the time of Luzzatto, and therefore practically speaking he opposed any change to Halakhah.

SUMMARY Luzzatto’s interpretation of Scripture’s simple meaning (peshat) detached, on principle, from the interpretation of the Sages, is his primary contribution to Jewish thought and to the study of ancient, canonical Hebrew literature. In this chapter I have tried to show that Luzzatto’s position towards halakhic development in the Mishnah and the Talmud which is called oral law—a bold position for its time—underwent a number of changes. Already at a young age, his discriminating eye and analytical mind realized that the laws of the Mishnah, Midrash Halakhah and Talmud do not accord with the text of the Torah and perhaps even contradict it. He therefore concluded that these laws could not have been transmitted orally to Moses at Sinai, and do not represent an interpretation of the Bible’s primary meaning. That being said, his ongoing attempts to understand the motivations of the Sages in their different eras of activity, and the source of their authority to create new legislation and to derive laws from Scripture, persisted for much time. A reading of his writings demonstrates that the first time he committed these matters to writing, methodically was in 1828. In subsequent years he altered and changed his views, and only formulated a comprehensive theory in 1847. The next chapter will be dedicated to Luzzatto’s biblical interpretation, focusing on his fascinating attitude towards classic commentators considered to be interpreters of the peshat—Rashi and Ibn Ezra.

24 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 175.

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The Peshat is One, Because the Truth is One: Luzzatto between Interpretation and Thought

A 

man of many talents, Samuel David Luzzatto was part of the Haskalah literary movement in Eastern Europe, the sister movement of  Wissenschaft des Judentums in the West. His scholarship spanned most areas of Jewish ­studies. His greatest efforts were consistently dedicated to the study of Hebrew language and grammar (including poetry and liturgy), Bible studies, his commentary on the Torah, and Onkelos’s Aramaic Targum (specifically its text and the evidence of its antiquity); he studied other disciplines only intermittently (for instance, Kabbalah, mussar literature, medieval Jewish philosophy, Jewish history and the study of historical figures who interested him). Opportunities to engage in matters of philosophy emerged mainly in in his written correspondences with Italian, Galician, and German intellectuals, with whom he debated various issues of ethics, hermeneutics, philosophy, and occasionally current events. In his sustained project of biblical interpretation, Luzzatto adopted the method of peshat—interpretation of Scripture according to its “simple” or literal meaning—maintaining that the biblical text has only one true ­meaning, which the interpreter should strive to comprehend. The text’s one true meaning is the message the author wished to convey to his audience. In the Torah’s case, this author was God who communicated his message on a low level appropriate for its ancient recipients. Luzzatto endeavored to arrive at the simple meaning of the text, carefully and assiduously examining the Torah according to immediate literary context, the principles of Hebrew grammar, and all the historical, philological, and archaeological information available to him at the time.

The Peshat is One, Because the Truth is One    Chapter Five

This method of interpretation is completely harmonious with Luzzatto’s general attitude towards various philosophical trends that have developed in the history of Jewish thought. Luzzatto rejects the mystical kabbalistic interpretation of the Torah, maintaining that Kabbalah was created by an act of charlatanism, aimed at overthrowing speculative Aristotelian rationalism by using its own tools against it. Likewise, he rejects the philosophical-allegorical method of interpretation, considering it equally mistaken. Like Hirsch, he maintains that the Torah has no secrets and no strata of meaning, either philosophical or mystical. The Torah teaches morality, and the goals and rationales of the commandments are ethical; they are designed to turn those who keep them into better people. In his opinion, the Midrash Halakhah and the Aggada of the Sages do not represent their interpretations of the text’s primary meaning but are merely asmakhtaot (textual reference or support) for laws appearing in the Mishnah and Talmud. This includes laws—which they created to fit changing circumstances and the needs of the community—which conflict with or add to the commandments of the Torah as well. Midrashic readings were also used to reinforce ideological messages the Sages wished to convey to their audience. A review of Luzzatto’s attitude towards classical biblical interpreters reveals an interesting phenomenon. In his philosophical writings (primarily his letters) he harshly criticizes the character and views of Abraham Ibn Ezra but praises and admires the character and views of Rabbi Shlomo Yitshaki (Rashi). By contrast, it is readily apparent from a review of Luzzatto’s commentary on the Pentateuch that his interpretations frequently conflict with those of Rashi. He often supports Ibn Ezra’s interpretation, and when there are disagreements between Rashi and Ibn Ezra, he tends to give an interpretation closer to that of Ibn Ezra. How can this phenomenon be explained? I will attempt to answer this question on the basis of Luzzatto’s philosophy and exegetical methodology, comparing and contrasting Luzzatto’s biblical interpretations to those of Rashi and Ibn Ezra, and presenting Luzzatto’s attitude towards their respective commentaries. I will begin by presenting Luzzatto’s criticism of Ibn Ezra and praise of Rashi.

CRITICISM OF IBN EZRA; PRAISE OF RASHI The disagreement between Luzzatto and Rapoport on the appropriate attitude towards Ibn Ezra is linked to their disagreement over whether or not the book of Isaiah is comprised of two separate works. This began on July 6, 1831. Luzzatto wrote to Rapoport that he is studying the book of Isaiah with his students, and

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among other things is reviewing with them the commentaries of Ernst Friedrich Karl Rosenmüller (1758–1835) and Heinrich Friedrich Wilhelm Gesenius (1786–1835). As they deny the existence of prophecy, he feels obligated to refute their statements, which are contrary to the truth in our possession.1 In response, Rapoport noted that even these commentaries contain some truth, for example, their views on the division of the book of Isaiah into two prophets. According to this theory, the prophecies from chapter 40 onwards are those of a different author, a second “Isaiah” who lived in the time of King Cyrus, a view Rapoport believed was already maintained by Ibn Ezra. This theory infuriated Luzzatto, and in subsequent letters he launched a fierce polemic against it, maintaining that it entailed denial of prophecy, thus destroying the foundations of Jewish faith. When Rapoport responded by citing Ibn Ezra’s view on the subject, bringing as support his commentary on Isaiah, Luzzatto responded, for the first time, with vehement criticism of Ibn Ezra’s character and interpretive method. These letters are not extant, but we can adduce their contents from Rapoport’s responses and subsequent letters from Luzzatto. In his response, Rapoport attacks Luzzatto’s main arguments one by one and says that Abraham Ibn Ezra deserves to be honored with the maxim “from Abraham until Abraham there was none like Abraham,” a formula customarily applied to Maimonides (“From Moses to Moses there was none like Moses”). Luzzatto responded with a harsh letter on November 11, 1832. Luzzatto would use the text of this letter once again in 1838 when the controversy over Ibn Ezra and Deutero-Isaiah re-erupted, this time with Krochmal, Rapoport and Reggio (the recipient of the second letter). From these letters—the first to Rapoport, the second to Reggio—emerge Luzzatto’s main arguments against Ibn Ezra and his justifications for praising Rashi as his superior. I have combined the two letters into one text:2 1

For a full description of these controversies, including detailed and comprehensive excerpts from correspondence between Luzzatto, Rapoport, Reggio, Krochmal, Goldenberg, and Schorr see S. Vargon, “Havikuah  .  bein Shmuel David Luzzatto Le’amitav ‘Al Hayah  . as Le R. Avraham Ibn Ezra Keh  . eleq Meolama Shel Tenu’at Hahaskalah,” in Italia: Shmuel David Luzzatto Matayim Shana Lehuladeto, 25–53; idem, “Havikuah  .  bein Shadal Leyashar bedevar Zeman Ketivata shel Hatorah,” Beit Miqra 52, 1 (2007), 169–184; idem, “Zehuto Shel Meh  . aber Yesaa’yahu 56:9—57:13 Uzmana Shel Hanevua ‘Al Pi Shadal,” Beit Miqra 45, 2 (2000), 97–109; idem,“‘Emdato Shel Shadal Besheelat Ah  . duto Shel Sefer Yesaa’yahu,” Meh  . qerei Morashtenu I (1999), 7–27. See also idem, Shmuel David Luzzatto Biqortiut Metuna Beferush Hamiqra (Ramat Gan, 2013), 402–425; S. Rostovsky-Halprin, Shadal Vehitnagduto Larambam (Tel Aviv, 1954), 21–23. On the controversy over Deutero-Isaiah see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 141–144. 2 The first part, up until the first set of curly brackets, only appears in the letter to Reggio, Igrot Shadal, 232. The curly brackets include additions and changes to the text in a letter

The Peshat is One, Because the Truth is One    Chapter Five And I say this to retire the saying “from Moses until Moses” and its parallel, which you, my friend, have added: “from Abraham until Abraham”—may the God of Abraham have mercy! Is this the manner of man you choose? A man who speaks duplicitously? Who says of the great grammarian Rabbi Jonah that his book deserves to be burned because he wrote that the Bible contains some corrupted words, afterwards proceeding to break the fence tradition himself, alluding that certain verses were added to the Torah? On every page he says the Sages’ knowledge is broader than our own, that tradition is definitive, and other such things, but afterwards permits the eating of h . elev [forbidden animal fat]; what can you say about his statements on the subject of the sota [the ordeal of the wayward wife]? Does a man who suspects that the priest would put deadly poison in that water, possess a notion of a divine Torah? And what good did he do for the members of his nation? The fools remained foolish, considering him a holy man and a master of secrets. The philosophers learned from him to be heretical and break the yoke, and found shelter under that holy man’s wings. But Rashi is the opposite. Behold this man is upright and righteous; this is the man I will choose. {And my eyes are blurred in anger when I see some scholars of our age exalting the virtues of Ibn Ezra to the greatest heights while they degrade the virtues of Rashi unto the dust. And you can see for yourself the difference between them.} Rashi was the member of a boorish people who had studied no wisdom. He was an expert in aggadot, they were his delight every day, and he began to be a mighty one in that land. He said with clarity: you may expound your derasha, but I have come to interpret Scripture’s simple meaning. {And not only in homiletics, but also in halakhic matters he pursued the simple meaning even when it opposes Halakhah, such as the verse “you shall not follow the many for evil” where he writes “But I wish to explain the verse so it should fit properly, according to its simple sense, and this is its meaning”}; […] And what resulted from his handiwork?—that little by little, the interpreters of the peshat proliferated in Israel, such as his grandson Rashbam, and Nachmanides and Radaq; and many would have ranged far and wide and knowledge would have increased, had it not been for the p­ hilosophizers, Ibn Ezra and Maimonides, and their disciples. They re-submerged the Torah in the sent on February 28, 1838 to Reggio and printed in Kerem H .  emed, vol. 4 (1839), 131– 147. This part of the letter (133–137) was later reprinted in Meh . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, with the title “Rashi Veharav Avraham Ben Ezra,” 193–196.

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The Dual Truth depths of allegory and parable, and brought up gall and wormwood in their hands. They caused the birth of the kabbalists, and strengthened their hands, paving before them the path of parables, allegories and distortions of verses, and removing them entirely from context. And the kabbalists walked their own path, with worthy intentions, to reinforce religion and faith and to seal the breaches made by the philosophizers. And ever since, from the beginning of the sixth millennium [mid-thirteenth ­century], the wisdom of Israel has continued to decrease. And let us return to Rashi and Ibn Ezra. Who is not amazed by Rashi? Though he studied no philosophy, he still attained lucid, pure knowledge, and employed refined language, bright like the very heavens in its purity. He does not say too much or too little; he does not reverse order, and he elucidates his thought and the thoughts of those he interpreted, with a clear and wondrous elucidation. None arose like him. But Ibn Ezra, who studied all forms of wisdom, wrote nothing in proper order or in lucid language. Rather he skips from subject to subject, {presenting matters out of order}, his [method] is darkness and not order. Is this not a sign of a confused mind and a man with no restraint to his soul, enslaved to the thought of the hour, writing whatever jumps to mind at first glance? And if he would have contemplated deeply what he was writing, he would have organized his books in a proper, clear order and not as he did. And do not reply that his lack of order {was done with wisdom} to conceal secrets— for indeed there is no place for this {reason} in his books of grammar, which were truly written with neither precision nor balance. However, I know that some praise the virtues of Ibn Ezra over Rashi, because he pursued free inquiry, unlike Rashi who clung fully to the faith of his fathers. But can we really consider Ibn Ezra free in his inquiry? Behold, his belief in astrology and the magical properties of numbers proves that he too would believe without inquiry, and what difference is there between the two? Ibn Ezra with all the strength of his scholarship was unable to cast doubt on what the scholars of his generation were saying—that the stars move with will—and never considered, like Isaac Arama (Aqedat Yitshak, 2) that perhaps their movements were from a natural cause (as explained afterwards by the wondrous scholar Newton). And he never considered to follow Aviad Sar Shalom Basilea (Emunat Hakhamim, ch. 21) who said, that the generation after him would invent another philosophy (as it came to be) [. . .] and if we turn to another aspect and examine Ibn Ezra in terms of the shape of his heart and the righteousness

The Peshat is One, Because the Truth is One    Chapter Five of his actions, what can we say when we see him saying with guile and self-aggrandizement: see, I am pure!—and he turns events with his tricks, and his thoughts are the opposite of his words.3

From these letters and from subsequent letters to Reggio, Rapoport and Schorr we can summarize Luzzatto’s criticism of Ibn Ezra as follows: 1.

 e provides hasty, superficial interpretations, failing to examine H matters in depth, resulting in often mistaken and misleading interpretations. 2. He writes unclearly, chaotically, and discursively, skipping from one subject to another, evidence of his unsettled mind and unorganized thought. He writes like an esoteric philosopher, using parables and riddles, even when unnecessary, and writes verbosely and repetitively to raise wages from his sponsors. This type of interpretation, Luzzatto argues, encumbered us with the esoteric interpretations of philosophy and Kabbalah which deviate from the simple meaning of the text, distorting the Torah’s message. 3. He expresses heretical opinions, opposed to Halakhah and tradition, raising doubts about his belief in the divinity of the Torah. For example: he believes that there are verses in the Torah which were added after the time of Moses; he believes that the priest would poison the waters of the sota; and he states that the Torah allows the consumption of h . elev and it was only the Sages who forbade it. With trickery, cunning, and hypocrisy he conceals his true views, writing duplicitously, a practice his students may emulate. For example: he proclaims his loyalty to the Sages’ interpretation of the Torah even when these seem to be opposed to the peshat, but then interprets commandments in the Torah in opposition to them, such as the laws of h . elev and the law of shaving one’s sidelocks—which he maintains is only forbidden as an expression of mourning (a view Luzzatto shared). Although he declares his loyalty to reading Scripture according to traditional cantillation, he deviates from this method (sometimes rightfully so). In this claim, Luzzatto reaches the peak of his harsh remarks, describing Ibn Ezra’s hypocrisy with the phrase “see, I am pure!”—the language used in Bereshit Rabbah (65, 1) to describe the hypocrisy of a pig. 3 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 232–233.

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4. He was a man of bad character, who besmirched the honor of scholars. He said that the book of Rabbi Jonah Ibn Janach the grammarian should be burned because it names more than a hundred corrupted words in the Bible which should be corrected, when he himself maintains that the Torah contains verses written after the time of Moses—a far more dangerous view; he should correct his own defects before criticizing others. He also sullied the honor of Rabbi Saadya Gaon when disagreeing with him over whether angels are greater or lesser than mankind, arrogantly and unjustly arguing that Saadya’s arguments are flawed, even though he knew very well that his own Aristotelian conception of angels was completely different than Saadya’s traditional-Jewish view. 5. He credulously believes in astrology and numerology, maintaining that stars have will, and that numbers bear secret meanings, and that these influence humans, and can be used to foretell the future. These are foolish beliefs which reflect poorly on their believers. Conversely, based on the previous text and the one I will cite below, one can summarize Luzzatto’s praise of Rashi as follows: Judah Halevi! That holy name, my heart yearns for him. Rashi and the author of the Kuzari are beloved and pleasant to me, precious and honored in my eyes more than the sages of Israel who arose after the sealing of the Talmud. Rashi is the last of the sages of Israel in time, after him there did not arise among us a great Sage, of many achievements, and faithful with Jewish characteristics, without the admixture of Greek and Ishmaelite characteristics. [. . .] And Rashi, most precious in my eyes of all the Torah scholars who did not deal with foreign books; and Rabbi Judah Halevi is beloved and honored in my eyes among all the Sages who did meditate on the works of the gentiles. He studied Greek and Ishmaelite philosophy and his heart was not seduced by them; and what is most sublime in his strength and exalted in the power of his intellect above Abraham Ibn Ezra and Moses the son of Maimon, and all the young ones who followed in their footsteps!4

4 Luzzatto, Betulat Bat Yehuda, ed. J. Hauben (Nevo) (Tel Aviv, 1996), 135–226. First printed in Prague, 1840. See also introduction, 34.

The Peshat is One, Because the Truth is One    Chapter Five

We can enumerate Luzzatto’s praises of Rashi as follows: 1.  He did not occupy himself with philosophy. He was a righteous and upright man who did not conceal his intentions with trickery and guile. 2. He expresses himself clearly, lucidly and methodically, reflecting his proper intellect and original and deep wisdom. 3. He is faithful to a simple reading of the Torah, even when such an interpretation opposes a midrash or ruling of the Sages. 4. His influence is responsible for interpreters of the peshat in subsequent generation, such as his grandson Solomon Ben Meir (Rashbam) as well as Nachmanides and Rabbi David Kimhi (Radaq). Reggio, Rapoport, and Krochmal did not sit idly by, and responded vehemently and aggressively.5 In various letters they castigated Luzzatto for his arrogance, claiming that his arguments do not help students, as he maintains, but harm them—leading them to denigrate all scholars from past generations. He had erred egregiously in his criticism, they claimed. In their opinion, Ibn Ezra was an unprecedented figure of deep wisdom, praised by all of his successors. Unlike Luzzatto’s claims, he maintained exemplary organization in his writings. Indeed, Rashi was never hypocritical, and in this he was superior to Ibn Ezra, who with great wisdom took pains to conceal his true opinions from his adversaries to prevent excommunication and book burnings as befell Maimonides. He truly believed that precedence should be given to the Sages’ interpretation of Scripture and his integrity should not be impugned, even if he expressed himself differently according to different audiences and d­ ifferent subject matters—as practiced by many others. His statements on h  . elev were part of a polemic against the Karaites and were directed at them exclusively (in this case Luzzatto actually would admit to Rapoport that he had been mistaken on this issue). They argue that Luzzatto himself frequently interpreted verses in a manner which conflicted with the Halakhah of the Sages; why then should he complain about Ibn Ezra? Luzzatto had simply misunderstood Ibn Ezra’s i­ nterpretation of the waters of the sota, and they declared that Ibn Ezra was actually the greatest, most original, and most s­ uccessful interpreter 5

The discussion here focuses on Luzzatto’s position on the issue; therefore, I am paraphrasing Reggio and Rapoport’s responses, concisely and without citations. Rapoport’s statements appear in Rapoport, Igrot Shir (Przemyśl, 1845), and Reggio’s and Krochmal’s in Kerem H  .  emed. For details and excerpts see Vargon’s articles cited in note 1.

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of peshat—Rashbam, Radaq and Nachmanides learning from him and not from Rashi. While Rashi sometimes declared that he was only interpreting Scripture’s simple meaning as opposed to the midrash (a declaration which he copied from the Sages in the Talmud), in practice he generally believed that the midrash represented the primary meaning of the text, making no distinction between the two. Ibn Ezra’s theology is remarkable, they added. It appears that only Maimonides understood it, and in our day Krochmal has succeeded in deciphering its true meaning. Despite all this, Luzzatto remained loyal to his criticism and offered no retraction. In a letter to Schorr dated to December 31, 1841 he writes: Behold, I, with all my familiarity with Ibn Ezra’s methods, believed until this day, that what he wrote about the “morrow of the Sabbath” (Lev. 23:11) was intended to reinforce the Sages’ interpretation [that the true meaning is the morrow of the first day of Passover]. Only recently has it become clear to me that his words are nothing but an illusion. [. . .] And my righteous and upright parents taught me to hate the trickery of guileful language. And that which I find praiseworthy in the words of Judah Halevi [Kuzari, 3:41] who expresses his opinion properly and using clear language, [that the verse means the appropriate Sunday, and as long as Shavuoth is fifty days after, on that day of the week], I find loathsome in the words of Ibn Ezra [who shares Judah Halevi’s view] which are written duplicitously.6

LUZZATTO’S INTERPRETATIONS Given Luzzatto’s clear preference for Rashi over Ibn Ezra, one would expect his commentary on the Pentateuch to consistently rely on Rashi’s interpretations and avoid and reject those of Ibn Ezra. Surprisingly, the reality throughout Luzzatto’s commentary is very different. Why does Luzzatto either ignore or reject the interpretations of Rashi whom he loved, and often prefer the interpretations of Ibn Ezra of whom he disapproved? Below are just some examples of Luzzatto completely disregarding Rashi’s interpretation or preferring interpretations of Ibn Ezra: Gen. 1:2—and the wind of God hovered above the waters. Rashi— “the throne of glory was standing in the air and hovering over the surface of the water. . .”; Luzzatto—“as the Targum says [. . .] a great, strong wind.” 6

Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 7 (1843), 72. See also Luzzatto, Lev. 23:11.

The Peshat is One, Because the Truth is One    Chapter Five

Gen. 1:3—and God said. Luzzatto—“God is described as a king who commands. Everything comes into being at His word, to show that God’s work is not like the work of a man who uses his hands, but it is as if He were commanding others to work, even though in this case there was no one to command (Ibn Ezra)” Gen. 1:5—and it was evening and it was morning. Rashi—“why did it write ‘one day’ [and not the first day]? Because the Holy One Blessed is He was still the only one in his world, for the angels were not created until the second day, as explained in Bereshit Rabbah”; Luzzatto—“‘there was evening and there was morning, that is, one day’. The words ‘that is’ are missing in the Scriptures hundreds, even thousands of times. ‘One day’: a whole day; evening followed by morning comprises one day.” Gen. 1:31—the sixth day. Rashi—“God added the letter he [the definite article] to the word ‘sixth’ at the conclusion of the work of creation, to say: that God stipulated [the endurance of] the creation, on Israel’s acceptance of the five [=numerical value of he] books of the Torah. Alternatively: ‘the sixth day’, all [of creation] stood in suspense until the sixth day, that is the sixth of Sivan, which had been prepared for the giving of the Torah; Luzzatto—“with the definite article he, this being the last of the days of creation. The form is equivalent to ha-yom ha-shishi. [. . .]” Gen. 1:16—the two great luminaries. Rashi—“they were created equal in size but the moon was diminished because it complained: it is impossible for two kings to wear one crown”; Luzzatto—“the sun and the moon, which illuminate the earth more than the stars do, which is the reason for their being called ‘luminaries,’ they are larger than the others. Even though the moon is physically smaller than the stars, and even though it has no light at all of its own, the Torah speaks from a human viewpoint. We receive much light from the moon and therefore it is a ‘great luminary’.” Gen. 1:26—Let us make man. Rashi—“even though they [the angels] did not assist God in [man’s] creation, making room for the heretics to claim supremacy, nevertheless Scripture did not refrain from teaching good conduct and the virtue of humility, that the greater should consult and ask permission from the lesser. And if it had written ‘I shall make man’, we would not have learned that He was speaking with his [angelic] court, only with himself; and the refutation to the heretics is immediately in the next verse: ‘and he created man’, and it is not written: ‘and they created man’”; Luzzatto—“in my opinion, this too is an archaism analogous to the Aramaic. It does not mean that he consulted with others, such as the angels, for he also said ‘in our image’ and man is not in the image of angels. Neither is it the plural of majesty but such is

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the Aramaic idiom, as in ‘And we [i.e., Daniel] will tell its interpretation before the king’ (Daniel 2:36). Daniel would not have spoken in a self-aggrandizing manner when speaking with the great king (as noted by Ibn Ezra).” Gen. 2:3—which God had created to make. Rashi—“the work which should have been done on the Sabbath, he performed on the sixth day, double the work, as explained in Bereshit Rabbah.” Luzzatto—“that God had created and made, meaning he ceased creating and making (so Nachmanides and Mendelssohn).” Ex. 22:1—there is no blood for him. Luzzatto is undecided between Rashi’s interpretation that the thief has no blood (his death by the owner is not considered murder) and Ibn Ezra’s interpretation that the owner of the house has no blood (will not be executed if he killed the thief). Only in 1859 would he decide in favor of Rashi’s interpretation. In 1864 his student showed him that in his short commentary, Ibn Ezra had adopted Rashi’s interpretation: that it is the thief who has no blood. Ex. 22:12—if it is torn to death, he shall bring a witness. Rashi—“he shall bring witnesses that it was torn to pieces by accident and he shall be freed of liability”; Luzzatto—“he will bring some of the animal’s torn limbs as his testimony and evidence that the animal was torn to pieces [. . .] (Rashbam and Ibn Ezra).” Ex. 23:1—do not bear a false report. Rashi—“like the Targum: do not accept a false report, a warning not to accept slander, and to a judge that he must not listen to the statements of one litigant until his opposing litigant arrives”; Luzzatto—“do not utter a false rumor with the intention of slandering another person (Ibn Ezra).” Lev. 19:27—do not destroy the side-growth of your beard. According to Rashi, the instruction is applicable to every Jew at every time; Luzzatto— “destroying the side-growth of the beard is mentioned in the context of making gashes as a sign of mourning, and similarly in the priestly laws (ibid., 21:5): ‘or cut the side-growth of their beards, or make gashes in their flesh’ and see Ibn Ezra ad locum. According to the literal meaning all Jews are forbidden from destroying their beards as a sign of mourning, and the priests are even forbidden from shaving their beards, also as a sign of mourning.” Deut. 17:8—between blood and blood, between ruling and ruling, between affliction and affliction. Rashi—“between pure menstrual blood and impure menstrual blood (Niddah 19a); between guilty judgment and innocent judgment: between an impure lesion and a pure lesion (see ibid.)”; Luzzatto—“’between blood and blood’ a case in which the judges could not determine if a murder was intentional or inadvertent. And the confusion and doubt is between blood and blood—meaning they could not determine the

The Peshat is One, Because the Truth is One    Chapter Five

nature of this blood, that is to say how this killing was accomplished, inadvertently or intentionally [. . .] ‘between judgment and judgment’—between claim and claim, meaning they cannot determine if Reuven’s claim against Shimon is valid or not. ‘Between affliction and affliction’—matters of wounds and injury (like Ibn Ezra and Nachmanides) and we have found nega (affliction) used in this sense: ‘he [the adulterer] will be met with nega [wounds] and disgrace’ (Prov. 6:33) its meaning is apparent from the next verse: ‘The fury of the husband will be passionate; he will show no pity on his day of vengeance.’”

LUZZATTO’S INTERPRETIVE METHOD Before attempting to explain the apparent contradiction entailed by Luzzatto’s treatment of Ibn Ezra and Rashi in his commentary, I will briefly summarize Luzzatto’s methodology of biblical interpretation, the basis of his attitude towards different commentators:

1. He tried to include in his commentary the interpretation closest to

the primary sense of the text (peshat)—based on grammatical and literary context, based on the ethical message which the divine author wished to convey, and based on the ancient worldviews current in the era in which Moses received the Torah. 2. To accomplish this, Luzzatto examined almost two hundred ancient and modern commentators, Jewish and gentile, from Onkelos to Mendelssohn, and generally selected the first to capture what he considered the text’s simple meaning. 3. Therefore, whenever Rashi, one of the first biblical commentators, provided a literal interpretation which Luzzatto deemed correct, he happily adopted it. However, when Rashi clung to a rabbinic ­midrash, which, according to Luzzatto, distorts the intention of the text, he continued his search and would select the next commentator who first captured the text’s literal meaning: Onkelos, Saadya Gaon, Rashbam, Ibn Ezra, Maimonides, Radaq (on Genesis) Nachmanides, Gersonides, Abarvanel, Seforno, Mendelssohn and others. 4. When he could not find an interpretation to his liking, he endeavored to offer his own.7 7 How does one arrive at the correct interpretation according to Luzzatto? See a summary of his foundations of correct interpretation in Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 116–121 and in the next chapter.

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5. Frequently, when he felt the need to relay to his readers criticism of a certain interpretation, he would cite it, reject it, and explain his considerations. 6. In exceptional cases, when a passage was particularly difficult, he would present a wide spectrum of opinions, explaining which interpretations he preferred, even when uncertain as to their veracity (for instance, Gen. 49:10, 26; Ex. 18:1; 34:6; Num. 19:12; 35:4–5).

THE EXPLANATION Here I will mention that Luzzatto also harshly criticized Maimonides, as alluded to in his statements above. In his opinion, Maimonides had enslaved the Jews to himself and to Aristotle, and in doing so “was our downfall.” It was he who formulated the thirteen principles of faith, beliefs which merit their believers an afterlife, removing the link between ethical actions and divine reward—“and we did not see the snake coiled around the heel of your words.”8 That being said, Luzzatto does adopt Maimonides’s interpretations of the Bible more than once. Luzzatto himself notes that he distinguishes between the personal beliefs and character of a person and the value of a person’s biblical commentary, which for him is based on the degree of his deviation from the interpretive tradition of the Sages. In subsequent correspondence with Rapoport he explains: I did not cry out bitterly against Ibn Ezra because he deviated from the tradition of the Sages, but rather because of his duplicity, because in many places he elevates the tradition of the copyists unto the stars and says that the words of the Sages will never fall to the ground (Gen. 36:32). And I, though I am not one of his admirers, have already accepted his interpretation (against Halakhah) of the verse “do not round-off the side-growth of your head,” that it is only prohibited as a sign of mourning. I have accepted this in practice, although I do not teach it to others, as I am not involved with halakhic rulings.9 Letter to Reggio, 12 Sivan 1837, Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 3 (1838), 61–76. On Luzzatto’s polemic against Maimonides see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 463–466. 9 Letter to Rapoport dated March 25, 1833, Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 246. See Vargon, Biqortiut Metuna, 400–401. Vargon asks why Luzzatto does not explain here the Sages’ deviation from the simple meaning and why he abnormally acted against their rulings. He gives no answer. In my opinion, Luzzatto believed that the Sages ruled that a Jew should grow a beard so as to 8

The Peshat is One, Because the Truth is One    Chapter Five

In other words, despite his scathing remarks against Ibn Ezra, Luzzatto did not refrain from adopting his peshat interpretation of the Bible, and applied this understanding in practice himself, even though it diverged from rabbinic law (something extremely rare for Luzzatto). In another letter, discussing his approach to Rashi, Luzzatto draws the same distinction between a person’s character and the value of a person’s commentary: “who has loved Rashi like I, with all of his heart and all of his soul, honoring him more than his very body? Nevertheless, I dispute him each and every day.”10 In the aforementioned letter to Reggio from 1838, Luzzatto explains that Rashi’s affinity to the Sages and Ibn Ezra’s progressive interpretations can be explained historically: However, I know that some exalt the virtues of Ibn Ezra over Rashi, because he pursued free inquiry, unlike Rashi who clung fully to the faith of his fathers. However, if Rashi at times diverged from his predecessors and teachers, this is a sign of his strong intellect, for with his wisdom and strength he steered his own path. But Ibn Ezra, even if he deviated from the faith of his fathers ten times more than Rashi did, this is no source of pride, because his eyes had been opened by his study of philosophy and wisdom. If at times he spoke better than Rashi, how many helpers did he have that Rashi lacked? Rashi saw nothing but the Talmud, the midrashim, the targumim, the dictionary of Menahem Ben Saruq and the criticisms of Dunash ben Labrat. Ibn Ezra had at his disposal the words of Rashi as well as the books of Saadya Gaon, Rabbi Judah Hiyug, Rabbi Jonah Ibn Janach, Moshe Hacohen and other authors who wrote in the Hebrew language, who were unknown to Rashi.

In other words, Rashi’s library was limited and consisted mainly of midrashim and targumim. Ibn Ezra however, possessed a far more extensive library and also occupied much of his time studying philosophy, which is beneficial for intellectual development. Their respective circumstances explain the distinction between their commentaries. The fact that Rashi boldly interpreted have a dignified appearance, but did not say so, as this justification is based on fashion and not values. It appears that Luzzatto permitted for himself shaving his beard with a razor after categorizing himself as an istenis (a fastidious person) or a mitstaer (someone suffering), people for whom the Sages permitted certain prohibitions. 10 A letter to Rapoport dated July 19, 1836, Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 343.

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verses according to their simple meaning is a sign of his wisdom and ingenuity, whereas Ibn Ezra, who did not excel beyond the accepted wisdom of his generation, had nothing to be proud of. It is clear that, objectively speaking, Luzzatto considers Ibn Ezra’s commentary the more progressive and developed of the two, preferring interpretive methodologies which do not consider rabbinic interpretation of the Bible definitive. As mentioned, Luzzatto believes that the Sages consciously utilized verses as textual support for their laws, and that they sometimes reformed commandments of the Torah, or expounded verses to convey ideological or ethical messages. The midrash was never meant to annul the Torah’s simple meaning, a fact acknowledged by Rashi. Luzzatto’s only guiding principle was the search for truth. Luzzatto writes that there is only one true interpretation of the text: Pride, love of honor and flattery, these alone drove away the hearts of the multitudes of the learned from the way of the simple meaning. The simple meaning is one, because the truth is one, and its place is very narrow, and there is no way of turning to the right or to the left, and he who aims at the single hair will find it, and he who turns from the point this way and that goes astray.11

On his method of interpretation, his search for the one true reading of the text, and his position on the rabbinic-midrashic interpretation, Luzzatto says: And you should know that in this book, as in all the rest of my writing, I am neither among the elders nor among the innovators, neither traditionally religious nor a philosopher, neither rabbinic nor Karaite. I pursue the truth, and I accept it from whoever states it, even if he is the least of the least and I will not accept a lie, even if the greatest of the great states it. In my interpretation of biblical verses all my effort was directed at understanding for myself and others the intention of the speaker and writer, and far be it from me to distort the texts in order to make them agree with the Halakha. What Rabbi Moses ben Menahem Mendelssohn wrote in the introduction to Or Linetiva, and these are his words: “But if the way that appears to us to be the simple meaning of the Bible contradicts and opposes the accepted 11 Bikkurei Haitim (1827): 94–95. Luzzatto, Haotsar, Lishka B, 93. On Luzzatto’s method of peshat see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 131–133.

The Peshat is One, Because the Truth is One    Chapter Five way of derash, taken from the Sages, so that is impossible for both of them to be right, because contradiction must be avoided, then it is our obligation to go in the path of drash, to translate the Bible accordingly, because we have only the tradition of the Sages, and by their light we shall see light.” Perhaps, he wrote that for the need of the hour, but Rashi and Rashbam have already instructed us, and before them the Sages of the Talmud, that a biblical verse must not be removed from its peshat, and in several places they said, “however, this is from the sages […], and the verse is merely a reference [asmakhta].”12

Luzzatto had concluded that while a man’s character, virtues, and ethical and philosophical views attest to his nature as a person, they are not criteria in examining the value of a person’s commentary. Interpretation should be evaluated not on the merits of the interpreter but on the merits of his words. A person should evaluate a commentary according to his own exegetical criteria—that is in terms of its correspondence with truth as he sees it. Luzzatto expresses this idea in a letter to Rapoport which was published as an essay on the subject of the two books of Isaiah: And I will go back and say that the words and arguments of these last scholars [Rosenmüller and Gesenius] require investigation. Not all that is published in books and said publicly by university lecturers is true. For scholars, books, and university lecturers God has confounded their language as well; one says this, the other that. What is absolute truth in one university is absolute falsehood in another. That which was absolute truth in another generation, is absolute falsehood in this generation. And the man who loves truth will investigate matters with his own eyes and not rely on anyone else [. . .] and until this day, I stand by my opinion, and am always willing to learn from every person, and to accept the truth from whoever speaks it.13 12 From the introduction of his book Hamishtadel. On the status of the Midrash Halakhah and Aggada components of the Oral Torah in Luzzatto’s though see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 314–328. 13 Letter to Rapoport, 1 Elul 1841, Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 7 (1843), 214–242. Reprinted in Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 30–48 in the essay “Sefer Yeshayahu.” On Luzzatto’s search for truth as a free inquirer, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 110–116. Accepting the truth from whoever speaks it is a principle appearing in Maimonides’s introduction to his commentary on Pirqei Avot (Shemona Peraqim). Luzzatto adopted it as a guiding principle even though he emphatically disapproved of Maimonides’s method and

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SUMMARY In summary: Luzzatto was fiercely critical of Ibn Ezra and Maimonides for incorporating foreign speculative philosophies into Jewish thought, and for believing in the existence of philosophical strata within the Torah, which were never entertained by the Torah or the Sages. He even went so far as to harshly criticize Ibn Ezra’s personal character and virtues. Nevertheless, Luzzatto does not halt his pursuit of truth and therefore his commentary—written according to the peshat (which tends not to fit the tradition of the Sages)—incorporates their interpretations, whenever they seemed to correctly capture the author’s intention. However, for all his love of Rashi, of his uprightness, his innocent faith, his distinguished qualities, and his wisdom, Luzzatto only incorporated his interpretations into his commentary when they captured the Torah’s intention. But in most places Luzzatto ignored Rashi’s statements because he had adopted the Midrash Aggada and Halakhah of the Sages. Luzzatto did not consider these the intention of the biblical author, but distortions done for important reasons unrelated to interpretation. The next chapter will be dedicated to Luzzatto’s special approach to Maimonides’s philosophy.

philosophical positions, based on the same principle. Similarly, despite what he says about them in this excerpt, Luzzatto brings the views of Rosenmüller and Gesenius a number of times in his commentary, accepting their interpretations even when they conflict with classical commentators, whenever he believed that they had arrived at the truth. See Igrot Shadal, 272, in his letter to Issachar Blumenfeld from Brody, and in the next chapter.

CHAPTER SIX

Luzzatto and Maimonides: “Accept Truth from Whoever Speaks It” INTRODUCTION

L

uzzatto was quite possibly the greatest intellectual to emerge from Italian Jewry in the nineteenth century; he was certainly the most famous. As I explained in chapter 3 of my book The Middle Way, Luzzatto began his literary and academic career during Europe’s transition from Rationalism to Romanticism—a shift which began with the philosophers Kant and Hegel at the onset of the nineteenth century, starting in Berlin and gradually conquering the entirety of Europe. At the beginning of his career, Luzzatto was an advocate of rationalist philosophy, deeming reason the key to individual and c­ ommunal success. But he soon shifted to a romantic position, considering emotion, the return to nature, and the remarkable experiences of the past as the keys to human success. While Luzzatto is aware of this shift in his approach, he does not attribute it to a wider transition on the part of society. He considers the transformation of his ideology a process of personal enlightenment, initiated by reason’s failure to prevent his personal troubles and hardships. Likewise, he was influenced by (what he considered) the dangerous results of Maimonidean and Spinozan rationalism, approaches he witnessed take the intellectuals of Europe by storm, philosophies which he believed threatened the wellbeing of traditional Judaism and its loyalty to historical revelation. He considered cold philosophical rationalism, and its abstract, distant, and alienating God, dangerous to the masses of simple believers. He quickly found himself adopting a reactionary stance against the maskilim of Galicia (citizens of the Austrian Empire like himself) who remained loyal to rationalism which in distant Galicia still reigned supreme in the first half of the nineteenth century.

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In the early decades of that century, Europe also saw the rise of Jewish movements which anchored their positions in Jewish sources by embracing medieval philosophers. The Reform movement and the historical-positivist school (the early Conservative movement) generally favored Maimonides who had chosen reason as the sole criterion for establishing truth and who believed that apart from the 613 commandments legislated by Moses, the remainder of the halakhic corpus developed over the course of history. By contrast, Orthodoxy favored Judah Halevi and Nachmanides who considered revelation the sole criterion in establishing truth and who believed that all of Halakhah was transmitted in revelation. Luzzatto, who believed in the divinity of the Written Torah, consciously selected as his inspiration Judah Halevi instead of Maimonides, even though he concurred with the latter regarding the nature of the halakhic corpus. It was only a matter of time until Luzzatto revealed his negative opinion of Maimonidean rationalism, immediately arousing a controversy which swept up all the maskilim of Europe at that time. This chapter is divided into four sections. In the first, I will provide a detailed historical description of Luzzatto’s polemic against Maimonides, which he initiated in 1837 and which consisted of fierce accusations against Maimonides, leading to shocked and enraged responses from the scholars of Galicia. I will also present Luzzatto’s responses to his detractors’ arguments. In the second section, I will enumerate those places in Luzzatto’s commentary on the Pentateuch in which he proposes Maimonides’s interpretation of a verse, citing him by name. I will note whether Luzzatto accepts or rejects the interpretation. In the third section, I will present seven instances in Luzzatto’s commentary on the Pentateuch and his other writings, in which he refrains from citing Maimonides by name, even though he maintains a philosophical position akin to his. In the fourth section I will attempt to answer the question (which I will present at the end of the second section): why in these seven cases does Luzzatto avoid mentioning Maimonides by name, when he himself proudly professed the Maimonidean ideal—to accept the truth from whoever says it?

A. HISTORICAL DESCRIPTION OF THE CONTROVERSY SURROUNDING MAIMONIDES—LUZZATTO’S ARGUMENTS AND THE RESPONSES OF THE SCHOLARS OF GALICIA In a famous letter to Reggio written in 1837 and published in Kerem H  .  emed volume 3, 1838, Luzzatto reopened a polemic which had almost completely died down since the end of the fifteenth century—the polemic against the philosophy

Luzzatto and Maimonides    Chapter Six

of Maimonides.1 Luzzatto published this letter as a response to Reggio who had turned to him (on behalf of all “super-naturalist” maskilim, who believe in the divinity of the Torah, divine providence, reward and punishment, prophecy and miracles), requesting he publicize his views on the spread of rationalism across western and central Europe, which poses a danger to the continuity of traditional Judaism.2 Later, after the controversy had already erupted, Luzzatto would write to Joshua Heschel Schorr that he had kept his critique of Maimonides’s philosophy to himself, only publicizing it after years of examination and analysis. He had considered the matter at length and had dedicated much time and thought to its proper articulation.3 To Luzzatto the final straw was Abraham Geiger’s book Urschrift und Übersetzungen der Bibel, which included (what Luzzatto considered) the false claim that Rabbi Judah Hanasi wrote the Mishnah. In Geiger’s opinion, Rabbi Judah Hanasi even had at his disposal written mishnayot, and the Tannaim’s goal was to establish Halakhah 1

2

3

Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 3 (1838), 69, reprinted in Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 159. On the reopening of the polemic see A. Ravitzky, “Sitrei Torato Shel Moreh Hanevukhim: Haparshanut Bedorotav Uvedoroteinu,” in Al Da’at Hamaqom, ed. idem ( Jerusalem, 1991), 142–182. Ravitzky correctly notes there that Luzzatto’s criticism was relatively moderate despite his fierce language. It is based on fifteenth century criticism and does not raise earlier, more radical interpretations (such as those who are in favor of such interpretation like Kaspi and Narboni and those who are against it like Judah Alfakhar and Meir ben Todros Abulafia) which maintained that Maimonides concurred with Aristotle on all subjects including the miracles, the eternity of the world and other issues. In a letter to Schorr from 1838 (its publication, canceled in 1838, only happened in 1863), Luzzatto mentions the issue of the world’s eternity, referring to it as a view maintained by Maimonides’s philosophical contemporaries (but not a view of Maimonides). From that letter it is clear that Luzzatto never entertained the notion that Maimonides also questioned the simple understanding of miracles, prophecy, and the divinity of the Torah—as maintained by his radical interpreters, then and today (see below). It is also worth mentioning Luzzatto’s letter to the editor of Hamagid, Eliezer Lipmann Zilberman, which was published 8 Heshvan 5621 (1860) in Hamagid 4, 41 (written a month prior on 9 Tishrei) and which contains criticism of Solomon Rubin and his work Teshuva Nitsah  . at. Rubin argues against Luzzatto on the issue of Spinoza and Maimonides and Luzzatto responds. It clearly emerges from this letter that Ravitzky was correct in saying that Luzzatto truly took the subject of the world’s eternity in the Guide for the Perplexed at face value, and did not seek deeper layers of meaning, maintaining that Maimonides did not believe in the world’s eternity, and that those who think otherwise (like Rubin) are distorting his words and are mistaken. This letter was published again in Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, “Neged Spinoza,” 214. See Feiner, Shadal Vehahaskalah, 156–157. Luzzatto writes about Reggio’s request in a letter to Schorr 4 Tamuz, 5598 (1838) which was published in Otsar Neh . mad 4 (1863): 108–131, and afterward in Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 237–249, under the title “Tamsit Deotav shel Shadal.” See ibid., 241. See more about this letter below. See more about this letter below. These words of Luzzatto appear in ibid., 247.

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according to their own method. Luzzatto argues that if Geiger is correct then it follows that the Amoraim invented the principle forbidding committing the Oral Torah to writing and that all the written books of mishnayot, previously available to Rabbi Judah Hanasi, must have suddenly became unavailable to them. Luzzatto sees in this a Maimonidean influence, since Maimonides also committed his halakhic rulings to writing in his Mishneh Torah, never citing disputes or sources, hoping to compel his readers to rule like him. Leaving no room for future change, he sought to render obsolete the books of Halakhah written before him—even the Mishnah and Talmud. Geiger criticizes the Tannaim for trying to halt halakhic development, criticism which Luzzatto considers wicked and false. According to Luzzatto, the one who really tried to arrest halakhic development was Maimonides, the object of Geiger’s admiration. Luzzatto’s letter to Reggio contains fierce and scathing criticism of many of Maimonides’s philosophical positions. For example: his claim that only intellectuals merit an afterlife, consisting of absorption into the divinity after death; his rejection of a physical and eternal resurrection of the dead; his invention of the thirteen principles of faith, which guarantee an afterlife for proper beliefs (and not for good deeds or the proper performance of commandments); his literary activity in which he does not cite disputes or sources (also based on Aristotelianism, an activity which could have made us forget the Mishnah and the Talmud and enslaved us to Maimonides and his foreign doctrines); and his hatred and calls to eradicate gentiles and Jewish heretics who oppose Jewish belief. These views, Luzzatto argues, do not fit the worldview of the Bible and the Sages, threaten the completeness of the Jewish people, and constitute a slippery slope already leading the maskilim of Europe to ruin. Luzzatto uses expressions such as: [Maimonides] has made us a horror to all the nations of the world, through no fault of our own; your [Maimonides’s] resurrection of the dead is that of Aristotle and his commentators, not that of our fathers; behold we, of innocent hearts, not experts in the plots and tricks of the philosophizers, accepted your thirteen principles which you commanded us to believe, occupied ourselves with them for several generations, but failed to plumb the depths of your thought, and did not see the snake coiled around the heal of your words; [according to Maimonides] it is explained that even if the intellectual philosopher has committed theft, murder, and adultery he can still acquire life in the World to Come, and the matter is not related to merit, but only to knowledge of truths.

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Luzzatto’s words immediately aroused a storm of controversy upon their publication. In a letter he later wrote to Judah Wahrmann of Yaroslaw (12 Kislev 5599 [1838])4 he defended his position, writing that he never expected the controversy that would ensue—an unconvincing claim. The Galician rationalists led by Nahman Krochmal, Solomon Judah Rapoport, and Zvi Hirsch Chajes received the criticism of their cultural hero with shock and anger. Krochmal sent a letter to the editor of Kerem H  .  emed, Samuel Leib Goldenberg from Tarnopol, responding to Luzzatto’s criticism of Maimonides. The letter was sent in Heshvan 5599 (1838) and was immediately printed in that year’s journal (before the publication of Luzzatto’s letter to Wahrman).5 Jacob Bodek and Nahman Isaac Fishman from Lemberg, two of the three editors of the journal Haroeh, sent Luzzatto fuming and critical response letters, which he briefly responded to in Sivan 5598 (1837).6 In these letters they threatened to publicize their criticisms, submitting this dispute to the judgment of the scholars of Israel, if he failed to give satisfactory response to their arguments. In response, Luzzatto wrote that he has no intention of responding to their arguments, which he believed lacked substance. To the contrary, let them publish their criticisms and submit them to the judgment of the scholars. In his letter to Bodek, Luzzatto writes that he issues his ideas for public review without fear: “my children whom I raised and cared for, you who knew of my sitting and rising, who examined all my ways, have you ever seen me pursue honor? Say to all who see you: our father accepts the truth from whoever says it, even the smallest of the small; he fears no one, and will not admit to something that is not true even if he who says it is greatest of the great.” In his letters, including a letter to Bodek himself, Luzzatto refers to the editors of Haroeh as the disciples of Sammachus (quarrelsome people), the disciples of Balaam, hypocrites, villains, pests, rogues, fools, evil men and deceitful, sinful boors.7 In Elul of 5596 (1836), before the eruption of the controversy, Krochmal had written a friendly letter to Luzzatto, calling him “the perfect scholar.” He had considered him his comrade in the challenging middle way, a path maligned from two sides—by both the devout, and the Reform. Now he wrote to Goldenburg that he could not understand what had overcome Luzzatto, and why he had suddenly been seized by a spirit of zealotry against the two greats— 4 Published in Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 4 (1863), 287, and in Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 178. 5 Ibid., 260. Reprinted in N. Krochmal, Kol Kitvei Ranaq, ed. S. Rawidowicz (Berlin, 1923), 432. 6 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 426, 429. 7 See ibid., 431, 477, 487, 488, 656, 705. Luzzatto, Mehqerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 237.

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Maimonides and Ibn Ezra.8 His superficial complaints against Maimonides lack substance and have already been discussed in the past. Nevertheless, Krochmal responds in detail to each one of Luzzatto’s arguments. In his opinion, Maimonides apologized about the resurrection of the dead and admitted that it is a foundation of Jewish belief (though Krochmal agreed that there was more to this subject than meets the eye). He adds that some of Maimonides’s principles of faith were already well-known before him and in formulating them he had answered a real need. The Amoraim and Geonim already wrote clearcut laws, and Maimonides was not the first to do so. Krochmal writes about Luzzatto’s criticism: “such a thing should not be in Israel; oh this man has committed a grave sin, and requires repentance and forgiveness; surely he has already done penance.”9 When Luzzatto received the letter from his friend Judah Wahrmann rebuking him for his attacks against Maimonides, he realized he had gone too far. He sent a more gently worded response to Wahrmann in an attempt to douse the flames. He sent a copy of the letter to the editor of Kerem H  .  emed10 who published it as mentioned. Luzzatto took this opportunity to request from the editor not to publish his more vehement, radical letter to Schorr or his letter to Reggio. Publishing these at this point would exacerbate and fan the flames of controversy. In his moderate letter to Wahrmann, Luzzatto writes that he certainly acknowledges Maimonides’s eminence in every subject he applied himself to, and he only opposes him in certain matters in which he believes he erred. How can scholars and righteous men judge him for not emphasizing Maimonides’s already famous virtues and only mentioning some of his mistakes? He is surprised at the outbreak of the controversy and believes that those who accused him of disqualifying Maimonides are mistaken and foolish. If Maimonides were to accuse him in halakhic court, certainly he’d be happy that his disciple acts so bravely, bringing forward criticism against him, without fear or flattery. Maimonides knew that sincere criticism is the highest form of honor, and is superior to obsequious agreement. It is evident to every 8 For a full description of Luzzatto’s polemic against Ibn Ezra on the issue of Deutero-Isaiah, including comprehensive excerpts from the correspondence among Luzzatto, Reggio, Rapoport, Krochmal, Goldenberg, and Schorr see Vargon, “Havikuah  . ”; as well as idem, “Zehuto”; idem, “Emdato shel Shadal.” See also Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 141–144. Luzzatto responded to Krochmal’s letter on 21 Shevat, 5597 (1837), and part of his response is quoted in his letter to Schorr from 1838 (mentioned in note 2 above, Mehqerei Hayahadut, 238–239). 9 Krochmal, Kitvei Ranaq, 432. 10 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 560.

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intelligent person that the Mishneh Torah is a remarkable composition, superior to all its predecessors, written with the purest of intentions—to lighten and simplify halakhic adjudication and to prevent errors. But Luzzatto’s criticism remains unchanged. In-depth study of Talmud continued unabated, thanks to Rabad and the majority of Jewish scholars after him, who criticized Maimonides’s goals. Today one can study Maimonides alongside the Talmud and the works of other halakhists, and clarify Halakhah without blindly or uncritically following Maimonides. Likewise, it is clear that Maimonides did not wish to eliminate the study of the Mishnah and Talmud, even though this would have happened had his plans succeeded. Luzzatto also does not retract his criticism of Maimonides’s conception of the afterlife. He is aware that Maimonides wrote in riddles and parables, shielding his words from the masses and allowing alternative interpretations. But Maimonides’s early interpreters, experts in the philosophy of his time (Efodi, Shem Tov, and Abarbanel), interpreted Maimonides on this subject as Luzzatto does. My entire goal, Luzzatto writes, is to enhance the glory of Torah and serve the good of the nation. If other scholars think that this goal would be better achieved by interpreting Maimonides differently—in a manner which harmonizes his words with the traditional beliefs of Judaism—then I will praise this endeavor.11 On the 26 Sivan 5598 (1838), immediately after responding to the letters from the editors of Haroeh, Luzzatto wrote a short response to Schorr.12 He writes that he certainly knows about the attack against him in Haroeh, and tells of his short responses to the invectives and rebuke of the journal’s authors. But he did not stop there. In that same year on the 7 Tamuz, he sent Schorr a detailed letter explaining his attitude toward the philosophers and Maimonides, and apprising him of the series of events that had driven him to publish his original attack against Maimonides in his letter to Reggio. He sent this letter to be published in Bikkurei Haitim, but Goldenberg rejected it and asked him to wait for the publication of Krochmal’s and Rapoport’s responses. When Luzzatto sent Goldenberg a copy of his letter to Wahrmann, 11 See also n. 4 above. On the controversy over Maimonides see Klausner, Hasifrut, vol. 2, 101–102; Rostovski-Halprin, Shadal Vehitnagduto, 38–53; Spicehandler, “Mavo”; I. Barzilay, Shlomo Yehuda Rapoport and his Contemporaries (Ramat Gan, 1969), 103–106. Barzilay presents Luzzatto’s dispute with Rapoport regarding Maimonides and Ibn Ezra, and points to the polarity of Luzzatto the romantic who opposed Maimonides and Ibn Ezra, and Rapoport the rationalist, who considered them his spiritual teachers. For further discussion of Luzzatto’s polemic against Maimonides and Ibn Ezra see Levi, Hermenoutiqa, 37–40; Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 216–220, 463–470. 12 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 431.

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he thanked him (in a letter from 15 Kislev 5599 [1838])13 for not publishing the letter to Schorr, and requested that he publish instead his moderate letter to Wahrmann. This is what Goldenberg did. Luzzatto apprised Schorr of all these developments in a letter written on 19 Kislev 5599 (1838).14 Luzzatto would only publish this letter fourteen years later.15 The tone of Luzzatto’s letter to Schorr was harsh. It contained more fierce words against accepted traditional views, besides what he had written to Reggio. It revealed things about Maimonides difficult for faithful Jews to accept and criticisms of the maskilim of Europe difficult for them to swallow. He begins by quoting his letter to Krochmal written in 5597 (1837),16 in which he wrote harshly about Polish Jewry, greatly divided between the old-­fashioned devout and the radical maskilim. The devout are bound by the chains of Kabbalah, and the secrets of the Zohar and R. Isaac Luria, following the whims of drunken Hasidic masters who pretend to perform miracles. The maskilim are more extreme than the philosophizers of Maimonides’s era— their most radical belief being the eternity of the world. The maskilim today go as far as denying God’s existence, denying the Torah’s divinity, and denying the possibility of prophecy and miracles. The early philosophers at least attributed these to the Active Intellect. Likewise, Luzzatto mentions his view that parts of the Mishnah and Talmud are irrelevant to later generations—particularly the Aggada which was only relevant for its time—arguing that the writers never intended to create an enduring tradition or an eternal code of laws. The midrashei halakhah of the Sages, which are foreign to the simple sense of the biblical text, were merely an asmakhta (textual support). They were meant to support laws received from tradition as well as new laws which the Sages created with remarkable wisdom according to the needs of the time; these interpretations were never meant to distort the primary sense of the text. The import of Luzzatto’s statement is that many laws in the Mishnah and Talmud are not Sinaitic but the product of human creativity. He argues that the Mishnah also mentions the rejected minority opinion, leaving adjudication open, allowing future sages to change rulings to suit the needs of the times according to the precedent of 13 Ibid., 560. 14 Ibid., 564. It seems that Goldenberg decided, after consulting with Rapoport, not to publish Luzzatto’s aggressive letter to Reggio. 15 Above, n. 2. 16 See references to the journals in which this letter was printed in full in Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 370 and in note there.

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a minority view. Maimonides, who does not mention minority opinions in order to anchor his rulings, erred and it is good that Rabad rose up against him. Luzzatto adds that in his opinion, there is no harm in believing in divine corporeality, the feast of the Leviathan, the magical names of God, magical amulets and other such beliefs. These reinforce belief in divine providence and reward and punishment, educating man to be ethical and compassionate. But Maimonides and the philosophers—who only believe in divine providence of the enlightened, and who believed that man’s ultimate goal is intellectual— reach the conclusion that the common masses (whether or not they behave or rebel) are not subject to divine providence, and receive no reward or punishment for their actions. This view greatly endangers the wellbeing of society. In his opinion, the radical maskilim of his day, followers of foreign philosophies, like Maimonides in his own time, truly pursue nothing but honor and money and only seek their own selfish benefit and personal success by participating in the European cultural milieu according to its rules. These students of philosophy do not become better or more intelligent people. Instead they lose their joy for life, sinking into depression and hopelessness, since philosophers failed to pave a clear path to truth, one destroying what the other one had built. In his mind, his rabbinic opponents are unleashing the dogs against him to quell their anger for his praise of the maskil Rapoport, who was appointed rabbi of Prague, at their expense. At the beginning of his letter he derides the editors of Haroeh, adding that he sees no reason to lower himself to their level, wasting his precious time responding to the folly of fools. In the depths of their hearts they realize he is correct and they are only feigning their sanctimonious zealotry for Maimonides and the Sages. In time, Luzzatto would admit in a letter to Goldenberg (17 Tevet 5599 [1839])17 that his letter to Schorr faithfully represented his true views of Maimonides. However, for the sake of peace, he eventually preferred to publish his softer more considerate letter to Wahrmann. Indeed, his hatred and criticism of Maimonides and Ibn Ezra continue unabated, and he continued to obsess over the issue for years to come. He endlessly repeats this in many letters to different correspondents over the course of his life. Thirteen years after the controversy, in a letter to Shneur Zachs (Adar Sheni, 5613 [1843]), editor of Kerem H  .  emed in Berlin, he raises another issue he has with Maimonides— his greater project to incorporate foreign philosophies into Judaism, philosophies which abstract God and distance him from man, and which reject out of 17 Ibid., 578.

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hand belief in prophecy and revelation. He writes to Zachs that he still hopes to renew his battle against Maimonides, hoping to restore the former glory of divine corporeality based on the system of Solomon Ibn Gabirol. He emphasizes that the belief in abstract spirituality preached by Maimonides (and followed by many after him) is responsible for the growing atheism in his day.18 In his commentary on the Pentateuch, Luzzatto repeats time and time again that the Torah is not a book of science or philosophy directed exclusively at intellectuals or outstanding individuals (as maintained by the rationalists of Maimonides’s school). It is a divine guide to moral behavior, meant to educate the nation as a whole to be compassionate and merciful. (See, for example, his commentary on Gen. 1:1; Deut. 6:5, 20:19). Another one of Luzzatto’s opponents was Maharats Chajes, rabbi of the Żółkiew district in Galicia. Chajes was a God-fearing Torah scholar and Talmudist and a rationalist and maskil. His cultural hero was Maimonides, and he considered himself the shield of his champion. Responding to Luzzatto’s letter in Kerem H  .  emed, volume 3, he wrote a detailed essay entitled Tiferet Lemoshe (Glory to Moses) containing responses to all of Luzzatto’s arguments. This essay was printed in 1840 in his book Ateret Tsvi. Chajes—an excellent ­example of a moderate harmonistic interpreter of Maimonides (both in terms of Maimonides’s content as well as his interpretive method)—maintained that complete harmony prevails between Maimonides’s views and the accepted religious belief in definitive theological positions. Maimonides’s writings contain no real contradictions or strata of meaning.19 Chajes argues, like Krochmal, that all of Luzzatto’s arguments are old ones; they were given adequate response in the past and he does not understand why Luzzatto is re-raising them now. That being said, he considers it important to respond in detail to his arguments for the sake of his readers. He explains (reiterating Krochmal’s explanations) that Maimonides did believe in the resurrection of the dead and even wrote as much. Maimonides was humane; he did not hate gentiles and even learned from gentile scholars. Maimonides did not renounce morality; to the contrary, he stressed that without moral perfection a person cannot ascend in his intellectual study. Maimonides did not wish to eradicate the study of Talmud; he considered it a fundamental pillar of Judaism. The thirteen principles of faith 18 Ibid., 1195. See also Luzzatto’s commentary on Gen. 1:26, which was first published in 1847. For other letters see Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 599 to Jost; 618 to Schorr; 621–622 to Jost; 603, 656, 675 to Schorr; 693 to Gedalia Brecher from Prosnitz; 698 to Leopold Leib from Vienna; 701 to Leopold Zunz from Berlin; 738, 740, 761 to Rapoport. 19 The wording is that of Ravitzky, “Sitrei,” 149–150.

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were important and beneficial, but were regardless not Maimonides’s invention. Maimonides rejected the Aristotelian belief in the world’s eternity, and the entirety of his philosophy concords with traditional Jewish belief, not with Aristotle. Maimonides was not the first to write law codes, and did nothing wrong.20 Luzzatto expected to receive Chajes’s critique essay through his friend Schorr. When the book was delayed in coming he wrote (28 Tishrei 5601 [1840])21 that perhaps this is for the best, as it would be a waste of his precious time to articulate responses to the fantasies and derisions of the author. Luzzatto’s friend Rapoport was also less than pleased by Luzzatto’s criticism of Maimonides. Since Luzzatto’s first letter to Reggio on 28 Av 5589 (1829) the two continued to correspond regularly.22 Rapoport did not spare Luzzatto his concerned rebuke, imploring him to call off his war, taking pains to do this gently but decisively. In a letter written on 17 Kislev 5599 (1838),23 Rapoport argues that by defending Maimonides and Ibn Ezra Luzzatto is not serving the devout who are purportedly upset at Luzzatto for impugning their hero; to the contrary, they are happy about Luzzatto’s criticism of the philosophers! Luzzatto’s criticism supports their hatred of maskilim, philosophical inquiry, the study of foreign languages and the study of the sciences. Now even the maskil Luzzatto is justifying their cause! On 17 Tevet of that same year, Luzzatto received a letter from Goldenburg. Luzzatto responded that there is a contradiction between the statements of Goldenburg and Rapoport.24 Goldenberg wrote to him that the devout, who in opposition to Luzzatto adore Maimonides, use Luzzatto’s disparaging words against Maimonides to battle Luzzatto and all the maskilim; Rapoport claims the exact opposite. Luzzatto concludes that he is unable to understand Polish Jewry and decides he should detach himself from it completely. In this letter Luzzatto also argues against his detractors: if as they claim he is merely reiterating old arguments which lack substance why has everyone attacked him with such ferocious anger? The publication of Kerem H  .  emed, volume 4, which Rapoport had overseen as an advisor, was the final straw, spelling the end of Luzzatto’s relationship with 20 See Chajes, “Sefer Ateret Tsvi” (1841), in Kol Sifrei Maharats H  .  ayut ( Jerusalem, 1958), 397–433. For an analysis of Chajes’s answers see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 216–220. For a discussion of the polemics between Luzzatto and Chajes see M. Hershkovitz, Maharats H  .  ayut, Toledot Rabbi Zvi Hirsh H  .  ayut Umishnato ( Jerusalem, 1972), 313–329. 21 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 709. 22 Ibid., 165. 23 Rapoport, Igrot Shir, 104. 24 Ibid., 578, mentioned above in note 14.

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Rapoport. Luzzatto scoured the journal from cover to cover, examining every detail published. He found offense from Rapoport in every corner. His poem in honor of Rapoport’s appointment as rabbi of Tarnopol was published in full against his request, whereas his note of apology, which he had specifically asked be published, was omitted. Rapoport’s critique of one of Luzzatto’s essays was published. A critique essay by Krochmal against Luzzatto (mentioned above) was also published with no response from Rapoport. Additionally, Betsalel Stern anonymously published sharp criticism of Luzzatto’s interpretation of a difficult passage in Ibn Ezra’s Yesod Mora, in consultation with the mathematician Eichenbaum, Rapoport not lifting a finger to soften this. Deeply offended, Luzzatto sent Rapoport a parting letter on 1 Iyar 5599 (1839).25 Their ­falling out continued for nearly two years, until 7 Nissan 5601 (1841) when Luzzatto reestablished their friendship by writing him an emotional letter26 after ­reading Rapoport’s recently published scholarly essay in Kerem H  .  emed, 27 volume 5. Rapoport was very happy to receive this letter but did not desist in his attempts to change Luzzatto’s mind. Responding to Luzzatto (28 Nissan 5601 [1841])28—after expressing his joy on their reestablished connection, and apprising him of events since their falling out—he continued to argue that even if some of Maimonides’s and Ibn Ezra’s ideas were influenced by Greek philosophy, did this necessitate the weakening of their belief? Did this detract from their status and greatness? Would Judaism have survived on its own without occasional assistance from gentile wisdom? The Tannaim learned from the Greeks, and the scholars of the Middle Ages studied from Aristotelian writings translated into Arabic. And indeed, some of Aristotle’s views were similar to the views of the Torah! The scholars of Spain sought to draw close the very best of Islamic ideas to the worldview of the Torah. How will we appear in the eyes of gentile scholars if we sully the honor of Maimonides, who is responsible for our glory? Luzzatto responded to Rapoport on 1 Sivan 5601 (1841).29 He writes that he has not changed his mind regarding the philosophical disciples of Ibn Ezra who adopt his shortcomings (impetuousness, hypocrisy, glory-­seeking, and self-aggrandizing at the expense of others) and Rapoport should not ask him to cease his battle. Similarly, Luzzatto expresses anger at Rapoport 25 Ibid., 615. 26 Ibid., 730. 27 On this exchange see M. Pelli, Kerem H  .  emed—H  .  okhmat Yisrael Hi, “Yavneh Hah  . adasha” ( Jerusalem, 2009), 72–78. 28 Rapoport, Igrot Shir, 105. 29 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 738.

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for dubbing Maimonides in his letter with the honorific title “our master Maimonides,” an expression inappropriate in his opinion for a Jew (better suiting a Christian) or a philosopher (whose spirit is free) and more befitting a Hasidic devotee’s adulation of his Hasidic master. In his response (22 Sivan 5601 [1841])30 Rapoport responds that many great people have applied the term “our master” to esteemed Jewish scholars, and there is nothing invalid in this, even citing a number of examples. Luzzatto’s battle is detrimental to his research and study and is a waste of his time; only in past Diasporas in which there was interaction between our scholars and gentile wisdom, and attempts to draw it closer to us and vice versa, did the Jews flourish; all acknowledge Maimonides’s and Ibn Ezra’s greatness, and no one can move them from the important place they hold in Jewish history.

The Question It emerges that in his philosophy and biblical interpretation (according to his letter to Wahrmann in which he states that he disagrees with Maimonides only on few matters), Luzzatto has no qualms about mentioning Maimonides’s interpretations and views (as he does with Ibn Ezra)—even citing him by name—regardless of whether or not he agrees with him. According to Luzzatto, his criticism of Ibn Ezra is more vehement than his criticism of Maimonides: “for indeed the eminence of Maimonides I never denied, and far be it from me to include him among Ibn Ezra and his companions.”31 That being said, he does not hesitate to cite in his commentary to the Pentateuch many of Ibn Ezra’s peshat interpretations. This is based on his view (as he writes to Bodek) that there is one truth which should be accepted from whoever speaks it (see chapter 5). An examination of Luzzatto’s commentary, letters, and essays, reveals references to many different interpreters and thinkers, Jewish and non-Jewish, ancient and modern, from the greatest of scholars to the lowliest of his disciples. It thus appears that Luzzatto was sincere, not simply utilizing defensive apologetics, when he wrote to Wahrmann that Maimonides was correct in most of his statements. Nevertheless, it should be recalled that his praise of Maimonides in his letter to Wahrmann was for the sake of peace (as he himself admitted), and that he continued to attack Maimonides’s and Ibn Ezra’s rationalist points of departure at every 30 Rapoport, Igrot Shir, 109. 31 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 675, in his letter to Jost.

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opportunity, believing they posed a danger to Judaism. Moreover—while few—his disputes with Maimonides are over fundamental issues which he considered supremely important to the future of Judaism. I will first briefly present Luzzatto’s explicit citations of Maimonidean interpretations of Scripture, which he sometimes accepted and sometimes rejected. After that I will present instances in which Luzzatto expresses views similar or identical to those of Maimonides but without mentioning him by name, even obliquely. This is an interesting break from his usual practice and it invites the question why does he omit mention of Maimonides in these specific instances?

B. LUZZATTO’S BIBLICAL INTERPRETATIONS THAT CITE MAIMONIDES BY NAME In his commentary on the Pentateuch, Luzzatto cites some of Maimonides’s interpretations to Scripture, drawing them from his writings—primarily the Mishneh Torah and the Guide for the Perplexed. It is clear that these include a respectable amount of halakhic and philosophical interpretations, demonstrating that despite Luzzatto’s harsh criticisms he does not refrain from citing Maimonides by name, and then accepting or rejecting his approach. A few examples: 1.  Gen. 1:26, in our image—he agrees with Maimonides position in the The Guide for the Perplexed (part 1, 1) that the word tselem (lit. image) does not denote physical description or structure but essence. He does however, dispute Maimonides’s understanding of man’s essence—intellect according to Maimonides, possessor of various powers according to Luzzatto. 2. Ex. 3:13, and what if they say to me what is his name—Luzzatto praises Maimonides’s comment on Moses’s question but opposes his explanation, offering his own. 3. Ibid. 7:3, and I will harden Pharaoh’s heart—he accepts Maimonides’s explanation that Pharaoh’s sins were so grave that the path to repentance was closed before him but offers his own original interpretation. 4. Ibid. 20, 1, and God spoke all these matters saying—he cites Maimonides’s contradictory statements in different places as to who heard God at Sinai and what precisely they heard. He states that it is

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difficult to decipher Maimonides’s secret, and “blessed is God who has freed us of that philosophy that gained power in his days, and which Maimonides favored too much—even if his intentions were good.” Luzzatto states that the entire nation explicitly heard all of the Ten Commandments.   5. Ibid. 20:2, I am the Lord your God—he cites Maimonides’s view that this constitutes a tenet of faith. Luzzatto disagrees stating that God is merely recounting events that had transpired.   6. Ibid. 20:11, for six days—he cites Maimonides’s view that the Sabbath is meant as a day of rest and a reminder of creation. Luzzatto rejects this interpretation and states that the commandment to give rest to the slave and the animal is an act of compassion and the commandment for Jews to rest is so they may gather together in love and friendship occupying themselves with worship and study.   7. Ibid. 21:10, her clothing—he fiercely criticizes the attitudes of Maimonides and “those who pretend to be wise” towards women. They consider wives nothing but maidservants to serve them or a medicine to preserve their health (Hilkhot Deot 4:19). This is unlike the Sages who maintained that the man and woman are two equal partners assisting each other with love and camaraderie. Luzzatto accepts this latter view.   8. Ibid. 21:20 his slave—he accepts Maimonides’s position in his laws of murder that a master who strikes his slave with a killing implement is condemned to die even if more than two days or a year have passed since his death.   9. Ibid. 21:37, If a man steals an ox or sheep—he accepts Maimonides’s explanation that the easier the robbery the more severe the robber’s punishment. 10. Ibid. 22:2, if the sun rises over him—Maimonides’s ruling is correct: even if the thief came in the day, and there are no witnesses, the house owner is permitted to kill him. 11. Ibid. 22:17 you shall not allow a sorceress to live—he accepts Maimonides’s explanation, based on his findings in the books of the pagan Sabaeans, that most acts of sorcery must be performed by women. Similarly, he accepts his view that every sorcerer is an idol worshiper. 12. Ibid. 27:18 all who lie with an animal—he accepts Maimonides’s view that this is an idolatrous practice.

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13. Ibid. 22:30, torn flesh in the field—he rejects Maimonides’s position that eating “torn flesh” is harmful to one’s health. 14. Ibid. 33:6, Lord, Lord merciful and compassionate God—after presenting his own view Luzzatto presents twelve opinions as to how to count God’s thirteen attributes of mercy; the seventh view is that of Maimonides. 15. Lev. 1:2, from the herd—he opposes Maimonides’s view that the centralization of sacrificial rituals was meant to limit animal sacrifice, reducing materialization as much as possible. He argues that the point of centralization is ethical—bringing together the disparate parts of the nation in fraternity and national unity. 16. Ibid. 18:6, none of you will come near to anyone of his own flesh—he opposes Maimonides’s view that the laws of incest are meant to minimize the time one engages in sexual activity. Luzzatto argues that were this the case then the Torah should have forbade marrying many wives, or having frequent sex with one’s partner. The reason for the prohibition is societal and ethical and it is meant to ensure the flourishing of the home and the state. 17. Num. 20:12, because you did not believe in me—he cites the views of Maimonides and others and rejects them. Luzzatto maintains that Moses was not punished for becoming angry; he was punished because his anger led him to rebel against God, striking the stone instead of speaking to it. 18. Ibid. 30:15, from that day to the next—he cites the tannaitic dispute whether this means twenty four hours or until the evening. Maimonides rules that it means until the evening but the simple meaning of the verse is twenty four hours. 19. Deut. 6:5, with all your heart—he cites some of Maimonides’s philosophical views, based on Aristotle and Muslim philosophers, rejecting them as deviating from the statements of the Torah and the prophets. They maintain that love of God can only be attained through intellectual comprehension and a comprehensive understanding of existence. Therefore, it is important to teach “the work of creation” (natural sciences, physics). All of Aristotle’s statements about the sub-lunar world are correct, and there are ten intellects which move the celestial spheres, corresponding to the names of angels. Luzzatto argues that Maimonides did not take into account the possibility that one day Aristotle’s physics would be invalidated.

Luzzatto and Maimonides    Chapter Six

20. Ibid. 21:4, to a “strong” wadi—he rejects Maimonides’s interpretation that the meaning is a wadi overflowing with water, maintaining, like Rashi, that “strong” refers to the hard rock in the wadi. It should be noted that out of these twenty citations, Luzzatto only fully accepts five of them (8–12) and they are all connected to matters of Halakhah from the Mishneh Torah. By contrast, he rejects all eight citations related to philosophical subjects (1–4, 14, 15, 17, 19) which are bound up with The Guide for the Perplexed.

C. SUBJECTS IN WHICH LUZZATTO EXPRESSES VIEWS SIMILAR TO THOSE OF MAIMONIDES WITHOUT CITING HIM BY NAME I will now discuss seven topics in Luzzatto’s thought (appearing in his commentary on the Pentateuch and his other writings) in which Luzzatto does not mention Maimonides by name despite the significant affinity between their views.

(1) Devotion to Truth This issue has been raised in our previous discussions. Luzzatto’s practice of accepting the truth from whoever speaks it (as he writes to Bodek) is based on a saying he learned from Maimonides. It appears in Maimonides’s introduction to his commentary on Pirqei Avot (the introduction to the Eight Chapters).32 Responding to his detractors, Luzzatto explains that he favors no man, not even Maimonides. If the truth really lies with Maimonides’s opponents, he will flatter neither him nor his modern defenders, and will present the truth as it appears to him. He does not hold great people (or people who affect greatness) in high esteem, and judges for himself with whom the truth lies, even if this conflicts with the views of great or highly esteemed people. Luzzatto turned this maxim into a principle and used it during his polemic against the theory of two Isaiahs, invoking it at the end of a letter to Rapoport written on 1 Elul 5601 (1841). In this letter he disputes his Jewish opponents Rapoport and Krochmal, and his non-Jewish opponents Rosennüller and Gesenius, maintaining the book’s unity and opposing the theory that the prophecies from chapter 40 onwards belongs to another prophet from a later time. Having concluded his arguments 32 M. Schwartz, Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon Shemona Peraqim vehem Haqdamat Harambam Leperusho Lemassekhet Avot: Tirgum Mearavit ( Jerusalem, 2011), 5.

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and proofs, he adds that in the first edition of his commentary on Isaiah, he dealt with this dispute and brought evidence for his position in the notes. In subsequent editions, however, he left these out because “I wanted to sit on the matter for some days and years. And until this day I maintain my opinion and in any event I am willing to learn from anyone and to accept truth from whoever speaks it.”33 In other words, he does not distinguish between big and small, Jew and non-Jew. If it can be proven that he has erred completely, he will accept as truth the view of his opponent. This maxim appears already in a letter to Rapoport from 5 Nisan 5593 (1833) in which Luzzatto argues with him about the two Isaiahs and Ibn Ezra. There Luzzatto explains his principles. He will persist in his approach, only pursuing real ideas, and never allowing himself to be swept away by baseless imaginings and unjustified theories. This is a position he will never abandon, and he will indeed be stubborn about it. But the details of his research are different: “their nature is to change over time with the increase of knowledge and research, and in these I accept truth from whoever speaks it, be he great or small, first or last, ancient or modern, distant or near, enemy or friend. And in this quality—of accepting truth from whoever speaks it, declaring it with a full mouth and a joyous heart—unto this day I have seen no one comparable to me.”34 In his letter to Issachar Blumenfeld from Brody (3 Kislev 5594 [1834]) he uses this maxim to explain why he sometimes quotes and accepts the views of gentile commentators such as Rosenmüller and Gesenius. Luzzatto would continue to cling to this principle throughout his life, mentioning it again in 1846, in a letter to Joshua Heschel Schorr. He requests that Schorr make no changes to the manuscript he has sent him to be printed in Beit Haotsar. He explains that while he is willing to accept words of truth from every man, until he is convinced of his error he will not change what he wrote.35

(2) Rationales of the Commandments and the Existence of Reward and Punishment On this subject Maimonides writes the following: It is necessary to bear in mind that Scripture only teaches the chief points of those true principles which lead to the true perfection of man, and 33 Letter to Goldenberg in Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 7 (1843), 225–242, reprinted in Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 30–48, in the article “Sefer Yeshayahu”; see ibid., 45. See also Schorr’s letter to Luzzatto in Igrot Shadal, 969. 34 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 244–245. 35 See ibid., 272.

Luzzatto and Maimonides    Chapter Six only demands in general terms faith in them. Thus, Scripture teaches the Existence, the Unity, the Omniscience, the Omnipotence, the Will, and the Eternity of God. All this is given in the form of final results, but they cannot be understood fully and accurately except after the acquisition of many kinds of knowledge. Scripture further demands belief in certain truths, the belief in which is indispensable in regulating our social relations: such is the belief that God is angry with those who disobey Him, for it leads us to the fear and dread of disobedience. [. . .] I am prepared to tell you my explanation of all these commandments, and to assign for them a true reason supported by proof, with the exception of some minor rules, and of a few commandments, as I have mentioned above. I will show that all these and similar laws must have some bearing upon one of the following three things, viz., the regulation of our opinions, or the improvement of our social relations, which implies two things, the removal of injustice, and the teaching of good morals. [. . .] Consider what we said of the opinions [implied in the laws]; in some cases the law contains a truth which is itself the only object of that law, as e.g., the truth of the Unity, Eternity, and Incorporeality of God; in other cases, that truth is only the means of securing the removal of injustice, or the acquisition of good morals; such is the belief that God is angry with those who oppress their fellow men, as it is said, “My anger will be kindled, and I will slay [you with sword, and your children shall be widows and your children orphans]” (Ex. 22:23), or the belief that God hears the crying of the oppressed and vexed, to deliver them out of the hands of the oppressor and tyrant, as it is written, “And it shall come to pass, when he will cry unto me, that I will hear, for I am gracious” (ibid. 22:26).36

Maimonides divides the Torah’s commandments into two categories: true commandments which lead to correct philosophical beliefs (final goals of a first order) and untrue commandments which lead to necessary beliefs which serve ethical needs, maintaining the unified existence of society and the state (second-order goals). He cites as an example the belief in an angry God who 36 Maimonides, The Guide for the Perplexed, trans. M. Friedlander (New York, 1904), part 3, 28, 313–315. See A. Ravitzky, ‘Iyunim Maimoniyim ( Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, 2006), 62–66; Halbertal, Harambam, 239–241, 291–293. According to Halbertal, 292: “This approach determines that the Torah, sensitive to the needs of time and place, and adaptive to human ritual needs, commands the use of fundamentally flawed forms of worship which it rejects in principle. It does so as a necessary compromise so that some ritual may be used in worshipping God. . .”

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punishes oppressors and answers the supplications of the oppressed. The goal of this belief is to instill the people with fear of God, a means of attaining necessary goals. Maimonides also believes that divine providence, reward, and punishment are not divine responses to human behavior but laws imprinted into nature by the Creator: But [I] believe that the Divine Will ordained everything at creation, and that all things, at all times, are regulated by the laws of nature, This occasioned the sages to say that all miracles which deviate from the natural course of events, whether they have already occurred, or, according to promise, are to take place in the future, were fore-ordained by the Divine Will during the six days of creation, nature being then so constituted that those miracles which were to happen really did afterwards take place. Then, when such an occurrence happened at its proper time, it may have been regarded as an absolute innovation, whereas in reality it was not. And the Sages, one of their statements in reference to this matter being: “Everything follows its natural course.”37 In everything that they said, you will always find that the Rabbis (peace be unto them!) avoided referring to the Divine Will as determining a particular event at a particular time. [. . .] The sum and substance of the matter is, then, that thou shouldst believe that just as God willed that man should be upright in stature, broadchested, and have fingers, likewise did He will that man should move or rest of his own accord, and that his actions should be such as his own free will dictates to him, without any outside influence or restraint. [. . .]38

It follows that according to Maimonides divine providence over a specific individual (not necessarily a Jew) is commensurate with his intellectual achievement and does not proceed from heaven to earth: Divine Providence is connected with Divine intellectual influence, and the same beings which are benefited by the latter so as to become intellectual, and to comprehend things comprehensible to rational beings, 37 Yalqut Shimoni, Yitro, Remez 288. See also BT Avoda Zara 54b. 38 Maimonides, The Eight Chapters of Maimonides on Ethics: Shemonah Perakim, trans. J. Gorfinkle (New York, 1912), 90–91. See also Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed, part 2, 29, 204–212.

Luzzatto and Maimonides    Chapter Six are also under the control of Divine Providence, which examines all their deeds in order to reward or punish them. [. . .] Due to the will of God, and in accordance with the justice of His judgments, the method of which our mind is incapable of understanding.39

Luzzatto writes along similar lines: But when they became a great nation, and the time arrived to bring them into the land that God promised their fathers to give them, God saw that they needed teachings and laws and study and direct guidance, both for the correction of moral attributes and the success of the society, and also for perseverance in the religion, so they would not abandon it and cling to the ways of the gentiles around them or be left without religion. Therefore, he gave them this Torah placing it before the Children of Israel. The means God chose to achieve these two goals are [three]: one dedicated to the perfection of moral qualities and two dedicated to the perfection of moral qualities and the wholeness of the religion together. And these are the three foundations of Moses’s Torah. The first foundation— the method dedicated to perfecting moral qualities—is compassion. [. . .] And behold, this Torah, which Moses placed before the Children of Israel, is what guides them on the path of compassion and grace. [. . .] And behold the second foundation of the Torah of Moses—a means of achieving both goals together (improvement of moral qualities and preservation of the religion)—is belief in providence and reward and punishment from God. [. . .] The third foundation of the Torah of Moses—a means of improving moral qualities and preserving the religion together—is the belief that Israel was chosen by God to be a special nation, and that He made a covenant with their ancestors that will never be violated. [. . .] And behold, all the commandments are divided into two large groups: commandments between man and God and commandments between man and his fellow. And commandments between man and his fellow the rationale for all of them is evident: they are for the success of the individual and the community, by improving moral qualities and so that all should treat their fellows with justice and fairness, kindness and mercy, and the sinner 39 Ibid., part 3, 17. See also ibid., 18. On Maimonides’s meaning in these passages and other matters in part 3, 51 see Halbertal, Harambam, 286–288; M. Goodman, Sodotav shel Moreh Hanevukhim ( Jerusalem, 2010), 116–117.

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The commandments are divided into two groups: one consisting of commandments which instill fundamental beliefs in God and divine providence (but not speculative philosophical beliefs about what occurs in higher realms, as believed by Maimonides), the other consisting of commandments which preserve ethics and promote the wellbeing of society. Luzzatto mentions instilling belief in reward and punishment and belief in the chosenness of the Jewish people as a means of attaining these goals. Did he believe that these doctrines are true or did he think that they were only necessary and required? In regard to reward and punishment he is even more decisive than Maimonides: Here it is hinted that the entire foundation of my thinking is that religion is not desirable to God because of its truth but because of its usefulness to improve morality, and therefore there is no need for everything to be true, and despite all this we should not distance his divinity, and we should not distance God for saying of untrue things, because it is impossible to tell the power of the creation to flesh and blood, and the maintenance of society and man’s success is impossible with knowledge of the truth, but [only] with illusion. And greater than that, it is clear that society could not exist without reward and punishment and without belief in the superiority of some things and the condemnation of others, and indeed in truth all of our actions are only the results of outer and inner causes [heredity] and justice and evil are truth with respect to the action (whether it is beneficial or 40 Luzzatto, “Yesodei Hatorah,” in Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 1, paragraphs 3–41.

Luzzatto and Maimonides    Chapter Six damaging) but not with respect to the character of the actor. And more than this, is it possible for a person to be a person and not endeavor to attain success? Despite all this, in my estimation, this is vanity, too, because in whatever situation a person may be, it will always be half joy and half a plague, and in my youth, for twenty-three years I gathered together a collection and called it H  .  eleq Keh . eleq Yokhelu [“portion for portion shall they eat”] (Deut. 18:8). . . All of these things I spoke in a whisper to your ear.41

These words were directed only at the historian Isaac Markus Jost, who leaned towards Reform and Bible criticism, in a letter on 19 Shevat, 5600 (1840). In this letter Luzzatto explains his decision to reduce his publication of unaccepted views to avoid abuse from his right and left. This is an implicit message on Luzzatto’s part to the intellectual reader: there are things which should not be revealed to all. As is well known, this is Maimonides’s view as well, who wrote the Guide for the Perplexed only for intellectuals, concealing his true views from the naïve reader. Luzzatto writes similarly in lessons he prepared for his students, and these made their way into his commentary on the Torah (published in 1871, six years after his death): For this is the manner of the Torah, to portray fortune and misfortune as purposefully descending from above as reward and punishment even when they proceed and occur naturally according to the world’s natural course; [. . .] and just as the Torah threatens the Children of Israel saying that God is vengeful, jealous and full of anger, so too it says that he visits the guilt of the parents upon children as if he does this out of vengeance and rage, even though in truth this only occurs naturally and not, God forbid, as vengeance; rather everything is for the benefit of mankind.42 41 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 661. 42 Luzzatto, Ex. 20:5. This shift in views (from what was said in Hamishtadel to the same verse) is also significant in relation to Luzzatto’s statements in Yesodei Hatorah cited above. Luzzatto already limited the chosenness of the Jewish people there (Yesodei Hatorah, ibid., 37) stating that their excellence is not immanent but merely precedence in time. In Hamishtadel, ibid., Ex. 20:3 he adds that this is not truth but a divine plan for the attainment of final results (see below). Maimonides’s bold approach stems from the philosophical position that the Torah contains hidden philosophy, assisting the intellectual elite to achieve their goals, secrets which should not be revealed to the simple masses lest they rebel and become corrupt. Luzzatto’s approach however, stems from a romantic view. He maintains that the Torah contains no philosophy and no secrets and is meant for all people, its goal educating them to do good, as ethical behavior constitutes man’s ultimate purpose. Luzzatto

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It is interesting to compare this to Luzzatto’s earlier statements to the same verse on the subject in Hamishtadel. He writes: Therefore, it appears to me that one should not move from the simple meaning of Scripture, and the intention is that great sins which arouse God’s wrath and jealousy, will befall the evil man’s offspring commensurately—terrible misfortunes which astound onlookers; and this punishment will last for another three or four generation, so that as long as the men of the generation remember the evil man who has already died and the sins he committed, they will see the wrath of God which has stricken his offspring.

The shift in Luzzatto’s views in the direction of the Maimonidean position is a fundamental one. It corresponds to his position regarding the rationales of the commandments (which I discussed above) and is bound up with his position on free will (which I will discuss below). Luzzatto wrote more about this subject in his interpretation of the account of the Garden of Eden in Genesis. He maintains that the goal of the story is pedagogical: to teach people not to complain about their misfortunes, appreciating God for granting them the right to free will. The Torah recounts that the misfortunes which befall humans originate from Adam who was seduced to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. By the same token, it instructs mankind that this state of affairs is preferable to its previous state, when it was like animals or children, lacking the ability to distinguish between good and evil. This is all in spite of the fact that “in truth all these [labor, anger, and suffering] occur due to the nature of creation, but God taught him [man] of them through a curse, as if it were a punishment for eating from the Tree of Knowledge.” In other words, reward and punishment do not directly proceed from God; fortune and misfortune are the results of the laws of nature put in place by God. But the Torah’s goal is not to teach philosophical truths (as claimed by Maimonides) but to teach good, ethical qualities.

already wrote that reward and punishment do not truly exist on November 8, 1837 in a letter to David Morporgo of Trieste answering a number of questions he sent to him. In his answer to question 11, about reward and punishment he writes that knowledge of the truth that there is no reward and punishment, is harmful and not beneficial, just like the truth that God is not influenced by emotions (answer to question 7) and prayer and rituals are meant for man alone. Therefore, religion instills the opposite notion. See Luzzatto, Peraqim Bemishnato Shel Shadal, 13–15. The source: Luzzatto, Epistolario, letter 154.

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This explanation does not appear in Hamishtadel and Luzzatto did not publish it in his lifetime. It is a bold and untraditional view.43

(3) The Election of the Jewish People—Do the Jewish People Really Have Unique Superiority over Other Nations? In his interpretation of the second of the Ten Commandments, “you shall have no other gods beside me,” Luzzatto explains that the rationale of this commandment is ethical; a belief in many gods entails a belief in gods of evil, a belief which legitimizes evil behavior. Moreover, polytheism fosters disunity among different believers, leading them to hate one another, and increasing jealousy and competition. Therefore, the Torah teaches belief in one God, who as father of the entire human race loves all people. The Torah was received at a time when all the nations were submerged in primitive forms of paganism, only Abraham recognizing and choosing God. Therefore, God selected him and his offspring to receive the Torah for the good of mankind as a whole, at a time when humanity was still not ready. It was necessary to ensure that the Jewish People would continue to preserve the Torah for the rest of mankind: Therefore, for all of these reasons, God wanted knowledge of His Unity to persist among the Jews, and He threatened them with all those threats, and he pruned them in many ways, so that they would not worship other gods, and all of this was not solely for the benefit of the Jews, but for the benefit of the human race in general, because from Israel will the Torah go forth, and knowledge of the unity of God will spread from them little by little to all human beings, until in the end of days the world will be filled with knowledge of God. [. . .] So you will understand this secret, [alluded to by the Kuzari 4:23] which God could not state explicitly in the Torah, because its publication would thwart its intention, because the Jews would not have eschewed the idols of the ancient nations nor kept themselves from resembling them, if God had not brought them close to His worship in all the ways that He saw in His wisdom to bring them close. And now, too, this matter should not be explained to ignorant people.44

43 In terms of free will, Luzzatto provides a very moderate reading of Maimonides (Pirqei Avot, end of chapter 8, 51–53) and maintains that Maimonides evaded presenting the issue to its full extent. See above Chapter Three. 44 Luzzatto, Ex. 20:3.

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All of Maimonides’s interpreters concur that he disagrees with Judah Halevi who maintains that the Jewish people possess a superior essence to other nations, a quality unique to them and passed down hereditarily. In Maimonides’s opinion, prophecy is not unique to the Jewish people. Any person who reaches the maximal level of intellectual reflection has a chance of meriting prophecy. Besides the passage cited above (Guide for the Perplexed, part 3, 17) Maimonides says explicitly: “One of the foundations of our faith is that God conveys prophecy to man. Prophecy is bestowed only upon a very wise scholar of a strong moral character etc.”45 In other words, all intellectuals have the same potential to be prophets. He also writes this at the end of his laws of Sabbatical Years and Jubilees: “The chosenness of Israel was only manifested after they had received the Torah and were required to observe its commandments.”46 That is to say, the unique chosenness of the Jewish people is not in fact true, and the Jews have no immanent excellence vis-à-vis other humans. In this matter, Luzzatto agrees with Maimonides, the only difference being that for Luzzatto this idea is included in the Torah as a “prudent plan of Providence” whereas according to Maimonides excellence is the distillation of the Torah and its commandments. In any event, this is a daring and untraditional position, which Luzzatto (like Maimonides) was not eager to publicize.

(4) The Evil Eye—Is it Scientifically True? Luzzatto in his commentary on the Torah attempts to explain the source of the false belief in the evil eye. The Torah commands that to avoid a plague— the result of a direct census—Israel is to be counted by collecting half a sheqel from each individual. Luzzatto writes that in ancient times rulers would count their armies, leading to hubris and complacency. It was only natural that every tyrant would eventually be overthrown and in the ancient world these downfalls would be attributed to the evil eye: “and from this was borne among all nations the belief in the evil eye and it appears that this belief had already spread in Israel in the generations preceding the giving of the Torah. And behold God did not wish to completely abolish this belief, because at its basis is a belief in divine providence which distances man from trusting in his own strength and

45 Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Yesodei Hatorah, 7:1. 46 On the chosenness of the Jewish people according to Maimonides see Halbertal, Harambam, 182–188; Goodman, Sodotav, 232–341.

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wealth, and this is the essence of the Torah.”47 That is to say, this is an untrue belief, adopted by the Torah for ethical and pedagogical reasons. Maimonides also does not believe in the reality of the evil eye and does not think that it can cause any harm. In his Mishneh Torah (Hilkhot Shehenim, chapter 2, 14–16) Maimonides rules that when dividing a shared courtyard between two owners one must build a fence four cubits high to prevent the damage caused by one’s neighbor observing his activity. However, if the courtyard in question is a garden next to the house, then the wall only need be 10 breadths high. In a valley, that is an agrarian field, one need not make this distinction at all. Rabad, in his critique, says that Maimonides made a great error. A garden, like a courtyard, requires a wall four cubits high to prevent the damage from sight. Shem Tov Ibn Gaon in his commentary Migdal Oz is surprised at the Rabad and proceeds to prove that he is mistaken. In his commentary, he cites a question posed to Maimonides by the scholars of Lunel: the crops in a garden courtyard belong to one of the neighbors and are therefore liable to be damaged by the eye of the other. Why then is a partition ten breadths high enough? In his responsum, Maimonides distinguishes between the damage caused by watching a neighbor’s intimate activities in the adjacent yard, and the damage caused by looking at a neighbor’s crops with the evil eye. The latter is “pious conduct. And that answer [given by the Talmud] is merely a response [to a challenge] and is not according to Halakhah.” Therefore, while a courtyard requires a partition four cubits high, a garden only requires a partition ten breadths high—marking a boundary to ensure a neighbor does not enter the garden without permission.

(5) Impurity and the Laws of Leprosy—A Harmful Physical Reality? Maimonides rejects the interpretation which considers the impurities of leprosy demonic-magical or medical-health related. He states categorically in the Guide for the Perplexed that being in a state of impurity is not harmful (as opposed to the treatment of menstruating woman by the Sabaeans) and is not intrinsically negative. The Torah’s goal in mandating the laws of purity and impurity is to limit entry into the Temple to a minimum, preventing it from becoming a matter of routine and habit, raising the people’s esteem for the house of God. Maimonides adds that impurities are considered “dirty” and the laws of purity lead to avoiding them. In this matter, the Torah adopted already 47 Luzzatto, Ex. 30:11.

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accepted practices. However, in actuality, the Torah does not oppose a person entering into a state of impurity. He may be in such a state as long as he wants provided he does not enter the Temple area. “This distinction applies only in reference to the Sanctuary and the holy objects connected with it: it does not apply to other cases.” At the end of the passage Maimonides also cites the Sages who speak of leprosy as a punishment for slander, its appearance a miracle of sorts: “the good effect of this belief is evident. Leprosy is, besides, a contagious disease, and people almost naturally abhor it, and keep away from it.” I think it is reasonable to assume that Maimonides considers the first interpretation the rationale of the commandment according to scientific truth, and the second interpretation the necessary truth for the purposes of ethical education.48 Luzzatto’s position is very similar. He writes: And behold, many already have thought that the ostracization of the leper is because that disease is transmitted by touch; and it seems to me, that if the Torah was concerned about infection from the disease, then why does the Torah decree no measure about other infectious diseases and how did it command nothing about the plague? [Therefore,] it appears to me that the change in skin color was in the minds of our ancestors a sign of God’s wrath, and they believed that the leper was stricken by God as punishment for some terrible sin he had committed. Therefore, they would separate from him as if he was a person castigated by God; similarly, the change in the appearance of a garment or a house was a sign of God’s rebuke, as if the stricken garment or house were hated by God due to some great sin that was committed with them. And because all of this reinforced the belief in Divine Providence and the belief in reward and punishment, the Torah upheld this belief. [. . .] And the matter of the leper is similar to the matter of a niddah, zav, zavah and yoledet [a menstruating woman, a man or woman with a genital discharge, or a woman who has given birth]—these are all considered castigated by God. This is because the (unwilling) emission of blood or semen is the beginning of death, and it alludes to the fact that man and woman are mortal. Therefore, we were commanded to separate ourselves from them and guard ourselves from their touch. [. . .] And indeed, the impurity of semen is for the glory of 48 Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed, part 3, 35, 330 (the twelfth class) and in chapter 47, 366–370.

Luzzatto and Maimonides    Chapter Six the Temple, so that a person should not enter the house of God, and eat holy flesh on the same day he has occupied himself with physical pleasure (which is unnecessary, as opposed to food or drink); and this is similar to the commandments before the giving of the Torah (Ex. 19:15) “be ready for three days, do not approach a woman”; and in the minds of the congregation this prohibition will exalt and uplift the glory and splendor of the Temple and its holy objects, and in the minds of priests it will exalt and uplift the glory of the labor which they perform.49

That is to say, Luzzatto believes that leprosy is not truly harmful and is not a miraculous sign of divine rebuke—a daring and untraditional stance. The belief that a leper is being castigated by God is used by the Torah for pedagogical and ethical goals, instilling fear of a watchful God, who punishes a person for his sins, marking him for removal from society. This is so a person will act ethically, following the Torah’s commandments. The rationale of fostering honor of the Temple—Maimonides’s explanation for all forms of impurity—Luzzatto only uses when discussing the impurity of semen, a natural emission which cannot be attributed to divine castigation.

(6) The Temple and Sacrifices—Optimal or Concessionary and for What Purpose? Maimonides’s rationale for the commandments of animal sacrifices is one of the most famous. Maimonides maintains that the Torah commanded animal sacrifices out of an understanding that it was impossible to transform a people immersed in idolatry and sacrifice all at once. Therefore, it adopted the practice but refined it, giving instructions how to properly practice it and limiting it to one central location: It is, namely, impossible to go suddenly from one extreme to the other. It is, therefore, according to the nature of man impossible for him suddenly to discontinue everything to which he has been accustomed. [. . .] But the custom which was in those days general among all men, and the general mode of worship in which the Israelites were brought up, consisted in sacrificing animals in those temples which contained certain images, to bow down to those images, and to bum incense before them; religious 49 Luzzatto, Lev. 12:2.

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The Dual Truth and ascetic persons were in those days the persons that were devoted to the service in the temples erected to the stars, as has been explained by us. It was in accordance with the wisdom and plan of God, as displayed in the whole Creation, that He did not command us to give up and to discontinue all these manners of service; for to obey such a commandment it would have been contrary to the nature of man, who generally cleaves to that to which he is used; it would in those days have made the same impression as a prophet would make at present if he called us to the service of God and told us in His name, that we should not pray to Him, not fast, not seek His help in time of trouble; that we should serve Him in thought, and not by any action. ; comp. “And they shall make unto me a sanctuary” (Exod. xxv. 8); to have an altar erected in his name; comp. “An altar of earth thou shalt make unto me” (ibid. 20:21); to offer the sacrifices to Him; for this reason God allowed these kinds of service to continue; He transferred to His service that which had formerly served as a worship of created beings, and of things imaginary and unreal, and commanded us to serve Him in the same manner; viz., to build unto Him a temple, [. . .] and to have the altar erected to His name, [. . .] to offer the sacrifices to Him, [. . .] to bow down to Him and to burn incense before Him. He has forbidden to do any of these things to any other being. [. . .] He selected priests for the service in the Temple. [. . .] He made it obligatory that certain gifts, called the gifts of the Levites and the priests, should be assigned to them for their maintenance while they are engaged in the service of the temple and its sacrifices. By this Divine plan it was effected that the traces of idolatry were blotted out, and the truly great principle of our faith, the Existence and Unity of God, was firmly established; this result was thus obtained without deterring or confusing the minds of the people by the abolition of the service to which they were accustomed and which alone was familiar to them.50

That is to say, unlike traditional understandings, there is no intrinsic worth to the Temple and sacrifices, and the Temple laws are necessary commandments. The divine plan used existing beliefs and customs—which were mistaken and idolatrous—and combatted them by redirecting them toward the service of God. This was to achieve the true goal—abolishing idolatry and instilling belief in God’s existence and unity. 50 Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed, part 3, 32, 323–325.

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Luzzatto writes along similar lines: The sacrifices were not originally commanded, but were human concession, for humans would makes vows to thank God for his kindness toward them, or to bring before him an offering to calm his wrath and to appease him so that he should fulfill their requests, for it is impossible for a person to act towards his God in a manner different than how he acts toward a king of flesh and blood. [. . .] The divine Torah—its purpose not to teach the nation wisdom and knowledge, but to guide them in paths of justice—did not abolish the practice of sacrifices, not because it did not have the ability, but because this custom is not inherently bad, and does not harm people or the improvement of their morals; to the contrary, it benefits them; for if the Torah teaches the nation that God has no wish for offerings, on the morrow they will say: What does God desire that we may be righteous and what gain is there if we lead our lives innocently? And because one of the foundations of the Torah is the belief that God oversees people’s actions, and loves those who do good and hates evil, it was necessary that God not be portrayed to the full extent of his exaltedness, according to his true level. Rather it was necessary to slightly lower his excellence (as it were) and to portray him as a great king who knows their actions, hears their cries, and accepts their gifts. And this was necessary not only for that generation, but in every generation equally. And if instead of sacrifices God would have commanded prayer, hymns, Torah readings and ethical preaching, and not sacrifices, then the greatness of God and his fear would not have been imprinted upon the hearts of the masses. For it would seem to them that the gods of the nations, to whom sacrifices are brought by their worshipers, are greater and more respected than our God, whom we only serve with mere words. For thus is the quality of the masses in every generation, and not only the masses, but the quality of most humans. Who is honored in their view? He who honors himself and enlarges his exaltedness; and truly one who forgoes his privileges and does not demand greatness for himself is not esteemed in their eyes. And the God of truth—although he needs not the respect of flesh and blood—it was necessary for our benefit and good to instill his fear in our hearts so that we would not sin; and since in those days it was impossible to instill his fear in the heart of the nation without sacrifices, he commanded them to do so. And behold the fruit of the sacrifices which the public would bring in the Temple was such, that it would be impressed upon the hearts of the masses that a deity and a great king

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The Dual Truth dwells in their midst and they are beloved to him. He commanded them to perform the services He wishes, and by doing those services at his behest they are favored by him every day and they draw upon themselves his love constantly. And the Torah commanded that not every person can build an altar for himself—the entire assembly must bring their sacrifices in a designated place which God will choose. [. . .] And the public sacrifices are so that Israel should have a sanctuary and a temple to serve God, so that it should be impressed upon their hearts that God is in their midst, and he is their king and their leader, overseeing their actions and remunerating them according to their ways and their deeds. This would not be impressed upon the hearts of the masses without something tangible to allude to this. Therefore, it was necessary that the Temple be like the structure of a king’s palace, and it was necessary that it should have a table and candelabra, and upon the table a bread set and table vessels, bowls and spoons. And because the practice was to offer God a gift of edible things, it was fitting that we bring before our King varieties of food and drink, and the sacrifices correspond to food and the libations to drink. And it was necessary that the king have servants, who work in his house, and who stand before him, and these are the priests. [. . .] And because its [the priestly family’s] labor in the house of God is for the nation as whole, it is fitting that its livelihood be assured by the nation.51

Luzzatto thinks, like Maimonides, that there is no inherent value to the Temple, its vessels, its servants, or its sacrifices, and there is nothing intrinsically true about them. The Torah’s goal is not to teach us truths but to educate us. The commandments of sacrifices are necessary not true. Therefore, the Torah adopts the existing practices customary for deities and kings to impress the greatness of God upon the masses, causing them to fear him and observe his ethical commandments. This need for tangibility is a human need in every generation. In the middle of this passage, Luzzatto mentions Maimonides only to reject his overall approach—that the reason for concentrating worship in one place was to minimize as much as possible the practice of sacrifices. In Luzzatto’s opinion, the reason for centralization is to gather the entire nation together, increasing love and fraternity. The primary difference between Luzzatto and Maimonides is that Maimonides maintains that the main goal of divine providence is to instill belief in God’s existence and unity and to abolish idolatry, whereas Luzzatto maintains that the main goal is to inculcate the belief in a watchful and b­ eneficent God, so 51 Luzzatto, Lev. 1:1.

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that they observe the commandments which lead to the moral lives of individuals and societies. In either case, the daring and untraditional principle is similar.

(7) The Source of the Oral Law—Transmission from Sinai or Rabbinic Innovation Maimonides presents a bold and exceptional position in dividing the laws of the Mishnah and the Talmud into a number of categories (as I have explained elsewhere). A careful look at Maimonides’s classifications reveals that to him the Written and Oral Torah include only the 613 commandments, as enumerated in his Sefer Hamitsvot. Only these are biblical obligations. These laws include commandments recorded in the Written Torah as well as laws derived from thirteen hermeneutical principles but explicitly referred to by the Talmud as biblical, meaning transmitted from Sinai. All other laws—the majority of laws in the Mishnah and the Talmud—are rabbinical laws created by the Sages using their own intellect. These include laws designated “a halakhah from Moses at Sinai,” laws derived from the thirteen hermeneutical principles but not designated “biblical,” as well as decrees and customs.52 Maimonides writes in the Sefer Hamitsvot: And the method is this: anything that you do not find in the text of the Torah and you find that the Talmud learned it from one of the thirteen principles, if they explained it themselves and said that this is the body of the Torah or that it is biblical—then this should be counted [in the 613 commandments of the Pentateuch] for the transmitters of the Oral Torah said it was biblical; but if they did not explain this and did not say this explicitly—then it is rabbinical since the text does not indicate otherwise.53

Luzzatto formulated his own theory about the laws of the Mishnah and Talmud. Comparing his position to those of his medieval predecessors, it is clear that his view is closest to that of Maimonides. As I showed above in Chapter Four, Luzzatto’s position on the sources of Halakhah developed over 52 See his introduction to his commentary on the Mishnah and Sefer Hamitsvot, Shoresh 1–2, his introduction to Sefer Hamada in the Mishneh Torah, and Hilkhot Mamrim, chapters 1–2. Also see Maimonides’s responsa (responsum 355); M. Halbertal, ‘Al Derekh Haemet: Haramban Veyetsirata Shel Masoret ( Jerusalem, 2007), chapter 1; Halbertal, Harambam, 91–118; Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 160–163. 53 Sefer Hamitsvot, Shoresh 2.

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the course of the thirties and forties. In the end he would conclude that while the Scribes did elucidate and strengthen ancient laws, they also created new laws of their own according to the changing needs and circumstances of the nation. Due to their powerful status, they saw no need to justify their legislation by providing rationales. The status of their successors, the Tannaim, was weaker, and they did not know the rationales of their predecessors. They therefore were forced to underpin the laws of their predecessors as well as their own new laws with Midrash Halakhah (such as Tosefta, Sifra, Sifri, and Mekhilta). The Amoraim who succeeded them almost entirely discontinued the autonomous creation of laws based on exegesis, but continued to explain the statements of their predecessors (received orally) with scriptural exegesis and continued to make decrees and establish customs.54 Luzzatto writes about the exegesis of the Tanna Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus: After some years in which I was surprised by the Sages, why they removed a certain verse from its simple meaning, today (Purim 5607 [1847]) I was privileged to understand what they were after. Indeed, in every place where the Sages deviated from the simple meaning of the verse, when the matter is not a single man’s opinion, but something agreed upon without demurral, this is not an error that they made, but it is a regulation they instituted, because of the need of the generations, and who is a reformer like them? But their regulations were with deep wisdom, and fear of God and love of man, not their own pleasure or honor, and not to find favor in the eyes of flesh and blood.55 54 See Luzzatto, Haotsar, Lishka A, 13, quoted in Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 314–315. See there also about Luzzatto’s approach until 328. Also see below Chapter Seven, for a full discussion of Luzzatto’s view on the issue. 55 Luzzatto, Lev. 7:18. B. Rubinstein (in Hama’arechet Letiqun Hadat Vesidrei Hah . ayim Beyisrael Bemah . shevet Sifrut Hahaskalah Ha’ivrit Mipulmus Haheichal Ve’ad Shnot Hashishim Shel Hameah Ha19, Doctoral Dissertation, Hebrew University [ Jerusalem, 1958]) examined the views in Haskalah literature regarding the Reform, a measure advocated at that time by some of the maskilim. He dedicates the first chapter to Luzzatto, offering a detailed analysis of Luzzatto’s view that the halakhot in the Oral Law are regulations innovated by the Sages and explaining how this position served as the basis of Luzzatto’s ambition to reform Judaism from within, as opposed to employing the methods of Reform, which derived from an entirely different position—the adoption of a foreign culture. Rubinstein brilliantly shows that Luzzatto’s attack on Maimonides in his famous letter to Rapoport is entirely connected to his view that the halakhot in the Mishnah and the Talmud are the developing creation of the Sages. Therefore, he opposes Geiger and argues that putting the Mishnah in writing must be dated later, to the period of the Savoraim, and it is impossible to attribute

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A consequence of this view is that the Sages’ exegesis of Scripture was not the correct interpretation of the biblical text. For example: The Sages say that “an eye for an eye” means money. Maimonides maintains: He who mutilated a limb of his neighbor, must himself lose a limb. “As he hath caused a blemish in a man, so shall it be done to him again” (Lev. xxiv. 20). You must not raise an objection from our practice of imposing a fine in such cases. For we have proposed to ourselves to give here the reason for the precepts mentioned in the Law and not for that which is stated in the Talmud. I have, however, an explanation for the interpretation given in the Talmud, but it will be communicated vivâ voce.56

Luzzatto writes similarly in his commentary on the verse “an eye for an eye” in Ex. 21:24: This mean that anyone who wounds a friend, should be punished with the same blemish he inflicted upon his friend—whether he intended to harm him, or intended to harm someone else, as is the case when striking the woman; the Sages of blessed memory explained that he must pay money (BT Bava Kamma 84a). And this is one of those matters which the Torah left to the hand of the Judges, for indeed if there is a rich man who will not sense the loss of his money and will find satisfaction in harming people, the judges can apply the [literal] ruling of “an eye for an eye.”

D. THE SOLUTION Why does Luzzatto not mention Maimonides as his source when discussing these subjects? I believe that this is directly related to the controversial and daring nature of these positions, which Luzzatto, like Maimonides, was not its writing to Rabbi Judah Hanasi. Another important Bible scholar—who accurately and thoroughly presents Luzzatto’s approach to the Sages’ interpretation of the Bible, both in terms of Halakhah and literature—is Vargon. See S. Vargon, “Shadal” and “Yahaso Habiqorti Shel Shadal Klapei Perushey Hazal Shelo Bithum Hahalakhah,” Mehqarim Betalmud Uvemidrash, 5 (2005), 135–158. See also Chertok, Qanqan, 66, and his reference to Margolis in n. 16 there. 56 Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed, part 3, 41, 344. Cf. Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot H  .  ovel Umaziq, 1:3. See J. S. Levinger, Harambam Kefilosof Ukeposeq ( Jerusalem, 1990), 56–66.

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eager to publicize. As I have already demonstrated above and elsewhere,57 at the beginning of the forties Luzzatto developed an untraditional approach towards the relationship between philosophy-science and revelation. Maimonides and Judah Halevi maintained that Torah and philosophy are identical. Their dispute was only which should serve as the standard. According to Judah Halevi, revelation is determinative; according to Maimonides, reason is determinative. By contrast, Luzzatto believed that reason and revelation are two separate areas, each one possessing a different part of the truth. At the end of the forties Luzzatto took a step further and concluded that these areas represent two complete but contradictory truths, which cannot be reconciled in man’s world. In any event, he believes that there is truth in philosophy as well— as long as it is genuine philosophy—and when the truth of the Torah is not readily understood, one should adopt the philosophical stance. This is what Luzzatto does in the subjects presented above. That being said, Luzzatto also realized that his approach was complex and daring, and that it should not be discussed at length in public.58 How can someone who invalidates the ideas of Maimonides—because they derive from foreign Aristotelian and Muslim philosophy—persist in adopting some of these ideas (primarily from the Guide for the Perplexed and the Eight Chapters) and claim that even such forms of philosophy contains some truth? How can one who claimed that Maimonides’s views “are an invention neither commanded nor spoken by our ancestors, never entertained in their hearts” adopt some of Maimonides most dangerous positions, which were similarly “not inherited at all from our fathers”?59 Therefore, on every sensitive topic (such as the seven discussed) Luzzatto takes pains to hide the fact that his controversial and daring stance bears similarities to the philosophical stance of Maimonides. He thus avoided additional attacks from those who had trouble internalizing his complex position. This is also the reason why Luzzatto does not cite Maimonides as the source of the maxim “to accept truth from whoever speaks it.” This principle is what drove 57 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 474–491. 58 See chapter 3 above. At the end of his letter to Rapoport (mentioned above in note 2, Meh . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 247–248) Luzzatto recommends that his detractors from the right—naïve and upright believers—as well as students at the beginning of their path, refrain from reading his writings which are only intended for mature adults and lovers of free research. This danger will pass when these students will grow in their knowledge of Talmud and Halakhah, after which they will either reject his words, or accept them and then they may become enlightened believers in the truth and worthy teachers for their communities. 59 Luzzatto, Mehqerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, pt. 2, 166–168.

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Maimonides to accept the invalid positions of Aristotelian-Islamic philosophers. Luzzatto therefore preferred not to draw attention to the fact that Maimonides is the source of this maxim, which also stems from Islamic scholars.60 Thus, he could avoid attacks and astonishment from his opponents. It is also worth keeping in mind that Luzzatto explicitly adopts Maimonidean interpretations, primarily on halakhic issues from the Mishneh Torah (as shown in the above list), while theoretical ideas, which he explicitly attributes to Maimonides, he usually rejects.

SUMMARY Luzzatto’s relationship to Maimonides is ambivalent. On the one hand he attacks the theoretical basis of Maimonidean rationalism—his justification for incorporating foreign philosophies into Judaism. The adoption and wide dissemination of such ideas by his predecessors poses a danger to the wholeness and religion of the nation. On the other hand, as one who had internalized many positions of the Haskalah movement, Luzzatto maintained a neo-romantic approach to Judaism and could neither accept the statements of the Torah as simple scientific-philosophical truths nor adopt the devout position that all Halakhah stems from Sinai. Therefore, he adopts some of Maimonides’s more exceptional and controversial ideas, allowing him to explain instructions in the Torah which contradict logic and science, attributing them to “the prudent plan of Divine Providence.” This is based on the adage which he adopted—to accept truth from whoever speaks it. Therefore, he also adopts Maimonides’s position regarding the historical development of Halakhah (that only the 613 commandments were given at Sinai). But to avoid accusations of inconsistency, Luzzatto did not note the Maimonidean influence of these explanations. That being said, his criticism of Maimonides remained unchanged—and he continued to condemn him for adopting foreign, speculative philosophies, which sever any possible connection between God and man, and for reading verses allegorically as if they hid philosophical truths. The same holds true for Maimonides’s attempts to dominate sources, his advocacy of eliminating his theological opponents, his explanations of the World to Come and the Resurrection of the Dead, and his granting an afterlife only to believers in his thirteen principles of faith and not to those who observe ethical commandments. In the next chapter I will delve into Luzzatto’s negative attitude towards Kabbalah. 60 For the source of this saying see Schwartz, Shemona Peraqim, introduction, 5, n. 9.

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Luzzatto on Theosophical Kabbalah: Harmful Invention with Worthy Intentions BACKGROUND

J

ewish society and thought at the end of the twentieth century and the ­ beginning of the twenty-first century are characterized among other things by a strong attraction to Kabbalah and mysticism—part of the ­world-wide ­dissemination of the New Age movement. By contrast, in the rationalist eighteenth century, a strong Jewish opposition to Kabbalah and mysticism developed—even in Eastern Europe, the cradle of Hasidism. In the romantic nineteenth century, some Jewish thinkers took this opposition a step ­further, bringing their opposition to Kabbalah to the point of veritable revulsion. Having internalized the ideals of the Haskalah, these romantic Jewish thinkers had no place for mysticism in their thought—the reason I refer to this period in Jewish history as “neo-romantic.” In Luzzatto’s writings this sense of revulsion is particularly salient.1 From the time he became self-aware, Luzzatto was conscious of mysticism and Kabbalah. His father Hezekiah was a poor woodturner. Joseph Klausner describes him as a naive, righteous man, God-fearing, and extremely devout in his observance of commandments. He was a believer in superstitions, possessing a poetic soul and a delusional personality. He was detached from real life, living in a world of faith and dreams, interspersed with vows and fasts. He would spend his time reading mussar literature, reading about asceticism 1

See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 453–455.

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and a­ bstinence. He was a radical idealist with a strong imagination. One of his attempts at writing was a project to compose a kabbalistic commentary on the Bible.2 Luzzatto writes in his autobiography that his father began to study Kabbalah from a young age, and even planned to write a book called H  .  emdat Hanearim, collecting sources from the Zohar, the Talmud, and their commentaries toward this end. In this book he also wished to include two short compositions: Ziqnei Bat Tsion—a list of names mentioned in the Bible and Talmud, and Piteron H  .  elomot—an anthology of passages from the Talmud on the subject of dream interpretation.3 Luzzatto adds that when he was thirteen years old he fell ill. Forced to leave school, he began to study Torah primarily with his father— mainly Sefer Habrit, a book beloved by his father for its inclusion of scientific and kabbalistic information.4 Luzzatto further recounts that in that year, while studying the talmudic Aggadot in the anthology Ein Yaakov, he reached the critical conclusion that the traditional vowels and accent (cantillation) marks of the biblical text do not originate from Sinai. Unknown to the Amoraim, these marks must have been instituted only after the talmudic era. This quickly led to his next conclusion: that the Zohar, which contains many allusions to the biblical vowels and accents, was composed after the era of the Mishnah and the Talmud, and not by Tannaim as commonly believed. His conclusions led to disagreements with his father, frequently erupting into disputes. When his mother contracted her final illness in 1814, his father prayed for her recovery using kabbalistic intentions, but his prayers were left unanswered. He hoped that the intentions of an innocent boy would be more effective and turned to his son, seeking to teach him how to perform kabbalistic intentions: banishing all physical thoughts from the mind, raising the soul from the lowly world of Asiya to the worlds of Yetsira, Beria and Atsilut, and from there to the ten sefirot, to Primordial Man, to the Ein Sof, making one’s supplications there. Believing in none of this, Luzzatto refused, to his father’s great anger. Luzzatto says, however, that in the end his father, who was an upright man of truth, overcame his nature and ceased to study Kabbalah, perhaps even ceasing to believe in it.5 In the years 1815–1817, during personal studies and study with his father, Luzzatto penned critical notes on the Zohar’s authenticity and documented peshat interpretations of difficult words and passages in Scripture that 2 3 4 5

See Klausner, Hasifrut 2, 44–48. S. Luzzatto, Pirqei H  .  ayim, ed. M. Schulwas (New York, 1951), 6. Ibid., 19. Ibid., 20–21.

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contradict the traditional vowelization and accentation of the text.6 In 1817 he collected these notes into a small work called Maamar Haniqud (The Essay on Vowelization). Luzzatto recounts that his relative and friend Samuel Haim Loli tried to convince him that he was misguided, but his efforts were in vain. Loli wrote a letter to his friend Reggio, requesting his assistance in convincing Luzzatto that his grave conclusions about Kabbalah and the Zohar’s antiquity were mistaken. Reggio sent Luzzatto two letters on the subject, but Luzzatto refuted all of his arguments.7 From 1817 to 1818, Luzzatto studied the Babylonian Talmud with his father, all the while searching for any evidence for the existence of vowels and accents, but finding nothing. In June of 1818, he began to study the Zohar methodically, jotting down passages that seemed relevant to the Zohar’s antiquity while writing definitive proofs against this notion—a project he never completed.8 The question of accentation and vowelization continued to occupy the three intellectuals, and it would come up in their letters time and time again after Loli left Trieste in 1819. In 1819 Luzzatto wrote to Reggio that having studied the topic for six years, he no longer has any doubts about his conclusions. The Sages of the Talmud and the classic Torah commentators wrote many interpretations which do not accord with the traditional accentation of the text. They would not have done this had they thought it originated from Sinai.9 In that same year, in a letter to Loli, who argued on behalf of the kabbalists, Luzzatto initiated a concentrated attack against their position. In 1826 Luzzatto finished writing his work on the subject entitling it Vikuah  .  al H  .  okhmat Haqabbalah Veal Qadmut Sefer Hazohar Veqadmut Hanequdot Vehatamim (A Disputation on the Kabbalah and on the Antiquity of the Zohar and the Vowels and Accents). The work was written in the style of the Kuzari: a dialogue between the meh  . aber (the author, a representation of Luzzatto) who believes in Kabbalah, and the oreah  .  (the guest), a wise Polish Jew, who has taken up residence in the author’s city—an opponent of Kabbalah. Over the course of the dialogue, he offers proofs against the Zohar’s antiquity, and against the antiquity of the vowels and accents, arguments Luzzatto had formulated over the last thirteen years. The disputation begins at the end of the Tiqqun of Hoshannah Rabbah eve in 1825, and continues for three days. 6 Ibid., 27. 7 Ibid., 31. 8 Ibid., 35. 9 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 60–61.

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The guest constantly draws the author—against his wishes and despite his protests—into discussions about Kabbalah, during which he methodically disproves the belief that the Zohar and Kabbalah are divinely inspired traditions transmitted to the Tannaim. Luzzatto kept the work in his drawer until 1851; only a handful of his disciples and friends had the opportunity to read it or receive a copy. In 1851 Luzzatto decided to publish the work, and it was published in Gorizia in 1852. He dedicated the work to Elhanan (Graziadio) Ascoli in honor of his wedding. In an addendum at the end of the work (Kislev 5612) and in an introduction written to Ascoli in French appended to its beginning (December 1851), Luzzatto states that he wrote the work as proof against the positions of Reggio and Loli who in the end had indeed been convinced by his arguments. At the time, he decided to shelve the work, not wishing to humiliate sincere, religious, God-fearing men deserving of honor and respect. In his region, Luzzatto explains, only a few people study books of Kabbalah, only gleaning from them ethics and fear of God. Their actions and intentions are worthy, and therefore he did not think it proper to confuse them with his arguments. Nevertheless, he recently met in Padua a young Jew from Poland who had seen a copy of the work in the hands of one of Luzzatto’s disciples. The young man wrote to Luzzatto, pressing him to print and distribute the book, to assist the Polish maskilim in their battle against the Hassidim, who, according to him, are “desecrating the honor of the nation and the honor of the Torah with their vanities and evil deeds.” In his dedication to Ascoli, Luzzatto adds another reason for publishing his work at the present time: his desire to demonstrate that the purpose of the commandments, as understood by the Sages, is ethical and for the good of society, and not theurgic (“a mystical trade-deal between earth and heaven”). Moreover, he wishes to show that scholars who argue that kabbalistic writings are based on the teachings of the Talmud, and are part of the “religious philosophy of the Jews” betray their ignorance, as kabbalistic writings postdate the Sages by a thousand years.10 10 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 239–240; idem, Ketavim, vol. 1, 171–172; idem, Vikuah .  al H  .  okhmat Haqabbalah Veal Qadmut Sefer Hazohar Veqadmut Hanequdot Vehatamim, ed. Y. Bassi ( Jerusalem, 2013), 135–137. It is evident from a letter Luzzatto wrote in November 1851 to Y. Stern, who then resided in Algiers, that the latter was the young man who prompted Luzzatto to publish the Vikuah . . Luzzatto informed him in the letter that the book was in the printing press of Gorizia ready to be printed in honor of the Ascoli’s wedding (and to be paid for by him). He writes, “if not for you, I would never have been bestirred to publish it, and already twenty-eight years have elapsed since its writing. May it be His will, that the book be beneficial for the members of our nation, and not a stumbling block to sin”

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In this chapter I will give a detailed summary of the Vikuah  . , as well as discussing Luzzatto’s statements about Kabbalah in the interim between its shelving and publication. From this overview it will become clear that Luzzatto occasionally made small changes to his views—regarding the relationship between the first Kabbalists and the first philosophers as well as the question of the Zohar’s author. From this overview also emerge two different facets to Luzzatto’s personality: on the one hand, he is a researcher, who ever since his youth sought truth, never recoiling from it—even if it was bold, even if it contradicted the views of his friends or accepted religious tradition. On the other hand as a lover of his nation and religion who is un-eager to publicize his deviant opinions. Liable to damage the wellbeing of Judaism and its adherents, he only publicized such views when his hand was forced, only when doing so was necessary to prevent even greater damage to Judaism.11

FIRST STATEMENTS In 1820, in the aforementioned letter to Loli, Luzzatto wrote for the first time about the dangers of Kabbalah, calling for its destruction and eradication.12 In his opinion, Loli is wrong to say that Kabbalah, deriving from tradition, is preferable to philosophy, which is alien to Judaism. Kabbalah is actually less worthy than philosophy, as it is based on a corruption and misunderstanding of philosophy on the part of the kabbalists. He proves to Loli, from a number of examples, that the kabbalists themselves are divided over fundamental tenets of Kabbalah, such as the relationship between God (the emanator) and his ­emanations. To Loli’s claim that the kabbalists were God-fearing men who studied many disciplines, Luzzatto responds that overwhelmed by these myriad (Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 1124). Idel argues that in his dedication Luzzatto is dismissive of Adolph Franck’s study from 1843, which sided with Kabbalah and argued for its antiquity. Unlike Scholem and Tishby, Idel maintains that most Jewish researchers in the nineteenth century, including Krochmal, Landauer, Benamozegh, Franck, Munk, and Jellinek, actually admired Kabbalah and understood its importance in Judaism. Unlike Luzzatto, Idel shows that theosophy, theurgy, ecstasy, and myth all existed in various forms within Judaism from the time of the Bible. See M. Idel, Kabbalah New Perspectives (New Haven and London, 1988). For Idel’s discussion of the relationship between Luzzatto and Franck see 8–11. Liebes shows that myth is an inseparable part of the Bible and rabbinic literature and that Kabbalah actually tends to police and refine Jewish mythology. See Y. Liebes, Alilot Elohim: Hamitos Hayehudi, Masot Umeh . qarim ( Jerusalem, 2009). See also note 28 below. 11 See below in the paragraph “After Shelving the Vikuah . ”. 12 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 78.

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d­ isciplines they lost their common-sense, walking blindly after their teachers, failing to use their reason as befitting true philosophers. As to Loli’s argument that the kabbalists performed miracles and wonders, Luzzatto responds that Pharaoh’s magicians also did as much and even pagan priests practice magic, and employ magical names and techniques; these may be efficacious in the hands of sinners, but they do not prove the veracity of their ideas. He adds that it is well-known that the kabbalists are lovers of bribery, and make easy livings at the expense of the public, benefitting no one. Moreover, when Mendelssohn and Naftali Hirz Wessely taught the nation wisdom and knowledge, these devout kabbalists gaped in disapproval. Luzzatto’s description of the evil done to the nation by Kabbalah and kabbalists speaks for itself: There is no number to those struck dead by the Kabbalah when it eclipsed the splendorous luster of our Torah, and when it made our faith loathsome to every enlightened person who sees their vanities. They think that they [the kabbalists] truly bear a tradition, and they say: if this is our tradition, then our entire Torah is nothing but utter futility! Were not in ancient times many of the sages of Israel philosophers? Faith was strong then in the heart of the Israelite man, and even when beset by much misfortune and tribulation, it could not budge him from his place and could not banish him from his faith. And now, since the majority of the greats of Israel are kabbalists and not philosophers, faith has been lost. And this came to be because the Torah has been left in a corner; no one studies it and no one seeks to understand its words according to the peshat. All those who study it deal only with derash, allusions, and mysteries—God forbid they occupy themselves with the peshat which they call the straw of the Torah (Tiqqunei Zohar Hadash, 34). And when they preach the words of Torah in an assembly of people, only mystery and derash are heard from their mouths. And when they rebuke the people for their sins, they do not draw their hearts with moral lessons, but castigate them for sins which are not sins, scaring them with baseless matters. And if men who are wise in matters of faith present before them their doubts, they will further bewilder them with illogical answers. And if they teach children Torah, they will not draw its words close to intellect, or even to the splendor of its simplicity, instead turning it into worthless speech, with derash, mysteries, and other baseless matters. And all of this necessarily leads people to be sickened by the words of the Living God, and they will scorn the Torah and come to apostasy. Was it not you who counseled me to hold onto the

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THE ESSAY VIQUAH  .  —THE FIRST DAY: KABBALAH HAS NO TRADITION Luzzatto’s work Vikuah  .  al H  .  okhmat Hakkabalah is written as a dialogue between the author and a guest, taking place over the course of three days. At the beginning of the dialogue, at the end of the Tiqqun of Hoshannah Rabbah, Luzzatto presents, through the mouth of the guest, his view that the Zohar was not written by the Sages of the Mishnah and the Talmud. True, the book claims to be tannaitic, just as the Torah, the prophets and the Sages testify to the sources of their words. But, according to the guest, we do not establish the origins of our sacred books based on self-testimony, but only on an unbroken chain of tradition from the time of their composition—traditions based on ancient testimonies accepted by the entire nation and even other religions. The Zohar, however, was neither mentioned nor known in the time of the Mishnah, the Talmud, or the Geonim, and was not extant in the eras of Rashi, Ibn Ezra, Maimonides, Nachmanides, and Rabbi Asher ben Jehiel. It follows that the Zohar has no reliable basis in tradition, and its provenance and content should be judged with intellectual investigation and not with faith: “For there is no faith in something that has no tradition, and the Zohar has no tradition from the time of its composition unto this day.”14 The author utterly rejects the guest’s statements, but at this point the disputation is cut short and they both leave, one to his home the other to his inn. The next day the two meet again after the morning prayers and resume their disputation. The guest declares that he is a God-fearing man, who adheres to the Written and Oral Torah, in thought and in practice; consequently, his statements about the Zohar contain no heresy. He distinguishes between the forgotten esotericism of the Talmud—“the secrets of the Torah,” the Account of Creation, and the Account of the Chariot—and the system of Kabbalah. He states that the kabbalists themselves say that Elijah the prophet revealed 13 Ibid., 80. It should be noted that in his youth Luzzatto was a rationalist and an admirer of Maimonides, Mendelssohn, and philosophy. 14 Vikuah .  al H  .  okhmat Haqabbalah: Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 116; Bassi edition, 8; Luzzatto, Ketavim, vol. 1, 176.

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himself to Rabbi David (Abraham ben David’s father) and taught him the secrets of Kabbalah, Abraham ben David, Nachmanides and other kabbalists all learning Kabbalah from him. According to the guest, Kabbalah was unknown in the time of the Geonim. Only after the academies of Babylonia were no more, after beliefs were distorted with the advent of Greek and Muslim philosophy, and after the ensuing confusion of the European pogroms which began in 1096, did Kabbalah appear. The guest emphasizes that the Heikhalot literature, Sefer Yetsira, and other ancient esoteric texts contain none of the statements made by later kabbalists. Unlike the books of the kabbalists, which are written in a confused, hybrid language, Sefer Yetsira is written clearly. Judah Halevi in the Kuzari (4:25) writes that the ten sefirot in Sefer Yetsira are nothing but the digits from one to ten, the number of fingers and the foundation of all numbers. Like letters, the numbers are abstract, infinite forms, used by God to create the world, his mind having established the quality of creation with letters and words and its quantity with numbers. When the Talmud says that the Sages miraculously created creatures using Sefer Yetsira, the meaning is they entertained thoughts using numbers and letters, and God actualized them. The guest adds that when Saadya Gaon and Ibn Ezra write about “the Sages of the sefirot” in the context of the creation of the luminaries, they obviously are referring to astronomers. Saadya Gaon, who knew nothing of the sefirot of the kabbalists or their notion of reincarnation [Gilgul], writes in his Sefer Emunot Vedeot (Book of Beliefs and Opinions; at the end of the sixth essay) that reincarnation is a jumble of madness, a belief unaccepted by the nation. In his Guide for the Perplexed, Maimonides writes that writing amulets, inscribing and reciting magical names, and performing wonders through them—is madness, falsehood, and foolishness. After the guest proves from a number of sources that even the kabbalists themselves were divided over the issue of reincarnation, the author counters that the Mishnah and Talmud also contain disputes yet this does not invalidate the tradition they transmitted. The guest responds with his central argument: the Sages were only divided over details which lacked a tradition or which were forgotten. The kabbalists, however, “dispute each other regarding the principle upon which everything is based, that is the matter of the sefirot, which some say are the essence of the creator, while other says they are nothing but created vessels. And how could a discipline, its main principle a matter of doubt, be transmitted faithfully from tradition?”15 The dispute between the kabbalists is related to the very basis of their system: are the sefirot the essence of God, Who 15 Vikuah .  al H  .  okhmat Haqabbalah: Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 140; Bassi edition, 33; Luzzatto, Ketavim, vol. 1, 203.

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is divided into a number of powers and layers, or is God a simple unity, and the sefirot are merely lofty vessels which He created? As an example, the guest cites the dispute between two schools of thought: Rabbenu Bahya, Rabbi Perets Hacohen, Nachmanides, Joshua Halevi Horowits (author of the Shnei Luh  . ot Habrit; the Shlah) who believed the sefirot to be God’s essence and Joseph Ben Shusan, Menachem Recanati, Judah Hayat, Elazar of Worms, Moses Cordovero, and Menahem Azaria da Fano who believed the sefirot to be vessels. This is a fundamental dispute, the one side (those who maintain that they are vessels) considering the doctrine of the other idolatry. The guest cites a long excerpt from Recanati, which shows that Recanati reached his conclusions about the sefirot using logic not tradition. Recanati even argues that all the sages before him built their arguments on nothing—an admission on his part that this important matter had no established or accepted tradition. At the end of that day the guest mentions Rabbi Abraham Porto (author of H  .  avot Yair) who opposed the study of Kabbalah and who argued that the Mishnah and Talmud contain no secrets of Kabbalah. He also mentions the dispute between Elia Delmedigo and Joseph Solomon Delmedigo of Candia, the former maintaining that words of the Sages contain no secrets, the latter arguing that the secrets existed but were left unmentioned, the Sages not considering such matters pertinent to the halakhic subject-matter of the Mishnah and Talmud. Abraham Porto demonstrated that Joseph Solomon Delmedigo’s claim is baseless: the Sages spoke about medicine in the Talmud, a subject similarly irrelevant to the subject-matter of the Mishnah and Talmud.16

THE SECOND DAY: KABBALAH’S PHILOSOPHICAL ORIGINS When the author realizes the poor guest can no longer afford lodging and food, he invites him to his house for the remaining two days of the festival (Shemini Atseret and Simh  . at Torah). After the evening prayer and the festival meal they sit 16 On “essence” versus “vessels” see I. Tishby, Mishnat Hazohar, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem, 1949), 113–117. It is interesting that in 1852, after the publication of the Vikuah . , Luzzatto obtained a manuscript of Sefer Heikhalot. In a letter to Rapoport he mentions this and says that he sees in this the hand of Divine Providence. Now, after I have published the Vikuah . , he writes, I will merit completion of a mitzvah and will also publish Sefer Heikhalot, which will clearly show that the secrets of the ancients were not the secrets of Kabbalah, and that Sefer Heikhalot makes no mention of or allusion to the Sefirot and other kabbalistic matters. This shows that Kabbalah was unknown to the ancients, that the kabbalists did not receive their beliefs from them, and that the secrets of Kabbalah have no tradition. See Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 1155.

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down to discuss the author’s writings on Hebrew synonyms, the guest having agreed to no longer speak about matters of Kabbalah, which are transmitted only to unique individuals. The next day, early in the morning, the guest studies his host’s writings until prayer-time, and after prayer and the meal they resume their dialogue. The author raises a question which has been bothering him, and which seems to be unrelated to Kabbalah: why are there so few commentators who interpret the Torah according to the peshat? Even those considered pashtanim, such as Rashi, Ibn Ezra, David Kimhi, Isaac Abarbanel, often deviated from the simple meaning—Rashi following the path of derash and Aggada, others employing philosophical exegesis. Only Rashbam and Nachmanides, are true pashtanim, interpreting the actual text of the Torah. The guest uses the author’s question to advance his discussion of Kabbalah. He replies that Aristotelian philosophy—received from Muslim philosophers who sought to reconcile Aristotelianism with Islam—truly inflicted great damage on Judaism. Under its influence, Jews who lived in Muslim lands sought to reconcile the Torah with this Muslim Aristotelianism. They thus deviated from the Torah’s simple meaning, distorted the words of the Torah, prophets, and Sages, and interpreted using methods of philosophical parables and allusions, none of which were ever entertained by our ancestors. While the philosophers were useful in banishing the notion of divine corporeality, the gain was outweighed by the loss: the corruption of the Jewish faith. For example, according to the Sages the soul is a separate entity, existing before its entry into the body and after its departure from it. By contrast, Maimonides in the Guide for the Perplexed (part 1, 69 [should be 70]) states that before birth the human soul only exists in potentia. The only way one can attain an afterlife is through actualization of this potential—by occupying oneself with the study of intelligible forms. But one who does not engage in intellectual study will be punished, regardless of his sins, his soul ceasing to exist after death. According to the guest, this is also the view of Isaac Arama who in his book Aqedat Yitsh  . ak (viii) claims that this view was also formulated by the kabbalists and the Zohar. The kabbalists distinguished between the primary soul, the vitality of the body, possessed also by gentiles, and the exalted, complete soul of a Jew. The gentile will merit an afterlife only if he observes the seven Noahide commandments—otherwise his existence will be extinguished—while a Jewish soul is immune to destruction due to its divine source; its status can be enhanced by observing the commandments but never diminished. About the superiority which the kabbalists attributed to the Jew (as opposed to the philosophical view) the guest says:

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The Dual Truth This is an addition which the kabbalists added to the words of the philosophers, to give honor to the Children of Israel and to flatter the ignoramuses, so that they would not stone them. But what will you say about someone who believes that only his nation possesses a living soul? Is he a wiseman or a fool? Or will you think that our rabbis also believed thus, because they said “you [the Jewish people] are called man”? Tell me please, sir, when Antonius asked Rabbi Judah Hanasi, “When then is the soul placed in man; as soon as it is decreed or when it is actually formed?” why did he not respond to him: “When it is a Jew”? But the truth is that the kabbalists took philosophical ideas which were current in their time, and made some inversions to them, making them agree with our Torah and faith, acquiring them with change, attributing them to themselves. And behold the wisdom of the Kabbalah is accepted by the kabbalists, but not from our ancients, only from the philosophers. I will not condemn them for what they did, for indeed their intention was truly worthy; and that is because, seeing that most scholars in their times were attracted to the flawed philosophy of the Arabs, they tried to pick some things out of it, and to make a small change in their words, to bring the philosophizers, too, toward faith.17

The guest emphasizes that this conception of the soul is what led the philosophers and kabbalists to conclude that reward in the World to Come is not a divine gift for man’s good deeds in this world but a natural consequence of human actions. According to the philosophers, reward is the direct result of the wisdom and good morals a person cultivates in his lifetime. According to the kabbalists, reward is causal, the result of observing commandments. This is also the meaning of the theurgic process of Kabbalah. By observing commandments one fixes the divinity; by sinning one “severs the divine roots”: causing separation between the sefirot.18 Similarly, Kabbalah’s variety of different souls also derives from the philosophical-Aristotelian idea that a person’s soul

17 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 161; Bassi edition, 54. This is the first time Luzzatto clearly criticizes philosophy, an attitude which would only become stronger over the years. This argument of Luzzatto is accepted, in part, by research until this day. See, for example, B. Dinur, Toldot Yisrael, Sidra Shniya: Yisrael Bagolah, vol. 2, book 4 (Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, 1970) 277–289. Idel, New Perspectives, 143, 252–253. 18 On the doctrine of unity and theurgical conception of Kabbalah see Tishby, Mishnat Hazohar, vol. 1, 105–107; ibid., vol. 2, 255, 276–280, 433–435.

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is comprised of different parts which perform different actions (Maimonides, Shemona Peraqim). The guest continues to enumerate the philosophical influences of theosophical Kabbalah: (1) According to philosophy, when a person dies the wise man’s soul unites with the divinity; similarly, the kabbalists believe that only unique individuals merit the elevated souls h  . aya and yeh  . ida, which are uncreated emanations from God and which after death return to their source.19 (2) According to philosophy, there are ten separate intellects which move the heavenly spheres; in Kabbalah there are ten sefirot (called the world of Asiya) and above these the later kabbalists added additional worlds—Yetsira, Beria, Atsilut, and Adam Qadmon—based on the philosophical demarcation of the universe into the lower world, the world of the celestial spheres, and the world of the angels; (3) according to the philosophers the intellect which moves the lowermost sphere is the “Active Intellect;” it maintains a connection with humanity and gives them the ability of intellectual apprehension; according to Kabbalah the tenth sefira Malkhut or Shekhina, the lowest divine power, is similarly connected to man and the lower material world, transmitting to them the divine effluence from up high; (4) in philosophy there is a dispute whether the first mover is God who moves the first sphere (but is distinct from it) or if the first mover is the first sphere itself, moving itself along with the other nine spheres; in Kabbalah there is a comparable dispute as to whether the Ein Sof is separate from the first Sefira, Keter, the first emanation from the Ein Sof, or if Keter is the name of the Ein Sof itself and the lower nine sefirot emanate from it.20 According to the guest, the upshot of all this is: “do you see how the sefirot and the emanated intellects, Kabbalah and Arab philosophy, are all the same dream?”21 According to the guest, the kabbalists copied the image of the sefirot as embedded in each other like layers of an onion from the philosophers’ celestial spheres, and they copied the idea of the sefirot’s inner light versus orbiting light from the philosophical idea of intellects apprehending both themselves and what they generate. All of these theosophical theories are meant to distance man from his creator and are all influenced by philosophy. But if the philosophers learned to deny divine attributes, attributing to God perfect unity, the kabbalists sought to distance even names from the Ein Sof, stating that all 19 On the concept of the soul in the Zohar see ibid., vol. 2, 69–75. 20 On the ten Sefirot see ibid., vol. 1, 131–135. On the Shekhinah-Malkhut see ibid., 219–231. On the relationship between Keter and the Ein Sof see ibid., 107–111. 21 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 169; Bassi edition, 62.

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of God’s names (including the Tetragrammaton) are the names of sefirot and not the names of the Creator himself. Moreover, according to Cordovero and Menahem Azaria da Fano, who maintain that the sefirot are created vessels, it follows that humans direct their prayers not to God but to created beings— no less idolatry than worship of the sun or the golden calf. Judaism always gave the Creator an agreed upon positive name—a means of referring to him, loving him, and fearing him. When we distance Him due to his sublimity, and give Him a negative name—“the non-finite”—we end up worshiping created beings and find ourselves distorting texts such as interpreting “In the beginning, God created” to refer not to the Creator Himself but rather to “the Creator [who] created God”—that is the Creator who created the lower sefira which, in turn, created the world. Luzzatto proceeds to have the guest present consequences of kabbalistic panentheism (distinct from Spinozan pantheism), reading to the author from Haim Vital’s Sefer Haqedusha (beginning of chapter 3) and asking as follows: Do you see what Haim Vital says? That before the world was created the Ein Sof and all his creations were one, that the flame was encased in the coal. Do you see with your eyes? The Creator and the created are all one! Before the world was created, what was the world? We in our naivety say it did not exist, or that there was nothing. But the kabbalists, with wonderful counsel and great wisdom, said that the world was encased in the bosom of its creator like the flame in a coal. The world—what is it? We—what are we? The rocks and trees—what are they? Everything is part of God up high. Everything is the essence of the Creator. And now, please come with me and I will show you that this matter is written explicitly by the genius and kabbalist Jacob Emden in his book Mitpah . at Sefarim (19a). [. . .] And what difference is there between this opinion and the opinion of the atheist, heretic Spinoza—may the name of the wicked rot? [. . .] I will tell you the difference between them. Spinoza says there is no god at all, but that the world as a whole is a single, ancient object, that was, is, and will be, and he calls it god, even though in fact he has no god at all; and the kabbalists say there is a God separate from the world itself, but when He created the world, He did not create it ex nihilo and not from ancient matter, but that He emanated some of His blessed essence and separated it from Himself, whereas beforehand it was all the same thing. Thus, in truth, the kabbalists have a divinity, but they make themselves and the entire world parts of that divinity, something that one’s mouth may not utter and one’s

Luzzatto on Theosophical Kabbalah    Chapter Seven ear may not hear; and this was already the opinion of the ancient Persian Zoroaster. And do not stammer and say to me: The kabbalists do not all agree upon this. Know, my brother, that Haim Vital takes his words on this matter from the Zohar; you will find it at the beginning of the Idra Zuta which you read on Hoshannah Rabbah night.22

According to the guest, even the idea of tsimsum (divine contraction) is, at its basis, a pagan corporealization of God, as it implies that God is subject to change. The kabbalists sought to explain that the infinite God needed to contract Himself to allow the creation of the finite. But this statement is meaningless and contains nothing new, for all scholars agree that it is impossible for an infinite being to create another infinite being like it, and it can only create something finite. The philosophers used this principle to explain the existence of evil, which is not something created but merely a consequence of the nature of created entities: due to their finite nature they are limited and therefore exposed to harm. When preparing his work for publication, Luzzatto added a note: not long ago, he realized from Krochmal’s book Moreh Nevuh  . ei Hazman that even the names of the sefirot are taken from the philosophers and are not original. They come from the gnostic Basilius, who taught in Alexandria, eighty years after the Temple’s destruction and who intermingled Christianity with philosophy and other newly invented beliefs. He dealt with the idea of emanation stating that Thought emanated from God, and from it emanated Insight, Knowledge, Wisdom, Might, Justice and Peace. From these seven “sefirot” the kabbalists made ten—the number of sefirot recorded in Sefer Yetsira.23

22 Luzzatto, Meh . qerei Hayahadut, 177–178, Bassi edition, 71. On the Zohar’s simile of “a flame in a coal” as the solution to the problem of the ambiguity of unity and the conception of emanation see Tishby, Mishnat Hazohar, vol. 1, 104–105. 23 Luzzatto, Meh . qerei Hayahadut, 184; Bassi edition, 78. According to Gutman, the idea of emanation is rooted in Neoplatonism. See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 85. According to Tishby, the kabbalists inherited the idea of the hidden Ein Sof from Neoplatonism, and the idea of emanated, revealed Sefirot from Gnosticism. This combination was necessary due to the strong influence of the dispute between those who opposed philosophy, and supported the notion of a close God, and the philosophers who supported the notion of a sublime and exalted God. The kabbalists wished to unite the two approaches. See Tishby, Mishnat Hazohar, vol. 1, 102–103 and n. 2. See more about emanation ibid., 135–144.

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THE THIRD NIGHT: THE ANTIQUITY OF VOWELS AND ACCENTS That night, after prayers and the Simhat Torah meal, the guest once again directs the dialogue to a subject which seems unrelated to the authenticity of Kabbalah—the antiquity of vowels and accent marks. The author admits that many times he himself (Luzzatto) interpreted the simple meaning of a verse in contradistinction to the interpretation implied by the cantillation marks or traditional vowelization. According to him, all the classic commentators did the same: Rashi, Rashbam, Ibn Ezra, Nachmanides, R. Bahya ben Asher, Abarvanel, R. David Kimhi, Joseph Albo, Hizkuni, Seforno and also modern commentators such as Mendelssohn and Wessely. With many excerpts he demonstrates this trend, adding that he wrote all of this in a special notebook (i.e., Luzzatto’s “Maamar Haniqud” from 1817). When the guest asks him what he has concluded regarding the provenance of the vowels and accents according to this commentators, he responds: “To me it seems that they did not believe that they were written with divine inspiration, and did not think that the prophets and those possessing divine inspiration, the authors of the Holy Scripture, added vowels to their books themselves. For had they believed thus, they would not have allowed themselves to utter an interpretation which opposes its [Scripture’s] vowels and accents.”24 The guest adds that Ibn Ezra, R. David Kimhi and Judah Hayyuj spoke explicitly about the institutors of vowels and accents, and Judah Halevi and Nachmanides (according to the Mah  . zor Vitri) wrote that the Torah scroll given to the nation of Israel was simple text, devoid of any vowels and accents. It seems that the ancients believed that it was Ezra and the Scribes who instituted the vowels and accents. That is until the grammarian Elijah Levita, who stated that vowelization did not exist before the sealing of the Talmud. This initiated a dispute among the scholars of Israel and the nations of the world, the sides split between those maintaining like R. Elijah and those who believed that the vowels antedated the Talmud, basing their view primarily on the many references to vowels and accents in the Zohar, which they believed was composed by the Tannaim and Amoraim. R. Elijah Levita’s first proof was that the Talmud and Midrash do not mention vowels and accents, nor were they mentioned by Latin translator of the 24 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 188; Bassi edition, 82. Luzzatto himself worked many years to document the mistakes that, in his opinion, had crept into the cantillation marks in our possession. He penned 150 emendations in a letter from September 1853, sent to Shneur Sachs, editor of Kerem H  .  emed. See Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 1207–1222. For the publication of his emendations see Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 9 (1856), 1–14.

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Bible, Jerome. For example, Jerome says that he did not dare translate the book of Chronicles—which consists primarily of rare names—before reading it with one of the Jewish Sages of Tiberias. This is evidence that he was unable in his time to find a Hebrew Bible which contained vowel signs.25 Various discussions in the Talmud and Midrash, cited by the author and the guest, clearly demonstrate that vowelization was unknown to them. The guest notes that one should be careful about bringing evidence from midrashim, some of which, like Shemot Rabbah and Bamidbar Rabbah, were composed after the Talmud. The traditional Masoretic Text of the Bible, erroneously attributed to the Men of the Great Assembly, was also developed after the sealing of the Talmud. This was the view of Bahya Ibn Paquda and Ibn Ezra. The claim that Ezra instituted the vowels and accents, but they were later forgotten or corrupted, and therefore the Sages could not determine where a verse ended or paused (as seen in the Talmud)—is illogical. It is far more reasonable to say that in the time of the Sages the correct reading of Scripture existed as an oral tradition, susceptible to corruption, and that the sages of Tiberius, who composed the Masoretic Text, deviated from the rabbinic readings of the Midrash and the Talmud whenever they thought such readings did not correspond to the simple meaning of the text. Therefore, subsequent commentators could disregard the traditional vowelization whenever they thought it diverged from the simple meaning of the Bible and therefore Onkelos and Targum Yonatan sometimes translated divergently to our system of vowels. If we say that the vowels came from Ezra, how did they dare to deviate from them? And if from Ezra, how did the Sages of Tiberius dare to deviate? It seems that due to oppression and exile in the wake of the sealing of the Talmud, it was perceived necessary to establish, in writing, the hitherto oral tradition; thus were the vowels and accents born. The guest adds that it is reasonable to assume that the vowelists operated not much later than the sealing of the Talmud; otherwise, they would have had difficulty disputing the authority of the Talmud. He therefore concludes: “It has become clear to us that the beginning of vowelization was shortly after the sealing of the Talmud, in the days of the Savoraim, sometime around the year 4260 [500 C.E.].” This was the opinion of Elijah Levita who chose a date 436 years after the Temple’s destruction, although he erred and wrote 3982. According to this date—a time when there were still no books, and a time much earlier than the appearance of the Karaites (200 years after the sealing of the Talmud)—it is

25 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 205; Bassi edition, 100; Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 75.

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understandable why the institution of vowels was never recorded and why the Karaites did not repudiate it. Unlike Elijah Levita, who maintains that the vowels were established in Tiberius, the guest reckons that they were established in Babylonia, the seat of the Exilarch and the great, authoritative heads of the talmudic academies—not in the Land of Israel, where the Princehood had been abolished even before the sealing of the Talmud. The vowelists and accenters were exalted Sages called qaraim (“readers”; not “Karaites”). Supported by the leaders of Babylonia, their work was accepted without challenge or dispute. By contrast, the formulation of the Masoretic Text, a technical task which followed in the wake of the vowels and accents, was accomplished in Tiberius. The guest says in summary: It seems that it was the Savoraic rabbis—who committed the Oral Torah to paper and wrote the Mishnah, Talmud and Targum, which heretofore had all been preserved orally—who commanded some talented sages to conceive a plan to make a fence for the reading [of the Bible] so that it would not be forgotten; and thus they did, and they invented the vowels and accents, and dotted the entire Bible. The Savoraic rabbis supported their work, confirmed it, and upheld it, and thus it was accepted by all of Israel.26

Luzzatto added here a note before publication: based on new findings, he now tends to think that the vowels were invented in Babylonia and altered by the Tiberians, from whom we received our current system—as Ibn Ezra writes in his Sefer Tsah  . ut.27 At two in the afternoon, the guest and author retire to their respective rooms, and meet again in the morning before prayers.

THE THIRD DAY: ESTABLISHING THE ARGUMENTS AGAINST THE ZOHAR’S ANTIQUITY The guest opens the dialogue the following morning with a leading question. He asks the author if he is now entirely convinced that the vowels and accents were developed after the sealing of the Talmud. Without hesitation, the author says yes. The guest tells him that his answer essentially destroys the basis of the 26 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 212, Bassi edition, 107. 27 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 213, Bassi edition, 108.

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Zohar and Kabbalah’s authenticity. Confused by this, the author says that while he knows that the vowels and accents—like the prophet Muhammad and two sets of Tefillin (based on the different views of Rashi and Rabbenu Tam)— are mentioned in the Zohar, this poses no difficulty to one who believes that the Zohar was written with divine inspiration. The guest explains that not only the vowels and accents are mentioned in the Zohar, but their shapes as well— shapes created by men after the Zohar’s purported time, inspiring mounds upon mounds of exegesis and esotericism. In response, the author yields ground and adopts the view of Jacob Emden (1698–1776), who in his book Mitpah  . at Sefarim proved that the Zohar indeed contains later passages, as further confirmed by Mendelssohn. The author claims, however, that these interpolations do not detract from the remainder of the book. The guest answers that this oversight discredits Kabbalah as a whole, for these interpolations eluded great kabbalists, including Isaac Luria, who sanctified the Zohar in its entirety, considering it all the words of the Sages! How did their divine inspiration (of which they were so proud) not reveal to them what Emden found—that the Zohar contains 280 late passages, and that the Ra’aya Mehemna and the Tiqqunei Zohar are forgeries in their entirety!? The author claims that Emden had exaggerated, but the guest responds that Emden should have admitted that the body of the Zohar is also a late forgery. Surprising the author, the guest tells him about the testimony of Rabbi Issac of Acre who undertook to clarify the provenance of the Zohar, and who interviewed together with his wife, a close relative of the kabbalist Moshe De Leon as well as De Leon’s wife and daughter. They all told him that De Leon wrote the Zohar himself, but disseminated the manuscripts as if they belonged to Shimon Bar Yohai to earn esteem for his works to raise his pay. The author adds that this testimony is true, for the great sage R. Abrahm Zacuto cites it in the first printing of his work Sefer Yuh  . asin (Constantinople, 1566), and Emden copied and incorporated it into his work Mitpah  . at Sefarim. In subsequent printings of Sefer Yuhasin, the printers intentionally omitted Isaac of Acre’s words because they stand as incriminating evidence against the Zohar’s antiquity. The guest claims that the Zohar’s language also demonstrates that it is a forgery. It is not the language of the Bible, or of the Mishnah, or of Daniel and Ezra, or of Onkelos, or of the Targum Yerushalmi, or of the Talmuds, or of the midrashim, or of the Geonim, or of the commentators, or the philosophers; it is a ludicrous language cobbled together from of all of these. It is very difficult to write a text in the language of the Mishnah or the Midrash without it being identified as forgery, and one who has not spent time studying Talmud will fail

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to write in proper Aramaic; instead, he will write in a language as ridiculous as that of the Zohar. The guest cites numerous instances of improper Aramaic and Hebrew in the Zohar—words and expressions that the Sages never used, at least not in the sense implied by the Zohar—as well as late, medieval ­terminology unknown in the time of the Sages. Similarly, he notes that the Zohar often contains mistakes about the dwelling places and biographies of various Sages, evidence that the author of the Zohar did not know who was whose rabbi, or which Sages lived in the Land of Israel and which in Babylonia. His conclusion is that the book as a whole is a forgery, the work of Moshe De Leon: Because the Zohar contains so many passages which cannot possibly be attributed to Tannaim and Amoraim, it is un-befitting for a person of intellect to willingly make difficulties for himself and believe that only those passages are interpolations. Rather he should determine that the book in its entirety is a counterfeit, especially, once we have seen that this book was unmentioned and unknown for thousands of years after the men who supposedly wrote it, and after we have seen that one was already suspected of forging this book, as admitted by his wife and daughter.28

The guest proceeds to discuss the Zohar’s calculations of the End of Days. Although the Sages opposed such calculations, nine dates for the End of Days appear in the various sections of the Zohar. According to the guest, these dates, with the exception of 5500 (1840), have all passed uneventfully, and they all postdate the beginning of the sixth millennium—the Zohar never selects any dates within the thousand years after Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. It follows that the author of the book was not divinely inspired, acted against the Sages, and lived at least a thousand years after Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. The forgers 28 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 221, Bassi edition, 118. For an extensive discussion of the evidence for dating the Zohar’s writing to the end of the thirteenth century (1280–1305), and for attribution to Moshe De Leon, see Tishby, Mishnat Hazohar, vol. 1, 28–108. On Luzzatto’s criticism of the Zohar’s antiquity and on the interesting, yet failed, attempt of his fellow countryman Elijah Benamozegh to refute Luzzatto’s arguments in his book Taam Leshad (Livorno, 1863) see ibid., 58–59. On Gershom Scholem’s systematic studies on the subject see ibid., 65–67. Tishby distinguishes between the researchers of the Haskalah period, including Luzzatto and Graetz (but not Jellinek) who wrote about the Zohar, its author and its contents from a perspective of disapproval and opposition, and Scholem and his followers, who although they understood that the Zohar is a late work, recognized the greatness of the work and its author and its important place in the history of Kabbalah and Jewish thought in general. See above note 10.

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of the book (who knew all of this) wrote in the introduction to the Tiqqunei Zohar, that the Zohar would not be revealed until the beginning of the sixth millennium, hoping to thus conceal their forgery. The Christians used a similar ruse: they disseminated a story about a Jew from Toledo who in the third year of the sixth millennium, dug up a book from his garden, written in three languages, telling of a son of God, borne of a virgin, who will suffer to save the world. The book says that he will reappear when Ferdinand rules over Castile (who reigned at the end of the fifth millennium and the beginning of the sixth). One might argue that the author of the Zohar—who seems to have been from Spain—heard this story, and decided to emulate the ruse. Once again the guest blames the Zohar for the Jews not being redeemed— the very reward promised to them for studying it. Moreover it inflicted harm, causing Jews to eschew study of the Torah’s simple meaning for the last five hundred years (with the exception of Joseph Albo and Abarvanel who distanced themselves from the esoteric path of Kabbalah). The guest says that it is only in our generation that we have once again merited interpreters of the peshat like Mendelssohn, Wessely and Joel Lowe, who all detested the Zohar. But the author counters: the Zohar saved the Jews from the apostasy of the philosophers, followers of Aristotle who denied creation ex nihilo, individual providence, and miracles, who claimed that the World to Come is only for the wise, and who said that certain commandments are no longer relevant. To this the guest answers: I have already said, that the early sages who invented the wisdom of Kabbalah from their hearts, intended only good; but [I will tell you] what indicates that they did more evil than the philosophizers: Is anyone more contemptuous of the Torah than the book of the Zohar, which says that one who regards the simple meaning of the Torah the Torah’s essence, his spirit should depart, and he should have no portion in the World to Come (3:152); and in another place it says that the simple meaning is the straw of the Torah (Tiqqunei Zohar Hadash 34), and at the beginning of the Tiqqunei Zohar its mocks those who study Scripture calling them eggs [as opposed to hatched chicks].29

The guest concludes the morning discussion with a summary of the activity of the kabbalists: According to him, the kabbalists cause harm, wasting their 29 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 225, Bassi edition, 121. (Emphasis added—E.C.)

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time and intellect on Gematria and acronyms, dreams and vanities, and by distancing the sages of Israel from studying the Torah itself, that is the peshat and the Halakhah. He adds that the Zohar’s intrusive and audacious discussions of God’s essence besmirch His honor. Such activity will: Break the yoke of the fear of heaven from the necks of the sages of Israel, until they care not about the honor of their Creator, asking and replying, writing and printing, about what is above and below, what is within and what is without; they speak about the God of gods with hubris and an arrogant heart: How he created his world, how he manages it, how he contracted himself to create it, how he emanated worlds from his essence, how his essence unites with the worlds he emanated, how one is ten and ten is one, how the soul is truly part of God, how all the worlds are part of God, how the actions of flesh and blood have power to damage and disrupt the uppermost worlds, and other similar matters which makes the hair of anyone with a God stand on end when he reads them in a book. And especially when he sees them speaking about these empty things, bereft of logic and of all the studies which are necessary not only for such lofty investigations, but even for the simplest inquiry. And on the whole, one sees that there is no agreement between them about the principles of their wisdom, and they all feel their way around walls like blind men [when engaged] in matters at the basis of everything, striving to maintain two opposites in one subject, saying things that cannot be understood at all—and the enlightened one who understands will find nothing in their words but curses and blasphemy.30

It should be noted that throughout the work, Luzzatto has the guest degrade kabbalists with harsh insults: Those whose villainy has been revealed; those who invent things from their hearts to deceive the fools; deniers; liars; forgers; swindlers bereft of knowledge or understanding; vulgar ones who deny God; idol-worshipers; destroyers, who sin and cause others to sin; those who mock with a false gift, saying that the divine spirit has rested upon them and other such things.31

30 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 226–227, Bassi edition, 121. 31 In order: Ketavim, 183, 184, 202, 218; Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 122, 123, 139, 153, 171, 181, 215; Bassi edition, 14–15, 33, 46, 65, 75, 111.

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The angry author at this point stops the dialogue, which has once again slid into Kabbalah as the guest wished, and rushes him to synagogue for m ­ orning prayers. When they return from synagogue, they sit down for the meal, and the guest immediately resumes their discussion from the morning. He argues that the Sages based their exegesis primarily on the simple meaning of the text, and their strange textual derivations are not interpretation of Scripture but textual support meant to serve as mnemonic or a means of frightening the ignoramuses from disparaging the decrees of the Sages.32 According to him, the study of the simple meaning became progressively deeper and wide-spread up until the appearance of the Zohar; ever since it has declined, replaced by faulty interpretation, and the vanities and dreams of people who abuse the Torah, honoring themselves by shaming it and its giver. The author interrupts him and invites him to eat. After the meal, the author opens for the guest the book Emunat H  .  akhamim by Avida Sarshalom Basilea, which tells of Joseph Karo’s Maggid Meisharim, a book containing kabbalistic and zoharic matters which Karo received from a divine spirit. Cordovero, Karo’s disciple, in his book Pardes Rimmonim, cites the words of the “magid” who revealed himself to Karo; these quotations indeed appear in Karo’s book. According to the author, this proves the authenticity of Kabbalah and the Zohar, for one cannot say that Karo and Cordovero were evil and invented this revelation. The guest responds that perhaps this is merely a case of the powerful imagination of someone who had immersed himself in Kabbalah and asceticism, stimulating a dream that simulated the appearance of a speaking divine spirit; moreover, the two did not lie for their own honor but to instill the fear of heaven among the masses, and it is also possible that all their words are meant as allusions and secrets which we do not understand. In any event, it is clear that this is not a proof. The guest also argues that the various promises that the Magid made to Karo were not fulfilled—such as that he would die as a martyr on a pyre, that his children would be in the Sanhedrin in the Temple, that his son would be a sage exceeding all in his knowledge of Kabbalah, and that he would compose a commentary on the Zohar and a critique of his father’s books. Similarly, the Maggid speaks nonsense such as his promise that Karo can drink fourteen cups of wine at Sabbath meals, as alluded to by the last two letters of God’s name Shaddai ]‫—[שדי‬which is numerically equivalent to fourteen. It seems, the guest says, that this is a case of 32 On Luzzatto’s stance regarding the provenance of the Oral Torah see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 314–326, and Chapter Four in the current book.

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auto-­suggestion and that the Maggid was merely a reflection of Karo’s own thoughts, as is indeed written in Maggid Meisharim. The book is full of words of hubris and haughtiness with no good purpose. They are nothing more than lies, which Karo contrived from his thoughts and aspirations. The Maggid’s words also contain another ambiguity: It is unclear who the Maggid, the speaker, is— God, God’s messenger, the Mishnah or the soul. It seems that Karo’s Maggid was not meant to be the Shekhina or the sefira Malkhut, but merely the speech of his own soul; Cordovero even wrote explicitly that while correct, the Maggid represents Karo’s own logic.33 At this point, the author gives up on the disputation. He realizes that the guest has cleverly drawn him onto a path with no escape. The next day he informs him that he is returning to his (Luzzatto’s) studies of Hebrew language and the simple meaning of the text, and he will leave secrets and Kabbalah to those unique individuals who have merited learning them from a true kabbalist. The guest thanks his host for the three wonderful days he has spent with him, having experienced nothing like them in the last eleven years. The author advises the guest to refrain from discussing matters of Kabbalah with anyone except a true kabbalist who can open his eyes; if he speaks with someone who, like himself, does not understand Kabbalah, he will be like one who seduces others to worship idolatry. The author adds that even if his guest is correct, and Kabbalah is vanity, it does not harm the masses, and it may even strengthen their worship of God and their observance of the commandments. By contrast, if the guest discourages them with his arguments, their observance of commandments will suffer as a result, and the guest will be responsible for their undoing. The tragedy of the philosophers—who disseminate the Maimonidean rationales of the commandments, which give the commandments obsolete reasons, suggesting that, God forbid, the commandments should be abolished—is already enough, the author says. The only way to oppose them and to strengthen the observance of commandments is through secrets of the Kabbalah and the possibility of fixing or, God forbid, damaging the uppermost worlds according to one’s level of observance. But the guest does not agree. He argues that this position may have been correct in the past but today, when inquiry is open to all, and people of faith are dwindling as a result, it is best to purify Judaism of the dross which it has accumulated over the years. If this is not done, then learned people who discover the flawed elements of Judaism (such as Kabbalah) will reject Judaism as a whole and say that all of the Torah 33 Luzzatto, Meh . qerei Hayahadut, 228–236, Bassi edition, 124–133; Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 80–81.

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is falsehood. The author counters that “the world should not be destroyed on account of fools.” Thus, the two part ways, with their different opinions. In an addendum which Luzzatto added to the end of the work before submitting it for print in 1852, he mentions two studies on the subject of the Zohar’s author, written long after he had completed the work. Meir Heinrich Landauer wrote a study, which was published after his death in installments in Orient beginning in 1845. It claims that Abraham Abulafia wrote the Zohar between 1270–1280. This is based on a comparison of the Zohar to Abulafia’s manuscripts which Landauer found in the library of Munich.34 By contrast, Adolf Jellinek, in a work published in Leipzig in 1851, argues that the Zohar was written by Moshe de Leon in collaboration with others, and that Abulafia had no connection to it at all (unless some of the Zohar’s authors had Abulafia’s books at their disposal and were influenced by him).35 Jellinek bases his claim on a comparison between phrases and ideas appearing in the Zohar to the contents of De Leon’s writings, such as Nefesh Hah  . okhma. Luzzatto writes further: having realized that the Zohar and Kabbalah are not the work of the Sages, he has stopped studying them. But from a cursory examination of De Leon’s books in the possession of his friend Rabbi Mordechai Samuel Gerondi and Joseph Almanzi, he now thinks that De Leon was not a fraud and counterfeiter like Abulafia. It is possible that he really did obtain the Zohar from elsewhere, erroneously concluding that it was an ancient work, studying it and even incorporating zoharic ideas and expression into his own books. That being said, Luzzatto admits that he cannot decide and he leaves it up to other scholars, as there still remain many mysteries in this subject, which men of truth should unravel.36 34 On Landauer’s study, which does not stand up to criticism, see Tishby, Mishnat Hazohar, vol. 1, 61; Idel, New Perspectives, 7–8. 35 On Jellinek’s study, see Tishby, Mishnat Hazohar, vol. 1, 62. Tishby regards Jellinek the most important researcher of Kabbalah in the Haskalah period. See also Idel, New Perspectives, 8–9. As opposed to Tishby, Idel considers Franck the most important researcher of Kabbalah in that period. See Idel, ibid., 8. 36 Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, 239–240, Bassi edition, 135–137. Luzzatto, Jellinek, and Landauer did not know what Idel would later uncover in his studies (based on G. Scholem, Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism [New York, 1941], lecture 4): that Abulafia was not a theosophical-theurgical kabbalist who studied the world of the Sefirot, but rather the main representative of the ecstatic school of Kabbalah, which deals with isolation and letter combinations as practices leading to Unio Mystica with God, a trend which Idel dubs prophetic-messianic Kabbalah. See Idel, New Perspectives, xi-xx, 61–62. It is interesting that Dinur, Toldot Yisrael, chapter 16, specifically 281, 365–380, 427–428, identified Abulafia’s unique views, but unlike Scholem and Idel, did not discern that Abulafia belonged to entirely different school of Kabbalah.

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AFTER THE SHELVING OF THE VIKUAH.   In 1829 Luzzatto began to serve as the co-head of the newly opened rabbinical seminary in Padua. At that time, he composed an “introduction to the criticism and interpretation of the Torah,” to be used by students in a course on the Pentateuch.37 In this work he reiterates, for the first time, some of his ideas first written in the Vikuah  . . At the beginning of the “introduction” he seeks to prove that Moses wrote the entire Torah, as dictated by the mouth of God, and that due to it being treated as a divine and supremely holy book, neither the Scribes nor the Sages made any emendations or corrections to it. Luzzatto explains that the Samaritan version of the Pentateuch is “distorted, corrupt, and counterfeit,”38 that the Septuagint “should not be trusted,”39 and that Targum Onkelos is a free translation, not a literal one. All of this is marshaled to reinforce his argument that, ever since it was written by Moses, no changes have been made to the text of the Torah; it has always been as we have it. After this, Luzzatto proceeds to discuss the principles of biblical interpretation which, above all, rely on tradition. Tradition includes the ancient reading of the text and the ancient understanding of its words and their meanings—primarily in regards to commandments which were anchored in the words of the Sages in the Oral Torah. That being said, the Sages also used verses as textual support for oral commandments, even when they knew that this was not the primary meaning of the text. The reading and accentation of the text are also part of the oral tradition. Over the centuries, however, the Sages began to have doubts, disputes, and uncertainties about these details, as attested to in many places in the Talmud. After the sealing of the Talmud this problem was resolved by “vowelists” who instituted a system of vowel signs and cantillation marks. Although they did this wisely and on the basis of tradition, according to Luzzatto and most interpreters it is possible that at times they erred and therefore can be disputed. Luzzatto cites examples from fourteen interpreters, ancient and modern, from the Geonim and Rashi until Mendelssohn, who interpreted the Torah differently from the interpretation suggested by the traditional vowels and accents. He presents this as evidence that these interpreters also maintained that the vowels and accents were instituted by humans, who though possessing deep, admirable understanding, were not divinely inspired like Ezra and the prophets. Luzzatto proceeds to analyze Targum Onkelos, showing that his 37 Luzzatto, Ketavim, vol. 2, 97–134. 38 Ibid., 113. 39 Ibid., 117.

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translations are not literal, and that he diverged from the original text to avoid using expressions which corporealize God or belittle the honor of our forefathers and the Torah, and to elucidate difficult or unclear words and expressions. After an extensive discussion about tradition, the first element of biblical interpretation, Luzzatto reviews the second element—the rules of language and grammar, and the third—proper use of intellect.40 In a letter to Rapoport (1830) Luzzatto responds to Rappaport’s concerns about publicizing his own interpretations and emendations of biblical verses, which conflict with the Masoretic text.41 Luzzatto explains that pure reflection on an interpretation which seems correct and true should be publicized, with fear for no one, as our God is a God of truth who does not tolerate sycophants. Moreover—after it has been proven beyond a doubt that the vowels and accents were instituted by experts only after the sealing of the Talmud, and that the Masoretic Text was instituted even later—then certainly the vowelists and cantillationist, and even more so the Masoretes, could have erred. Therefore, already the classical commentators allowed themselves to interpret differently than the vowelists and cantillationists. Luzzatto notes that he has already taught this to his students in an introductory course on the Pentateuch. He does not, however, mention the manuscript of the Vikuah  .  in his archives. Luzzatto writes to Rapoport: “We will publicize our proposition and interpretation, and explain that Scripture was indeed preserved better than other ancient text (primarily the Pentateuch, which truly contains no errors)”.42 That being said, no manuscript, or even a printed work, is completely immune from error. In a later letter to Rapoport (1832) Luzzatto polemicizes against Ibn Ezra, a figure whom Rapoport greatly respected and held in high esteem.43 Luzzatto writes that the philosophizing Ibn Ezra spoke with duplicity, broke tradition and did nothing to benefit the Jewish people. By contrast, he praises Rashi, who was righteous and upright, who was responsible for the flourishing of literalist Jewish interpreters such as Rashbam, Nachmanides, and R. David Kimchi, and

40 Luzzatto dedicated an entire work Philoxenus (eponymous with his first born child, born in 1829) to elucidating Onkelos’s method in his translation. The first edition of the book was published in Vienna in 1830, and the second, expanded edition in Krakau 1896, after Luzzatto’s death. 41 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 174. 42 On preserving the text of the Pentateuch according to Luzzatto see ibid., 182–183, 367–368; Luzzatto, Ketavim, vol. 2, 102–107; idem, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 2, 56–57. 43 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 232–233.

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who was responsible for the spread of knowledge in Israel. Unfortunately, this was all ruined by: the philosophizers, Ibn Ezra and Maimonides, and their disciples who re-submerged the Torah in the depths of allegory and parable, and brought up gall and wormwood in their hands. And they caused the birth of the kabbalists, and strengthened their hands. For they paved before them the path of parables, allegories and distortions of verses, removing them entirely from context. And the kabbalists followed their path, with worthy intentions, to reinforce religion and faith and to seal the breaches made by the philosophizers. And ever since, from the beginning of the sixth millennium [mid-thirteenth century], the wisdom of Israel has continued to decrease.44

Luzzatto defends himself later in the letter from Rapoport’s suspicion that he is a fundamentalist and not a critical researcher. To prove to Rapoport that he seeks the truth through research even if it opposes accepted tradition, he recounts, for the first time, the daring research he conducted in his youth: “I, with no teacher, and no guide, and without reading the books of non-Jewish scholars ever since I was fourteen or fifteen years old, realized the forgery of the Zohar and the lies of Kabbalah, and when I was about twenty I wrote a long essay on this to prove that Kabbalah was borne of philosophy.”45 As mentioned, in 1851, in preparation for the publication of the Vikuah  . , Luzzatto wrote that when he began to write the work he was uncertain as to the Zohar’s authorship. When he wrote the Vikuah  . , he believed that the Zohar’s author was the counterfeiter Moshe De Leon. In 1851, however, he tended to think that it was forged by Abraham Abulafia and that Moshe De Leon, who obtained the manuscript from elsewhere, truly believed it to be ancient. In 1833 Luzzatto wrote another letter to Rapoport, which indicates that ever since he concluded writing the Vikuah  .  he was uncertain about the Zohar’s author. But in 1833 he returned to his first conclusion: I now see that this book [Mishkan Haedut which he received from Hillel Cantoni] and Moshe De Leon’s Sefer Hasodot, which has been in my possession for many years, are almost the same book and the same dream; 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid.

Luzzatto on Theosophical Kabbalah    Chapter Seven and this view I beheld, the book’s language, and the foolishness and self-aggrandizement it contains, led me to follow the majority who say that he [De Leon] is the Zohar’s author, [the theory] which until now I stuttered about. At the same time, for the last twenty years, I have realized that the book of the Zohar is a forgery.46

In 1836 Luzzatto published in Padua his book Prolegomeni ad una Grammatica Ragionata della Lingua Ebraica (Prolegomena to a Reasoned Grammar of the Hebrew Language). As the book was about to be published, Luzzatto wrote two letters to Rapoport (December 1835; April 1836) asking if he has evidence to contradict his theory about provenance of the biblical vowels and accents, which would warrant emending his views on this issue.47 In these letters he delineates the primary elements of his theory (which he already described in the Vikuah  . ): that experts in reading the Torah, qaraim (“readers,” not “Karaites”), instituted the vowels and accents, following the instructions of the Savoraim in Babylonia. The Savoraim, who committed the Oral Torah to writing, requested that these qaraim conceive a plan to anchor the accepted reading and chanting of the Bible, so that it would never be forgotten. The absolute authority of the Sages of Babylonia guaranteed that the vowels and accents (which were the innovation of these qaraim) were accepted without challenge even in the Land of Israel—where in time the Masoretic text would also be established. In a second letter, Luzzatto tries to refute some of Rapoport’s proofs for the vowels and accents being created in the Land of Israel, its sages experts in Bible and Aggada. In another letter from July of that year, Luzzatto summarizes Rapoport’s arguments and his own counterarguments and informs Rapoport that only now, having seen that there are no definitive proofs against his view, does he feel comfortable publicizing it. He explains that philological and historical research, unlike geometry, has no definite proofs; every researcher must rely on what his eyes see; disputes increase knowledge. He adds that he does not oppose Rapoport writing and publicizing a critique of his theory in the future.48 From time to time Luzzatto would add passages to the Vikuah  .  while it remained in his archives. In a letter to Goldberg (1838), the editor of Kerem H  .  emed, he mentions that he wrote a work about Kabbalah thirteen years ago, 46 Ibid., 257. 47 Ibid., 319, 331. 48 Ibid., 343–347.

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and continues to add to it, and if Goldberg is interested he will send him a copy. He adds that the short essay, which he wrote in 1832 and published in Kerem H  .  emed in 1836, is from that work. It contained some of Luzzatto’s arguments about the Zohar: How it was forged to appear like an ancient work (based on various researchers) and how it caused great damage to Judaism. According to his testimony, it is possible that passages from his works on Onkelos (whom Luzzatto studied at the end of the twenties) and Spinoza (whom he s­ tudied in the thirties and forties) were incorporated into the Vikuah  .  after it was shelved.49 In 1838 Luzzatto published in Kerem H  .  emed a letter he had written to Reggio in 1837. It contained a direct attack on important principles of Maimonides’s philosophy, initiating the fierce exchange of polemics with the rationalist maskilim of Galicia—Krochmal, Rapoport, the three editors of Haroe and Maharats Chajes. With its publication Luzzatto made public for the first time his criticism of Maimonides and the philosophers, which had been contained in his shelved Vikuah  . . In 1839 Luzzatto wrote a letter to the historian Isaac Mordechai Jost in Frankfurt, requesting him to thank Michael Creizenach on his behalf for his principled support of Luzzatto’s criticism of Maimonides. Responding to Creizenach’s claim that Luzzatto should apply his criticism to the kabbalists as well, especially in terms of the philosophical conception of the soul, Luzzatto asks Jost to inform him that he is breaking into an open door and that in his opinion the “sin of the kabbalists in merely the sin of Ibn Ezra and Maimonides.”50 He quotes a passage from the Vikuah  . —which he 49 Ibid., 415. For the aforementioned essay see Kerem H .  emed, vol. 2 (1836), from 154. From Luzzatto’s testimony it emerges that Steinschneider and after him Eckstein and Pelli, were mistaken when they attributed this essay-letter, as well as another letter in Kerem H .  emed, both signed with the penname Feli, to Lelio (Hillel) De la Torre, co-head with Luzzatto of the Rabbinical Seminary of Padua. The “anonymous scholar,” “master of disputation,” who is quoted in that essay is obviously Luzzatto himself. The second essay which was written in Elul 5591 (1831) was also printed there on p. 85. Like the first essay, it also contains criticism of the rulings of recent halakhists, who write using garbled language, over-analyzing and adding new laws and stringencies and foreign practices to showoff their wit. These laws, the author writes, are unprecedented, have no basis, and bring no benefit whatsoever to the nation. Moreover, they are harmful and cause the corruption of morals. See Pelli, Kerem H .  emed, 47, 52–53, 305–306. These two short essays fit well with Luzzatto’s views and his world of research, but not with the views of a Talmudist and halakhist like De La Torre. It seems that Luzzatto refrained from disparaging students of the Zohar, and even feared them, and therefore published using the penname “Feli” or using Gematria. See also in J. Bassie’s introduction to his edition of the Vikuah .  what Luzzatto wrote in the title page of the manuscript from 1844 (14) and what he printed under the explanatory title from 1852 (9). 50 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 621.

Luzzatto on Theosophical Kabbalah    Chapter Seven

says has been shelved in his archives for the last thirteen years—to explain this claim.51 Responding to Creizenach’s statement that it is difficult to prove that the Maimonidean doctrine of the soul poses a danger to religion and morality, Luzzatto writes that even the idea that the soul is part of God, reuniting with him after death, could not have been entertained by any Jewish sages before Maimonides and Ibn Ezra. He concedes that the Sages were privy to secrets, but explains that these were very different from the secrets of the kabbalists. Luzzatto explains that the view of the philosophers—that one who has not completed his soul in this world, and has not actualized its potential by attaining intelligible forms, as Maimonides had done, has no afterlife—implies that “he has no soul, and he is like an animal, and we are not commanded to love him or have compassion on him; and if he is an Israelite (such as Creizenach) then it is a commandment to hate him and destroy him. Can Creizensach still say that the Maimonides’s view on the essence of the soul is not gefahrlich [dangerous]!?”52 In 1840 Luzzatto wrote a detailed letter to the scholar and doctor Gideon Brecher of Prosnitz, who had sent him his commentary on the Kuzari. Luzzatto made some critical remarks, among other things criticizing Brecher’s understanding of the word sefirot in the Kuzari. Brecher claims in his book that Judah Halevi believed in the sefirot, that is, kabbalistic emanations. Luzzatto accuses Brecher of strengthening the kabbalists, who say that their doctrine is ancient, already maintained by the author of Sefer Yetsira, the Tanna Rabbi Akiva, and Judah Halevi. Luzzatto dismisses this position entirely. These Sages did not believe in emanation. The sefirot of Sefer Yetsira are nothing but numbers, as explained by Judah Halevi himself. Luzzatto cites here a long excerpt from his work the Vikuah  . , explaining in detail Sefer Yetsira’s account of God’s use of letters and numbers to create the world. Later in the letter, Luzzatto explains to Brecher his theory about Kabbalah’s beginnings: that the sages of Israel after Ibn Ezra saw how the philosophy he had disseminated was destroying the religion of Israel, and that the doctrines of Saadya Gaon and Judah Halevi were unable to fill the breach. They had no recourse but to: adopt some of the opinions of the philosophers, and to somehow invert them, removing the evil and harmful part, and making them sacred to God; and they had to conceal the provenance of these innovative views, 51 The quoted passage is the second part of the quotation appearing above next to note 17. 52 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 622.

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Luzzatto proceeds to delineate his ideas about Kabbalah and philosophy, similar to those appearing in the Vikuah  . . At the bottom of this letter Luzzatto adds a surprising note: The fathers of the kabbalists are distinct from their grandchildren. The ancients were holy men, and all their actions were for the sake of heaven, and only for the last three hundred years did some of them begin to pursue honor, like that one [R. Joseph Karo] whose Mishnah (or soul) would tell him: You are a man and who is like you in Israel etc. etc. and I will purify you so that you complete all your works with no error, and print them and disseminate them throughout the boundaries of my nation Israel, and many things like this.

This paragraph is a real step down from Luzzatto’s heretofore harsh criticism of the theosophical Kabbalah of the Spanish kabbalists. Two years later, in 1842, Luzzatto wrote another letter to Becher, having realized that Becher, who still maintained that Kabbalah was from the era of the Sages, was spending time elucidating the words of the kabbalists, and even expected Luzzatto to retract his own views. In his letter, Luzzatto writes that he now realizes that he had hoped in vain that Brecher would publish the Vikuah  .  on his behalf, and he declares that he is determined to one day publicize his work against all who attributes the views of Kabbalah to our forefathers, the Sages of the Mishnah and the Talmud, and Judah Halevi, peace be upon him, and against all those who say that the sefirot mentioned in Sefer Yetsira are anything besides numbers. And confident of your wisdom and 53 Ibid., 693–694.

Luzzatto on Theosophical Kabbalah    Chapter Seven the uprightness of your heart, I am certain you will not request me to show favoritism in matters of Torah, nor expect me, out of my love and respect for you, my precious and esteemed friend, to betray the truth of our forefathers and rabbis, to whom the kabbalists (and all those who antedate the time of Kabbalah’s beginnings) attributed views which they had never entertained in their hearts.54

A close reading of the letters discussed here, demonstrates that as Luzzatto’s criticism of philosophy grew in its intensity, so his negative attitude to the kabbalists of the thirteenth and sixteenth century waned and became more moderate.55 In 1826 he had argued in the Vikuah  .  that the damage inflicted by the Zohar and the kabbalists is greater than that of the philosophers, even if he understands their worthy motive—to combat philosophy. In his letter to Rapoport in 1832, Luzzatto continued to attribute worthy intention to the kabbalists (to strengthen religion and faith and to combat philosophy) but now omitted any mention of the damage it inflicted on the nation. In his letter to Brecher in 1840, he presented Kabbalah as a wise plan devised by holy men, for the sake of heaven—judaizing philosophical ideas and sanctifying them to God. The damage Kabbalah caused in his own day, Luzzatto now attributed to the kabbalists of Safed led by the pretender R. Joseph Karo. As mentioned, in 1851 Luzzatto tended to think that De Leon was guiltless, and that he had been misled by Abulafia’s forgery.

54 Ibid., 793. At the end of his letter to J. L. Dukes of Tübingen (Heshvan 5605 [1844]) he writes: “May these new ones, coming nowadays, be shamed and disgraced, those who say that Kabbalah and pantheism are the inheritance of the assembly of Jacob for all time” (ibid., 922). In Tevet of that same year he wrote to Rapoport that the year 5314 should be marked as an important year because on Rosh Hashana of that year (i.e., the end of 1553) the Talmud began to be burned in Rome. “This decree was the cause of another, more difficult misfortune, which we have yet to be purified from” (ibid., 935). 55 On the development of Luzzatto’s attitude to foreign rationalist philosophy, inherited from the Greeks and Muslims, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 466–470. For a discussion of his criticism of the philosophies of Maimonides and Spinoza see ibid., 216–220, 470–474. In all his writings, Luzzatto prefers the rabbinic-halakhic trend over the mystical-kabbalistic trend and the rationalist-philosophical trend. Tishby and Schweid present these three trends in detail. See Tishby, Mishnat Hazohar, vol. 1, 102–107; Schweid, Hehagut Hayehudit ba’et Hah  . adasha, 65–75. For important emendations to this categorization and its development by Idel and Liebes see note 10 above.

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SUMMARY Due to his keen intelligence and his diligent and intensive study, the autodidact Luzzatto acquired exceptional expertise and insight into the Spanish and Safedian theosophical Kabbalah, as in other areas of Jewish studies. Already at the age of thirteen, he concluded that the accents and vowels, which are frequently mentioned in the Zohar, postdate the Talmud. Consequently, he ­concluded that the Zohar, which is never mentioned before the thirteenth ­century, is a later work. Since the Zohar and theosophical Kabbalah did not, in his opinion, constitute an ancient tradition, and since the kabbalists could not even agree on the tenets of their own system, Luzzatto considers it obvious that the Kabbalah is not divine. It is a harmful human invention, even if its original purpose was worthy and important—combating philosophy which distances man from his creator. In his opinion the damage of Kabbalah lies in its erroneous tenets, which are essentially philosophical ideas, having undergone Judaization, which distance its adherents from true Judaism. The claim that God is a multi-layered system of emanations, the theurgic principle that human actions influence the relationships between the sefirot, the belief that the soul is part of God returning to its source upon death, and the pantheistic claim that the entire world, including humans and inanimate objects, is part of God—all of these Luzzatto regarded as idolatry, opposed to the transcendental monotheism of ancient rabbinic Judaism. The academic study of Kabbalah subsequently would accept some of his and his contemporaries’ theories r­ egarding Kabbalah and philosophy. His arguments that the intricate structure of kabbalistic theosophy was only created in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and that the struggle against philosophy was one of central factors motivating this creation, are still accepted today. However, Moshe Idel and Yehuda Liebes have already shown that Luzzatto’s arguments against the antiquity of mysticism and ­mythology in Judaism do not stand up to criticism, and that the mystical-kabbalistic system has strong foundations in all ancient Jewish texts—from the time of the Bible, afterward in the Heikhalot literature, in the Talmud and midrashim, and finally in kabbalistic literature itself.56 In the next chapter I will present another member of the middle way— R. Tsvi Hirsch Chajes, a community rabbi in Galicia, a Maimonidean, and a talmudist. I will analyze his thought, and show he was influenced by thinkers such as Mendelssohn and Krochmal. 56 See note 10 above.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Between Reason and Revelation: The Encounter between Rabbi Tsvi Hirsch Chajes and Nahman Krochmal INTRODUCTION

R

abbi Tsvi Hirsch Chajes (Maharats) was born and raised in Brody, Galicia  and was appointed rabbi of Żółkiew district in 1829. He brought to the position his vast knowledge of the Talmud and its commentaries as well as his expertise in the writings of his cultural hero, Maimonides. It was in Żółkiew that fate would introduce him to Nahman Krochmal, also hailing from Brody, who at the time of Chajes’s appointment served as the Jewish community leader of Żółkiew. At that time, Krochmal was at the height of his power, acting as the leader of the maskilim in Galicia. Although their philosophies of Judaism were extremely different, the two soon cultivated a strong friendship, which would endure even after Krochmal returned to his hometown of Brody. Chajes was a rationalist, Talmudist, and classical fundamentalist, believing that both the written and Oral Torah were from Sinai, reading Maimonides’s Guide for the Perplexed as moderately and conservatively as possible. He dedicated his life to battling reformers and to using critical tools to prove the authenticity of the oral chain of tradition stretching back to Sinai. Krochmal, by contrast, was a philosopher of history and a rationalist maskil, a forerunner of the historical positivism that would come to characterize the scholarship of Frankel and Graetz. He believed that the books of Scripture were not written

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by their purported authors; that the halakhic codex of the Mishnah and Talmud had undergone evolution, for the most part the product of rabbinic creation; and that certain aggadot were not authentic creations of the Sages, and should never have been included in the Talmud at all. He read Maimonides, whom he considered a man of exemplary cultural virtues, radically—far more radically than Chajes. In this chapter I will focus on examining the reciprocal relationship between these two figures, showing that Chajes and Krochmal were influenced by each other in a number of areas: (1) Krochmal and Chajes both saw themselves as individuals belonging to a “middle” path—situated between radical maskilim and reformers to the left, and Hasidim and devout to their right. (2) Chajes absorbed Krochmal’s portrayal of human history vis-à-vis the history of the Jewish people and made use of it in his own thought; (3) Krochmal remained loyal to the belief in a written Torah from Sinai, in accordance with Chajes’s conservative rejection of Bible criticism. (4) Influenced by the views of Krochmal, and in contrast to his usual methods, Chajes expressed untraditional, non-fundamentalist views regarding the provenance of the laws in the halakhic codex, classifying them according to types and strata. He presented this model as the view of Maimonides, even though the views of Maimonides and Krochmal (who both had different goals than Chajes) were far more daring than those of Chajes himself; (5) Chajes and Krochmal both participated in various discussions about the exalted status of the Sages and about the importance of Midrash Aggada—even though they disagreed about its origins; (6) Chajes may have been influenced by Krochmal’s interpretation of the nature of the revelation at Mount Sinai. The maskil Jacob Bodek (1825–1874) writes about their relationship as follows: From the day of his [Chajes’s] arrival [in Żółkiew] they became dear and loving brothers. Rabbi Nahman made him his rabbi [in Halakhah] and Rabbi Hirsch Chajes acquired a friend. And almost every night they would sit and discuss various matters of wisdom until midnight and even later. They would exchange their views, the one bringing Torah studies, the other philosophy and logic, and together they clarified and refined them, and in their hands they became one.1 1 J. Bodek, “Qorot Nosafot” LeQorot Ha’itim Shel A. Tribitsh (Lvov, 1851) quoted in S. Rawidowicz, “Mavo Lekitvei Nah  . man Krochmal,” Rawidowicz edition (Berlin, 1924),

Between Reason and Revelation    Chapter Eight

In his biography of Chajes, Bodek describes him as the first to seek a new way of understanding the Oral Torah, successfully linking the Torah and the tradition received at Sinai with the logic, interpretations, and research accepted in the study of philosophy—paving a new path in rabbinical studies (rabbinische Literatur).2

1. WALKING THE MIDDLE WAY—BETWEEN LEFT AND RIGHT Krochmal seems to have been the first to perceive the new religious balance materializing among Jews in modern Europe, describing it in terms of “right,” “left,” and “middle”—terms he borrowed from the new discourse created by European revolutionaries to the left and reactionaries to the right in the wake of the French revolution. At the top of the first page of Gate 2 in his book Hashevilin, he cites a passage from the Jerusalem Talmud which compares the Torah to two paths—one of fire and one of snow. Those who traverse either will likely die—be it by burning or by freezing and to survive, one must be cautious, taking a middle way between these two extremes. According to Krochmal, the first is the path of faith alone—the stance of the rabbis. The second is the path of reason alone, the path of lovers of inquiry. Both paths lead to death. The path which makes life possible, is not a compromise between these two extremes but another path altogether. Exalted and dialectical, this alternative path resolves the contradictions between reason and revelation with a synthesis, embracing “both extremes together.” Thus 85. It was reprinted under the title “Keter Torah,” when Chajes left Żółkiew to assume his position as rabbi of Kalisch, Kokhvei Yitzh  . aq, ed. M. Stern, pamphlets 17–20, 1852–1855. See specifically pamphlet 19, 51. Rawidowicz mentions there a work entitled Even Harosha authored by Nahman Krochmal’s son Avraham Krochmal, which was published in Hashah  . ar, year 2 and ibid., 57, printed as a semi-fictional dialogue between Chajes and Krochmal, discussing Spinoza. Cf. I. Beit Halevi, Rabbi Tsvi Hirsh H  .  ayut Parashat H  .  ayav Ufo’alo (Tel Aviv, 1957) 52–55; Hershkowiz, Maharats H  .  ayut, 235–262. M. Rotenberg, Rabbi Zvi Hirsh H  .  ayut, his Personality and Books, Doctoral Dissertation, Yeshiva University, 1963, dedicated 111–118 to presenting similar discussion between Chajes and Krochmal in order to demonstrate mutual influence. He proposed, inter alia, discussions about the Essenes; the Jews of Alexandria; the difference between taqana and hatqana in the language of the Sages; law of a secular state versus religious law according to Nahmanides on (Ex. 15:24) “There He made for them a statute and an ordinance” showing the similarities and differences in each discussion. Likewise, he demonstrates how they both based themselves on Maimonides. That being said, he does not mention any of the connections I propose in this chapter. 2 Bodek, “Qorot Nosafot.”

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united, these two poles prove to be identical.3 Krochmal calls the two sides “right” and “left.” In a chapter about Aggada, he criticizes the erroneous interpretations of the Aggada by both sides and explains the correct reading in his opinion—essentially, the position of Maimonides: Today what will those who love reason and keep the Torah do, being pressed into a narrow path, with no way of turning right or left?! On one side: all those benighted intellectuals, lowly in their degree and virtue, who are abundant today among the small scholars of Torah. They take derash [homiletic interpretation] for the peshat [literal meaning] of the text [. . .] and even about those strange legends we alluded to recently, they say that these are the secret of God for those who fear Him, sometimes offering an interpretation of it that altogether is akin to idol worship of the worst kind [. . .] and on the other side stand most of the students of many and various sciences in our community, [. . .] and all of them smile and mock the strange legends, leading them to mock the Gemara, and leading them to degrade the honor of the Sages and to hate those who honor them.4

In a letter to Luzzatto, dated 1837, Krochmal writes about the changes in attitude among the Jews in various parts of Europe, explaining that it is impossible to satisfy—at the same time—the Jews of Italy, the exiles of Spain, the radical maskilim of Germany, and the Hasidim in Poland and Galicia. Krochmal and Luzzatto agree that only the moderate maskil, situated in the middle and aware of both sides, can find the correct path—as long as he does not compromise with either side: “Ultimately, those of us who dwell in the center and see what is done and said on the right and on the left, it is proper for us to say that now is the time for action in the name of the Lord; they have violated your Torah on every side.”5

3 See Krochmal, Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, ed. S. Rawidowicz (Berlin, 1924), Amir edition ( Jerusalem, 2011), 10–17. 4 Ibid., 247–248. See on this Rawidowicz, “Mavo Lekitvei Nahman Krochmal,” 155–159. 5 Krochmal, Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, 425. See S. Feiner, Haskalah Vehistoria ( Jerusalem, 1995), 160–161. Rapoport, another one of Krochmal’s students, writes in the same spirit— as a warrior standing in the middle, and being attacked from both sides. See his letter to Luzzatto from 1833 in Igrot Shir, 38.

Between Reason and Revelation    Chapter Eight

Chajes, Krochmal’s friend, also saw himself as standing in the middle. In an article entitled “Tiferet Lemoshe” [The Glory of Moses], printed in 1841, along with another five articles in a volume called Ateret Tsvi, Chajes defended Maimonides from the criticism leveled against him by Luzzatto. In the introduction to this article, Chajes cites the same passage from the Jerusalem Talmud as Krochmal, and in the article itself he attacks “those ignoramuses who oppose any rational inquiry”—apparently referring to the Hasidim, who embittered his life. Perhaps he is also referring to Luzzatto (whom he considered devout). Situated in the middle, he also disagrees with those on the opposite side: those who only accept the authority of reason, and do not acknowledge revelation and the chain of reception—referring to the radical maskilim and the Reform movement. Chajes prefers the “middle sect,” those who believe in the Torah but look to reason to elucidate the purpose and essence of the commandments. He also uses Krochmal’s metaphor of the narrow path and also compares the trends of his day to the trends mentioned by Maimonides in his introduction to Pereq H  .  eleq (chapter 11 of Tractate Sanhedrin): “Two sects that oppose one another radically”: those who believe in aggadot literally, and those who condemn aggadot and mock them. Maimonides states that both sides are foolish, and that the correct path is that of those who understand the hidden layer of meaning embedded in the words of the Sages. According to Chajes, the meaning of the passage in the Jerusalem Talmud is “that a person should try to walk only in the middle, because the path of the intellect alone is very dangerous when unassisted by the Torah, as is the second path. Therefore, a person should guide his course, grasping the one but not letting go of the other, and he should see that both of them assist one another.”6 Hence Chajes, like Krochmal, maintains that he who takes only the path of reason or only the path of naïve faith endangers his soul. One must wisely take from both paths, allowing them to assist one another. Unlike Krochmal, Chajes does not use a bold dialectical formulation. He sees no need to find a level above Torah and wisdom, because in any case they are identical. Later in this article Chajes says that those who attack Maimonides are also extremists hailing from these two unacceptable extremes. From the left, Maimonides has been attacked by the “men of Ashkenaz [Germany] who pursue innovations in religion.” They oppose Maimonides because he embraced all of the Halakhah 6 Chajes, Ateret Tsvi, 397.

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in the Talmud and built a fortified wall around the Oral Torah, maintaining that even communal regulations and customs are words of Torah. These men point to the ostensible contradiction in Maimonides’s words: accepting Aristotle’s authority, even on matters that opposed the tradition, while at the same time plugging every breach of Halakhah, refusing to depart even a hairsbreadth from the Talmud. Maimonides has also been criticized from the right by the devout and by mystics such as “the claimants of Italy.” Chajes says in summary: “between one thing and another, both of these sects oppose us like two herds of goats [ref. to 1Kings 20:27], and the space is very narrow before those who stand in the middle.”7 Both Chajes and Krochmal describe the troubles of their times as symptoms of heresy and superstition. Both declare that they are basing themselves on Maimonides and following in his footsteps. Like Maimonides, they wish to heal the generation of the confusions afflicting it, from both skeptics and the devout, whom they call “the perplexed ones of our time.”8

7 Ibid., 397–398. By “the claimants of Italy” Chajes is referring to Luzzatto, whom he did not know and thought to be devout and a mystic, which is how Krochmal relates to him, calling him “the devout believer” in the controversy over “two Isaiahs.” It is important to note that Krochmal also spoke out against Luzzatto’s attacks of Maimonides. It is interesting to compare Chajes’ polemics with those of Krochmal in his letter to Judah Leib Goldenberg from H  .  emed, vol. 4 (1838). Some of .  eshvan 5599 [1838] which was published in Kerem H  Krochmal’s arguments are similar to those of Chajes such as: Luzzatto’s arguments against Maimonides are flimsy and old; Maimonides already responded regarding the resurrection of the dead; it is impossible to approach God without a high level of morality; Maimonides was tolerant of gentiles. However, Krochmal’s response is completely different in terms of its internal content. It is a rationalist response, far from fundamentalism or accepted Orthodoxy, which does not believe in the resurrection of the dead, rejects the belief in the Oral Torah being given at Sinai, and which believes that rational study is the highest purpose of an observant person. Chajes wrote about this controversy between right and left in other contexts as well. In his critique of David Friedländer, who proposed collective conversion, Chajes stated that it was impossible to reject the Torah entirely, for “it had struck roots on the tablet of our heart forever, and it has flourished among the Jews, great and small, among the right and among the left.” Chajes, Minhat Kenaot, 981, in the note. On the Reform custom of changing the place of the Bima [the platform for reading the Torah] and putting it next to the Holy Ark, Chajes wrote: “And in our day the leaders of the congregation of the holy community of Papa in Hungary have already published the answer of some rabbis of the old rightists and of the new leftists, and all of them have written that this is not according to the law.” Ibid., 992 in the note. 8 See Krochmal, Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, 7–9, 209 and Chajes, Hatsaah Lesefer Darkei HaHora’ah, 209–210.

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The maskil Jacob Bodek (1825–1874), who was Chajes’s close friend in the last thirteen years of his life, wrote a biography of him in which he states: “These are his words, more pleasant than gold, which testify to the direct path he chose in his Torah, and this was the middle way, as we were instructed by Maimonides of blessed memory, and the spirit of the God and the spirit of the community were pleased with him.”9

2. THE HISTORY OF MANKIND AND THE JEWISH PEOPLE The nineteenth-century advocates of the middle way, believing in full divine providence, personal and general, maintained that history should be studied and taught based on the principle of divine intervention in history. The divine plan must be sought by the student of history, who should study historical events with the aim of understanding the divine plan. In their opinion, the miraculous existence of the Jewish people during history is the result of special divine providence—testimony of the centrality of the Jews in God’s plan. This is in contrast to later historiographical conceptions. Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi writes that Spinoza—a man before his time in his removal of God from the study of history—argued that it was hatred towards the segregated Jews (a result of their particularistic customs, especially circumcision), and not divine providence, which kept them in existence over history. Yerushalmi has shown that this view was not accepted by historians until the late nineteenth century, when the belief in divine providence had already waned.10 It should be recalled that Chajes was a close friend of the philosopher of history, Krochmal, and he certainly was familiar with the latter’s approach to the uniqueness of Jewish history: a series of rises, falls, and renaissances, in recurring cycles. The Jewish people bears with it the absolute spirit, received from revelation, and it will bring humanity to its peak. This is the cause of the Jewish people’s recurring resurgences. Other nations experience only a rise and a final fall. This approach is based on (but not in agreement with) Hegel’s theory that Christianity will ultimately bring salvation to mankind, in a dialectical process that will do away with all the other religions and ideas and sublate them (“raising them above,” Aufhebung). Acquaintance with Krochmal’s theory doubtless

 9 Bodek, Qorot Nosafot. 10 See Baruch Spinoza, Theological-Political Treatise, ed. M. Silverthorne and J. Israel, trans. (Cambridge, 2007), 54; Y. Yerushalmi, Zakhor (Washington, 1982).

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reinforced Chajes’s esteem for the study of history, as shown in the following passage: Behold no sensible person will deny that knowledge of the history of our nation, in general and in detail, is absolutely necessary for any educated man for whom the Torah of his God is his portion, so that he should know what God did for this nation, and how the people of our nation have always risen and declined, led by His special providence, blessed be He. And [so that he should know] that while in every generation they rise up against us to destroy us, the Holy One, blessed be He, raises up a faithful redeemer, who risks his life to save this great multitude; great is the shepherd who saves them. See the book Mor Uqtsi’a by the great Rabbi Jacob Emden, Hilkhot Shabbat 307, regarding studying books of wisdom on the Sabbath, he wrote: “And therefore I say that it is a commandment for every Jewish person to be familiar with the pleasant book Shevet Yehuda, and with other books about the history of the Jews, to remember God’s mercy for us in every generation, for we have not ceased to exist, despite the many decrees [against us]. Incidentally, he will also learn sweet and precious things from it and a wise heart will acquire knowledge in the ways of polemics,” see there. [. . .] Though it seems that [Maimonides] went too far in his discussion of those who deal with the chronicles of the kings of Arabia, which were primarily about romance and non-existent things, like the Arabic stories that have been translated for us today. But as for the chronicles of the history of the nations and the history of the states and the ruling dynasties, this is indispensable for the knowledge of the wisdom of divine providence and guidance.11

In Shut Maharats, in response to question no. 12, on the study of books of secular knowledge on the Sabbath, Chajes also quotes Emden and adds that on the Sabbath it is permissible to study books of Jewish history that do not contain sorrowful matters. Other books may be studied only on weekdays. Books of general history, however, even if they were written in Hebrew by a Jewish author, are not vital, and may only be read during ones free time on weekdays and on days when yeshivot are not in session. Otherwise, they will take

11 Chajes, Ateret Tsvi, 406 and the note there.

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s­ cholars away from their studies. Chajes explains that the benefit of such study is m ­ arginal and only helps one to: Learn pure and clean language from them, and also so that a Torah scholar will not be denuded of this knowledge of the history of bygone days and changing times, and so that he will know how to respond to his reviler, and will not be thought of as foolish and ignorant in matters of the world, lest they say, only an ignorant nation poor in knowledge is this one. However, sometimes one must peruse these stories that belong to the nations, to learn about them, or to derive from them good advice and wisdom in matters of the world which are also necessary—especially in matters of intercession with the king and ministers.12

Of scholars from the previous generation, Chajes chose to quote Emden rather than Wessely; in the traditional Galicia of his day, quotations from maskilim were not welcome. Chajes found it difficult to present history, even Jewish history, as having inherent value, as a subject to be studied in a school or h  . eder, and contented himself with views from the eve of the educational revolution. In the introduction to his commentary on the Talmud, he claims that the Sages always sought to study contemporary natural sciences and humanities, using them to assist Torah study. He refers to a number of scientific subjects and states that “above all, [the Sages] dealt with matters of the history of the world, especially the history of our nation from the time of the building of the Second Temple until the sealing of the Talmud. [. . .] And they plumbed the depths of human knowledge and by that means attained many matters touching upon laws and halakhot.” In other words, just as the Sages dealt with Bible criticism, they also dealt with the study of history, and there was nothing innovative in this. Chajes also criticized the devout rabbis in Galicia, who refused to acknowledge the importance of studying Jewish history and ignored everything happening to the Jewish people in Germany in their day: And as for the rabbis of our country, who do not endeavor to provide themselves with knowledge of the history of our people, I will not preach a sermon [to them] here. From the start I know that they would be 12 Chajes, “Sefer Sheelot Uteshuvot Moharats, pt. 1” (1850) in Kol Sifrei Maharats H  .  ayut ( Jerusalem, 1958), 648–649. A detailed description of God’s method of leading his nation in history can be found in Chajes, “Sefer Mevo Hatalmud” (1845) in Kol Sifrei Maharats H  .  ayut ( Jerusalem, 1958), 281–350, 328–329 and Chajes, “Sheelot Uteshuvot Moharats,” 607.

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The Dual Truth astounded at the object that I bring in my hand. They would say: Look, this man has brought us matters of much talk and weariness of flesh—a waste of time in their opinion. What is known to everyone is like a sealed book to them, which they cannot read. Therefore, they would raise their voice against me.13

Another allusion to Krochmal’s approach can be found in the following passage: You have no more mighty proof of individual providence than the existence of the Jewish nation, which stood fast against the raging times threatening to wipe it from the face of the earth. Several ancient nations, Babylonia, Assyria, Persia, Media, Greece, and Rome, who once ruled with force and pride and high heart, have had their names erased, and their memory forgotten from the world. But as for us—who were always the smallest of nations, persecuted without respite, thrown from the land of our fathers and exiled again and again, ceasing to be an individual nation—behold: nevertheless, the staff of the persecutor only wounded and destroyed the nation’s body and exterior. But the spiritual life is the achievement of the intellect and true opinions, and they are still with us, thank the Lord, in purity and glory and splendor. We have borne them with us in all the places of our dispersion. [. . .] And during the time when the Greeks multiplied and succeeded we had already gone into exile, and when the Romans exiled us completely, they left no remnant in the land of our dwelling. We were mocked and reviled. We were a despised and persecuted nation among our neighbors, and nevertheless, they died out and faded from the face of the earth, and we, an ancient nation, an old and antique people, the smallest of nations, we remained in spiritual life, the father of all the people of the Earth in the study and knowledge of God’s existence and other pure beliefs. Who does not know that only the hand of God did this, and that His providence protected us at every time and moment? [. . .] By virtue of the Torah we are excellent among the nations and just as the intelligibles are eternal, so, too we will always stand against time, and all the natural causes of the destruction of the nation do not act at all upon us.14 13 Z. Chajes, “Maamar Minh  . at Qenaot” in Shut Moharats, pt. 3 (1849). Published in Kol Sifrei Maharats H  .  ayut ( Jerusalem, 1958), 816. 14 Chajes, Ateret Tsvi, 464–465.

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The following passage contains similar ideas: For 1800 years we have ceased being an independent nation, and a spoken language. Nevertheless, we have remained splendid and superior in the countries of our dispersion. The staff of the tyrant only wounded us in external matters of the nation’s life, but its spiritual and moral life never submitted to the rule of despots. And just as intelligibles are not subject to natural causes, so, too, the people that bears these truths will stand forever.15

His proximity to the maskilim of Brody and his close relationship with Krochmal influenced Chajes’s attitude toward general studies, especially to history. He was knowledgeable about history and quite familiar with the works of Isaac Jost. In the introduction to his book Imrei Bina, he sings the praises of Jewish historians, including the Tanna Rabbi Yose, who wrote Seder ‘Olam, Rav Sherira Gaon, Joseph Ben Samuel Bonfils, Maimonides, Zacuto (Sefer Yuh . asin), Azariah Dei Rossi, and others.16 Chajes himself wrote historical studies to strengthen his arguments. For example, he examined the history of the Aramaic translations of the Bible17 as well as the history of the various versions of the prayers in his “Minh  . at 18 Qenaot”. According to Haim Gertner, Chajes planned to publish a new revised version of Seder Hadorot by Jehiel Heilprin (first published in 1769), and there is evidence of this in the introduction to Imrei Bina. However, Chajes died before he was able to actualize such a project. Chajes was one of the first supporters of an initiative to publish an Orthodox yearbook to be called Pleitat Sofrim, as seem from his letter to Joshua Heschel Levin. Here Gertner identifies a wider phenomenon: rabbis of Eastern Europe responding to the biographies written by the scholars of the Wissenschaft des Judentums. Because of the decline of their power and the power of the rabbinate, these rabbis sought to oppose the pantheon of personalities presented by modern Jewish scholarship, offering an alternative, Orthodox pantheon of

15 Chajes, “Sheelot Uteshuvot Moharats,” 607. 16 Chajes, “Maamar Imrei Binah,” in Kol Sifrei Maharats H  .  ayut ( Jerusalem, 1958), 872. See below notes 62–63. 17 See ibid., section 4, 901–928. 18 See Chajes, “Minh  . at Qenaot,” 978–980.

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their own. The goal was that traditionalists no longer needed to feel isolated in history; they were part of an illustrious rabbinic tradition.19

3. ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE ORAL TORAH It appears that more than anything, Krochmal was influenced by Chajes’s enthusiastic belief in the divinity of the written Torah and its transmission to the Jewish people at Sinai through Moses. This influence kept Krochmal from being swept away by the critical orientation of the maskilim, who questioned even this fundamental principle. Chajes declares the Torah’s absolute divinity, basing himself on Maimonides. He writes in the introduction to his first book Torat Haneviim from 1835: The great principle instilled in us by our rabbi [Maimonides] is that this Torah will never be changed or emended, wholly or partially, but will endure forever and ever. For even though it is a great and enduring principle maintained by us, that the Torah that is now found in our hands is itself that which the Master of all imparted to Moses at Sinai, in all its details and precisions, and it is impossible to change or add or remove from it even a hairsbreadth either from what is stated explicitly in the written Torah or from the Oral Law. [. . .] But far be it from us to think, as those sinners in their souls thought, that the Torah relates to a [particular] time and place and can be canceled at some time, as those heretics, wise in their own eyes, claimed. The malignant plague of heresy shines on their forehead, and all day long they think only evil, plotting to turn us away from the straight path trodden by our forefathers for more than three thousand years in eternal glory for us. But we will walk with the name of the Lord our God and the Rock of Israel and his sanctity, and we will set our path and not abandon it. And may He swiftly save us from those hunters of souls, and may a thousand like them perish, and not a single word of our Torah and our tradition be annulled, and this Torah will abide forever in all its parts.20 19 See on this H. Gertner, “Reshita Shel Ketiva Historit Ortodoqsit Bemizrah .  Eiropa: Ha’arakha Meh . udeshet,” Zion 67, 3 (2002): 305–307, 323, 329, and in notes 73 and 181. For a discussion of Chajes’s attitude to studying history see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 332–337. 20 Z. Chajes, “Sefer Torat Haneviim Hamekhune Ele Hamitsvot” (1836), in Kol Sifrei Maharats H  .  ayut ( Jerusalem, 1958), 4–5.

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As I will show below, Krochmal’s position differs from Chajes’s in regards to the Oral Torah. That being said, in terms of the written Torah (the Pentateuch), their views are very similar. In the introduction of his essay “Imrei Bina” (1849), Chajes praises learned Jewish historians—from Rav Shereira Gaon until his own time—for researching the history and literature of the Jewish people, even if their opinions were different than his own. He counts Krochmal among them: And on many passages in the Prophets and the Writings, we have found scattered in journals in various places precious matters, and on certain passages of Psalms and the prophecies of Isaiah the great late sage our master Nachman Hakohen wrote in Kerem H  .  emed (part 4 and part 5) pleasant things and specifically in his book Moreh Nevukhim Hah . adash—while it was still in manuscript—my eye saw essays on the aggadot of the Talmud and the methods of the Talmud and the early sects, and on the circumstances of the Nation of Israel: their blossoming, their stand, and their fall, both first and second Temples, wondrous matters. 21

As mentioned, Krochmal maintained a daily dialogue with Chajes when they lived together in Żółkiew. Chajes was intimately familiar, although doubtless disagreed, with Krochmal’s post-dating several chapters in Psalms, with his ­attribution of Isaiah to two authors, and with his dialectical approach to the evolution of the Oral Torah. Despite his disagreements, he praised Krochmal, and considered him a prominent scholar and a God-fearing man, o­ bservant of 21 Chajes, “Imrei Binah,” 874. See Hershkovitz’s explanations of this passage in Maharats h  . ayut, 240–251. Hershkovitz shows on page 243 in notes 61–68, that in this passage Chajes brings up many topics which he discussed with Krochmal. On some the two were divided—for example, the era of the authors of certain chapters of Psalms; the questions of Deutero-Isaiah and Ecclesiastes; and the status of aggadot in the Talmud. In other areas the two agreed, such as regarding Luzzatto’s polemic against Maimonides (during which both marshaled similar arguments to refute Luzzatto’s criticisms), issues related to early Jewish sects, and the historiosophy of the Jewish people and the gentiles. Hershkovitz there provides detailed references to Moreh Nevukhei Hazman and to Chajes’s writings on the same topics. In addition, it is clear from this excerpt that Chajes had seen parts of the manuscript of Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, which Krochmal had temporarily entitled Moreh Nevukhim HaHadash. As is well known, Moreh Nevukehi Hazman was published two years after these words were written— in 1851, edited Zunz. On this issue, Hershkovitz references the statements of Krochmal’s son regarding his father and his work which were published in Der Orient, literary supplement, 1849, 6–7 and to Y. F. Lachover Al Gevul Hayashan Vehahadash ( Jerusalem, 1951), 178, n. 7 and 179 n. 8.

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all commandments, big and small, and a believer in the divinity of the Torah.22 Thus, Chajes included in his list men and subjects with which he did not agree, praising them nevertheless because they were sincere in their pursuit of the truth and in their love of wisdom and of the Jewish people. Moreover, due to his great isolation in his town, he wished to participate in the wider modern phenomenon of scientific Jewish scholarship. Therefore, while he certainly could not have agreed with views contrary to the tradition of the Sages, he nevertheless praised Krochmal’s higher biblical criticism on Isaiah and Psalms.23 That being said, with respect to higher criticism on the Pentateuch, the reliability of the text, and the sincerity of its authors, the two share similar opinions. Krochmal wrote that the radical Bible critics were “mad to doubt, for example, the reality of the faithful shepherd, our master Moses, and his giving the Torah, [or to think] that all the books of prophecy and divine inspiration were perhaps written by some deceitful rabbi.”24 Instead, Krochmal maintains that only the content and spirit of the Torah materialized during Israel’s year camped next to Sinai and during their forty-year sojourn in the wilderness. However, Moses only began to commit the 22 On the integrity of Krochmal’s faith see his letter to Wolf Baer Schif in Krochmal, Kitvei Ranaq, 414 and his eulogy by Rapoport in Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 6, 41–49. 23 Hershkovitz presents an expansive discussion about Chajes’s ambivalent attitude towards Geiger, Luzzatto, Reggio, Jost, and Krochmal. He states that Chajes removed all obstacles when, at the end of his list, he wrote, “this matter is profane for us and practiced only by scholars of the Nations.” In my opinion, Hershkovitz did not pay attention to the fact that Chajes actually wrote that comment before composing his list; it refers only to Bible criticism, where we must make do with the examination of the Sages, whereas a large part of the controversy was waged on the chain of reception, rabbinical midrash, and Maimonides, and Chajes, nevertheless, identified with and expressed sympathy for the people in his list. Hershkovitz states that Chajes sent his writings to Reggio and sought to engage in correspondence with him in order to draw him into a public controversy and to cope with him and Geiger, in order to draw close to him. He did so while he was being shunned in a small Galician town by his opponents and critics. See Hershkovitz, Maharats H  .  ayut, 240–255, 298–303. On Chajes’s relations with Reform movement and Wissenschaft des Judentums, see M. Benayahu, “Halifat Igrot ‘Al Hareforma Bein R. Mordekhai Shmuel Girondi LeR. Tsvi Hirsch H  .  ayut,” in Z. Falk, ed., Gevurot Haromah ( Jerusalem, 1987), 271–292. Benayahu does not agree with Hershkovitz’ explanation of Chajes’s ambivalent relation to Geiger, as he puts it, but in fact he himself offers no explanation and calls the matter “problematic.” I agree with part of Hershkovitz’s explanation—that Chajes’s isolation in facing his attackers from the right led him to identify with proponents of scientific research. I would add the importance that Chajes ascribed to enhancing the reputation of Judaism and to rehabilitating the nation by restoring its literature as factors contributing to his positive attitude toward them. 24 Krochmal, Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, 9.

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form and externalities of the text to paper in the fortieth year in the wilderness. Afterward, the prophets continued this literary project, which was completed in Assyrian script, with qeri (as it is read) ketiv (as it is written), and iturei sofrim (scribal emendations) only in the time of Ezra and the Scribes.25 Chajes disagreed. In his opinion, the Torah was transmitted at Sinai in the same form as we have it today, including its traditional interpretation. Higher or lower criticism of the biblical text is misguided and impossible in our day, and only the Sages could take such interpretive liberties. In the present, one must focus on understanding of the commandments and Halakhah, and applying criticism to the texts of the Mishnah, the midrashim, and the Talmud—but not to the halakhot themselves.

4. ATTITUDE TOWARDS THE LAWS OF THE ORAL TORAH As a rationalist Talmudist, it made sense for Chajes to have adopted the Maimonidean conception of the Oral Torah. In the first six chapters of his “Mevo Hatalmud,” which he published in 1845, he presents a detailed model of the different components of the Oral Torah, describing “the main divisions included under this term [i.e., Oral Torah] according to the opinion of Maimonides.”26 The first component in this model are the interpretations of the ­commandments which were transmitted in a chain of tradition from Sinai, and supported with (sometimes strange and puzzling) asmakhtaot (­textual supports) by the Sages. The second component is the “law of Moses from Sinai.” The third component is the “Laws that the Sages deduced entirely through traditional methods of interpretation [derashot].”27 They did this relying on their own intellect and without a tradition received from Sinai, using the principles by which the Torah is interpreted, which were given to Moses by the mouth of God, so that we can know and prove through them the clarification of the commandments, their interpretations, and their details, and these are the thirteen principles that Rabbi Ishmael teaches. [. . .] By means of these methods of interpretation, once again all of the extrapolations and the branches that the Sages drew from the written 25 See ibid., 191, 199–200. 26 Chajes, “Mevo Hatalmud,” 284. 27 Ibid., 290. See also Chajes, Torat Hanevi’im, 122–123.

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Chajes embraces the well-known midrashim (which seem to contradict this component of the Oral Torah, and which are not accepted by Maimonides) that say that already at Sinai, God showed Moses the minutiae of the Torah, the un of the scribes, and the future innovations of assiduous scholars, giving them an Aristotelian interpretation. The interpretations and laws which the Sages created themselves—and which Maimonides classified as laws of the scribes which are not considered part of the Oral Torah—became for Chajes, based on his understanding of Maimonides, the written Torah itself: “Since the principles of interpretation were conveyed to Moses, everything that was innovated by the Sages in the last generation, by means of these principles, is placed in the Torah itself by the power of these interpretations and principles.”29 Use of the Aristotelian method enables Chajes to overcome Nachmanides’s criticisms and to restore his master, Maimonides, to the warm embrace of the traditional approach of the Geonim: that the entire halakhic codex of the Oral Torah already existed at Sinai. Chajes adds that, in his opinion, the disputes among the Sages—whether the written Torah is greater than or lesser than the Oral Law—are precisely over this point. The one who says that the written Torah is greater learns as Chajes does: He means that matters known to us by the accepted principles for interpreting the written Torah, prepared and standing in the Torah itself and indicated therein by repetition of letters and the order of things early and late, they, too, are the written Torah itself. [. . .] The [term] Oral Torah only applies to those matters (as we clarified above in the second way) which have no distant support in the Torah and are only received orally. 28 Chajes, “Mevo Hatalmud,” 288–289. See also idem, Torat Hanevi’im, 135 and “Divrei Haneviim Divrei Qabbalah,” 137. Maimonides’s metaphor of the branches—i.e., the ­distinction between a text where there is a kernel from Sinai and a midrash that derives further conclusions from it, which are not in it (as Halbertal explains in Haramban) allows Chajes to combine the two. 29 Chajes, “Mevo Hatalmud,” 289. Cf. Torat Haneviim, 122: “And certainly Maimonides concedes that these laws are Torah laws,” although Maimonides defined them as rabbinical. On the positions of the Geonim, Maimonides, and Nachmanides regarding the division of the Oral Torah see Halbertal, Haramban, 21–76; Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 158–172.

Between Reason and Revelation    Chapter Eight However, he who believes that the Oral Torah is greater, his rationale is that the methods of interpretation, and thirteen hermeneutical principles were not clarified in the [written] Torah and were also only received [orally] at Sinai. Therefore, even something that is deduced through the principles, even though it has support in the Torah, is only called Oral Torah.30

The Geonim believed that the entire halakhic codex was delivered at Sinai; part of it was forgotten due to a crisis in the process of transmission. Chajes, however, does not believe that the entirety of the Oral Torah was actually transmitted at Sinai, and does not believe in any such break in transmission. Rather, he maintains that the Torah is a living, organic body, in which things that existed in potentia at Sinai are actualized by the Sages, like branches from a root or fruit from a seed, and are therefore considered part of the written Torah itself. It appears that Chajes, eager to distance the views of his “protégé” Maimonides from the Reform movement’s calls for innovation, pushed him all the way to the other side of the spectrum towards a traditional notion of revelation. He wished for a connection of the first order, a direct link between the word of God and the regulations of the Sages—the view of the Geonim and Nachmanides who maintained that all of the Oral Torah is from Sinai—and was not content with a tenuous link of a second order, the commandment “you may not turn away [lo tasur],” which Maimonides erected between the word of God and the regulations of the Sages. In his understanding of Maimonides, Chajes elevates this category (i.e., halakhot derived from the thirteen hermeneutical principles, which Maimonides had placed in the third stratum and had not even included in the framework of the Oral Law, and which Nachmanides had placed in the second stratum), to the level of the first stratum: the written Torah. Chajes, who claims to be merely explaining the words of Maimonides, ends up actually disagreeing with him. According to Maimonides, the Oral Torah is the product of a process of post-Revelation rational halakhic innovation: the Sages used the thirteen hermeneutical principles to determine the Halakhah in new areas that were not contained in either the written or Oral Torah. According to Chajes’s explanation of Maimonides however, the Sages use the thirteen principles to uncover elements that while part of the revelation of the written Torah, were not actively transmitted at Sinai. Everything innovative is merely part of a process of revealing and actualizing that part of 30 Ibid., 290.

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revelation which had previously existed only in potentia.31 While this process of actualization takes place within history, it is, in essence, supra-historical. A similar approach, which is built on neo-Platonic foundations, can be found in the philosophy of Judah Halevi (who speaks of continued revelation assisted by the Holy Spirit, and is thus somewhat different than Chajes’s notion of uncovering the original Revelation by means of reason). Nachmanides and R. Nissim of Gerona also agree that the Sages revealed things that were not determined at Sinai. However, to them the extent of this determination is choosing halakhic truth out of a variety of possible halakhic options explicitly included in Revelation. According to Chajes, no such spectrum of halakhic options was ever conveyed at Sinai, and the Sages bring to light subjects that were hitherto left untreated.32 Chajes thus gives an entirely new meaning to Maimonides’s words. The creative interpretative activity of the Sages, by means of the hermeneutic principles, permeates the text that was given at Sinai, and, with a majority decision, determines the actualization of potential laws (halakhot that were not conveyed explicitly), becoming part of the written Torah itself. In my opinion, Chajes may have learned about the Aristotelian process of actualizing potential from Maimonides, or from the writings of the idealistic philosophers, primarily Hegel,33 but above all from his friend and colleague in leadership of the community of Żółkiew, Krochmal. Though the degree to which Krochmal was a Hegelian is a matter of dispute,34 it seems likely to me that as a philosopher 31 Sagi makes a similar distinction between Chajes and Albo, the latter’s approach being close, in his opinion, to that of Maimonides—although he does not clarify the Aristotelian process. See Sagi, Elu Vaelu, 84. In my opinion, Albo did not necessarily believe, like Maimonides, that most of the halakhot were innovations and legislation of the Sages. Therefore, it might be said that Chajes’s approach is similar to that of Albo. In any event, Chajes’s approach should be included among those who took the logicistic position in Rosenberg’s model. See S. Rosenberg, Lo Bashamayim Hi (Alon Shevut, 1997), 59–63. 32 It is interesting that elsewhere, in a discussion unrelated to his model, Chajes notes that Maimonides indeed defined these laws as rabbinical, even though they have a basis in the Torah: “Because the Holy One Blessed is He did not transmit the details except through the principles, and the Sages derive these matters. And it is these derivations upon which there are disputes, because one [Sage] will derive from an extra letter and another one will not.” See Chajes, Torat Haneviim, 122. 33 See Hershkovitz, Maharats H  .  ayut, 256. 34 The dispute is between Rawidowicz, “Mavo Lekitvei Nah . man Krochmal,” 160–201, who denies an influence, and those who maintain such an influence: Zunz, quoted in Rawidowicz, “Mavo Lekitvei Nahman Krochmal,” 163; Klausner, Hasifrut, 195–208, who maintains that Krochmal, according to his interpretation of Ibn Ezra was a panentheist; and J. Harris, Nachman Krochmal, Guiding the Perplexed of the Modern Age (New York and London,

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of history, Krochmal was highly influenced by Hegel. I believe that Hegel’s method is based on the notion of development and actualization of national ideas and spirit upon the matrix of a nation’s history, in a progression toward identification of the finite (the material subject), with the infinite (the absolute spiritual object). Krochmal adopted important philosophical ideas from Hegel, adapting them to the spirit of Judaism.35 My conjecture is that these two champions of Maimonides, Krochmal and Chajes, discussed the difficulty of reconciling Maimonides’s statements about an innovative rabbinic stratum of interpretation with the Sages’ traditional notion of the Oral Torah originating in its entirety from Sinai. Chajes sought to bring Maimonides closer to the Sages, who said, “everything that an assiduous scholar will innovate in the future was said to Moses at Sinai,” whereas Krochmal sought to bring the Sages closer to Maimonides. The words “what an assiduous scholar will innovate” refer to those things accomplished by observation and logical inference. Behold, he who said [the above statement] realized that complete unity is the nature of the spiritual, and that an intellected intellect [sekhel muskal] will include in His beginning all the consequences that are united in Him; from Him they go out and to Him they return. [. . .] However, so long as they are not yet explained, they are still contained in it only in potentia. But when some intellect brings them forth through his study they return in relation to him, becoming included in him in actuality. Now there is a source of the aforementioned teaching in relation to the finite recipient as well, but it only exists in potential; while in relation to the blessed Giver within whom there is no distinction between potential and actual, it also exists in actuality.36

In other words: that which to God, the lawgiver, exists in actuality, comes to man, and becomes actualized, only when a Sage innovates it with his own intellect. Before that, the law, at least as far as man is concerned, exists only in potential, and requires actualization through intellectual research. For Krochmal this does not mean progressive development from an inferior position to an exalted 1991), 70–81, who makes a similar claim. Cf. Guttman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 410, n. 769. 35 As maintained by Klausner and Harris, see previous note. 36 Krochmal, Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, 215–216. See Schweid, Hehagut Hayehudit ba’Et Hah  . adasha, 192–193.

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one (Kant, Lessing, Herder), or a dialectical development (Hegel) in which earlier ideas are sublated. These processes are appropriate for other nations, which lack a connection with the absolute spirit, but not for the Jewish people, who forged a direct link with that spirit at Sinai. According to Judaism, the absolute spiritual God is above history in potential and in actuality, and He is not realized in movement from potential to actual. The message of Judaism (the law of the Torah) is also above history. Part of it was revealed at Sinai, and part of it has continued to exist in potential ever since—until it was revealed by the Sages in history in a series of cyclical intellectual processes. Krochmal retains the Hegelian idealistic concepts, but emends Hegel’s conclusions about Judaism: that Judaism has lost its vitality, or had been swallowed up by higher cultures. According to Krochmal, the stratum of the first revelation, which is unique to the Jewish people, is never revoked nor rendered obsolete, and does not progress or improve. Rather is it is eternal, including within it everything that will be produced from any future intellectual process. The halakhot of the Torah—which are the message in which the absolute Spirit with personality and will communicates, existing with Him in potential and actuality—are implemented and executed within the Jewish people in a rational intellectual process. It should be emphasized that, living at the beginning of the modern period, Krochmal became historically conscious of the fact that Halakhah and the opinions of the Jews, like any culture, develop and form from an inner and outer dialogue with various opinions and cultures, reflecting the time and place of its creators. Krochmal looks from above upon earlier ages—in which this process took place unawares—offering criticism mingled with admiration, explaining history as an unconscious process of nations actualizing potential ideas and then making their exit from the stage. Judaism, however, which bears the absolute spiritual idea above history, unites some of these ideas in a dialectical process and thus leads humanity to its redemption. According to Krochmal, the process began with the creation of the nation in Egypt37 and continues throughout history until the modern era.38 Modern research that seeks to understand who we are, how we developed, how we reached this point, and how to continue this process consciously39 must relate to this process. 37 Schweid, Hehagut Hayehudit ba’et Hah . adasha, 42–43. 38 Ibid., 36–38. 39 Ibid., 167.

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Chajes inherited the idea of Halakhah as a process of actualization from Krochmal and it served as a foundation of his system. In effect Chajes and Krochmal performed a dialectical process. They unified two contradictory extremes—on the one hand the principle of Torah from Sinai, on the other hand, Maimonides’s principle of an accumulative halakhic codex, and the modern innovation of historical development. The Aristotelian move made it possible to create a dialectic move and to unify these two extremes. Krochmal’s idea enabled Chajes to elevate the stratum of the interpretations derived from the thirteen principles up to the stratum of written Torah. The link joining interpretation to text is the thirteen principles themselves, which were given at Sinai. This idea provided Krochmal with the basis for his conception of Halakhah as an evolving law developed by human agency in history; the chain of reception has no connection to the revelation event at Sinai. Law and revelation are linked by human reason, in which God dwells immanently.40

5. MIDRASH AGGADA AND THE STATUS OF THE SAGES The fact that the Sages were entrusted with the execution of the laws possessing the status of written Torah, gives them, according to Chajes, a superlative status. In this matter, Chajes influenced Krochmal, and both of them vigorously defended the status of the Sages from the criticisms of the Reform movement. The latter wished to lower the Sages’ status and downplay the quality of their compositions (the Midrash, the Mishnah, and the Talmud). They went as far as 40 On the nature of the connection between Krochmal and Hegel and the other idealist philosophers, see S. Tov, Torat Hegel Bemishnat Nah  . man Krochmal (Tel Aviv, 1954). On Krochmal’s thought see Rawidowicz, “Mavo Lekitvei Nah  . man Krochmal 17–225; Guttman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 289–308; Schweid, Hehagut Hayehudit ba’et Hah  . adasha, 172– 201, Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 52–70; Feiner, Haskalah Vehistoria, 157–168. The principle of actualizing potential in the history of the Halakhah was noted in detail by Luz, who also criticized it. See E. Luz, “Nahman Krochmal Uve’ayat Hahistorizatsia Shel Hayahadut,” in M. Idel et al., eds., Minha Lesara ( Jerusalem, 1994), 249–257. On Krochmal’s philosophy of hermeneutics and Hegel’s influence on it, see Levi, Hermenoitika Bamah  . shavah Hayehudit, 24–53. As in many other areas, on the subject of historical consciousness, Mendelssohn was a pioneer in the modern period. See on this D. Sorkin, Moses Mendelssohn and the Religious Enlightenment (Los Angeles, 1996), 78–79. All the maskilim who followed Mendelssohn acquired and internalized his ideas, directly or indirectly. A comprehensive discussion of Chajes’s position regarding the relationship between revelation and reason can be found in Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 192–204.

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portraying the Sages as power-hungry charlatans who wished to dominate the nation by burdening them with a heavy yoke and by pretending to be authentic interpreters of Scripture. In his essay “Darkhei Hahoraa” of 1843, Chajes devotes the beginning of the second section to the issue of ruling of Halakhah from Aggada, saying: “But ordinary aggadot, either from the Talmud or collections of Midrash, are halakhic decisions for us, aside from those halakhot that were presented in midrashim spoken before a large audience.”41 This position of Chajes’s contradicts Maimonides’s explicit statements in his responsa (§458) that in Aggada there is “no tradition [Oral Law], prohibitions, permissions, or judgments.” Chajes writes about Aggada in chapters seventeen to thirty two in his essay “Mevo Hatalmud.” He unequivocally states that the aggadot “were all received by them from Sinai orally [. . .] from God to Moses our teacher, may he rest in peace.”42 Even if occasionally one finds an aggadic midrash that uses the hermeneutic principles, this is merely a mnemonic reference [asmakhta]. He deduces this matter a fortiori from the Halakhah. If the Halakhah, which is merely “an obligation of the limbs and a corridor to purify the religion,” was given at Sinai, a fortiori matters of faith and the foundations of the religion (such as the immortality of the soul, the World to Come, prophecy, the unity of God, reward and punishment, free will, providence, the human soul, the coming of the Messiah, the revival of the dead) none of which are mentioned explicitly in the written Torah, must have been received faithfully from Sinai. Aggadic midrash is also meant to help decipher obscure verses in the Bible, as the Sages show us, and as Maimonides shows us in the Guide for the Perplexed, part 1, 70: “Consider how these excellent and true ideas, comprehended only by the greatest philosophers,43 are found dispersed throughout the midrashim.”44 Other aggadic midrashim, which are meant to teach us matters of behavior and morality, were deduced by the Sages with their knowledge, experience, and learning, and as Maimonides explains, these, too, were said with “divine power.”45 Chajes attributes the strangeness of aggadic midrashim to several factors. First, as noted, these midrashim are references and scriptural mnemonics, and not the 41 Chajes, “Sefer Darkhei Hahoraa” (1842–3), in Kol Sifrei Maharats h  . ayut ( Jerusalem, 1958), 251–252. 42 Chajes, “Mevo Hatalmud,” 316. 43 I.e., Aristotle. 44 Chajes, “Mevo Hatalmud,” 316. 45 Ibid., quotation from Shemona Peraqim.

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simple meaning [peshat] of the text. Therefore, they sometimes seem strange and bizarre. Second, the Sages adopt all the means at their disposal to achieve their goal—praising the righteous, their good deeds, and their rewards, or condemning the wicked, their sins, and their punishment. For aggadic midrash the Sages used, in addition to the thirteen hermeneutic principles of Midrash Halakhah, other principles, such as the thirty-two principles of Rabbi Eli’ezer the son of Rabbi Jose Haglili—all received at Sinai. Frequently the use of these principles led to strange and exaggerated teachings. It was the practice of the Sages to exaggerate their interpretations to arouse joy and hope in times of fortune and misfortune, or to encourage repentance and to frighten listeners in times of trouble by speaking of strange and terrifying, supernatural matters. Third, we must believe that the interpretations that appear to deviate from common belief were delivered as esoteric clues, and they refer to matters of high importance, beyond our understanding. In chapter 27,46 Chajes cites as evidence chapter 2 of Maimonides’s introduction to Pereq Heleq, where Maimonides describes the different sects in Judaism, a description Chajes already used to defend Maimonides in 1841. Two groups of people err in their understanding of the midrashim of the Sages, but a third group of people admire the Sages and realize that their words are not always self-evident. Chajes emphasizes that according to most rabbis, we must regard all the miracles and wonders in talmudic stories as literal and believe that they occurred as written. But there is also a minority opinion that these were simply dreams and not descriptions of real events. Chajes admits that he is unable to decide which of these opinions is true, and that here one must use the standard of rationalist criticism to distinguish those places where we must take things literally from those places where we must regard them as a dream or imagination. Fourth, some midrashim are parables and figures of speech, which explains their strange appearance. Chajes emphasizes here that we must understand literally all matters of evil spirits, ghosts, the evil eye, magic spells, and enchantments in the Talmud—unlike Maimonides who considered these all parable, riddle and allegory. Regarding these matters and regarding the medical advice in the Talmud, he refers the reader to the responsa of Rabbi Solomon ben Aderet (Rashba, Barcelona, 1235–1310) (§ 408, 413), who explains that all of these matters are real; we, being weak in spirit, are simply unable to understand them. Elsewhere in his writings, Chajes uses the comments of certain medieval rabbis, who state that all the words of the Sages of the Talmud—including those that seem

46 Ibid., 333–335.

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contrary to the natural reality known to us—were true in the reality of their time, but that “nature has changed.”47 In the introduction to his article, “Tiferet Lemoshe” [Glory to Moses], written in defense of Maimonides in 1849, Chajes explains in detail the character of the various sects in Judaism who relate to the midrashim of the Sages and who are described by Maimonides: Two invalid sects: the foolish Torah scholars who read midrashim literally and the accursed intellectuals who denigrate the words of the Sages; and one valid one: the scholars who combine Torah with reason. Chajes writes about these sects as follows: [There are] the ignorant ones among the people, on the one hand, who think that all study and contemplation is heresy, and in their thoughts they imagine that the divine Torah and human reason are two opposites that are against each other from start to finish. They decree and determine that it is forbidden to investigate the divine religion with reason and knowledge. [. . .] The second sect that opposes it from the opposite extreme is the sect of those who give a heedful ear only to what human reason can grasp, and they believe that aside from that, there is no reality, and they endeavor with all their power to show that the commandments that came from the Torah are only matters that relate to [a specific] time and place and can change from time to time according to the circumstances of the generation. [. . .] The middle sect are those who guide their ways only on the path of the Torah, and in this way they are similar to the first sect in believing that the written Torah and the Oral Torah both came from the mouth of the Almighty and were spoken to Moses and stand forever. However, they examine and investigate to give reasons for matters of the Torah, according to the foundations of human intellect, both in main points and in offshoots, and also in the commandments. But in those matters that human intellect cannot attain, they accept things in veneration and awe.48

A comparison between Chajes and Krochmal’s statements on Aggada raises similar discussions, and Krochmal also uses Maimonides’s model. Chajes and Krochmal have similar views mainly regarding the principles that served the authors of Aggada, the explanations of some of its strange features (related to the Midrash’s status as textual support [asmakhta], and from 47 On this subject see Chajes, “Darkhei Hahora’ah,” 228–230; Also see Chajes, “Mevo Hatalmud,” 331–342. It appears that this is as opposed to Maimonides’s opinion in the Guide for the Perplexed, part 2, 28. 48 Chajes, Ateret Tsvi, 397.

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the need to exaggerate and push to extremes in order to impress). However, the gap between the two thinkers is very wide. Krochmal denies those to his right, “benighted experts,” who take individual opinions of a particular time for truths that stand forever, and even of foreign stories, saying they are divine secrets reserved for God-fearing men. While he obviously believes that all aggadot and the principles of interpretation are human creations, he goes even farther than Maimonides in his treatment of a significant part of the aggadot in the Talmud. In his opinion, aggadot about evil spirits and spells, slander, condemnations of the Sages, foul language, and superstitions are not the authentic creations of the Sages. Rather, these originate from the masses—buffoons and minor scholars—who collected stories in their own fashion. These stories were included in the Talmud by its later editors, who were on a far lower level than the Amoraim and who, unable to distinguish between substantial and trivial matters, bound everything together in a single volume. Krochmal also does not forget to criticize those on his left: those who act wise and consult non-Jewish sources, a phenomenon exploited by non-Jewish scholars in order to nullify the entire Talmud, belittle the Sages, and mock those who respect them.49 He concludes his discussion of this subject with a declaration of loyalty to the Sages and to the chain of Halakhah, similar to words written by Chajes: In short, we are certain of Heaven’s mercy, that this request of ours [to ignore invalid and dangerous aggadot] will not be counted against us as sin or rebellion, and that ultimately we will use it to clarify that the Halakhah and Mishnah and their enhancement included in the Talmud were not touched by the masses, and sprouted no thistles, and that of these [works] the Babylonian Talmud is primary—one should not subtract from it— and should rule according to its principles and excellent methods all of which were transmitted by wise teachers to the ears of wise students, and they all heard from the last generation of amoraic yeshiva heads, from the mouths of their teachers who saw each other and learned from them in famous yeshivas [. . .] and the last of the prophets, upon whom rested God’s spirit, his word upon their tongues—and such a strong and successive chain is extremely adequate for the loyal believer in his nation and God.50 49 Krochmal, Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, 238–256. See the excerpt about the “mistaken sects,” n. 4 above. 50 Ibid., 256. It is interesting to note that M. Rotenberg, Rabbi Zvi Hirsh Hayut, his Personality and Books (Doctoral Dissertation: Yeshiva University, 1963), 119, alludes to the influence of She’arim 13–14 in Moreh Nevukhei Hazman on Chajes’s conception of Halakhah and

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6. THE NATURE OF THE REVELATION AT MOUNT SINAI AND THE GIVING OF THE TORAH What exactly happened at the revelation at Sinai? There are a variety of opinions. Some read the Torah’s account of Sinai literally: an account of a historical event occurring within time and space. Others, however, seek to refine the Torah’s corporeal descriptions into something reflecting a more spiritual and abstract event, related more to reason than the senses. Judah Halevi’s view is more similar to the corporealizing approach; Maimonides’s more similar to the spiritual approach. Interpreters are divided over Maimonides’s views regarding the revelation at Sinai. More moderate interpreters maintain that according to Maimonides the event consisted of prophetic influence over the intellects of those present— an unrepeatable, direct act of God. More radical interpreters maintain that the event consisted of a one-time instance of rational-philosophical enlightenment on the congregation as a whole, initiated from below, and with no real influence from above. Alternatively, they maintain that the event did not happen at all and is nothing more than an allegory.51 Chajes stood on the border between European rationalism and romanticism. Influenced by both, he had trouble picking a side. In this matter, he was trapped between the rationalist approach which maintains that Sinai was an event of intellectual enlightenment and the romantic approach which maintains that it was an event of direct prophecy. It is therefore no surprise that his writings demonstrate a combination of both approaches. As is well known, a simple reading of Maimonides’s Guide for the Perplexed, part 2, 32–33 raises two possibilities as to his view. The first option is that only Moses received the Ten Commandments, and afterwards he transmitted them to the people. The second option is that only the first two commandments were transmitted directly to the people, whereas the others were transmitted via Moses. The nation heard the first two commandments as an awesome, terrifying, voice—not God’s voice but a creation of God—which Moses translated into comprehensible human speech. These first two commandments Aggada in “Darkhei Hahora’ah” and “Mevo Hatalmud.” For a comprehensive discussion of Chajes’s approach to Midrash Halakhah see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 194–200. 51 See, for example, the interpretations of Halbertal, Harambam, 271–278 and Goodman, Sodotav shel Moreh HaNevukhim, 83–84 about Maimonides’s statements regarding the theophany at Sinai that it was philosophical enlightenment not prophetic. Cf. Narboni’s interpretation in his Peirush al Moreh Nevukhim I, 5, 3 and Efodi (who converted to Christianity) Peirush al Moreh Nevukhim, I, 5, §30.

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included “intelligibles” about God’s existence and unity, information which can be reached through either intellect or prophecy. In this the scholar and prophet are equal. The voice which the nation heard at Sinai, besides the sounds of thunder and trumpets, terrified the people. Overcome with fear, the nation requested that Moses intercede. At that point, Moses left the people, and through prophecy received the remaining eight commandments. These consisted of accepted societal conventions, not intelligibles. He then returned to the people and transmitted these to them, while they continued to hear the sounds of the trumpets and thunder. In any event, the nation only heard sounds, and no explicit words. Maimonides emphasizes that everyone present received information according to his own personal level. That being said, a close reading of Maimonides suggests that he can be interpreted in a variety of other ways—especially regarding the question of what exactly occurred and what those present understood from the voice which expressed the first two commandments. Some argue (as suggested by a first reading of the text), that the nation understood nothing until Moses translated the voice for them. Others argue that the nation merited understanding through prophecy. Yet others argue that the nation’s attainments were due to intellectual enlightenment. According to the last two opinions, this was an unrepeated phenomenon of understanding. Maimonides continually stresses how much intellectual effort is required for a man to reach the level of the philosopher-prophet, a level far beyond the attainments of the nation gathered at the foot of the mountain. Chajes maintained that, according to Maimonides, the nation merited understanding of “intelligibles” at Mount Sinai: Behold, Maimonides sets himself the goal in many of his chapters to show that the Torah does not teach us wisdom, but only righteous laws and judgments, and informing us about the way man should behave towards his Creator, in what way and manner we must act righteously with our fellow, and what must be the conduct of kings and judges. All those laws came to us from the blessed Name, by means of those miracles that go beyond nature—changes in the order of Creation. However, the principles of faith, such as the existence of the blessed Name, reward and punishment in the next world, and divine providence—the Torah relied for all of these matters on what had already been confirmed by proof, by the laws of intellect and on what had become clear to the nation at the hour of receiving the Torah, at the hour they reached the level of prophecy, when

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The Dual Truth they also attained the intelligibles—including the women and children, who were gathered together at the chosen moment, though it is not in their nature to understand these high and exalted matters, which do not [ordinarily] come to us except to one excellent of the select; in any event, this was a special miracle at the hour of the chosen moment, that all of the nation reached the level of prophecy, as the Guide [of the Perplexed] says at the beginning of chapter 16 of part two, that the Torah is received in the way of prophecy, which clarifies matters that the eye has not the power to attain; and more than that, he wrote in chapter 38 of part two, that intellectual attainments come to the prophets, and prophecy will complete the power of speech, so that it knows matters that those faithful to reality [natural philosophers] attained from preparatory intellectual work. See there: indeed, our rabbi clarified a new thing for us: that the prophets, though they lack all the necessary and required preparatory work to attain divine wisdom—which only comes to one after effort and weariness, and after he who desires it has gathered handfuls of various studies of the wisdom of nature and logic and studiousness—nevertheless know all the matters of reality, and they are learned in them, and they arrive at the essence of wisdom, as if they had studied them with all the preparatory work that helps to reach the interior. And not only does he know the future from the word of God that comes to him, and not only does he know the elements of wisdom and faith from prophecy, but also in addition to all that the divine wisdom teaches him whatever is needed, and he understands it completely, as if all his days he had dealt with nothing but this wisdom.52

Unawares, Chajes incorporates the views of Mendelssohn into his description of Maimonides’s stance: that the Torah is not meant to teach philosophy but only norms and ethical behavior. This is despite the fact that Maimonides believed that Aristotelian philosophy is embedded in the Torah. For our purposes, however, Chajes explains that according to Maimonides the Jewish people came to know the intelligibles from two sources: from intellectual reflection and from the revelation at Sinai, in which the entire nation understood the intelligibles through the divine influence of prophecy even though the members of the nation had expended no intellectual effort to reach the level required for such 52 In Chajes’s “Tiferet Lemoshe,” 418 in note. This essay was published in 1841 in Ateret Tsvi, in Chajes’s collection of essays. It seems that it was written a year prior, as it opens with a letter of approval from Jacob Orenstein, the rabbi of Lwów, written in Nisan 5599 (1839).

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apprehension. This one-time miracle had an enduring influence on later history. The nation, having effortlessly attained intelligibles through the medium of prophecy, passed down what they had achieved from generation to generation.53 The nation of Israel as whole reached the level of apprehension achieved by every prophet—understanding of intelligibles in all their depth without any effort. Chajes ignores Maimonides’s statements to the effect that only two intelligibles, which can be apprehended by anyone with intelligence, were attained by the nation as a whole at Sinai. Similarly, he ignores Maimonides’s statements that this event happened only once, and that in the future intellectual effort would once again be required to reach a level suitable for such understanding. Maimonides believes that only those who reach an exalted intellectual level can even merit prophecy, attaining through it deeper intellectual apprehension, impossible with reason alone. He writes this later in part 2, chapter 38. Chajes also ignores Maimonides’s statements that even at Sinai there were different levels of attainment. That being said, Chajes continues his discussion and adds that at Sinai the nation perfected its lowly Egyptian state. This is why Moses in Egypt convinced the nation of his calling by performing supernatural miracles perceived by the senses, instead of marshaling intellectual proofs. This process of refinement was completed at Sinai: For from that point onward, all prophets would attain matters [regarding] the true reality in prophetic visions and perfection of reflection and intellect, more than can be achieved by scholars after assiduous study. And see The Guide for the Perplexed, part 2, chapter 33 [which explains] that which the Sages said: that the first two commandments were heard from the mouth of the Almighty, this means, from the mouth of an ultimate proof. Meaning, that they [the words] reached them just like they reached Moses, and Moses did not need to convey them. This is because these 53 According to this argument, Chajes writes (ibid., 420 in the note) that Maimonides maintains in part I, chapter 62, that the intellectual attainment of a philosopher, through the Active Intellect, cannot be forgotten. This is how he explains the “great voice which never ceased” (Deut. 5:19, as translated by Onkelos): “The great and powerful voice that they understood and heard then, on that occasion, never ceased for them, and if intellectual understanding cannot be forgotten, even less so can prophetic understanding be forgotten, which helped then to reach intellectual understanding, and the voice has never stopped with us, because this understanding is impossible to forget at any time, and thereby we negate any challenger and give the lie to everyone who argues and comes to oppose the Torah and what is correct.”

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The Dual Truth two principles—God’s existence and unity—can truly only be attainted through human study, and through proofs, and therefore the prophet and the one who knows them is equal, with no advantage of the one over the other. And these two principles are not exclusively known through prophecy. The Torah said, “you have begun to know that the Lord is your God etc.” See there: we see that in his opinion, through their chosen status and their prophecy they attained two principles of religion through proof. And a great sage has written that whenever the blessed Name wishes that all people should receive the truth of one matter at one time, He then summons faithful messengers to arouse hearts, and supreme Providence prepares effective ways to make the people fit to reach that height.54

In this passage we already see another approach. At first, Chajes had understood that according to Maimonides, the nation really heard, like Moses, the clear words of the first two commandments from the mouth of the Almighty—a deviation from a literal reading of Maimonides. Now, Chajes understands that when Maimonides writes “from the mouth of the Almighty” he is not referring to hearing through sense perception but rather apprehension through “an ­ultimate proof ”—that is philosophical enlightenment. That being said, in Chajes opinion, this enlightenment proceeds from above through a prophetic miracle. In effect, Chajes combines philosophy and prophecy. His quotation on the methods used by God to teach various truths comes from Mendelssohn’s Jerusalem, 55 and Chajes takes Mendelssohn’s statements out of context to serve his own needs. Mendelssohn, as he explains there, offers an explanation entirely at odds with that of Chajes: he believes that the Creator makes available different means for different types of apprehension: necessary eternal truths (like the laws of logic, mathematics, and correct beliefs such as knowledge of the existence of one, eternal, omnipotent God, divine providence, reward and punishment, life after death, and ethical behavior)—are attained solely through reason. Eternal accidental truths (the laws of nature) are attained through the senses and reason. Historical, one-time truths which require preservation (the Exodus, the revelation at Mount Sinai, and laws of the Torah)—are proven by divine speech, writings, or miracles and wonders. That is to say, according to Mendelssohn, there was no philosophical enlightenment at Mount Sinai. 54 Ibid., 419 in note. 55 M. Mendelssohn, Jerusalem, trans. A. Arkush (Hanover and London, 1983) 89–94, 97–102. The quote is a paraphrase of 93. My thanks to Yehoyada Amir who pointed me to this source.

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It is worth noticing that Chajes refers to Mendelssohn as “a great sage” without quoting him by name. It seems that omitting the names of maskilim, even when he relied on them, was a common practice of Chajes; his friends and foes would both criticize him for this. In his article “Igeret Biqoret” from 1840, he writes that Onkelos translated the halakhic passages of the Bible according to the laws of the Sages and not according to the apparent peshat of the verse.56 In a note there he adds that when his friend “the great sage” saw this, he challenged Chajes, asking him why the “excellency of his Torah” fails to mention those instances in which Onkelos interprets against the law of the Sages, such as “and they shall spread the garment,” (Deut. 22:17) and “you shall cut off her hand,” (Deut. 25:11) which he interprets according to the peshat? Chajes argues with his challenger and gives an answer. Regardless, it is clear that the challenger is Krochmal, who received from Chajes, by mail, parts of the draft of the essay which he sent him in Ternopil, responding to him on 1 Adar 5600 [1840],57 including the aforementioned question. Chajes, as was his practice when citing maskilim, does not mention Krochmal by name, calling him only the “great sage,” to avoid explicitly associating himself with the maskilim. This greatly angered Krochmal, when he received the essay in its entirety, including notes, by mail. In another letter dated 8 Iyar, that same year,58 he comments on his inappropriate treatment of other scholars. Krochmal claims that Chajes sometimes cites Zunz’s book The Sermons of the Jews but only mentions him by name once, afterwards referring to him several times only as “the author of the book.” According to Krochmal, Chajes is at risk of being branded with the statement of Rabbi Shimon: “Who are these, whose waters we drink, but their names we do not mention?”59 presumably alluding to the fact that Chajes hides Krochmal’s name even though he drinks from his waters.60 Similarly, Krochmal is indignant at Chajes’s harsh criticism of other researchers such as Rapoport, the local rabbi of Ternopil. Krochmal writes that he has met with Rapoport many times, even discussing Chajes’s essay with him, and he notes Rapoport’s great anger at Chajes. Rapoport

56 Chajes, “Igeret Biqoret,” 511. 57 Krochmal, Kitvei Ranaq, 448–450. 58 Ibid., 452–454. See Hershkovitz, Maharats H  .  ayut, 269–284. 59 BT Horayot 14a. See the omission of Zunz’s name in “Igeret Biqoret,” 495. 60 See Rawidowicz, “Mavo Lekitvei Nah . man Krochmal,” 87, notes 2–6; Rotenburg, Rabbi Tsvi Hirsh H  .  ayut, 109–111; Hershkovitz, Maharats H .  ayut, 236–245, especially note 36.

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responded in kind, and published a critique of Chajes’s essay,61 attacking his content, his arrogance in not mentioning him and other researchers like Zunz by name, and for competing with him over the rabbinate of Prague. Chajes apologized for all of these in the introduction of his essay “Imrei Bina” in 1849.62 He mentions Krochmal’s criticism of the fact that he did not mention Zunz, “the wise and amazing,” by name, and admitted that this contravened decency and etiquette. To Rapoport, who expressed harsh criticism of Chajes for not critiquing his content appropriately among scholars and even made himself his enemy, portraying him as arrogant and copying from others, Chajes responded softly and said that he had already forgiven him. Later in the introduction, he demonstrates his contrition and mentions the names of many contemporary researchers: “The scholar Reggio of Gorizia, the scholar Luzzatto of Padua, my friend Rabbi Girondi of Padua, the scholar Dukes from Pressburg, the great scholar Rabbi Alzari who is known as Fürst, editor of Der Orient, the great and famous scholar Solomon Judah Rapoport, the great scholar our teacher Rabbi Zunz of Berlin, the great scholar our master Rabbi Jost, our teacher the author of Haketav ve-ha-Qabbalah, the great scholar Zecharias Frankel from Dresden, the great scholar the late Nahman Hakohen” (see above section 3).63 Zunz is also mentioned by name later in the essay: “The sage Rabbi Yom Tov Lipmann Zunz,” “the sage Rabbi Zunz.”64 Nevertheless, Chajes did not entirely forgive Rapoport. In this essay, Chajes castigates Rapoport for suspecting him of copying his quotation of Rif in his Igeret Biqoret from Rapoport’s book Toledot Rabbenu Nissim “as if only his eye saw Rif ’s words and the foreigner has no portion or inheritance in them.”65 He does not mention him by name, calling him instead “the great and famous rabbi who critiqued my book Igeret Biqoret.” Later in the article he seems to have felt remorse, mentioning Rapoport by name in a different context: “The great, famous, sage of all things our master Solomon Judah Rapoport who critiques my Igeret Biqoret,” “the great rabbi our teacher 61 Kerem H  .  emed, vol. 6 (1841), 143–147, 204–259. See Hershkovitz, ibid., 410. 62 Chajes, “Imrei Binah,” 871–876. 63 By contrast, Chajes was eager to mention Krochmal by name (immediately after his death in 1840 soon after the critique he had sent him)—“my deceased beloved, the rabbi, comprehensive scholar, and researcher our teacher Rabbi Nahman Hakohen”—already in his book Ateret Tsvi from 1841 in the introduction to his essay “Darkhei Moshe” when describing the Essenes, 449. 64 Chajes, “Imrei Binah,” 887. 65 Ibid., 895–896 in the note and on p. 913.

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Solomon Judah Rapoport.”66 He also mentions again Krochmal’s challenge from Onkelos’s deviations from rabbinic Halakhah, this time citing his full name “my friend, the late rabbi and famous scholar of all things our master Nahman Hakohen.”67 In his last great essay “Minh . at Qenaot,” dedicated to his criticism of the Reform movement, he lets himself speak freely and mentions (negatively of course) by name, the leaders of the Reform movement: Dr. Hess, Friedländer, Ben David, Baruch Landau, Jacobson, Lieberman, Horin, Dr. Herzfeld, Geiger, Holdheim, and Philipson,68 and once again mentioned positively “the great and famous sage our master Rapoport.”69 Before he changed his ways, Chajes cited other maskilic sources without mentioning them by name: In his essay “Hosafot Ledivrei Neviim” (1837– 1838), 193—the enlightened scholar; in his essay “Mevo Hatalmud” (1845), 304—maskil; 328—great sage; 345, 349—scholar; in his essay “Misphat Vehoraa” (1840), 390—scholar (apparently referring to Geiger). That being said, the phenomenon continued even afterwards, albeit only in instances in which he responded to an inquirer whom he did not deem important or when he opposed a position he considered invalid: Responsa of Tsvi Hirsch Chajes (1849–1850), 630, 698, 709, 762, 787, 791, 808, 891—a certain scholar; 795—a certain maskil; 854—the maskilic scholar. According to Jacob Schachter,70 Chajes was referring to Krochmal in all four places in his essay “Mevo Hatalmud.” According to Rawidovicz,71 however, he was referring to Rapoport. It seems clear to me, that Chajes does not mention Mendelssohn by name, lest he appear to be basing himself on the symbol of the Haskalah, which was detested by Chajes’s hasidic neighbors, whom he feared. To return to our subject, it seems that in regards to the revelation at Sinai as philosophical enlightenment, Chajes relied less on Mendelssohn and more on his learning partner, Krochmal. Besides studying together, Chajes saw a draft containing fragments of Moreh Nevukhim Hah . adash (its temporary name) which Krochmal gave to Chajes for review and comments. In Moreh Nevukhei Hazman there is little discussion of the written Torah and specifically no 66 Ibid., 945–946. 67 Ibid., 909 in the note. 68 Chajes, “Minh . at Qenaot,” 981–982 and in the note; 988 in the note; 993 in the note; 999; 1003; 1011; 1015 and in the note; 1020 in the note. 69 Ibid., 1015 in the note. 70 J. Shachter, The Student’s Gide Through the Talmud by Z. H. Chajes, translation from Hebrew (New York, 1960), 85, 180, 249, 266. 71 Rawidowicz, “Mavo Lekitvei Nah . man Krochmal,” 87 n. 5.

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discussion of the revelation at Sinai. In Gate 8, Krochmal begins to describe the first of three historical eras, and says about the dawn of the nation at Sinai: “Similarly, God exalted, strengthened and encouraged his connection to the nation by giving them an exceedingly wondrous and sublime path of laws, statutes, and rulings, righteous and comprehensive, completing the individual and the collective in the most excellent way, promising them in exchange for the preservation of their truth that the nation would not be destroyed or eliminated.”72 As mentioned,73 Krochmal declares his belief that Moses transmitted the Torah to Israel, while he also believes in true prophets who received the contents of their books from divine inspiration. The atheists who think that a deceitful scholar invented these things are insane, and those who cast doubt on a spiritual existence beyond the world, on the traditions of the fathers, on the apprehension of proper intellect and on inner emotions—are mad. Likewise, he states that already during the forty-year sojourn in the wilderness, many details were added to the general laws given by Moses. These were later included in the Torah, and to the body of the Torah were added new laws such as the goat sin-offering, the ruling of the wood-gatherer and the blasphemer, the laws of Second Passover, the ruling of female inheritance, and the marriages of female inheritors. It was Moses who committed the first version of the Torah to writing. However, the shapes of the biblical letters (including those of the Pentateuch) and the current form of the Pentateuch’s wording were consolidated later by prophets and the divinely inspired. The “Watchers,” the “Scribes,” and the “Men of the Great Assembly” finalized the Torah for later generations, transcribing it with ink on parchment in Assyrian script—the Torah’s external garb. They also added the qeri, ketiv, and scribal emendations. Ever since, the text of the Torah was carefully preserved and, with the assistance of divine providence, no hand was allowed to touch it. Despite these textual emendations after Moses, “in terms of its content and spirituality, nothing was changed at all, and the laws, statutes, rulings, testimonies, and holy stories given to Moses at Sinai are the same as those currently in our hand. And this confirming gift reached us, through the chain of true receivers, whom God selected with his infinite wisdom.”74 The excerpts from Krochmal were articulated meticulously, and they were designed to portray their writer as a conservative and a traditionalist. 72 Krochmal, Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, 44–45. 73 Notes 24, 25. 74 Krochmal, Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, 199–200. See also 9, 63–64, and 191. Cf. Rawidowicz, “Mavo Lekitvei Nah  . man Krochmal,” 126–128.

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A careful reading, however, demonstrates that Krochmal avoided discussing a direct prophetic transmission of the biblical text, from above to below. He only writes that the content of the text are divine but not its mode of transmission. Krochmal was careful not to seem like an innovator violating the authority of the text. However, he also never said anything at odds with his radical rationalist views which were based also on his reading of The Guide for the Perplexed. Chajes may not have realized Krochmal’s view that the revelation at Sinai was an event of inspiration from below and not a national prophecy from above. Nevertheless, inspired by Mendelssohn and Krochmal, he presented a stance which combines the notion of prophecy with the notion of philosophical enlightenment. Were it not for Krochmal’s explanation about the nature of the theophany at Sinai, it would have been easier for Chajes to present a more traditional stance—Sinai as direct prophecy. But Krochmal’s interpretation (as understood by Chajes) fit, in Chajes’s opinion, with the stance of Maimonides, as I have presented above.

SUMMARY Researchers of Krochmal and Chajes were aware of the mutual influences between the two. Some put more emphasis on Krochmal’s influence on Chajes (Rawidovicz), others on Chajes’s influence on Krochmal (Hershkovitz), and still others thought that it is difficult to determine who influenced whom more (Rotenberg). Most researchers tended to focus on specific halakhic topics but not topics of principles or philosophy. In this chapter I have tried to show that the influence between them was far deeper and comprehensive than previously assumed, including fundamental, philosophical issues. Overall, it appears to me that the influence of the rationalist, philosopher and theological historian on the talmudist rabbi was far stronger than the reverse. Krochmal is the one primarily responsible for Chajes’s transition from being a standard, traditional rabbi, to becoming a rabbi who gave reason more space, both as a source of dogmatic truth, as well as a method of interpreting Maimonides. Therefore, one can see in Chajes, the fundamentalist rabbi, a man of the middle way, and not simply a devout man of the right and therefore, I believe that Chajes had many characteristics of a Neo-Orthodox rabbi. It is true that when analyzing— from a Galician perspective—the different types of rabbis in Europe in the nineteenth century, that Gertner’s classification is appropriate, and there is no doubt that he was correct to distinguish between Chajes’s maskilic rabbinate of Galicia

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and the Neo-Orthodox rabbis of Germany.75 However, a comprehensive look at the European rabbinates reveals important similarities between Chajes and the modern religious rabbinate in Germany—which followed a middle way, combining revelation with reason and science. These similarities are less about externalities—such as the rabbi and the synagogue—and more about common ideological trends: seeing reason and the sciences as a source identical to revelation, maintaining that revelation is the criterion in cases of difficulties and contradictions, using secular studies to enhance the structure of a person, universalism, advancing the use of Hebrew and so forth. Chajes never disapproved of the Neo-Orthodox rabbis. Quite the opposite. He expended much effort to become closer to the members of Wissenschaft des Judentums in Germany, even though he disagreed with them in many areas (like Hirsch did) and advocated the customs of these rabbis, personal and communal in the synagogue, such as sermons in the language of the country, distinguished dress, order, discipline, cleanliness and even a choir.76 From here I will move to the twentieth century and begin to discuss Hirsch’s influence on the Jewish liberal thinkers of that era.

75 H. Gertner, Harav Vehair Hagedola ( Jerusalem, 2013), 302–304. 76 Chajes, “Minh  . at Qenaot,” 984. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 425–430.

THE DUAL TRUTH Studies on Nineteenth-Century Modern Religious Thought and Its Inf luence on Twentieth-Century Jewish Philosophy EPHRAIM CHAMIEL Translated by Avi Kallenbach V o l u m e II

Boston 2019

CHAPTER NINE

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy in the Twentieth Century INTRODUCTION

T

he end of the eighteenth century marks the beginning of modern Jewish philosophy, a period which would continue until the end of the first half of the twentieth century—the beginning of the post-modernist era.1 Samson Raphael Hirsch—philosopher, spiritual community leader, and modern religious educator—between 1830 and 1880 left his mark on the era as a member of the middle way between isolationist traditionalism and assimilationist Reform, and as one of the founders of neo-Orthodoxy. In this way, he wished to combine tradition and modernity, without abandoning even one of the Torah’s commandments. A neo-romantic and a neo-fundamentalist,2 Hirsch rejects a mystical or rationalist interpretation of the Torah or the commandments. In his opinion, mysticism is accompanied by pagan ecstasy and delusions of unio mystica with God or theurgic influence over Him and rationalism, conversely, leads to man’s estrangement from God. The divine revelation at Sinai was to Hirsch a real historical fact, and it consisted of the revelation of the written Torah as well as all the laws of the Oral Torah. 1 This periodization is for the sake of convenience. On the difficulty of dating the beginning of the modern era, and the spectrum of opinions regarding when the Jewish modern and post-modern eras began, see M. Rossman, How Jewish is Jewish History? (Oxford, 2007), 56–64. 2 For an explanation of these designations see Chapter One above, and my book The Middle Way, vol. 1, 149–151.

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One feature of the modern period is a process of differentiation between the exact, natural, and empirical sciences and the humanities and social sciences (which include also history, philosophy, and theology)—a distinction which did not exist in the Middle Ages, when the only distinction drawn was between theology (the product of revelation) and other rational sciences. Even in the nineteenth century this nascent, modern distinction was still not always clear-cut, and therefore many thinkers continued to speak about the relationship between the statements of revelation and the statements of reason (which include the sciences and philosophy). When Hirsch said that the Torah did not intend to teach sciences or philosophy, only ethics and norms, it was clear to him that revelation also included statements about the material world and history, primarily philosophical and theological statements about God, creation, revelation, redemption, providence, reward and punishment and the like. In Hirsch’s opinion, all true statements, all of which derive from God, are in theory identical. He thus disagrees with Mendelssohn, who completely separated between religion and philosophy-science, as well as Luzzatto, who maintained the existence of a dual truth. According to Hirsch, the truth of revelation is identical to the truth of human reason and science; whenever there are ostensible contradictions between the two, the decisive criterion is generally revelation, as we are dealing with theories whose truth can only be revealed by God. However—and this is the difference between neo-fundamentalism and classic fundamentalism—when a scientific fact has been proven beyond a doubt, then, according to Hirsch, the Torah is indifferent; whatever the case, the Torah’s statement can always be interpreted anew to accord with science. Instead of a philosophical-scientific or mystical interpretation of the Torah and the commandments, Hirsch prefers direct ethical or symbolic interpretation, its message generally moral. He maintains that Judaism is the only path leading to mankind’s redemption. Like every modernist thinker, Hirsch seeks a meta-­ narrative underlying human history, that is, history’s teleological destination. In his opinion, although the God of Israel is sublime and transcendent, He is also the Lord of nature and history as well as the legislator of the Torah. The Jewish people was sent to the nations at His behest to teach them the monotheism and the morality of the Torah received at Sinai. This is based on Hirsch’s stance that the commandments constitute Judaism’s essence, that all commandments have ethical rationales, and that Judaism crowns the morality of the Torah as supreme, unbound by the chains of sensuality like the ethics of flesh and blood.3 3 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, in the sections about Hirsch. Rosman, How Jewish is Jewish History, 48–56 outlines the various a priori approaches of Jewish historians regarding the

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In my opinion, few Jewish thinkers living in Germany after Hirsch and before the Holocaust did not read his writings and were not well-versed in them. I believe that Hirsch’s teachings had a lasting influence on Jewish thought in the twentieth century, and this influence is salient even among non-­ Orthodox, religious Jewish thinkers including Hermann Cohen (1842–1918), Franz Rosenzweig, and Yeshayahu Leibowitz. Although each one of these philosophers espoused a system which denied many of Hirsch’s insights, they nevertheless shared certain views with Hirsch which I intend to highlight. While scholarship recognizes these positions, the link between them and Hirsch (who was philosophically marginal to these thinkers) has not been adequately noted or emphasized.4 In general, many important people avoided, and rightfully so, Hirsch’s apologetic fundamentalism and exaggerated bombast. This aversion caused those who did not delve deeply into his writings to overlook the fact that many modern, religious insights which developed at the end of the nineteenth century, and spread in the twentieth, were drawn from him— whether directly or indirectly. There were other scholars in the twentieth century who were influenced by Hirsch’s method of Bible interpretation, such as Martin Buber and Nehama Leibowitz, but here, I will focus on philosophers. In my opinion, Buber’s antinomian, Hassidic philosophy shares absolutely nothing with Hirschian thought.

YESHAYAHU LEIBOWITZ THE RATIONALIST AND RAV HIRSCH Introduction From a comparison of Leibowitz’s thought to that of Hirsch it is apparent that a wide gap separates Hirsch the neo-fundamentalist from Leibowitz the rationalist antifundamentalist. As opposed to our description of Hirsch the modernist “meta-history” or “meta-narrative” of Jewish history in the context of world history. It is interesting to note the great similarity between the apologetic Orthodox approach of Berel Wein at the end of the twentieth century to Hirsch’s approach in regards to God’s orchestration of history to meet his goals. Wein’s approach is surprising in its fundamentalism, despite the upheavals of two world wars, the holocaust, Zionism, and the establishment of the State of Israel in the twentieth century as well as the transition to post-modernism already mid-century 4 It is interesting that Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg in “Hamore,” 343, took note of the fact that Hirsch exerted an influence on Cohen and Rosenzweig: “All of them beginning with Hermann Cohen and ending with Rosenzweig drew from him [Hirsch] and were made fragrant from his ideological effluence.” He does not, however, provide any details.

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and idealist, Leibowitz, who lived during an age of transition from modernity to post-modernity, espoused (consciously or not) a decidedly post-modern philosophy.5 While Leibowitz rejects an ethical interpretation of the Torah’s commandments, Hirsch maintains the identicality of morality and religious commandments, of revelation and reason, of religion and science. Hirsch believes that any argument for a contradiction between these two realms derives from short-sightedness and heresy. Leibowitz creates a total dichotomy between religion and ethics, and between revelation and science. He argues that each one deals with its own area, neither one overlapping with the other. Therefore, it is impossible—by definition—for them to contradict each other, or for a state of harmony or identicality to prevail between them. Were he to choose from the chain of liberal religious thinkers stretching from Mendelssohn to Leibowitz, Leibowitz would reject the identicality approach of Hirsch (who is in other respects actually a disciple of Mendelssohn) and prefers the compartmental approach of Mendelssohn. That being said, while Mendelssohn believes that a state of harmony prevails between these two realms, Leibowitz believes that they are separated by a tragic dichotomy. According to Leibowitz, ethical behavior is a human discipline, that is, it is valuable inasmuch as it serves mankind. The commandments, however, are completely unrelated to morality. Man observes the commandments because he must serve God, not in order to cultivate his ethical norms. If someone observes the commandments to cultivate his morality, then he is essentially worshiping himself—insincere service of God (shelo lishma), which may even be regarded as idolatry. Leibowitz dismisses any of the idealistic attempts (which reached their pinnacle in Hegelianism) to attribute religious elements to history. Likewise, he rejects the search for religious significance within historical events or the search for a greater God-driven purpose underlying history (a meta-narrative). As opposed to such conceptions (which served as the foundation of Hirsch’s thought), Leibowitz maintains that the world follows its natural course, and man should expect no reward, redemption or enhancement in exchange for observing the commandments; man should make-do with the world as it is.6 Hirsch picked as his cultural hero Judah Halevi, rejecting Maimonides’s philosophy, which, in his opinion, gives undue precedence to human intellectual 5 See on this G. Zivan, Dat Lelo Ashlaya ( Jerusalem, 2006). 6 See A. Sagi, “Meh  . uyavut Datit Veeymat Hatarbut: Leibowitz Kemiqreh Mivh  . an,” in Yeshyahu Leibowitz: Bein Shamranut Leradiqaliut, Diyunim Bemishnato, ed. A. Ravitzky (Tel Aviv, 2007), 128–130.

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inquiry, treating it as man’s ultimate purpose. Instead, Hirsch gives precedence to the observance of the commandments as the ultimate goal of humanity, the commandments serving as a means of developing human, ethical characteristics. By contrast, Leibowitz’s cultural hero and teacher is Maimonides. He interprets Maimonides position differently than Hirsch, arguing that Maimonides gave precedence to religious knowledge of God through divine service and not to pure intellectual inquiry.7 Like Maimonides, Leibowitz is adamant in his opposition to seeking recourse in miracles and to realist-historical interpretation of biblical stories—the foundations of Hirschian thought. Even regarding the theophany at Sinai, it seems likely that Leibowitz does not consider it a historical event occurring within time and space, but only a concept, stimulating recognition of the obligation to fulfill the divine fiat.8 Leibowitz’s God is a Maimonidean deity of negative attributes;9 any corporealization of him whatsoever is detestable idolatry. Hirsch, however, seeks to draw God closer to man, and prefers corporealization with pedagogical merit over cold distance from divinity.10 It seems to me that Leibowitz’s years spent in intensive studies in Germany (where his family immigrated) and in Switzerland between the years 1919– 1934 (age 16–31) afforded him the opportunity to familiarize himself with the neo-Kantian thought of Hermann Cohen. Moreover, as a man who observed the commandments out of ideology, and who acted out of a deep sense of religiosity, he also drew close to certain aspects of Hirsch’s thought. Most of his friends in the Neo-Orthodox communities in Germany (to which a young Leibowitz and his family belonged) kept Hirsch’s commentary on the Pentateuch on their   7 See E. Schweid, “’Teo-tsentriut Veantropo-sentriut’: Yah  . aso shel Leibowitz Lehumanizm,” in Yeshyahu Leibowitz: Bein Shamranut Leradiqaliut, Diyunim Bemishnato, ed. A. Ravitzky (Tel Aviv, 2007), 15; A. Ravitzky, “Arakhim Vereshamim: Al Yeshayahu Leibowitz,” in Yeshaya’hu Leibowitz ’Olamo Vehaguto, ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1995), 22, as well as the disagreement between Leibowitz and Ravitzky regarding the last chapter of The Guide for the Perplexed in Y. Leibowitz and A. Ravitzky, Vikuh  . im al Emuna Vefilosofia (Tel Aviv, 2006). It is interesting that Hermann Cohen, whom I will discuss next, also offered a non-Aristotelian interpretation of Maimonides, although he preferred an ethical one. See Y. Amir, “‘Lefikakh Nivra Adam Yeh  . idi’: Partikularizm Veuniversalizm Befilosofiat Hadat shel Hermann Cohen,” in Derekh Haruah  . : Sefer Hayovel Leeliezer Schweid, ed. Y. Amir, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem, 2005), 652–653.  8 See Schweid, “Teosentriut,” 17–18; A. Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit Lenokhah  .  Hamoderna,” in idem (ed.), Yeshaya’hu Leibowitz’ Olamo Vehaguto ( Jerusalem, 1995), 162–175.   9 See Ravitzky, “Arakhim Vereshamim,” 17. 10 See Hirsch on Gen. 6:6.

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bookshelves, and The Nineteen Letters, Horeb, and his articles in Jeschurun were a fundamental part of their libraries. I assume that Leibowitz was also well aware of these works, and read them in their original, even if he never acknowledged this—just as he never acknowledged any influences besides that of Maimonides. His sister Nehama Leibowitz innocently recounts (Iyunim Besefer Vayiqra, 148) that their father translated portions of Hirsch’s commentary on the Pentateuch, which was, presumably, close to his heart, into Hebrew; she even cites some of his interpretations in her commentary, sometimes accepting, sometimes rejecting. While both Yeshayahu and Nehama shy away from Hirsch’s archaic and superlative apologetics, I do not think one can ignore the influence Hirsch exercises over both of them. The difference between young Leibowitz and mature Leibowitz is well known. When the young Leibowitz arrived in Israel, he brought with him contradictory sets of influences: the rationalism of Mendelssohn, Kant, and young Hermann Cohen, and the romanticism of Hirsch, older Hermann Cohen, and Rosenzweig. A touchstone to his views is his attitude towards Maimonides. At that time, his criticism of Maimonides was very harsh. In a lecture he delivered in 1953, later published in an anthology of his articles, he claims that Maimonides’s systematic doctrine of attributes is a foreign system absorbed by medieval Judaism from its non-Jewish surroundings. According to him, Judaism is only based on observance of Halakhah. Therefore, he strongly disapproves of Maimonides’s assertion that the pinnacle of human perfection is based on one’s personal intellectual apprehension—all other collective-­societal elements of practical life being nothing more than means to achieving this end. This is reminiscent of similarly harsh statements made by Hirsch in his criticism of Maimonides in Letter Eighteen of the Nineteen Letters. Likewise, Leibowitz maintains that Maimonides himself was conflicted over this issue, espousing two contradictory approaches. On the one hand, he maintained a radical individualistic notion of human perfection, viewing the commandments as means towards this end (Guide for the Perplexed, part 3, 27; 54); on the other hand, he also expresses a collective perspective in which the commandments are the goal in and of themselves (ibid., 3:34). Leibowitz recommends adopting the view that man’s ultimate purpose lies in keeping the commandments. In the following decades, certain events would have an impact on Leibowitz’s views: the helplessness of the chief rabbinate and the religious leadership in Israel in modifying Halakhah to suit it to the new reality of the state, before and after its founding; the appearance of a radical reading of Maimonides based on the writings of Strauss and Pines who claimed that

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

he was a non-religious philosopher, “a man of Athens”; and the rise of nationalistic religiosity based on the teachings of Rabbi Tsvi Yehuda Kook (which I will discuss in more detail below). In an article from 1955, Leibowitz critiqued Leo Strauss (who in that year arrived from Chicago to spend a sabbatical at the Hebrew University), arguing that Maimonides was a religious believer par excellence, a “man of Jerusalem” akin to the patriarch Abraham and not a philosopher.11 By the time his first article from 1953 was re-published in 1975, his criticism of Maimonides had already grown far more moderate. He no longer strongly disapproved of Maimonides, and added that his own stance was not at odds with the system of Maimonides. Leibowitz had become a Maimonidean, dubbing Maimonides his cultural hero, even if he rejected some of his statements, and re-interpreted certain elements of his worldview. I will now present those views which Leibowitz shared with Hirsch.

Neo-Kantianism and Criticism of Kantian Ethics Both Hirsch and Leibowitz were greatly influence by Immanuel Kant, and both accepted many of his assumptions. That being said, they did not agree with his conclusions about Judaism— its norms versus Kantian ideal norms—completely disagreeing with him on these issues, each one for his own reasons. Kant’s Copernican revolution—his idea that the thing-in-itself cannot be perceived by man’s senses, and that only phenomena, that is, things that can be apprehended by the senses, can be examined—was the beginning of the end of the age of rationalism, the end to reason’s formerly autocratic reign. Romantic idealism undercut reason, a faculty confined within human flesh and blood. Kant concludes that the source of morality and correct norms is man’s autonomous 11 The article in question is Y. Leibowitz, “Mitsvot Maasiot.” The article first appeared in Torah Umitsvot Bazman Hazeh: Hartsaot Umaamarim (Tel Aviv, 1954), 9–26. The book includes lectures and articles written between 1942–1954. See specifically 11–15. The article was republished in Yahadut, Am Yehudi, Umedinat Yisrael (Tel Aviv, 1975), 13–36. The change in Leibowitz’s treatment of Maimonides was noted by Z. Harvey at the 16th Jewish Studies Congress 2012. The article in which Leibowitz argues with Strauss is “Harambam: Haadam Haavrahami,” Beterem 211 (1955), 20–22. See on this article Z. Harvey, “Leibowitz al Haadam Haavrahami, Emuna Venihilizm,” in Avraham Avi Hamaaminim, ed. M. Chalamish, H. Kasher, Y. Silman (Ramat Gan, 2002), 347–352, who remarks upon the change in Leibowitz’s thought which occurred in that year. See a discussion of Maimonides’s views according to Strauss and Pines and Harvey’s interpretation of the subject in H.O. Rechnitzer, Nevua Vehasder Hamedini Hamushlam: Hateologia Hamedinit shel Leo Strauss ( Jerusalem, 2002), 214–217. On Leibowitz’s deep religious motivations see Ravitzky, “Mavo: Menatets Hapesilim,” in Yeshaya’hu Leibowitz ‘Olamo Vehaguto, ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1995), 9–12.

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and adjudicatory practical reason (and not pure reason)—not an external, heteronomous force (like God) lying beyond the boundaries of perception. He derives the principle of man’s moral obligation from the categorical imperative of his reason, and considers reaching such a high level of morality a holy act. He believed that the Old Testament was a human work, fitting for its time, but obsolete with the appearance of Christianity. The latter abolished the antiquated rituals and norms of particularistic Judaism, and adopted the best part of it for mankind as a whole. Pure Christian faith is the religion of reason.12 For Hirsch, there was, nevertheless, what to learn from Kant. In his opinion, God is the most sublime thing-in-itself; if reason cannot apprehend him or prove his existence (as He transcends it), we have no choice but to turn to and rely upon the tried and tested dictates of revelation. Hirsch claims that practical reason is also subject to the natural sensuality of flesh, and man cannot legislate for himself an ultimate morality as an absolute imperative. Only heteronomous morality from a source beyond the world is free of natural inhibitions; only it can guide man to holiness and bring him freedom and redemption: “Not isolated or abstract ‫“[ צדקה‬justice”] and ‫“[ משפט‬judgement”], but only ‫ משפט‬and ‫משפט‬ in the spirit of Israel, ‫ צדקה‬and ‫ משפט‬as fruit ripened on the tree of life of ‘walk before God’—only these can redeem the world from crime and catastrophe. The whole person must walk before God, his whole life must be devoted to duty and commandment. Then, in his relationships with people also, he will fulfill the dictates of duty alone.”13 Man’s autonomous intellect allows him to choose, as his imperative, the morality of Judaism over the morality of man.14 In Hirsch’s words: “The law [of nature created by God] to which all powers submit unconsciously and involuntarily, to it shall thou also subordinate thyself, but consciously and of thy own free will. ‘Knowledge and freedom,’ these words indicate at once the sublime mission and the lofty privilege of man.”15 This is what he writes in an essay “Ethical Training in the Classroom,” published in Jeschurun: The moral law that is to be translated into reality in the lives of men and nations is simply the universal law of God in the microcosm of the small 12 Y. Ross, “Avodat Hashem Kebituy shel H  .  erut,” in Yeshaya’hu Leibowitz ‘Olamo Vehaguto, ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1995), 137 especially note 19 on Kantian source of this idea. Ross’ article examines the influence of Kant on Leibowitz and Leibowitz’ critique of Kant. 13 Hirsch, Gen. 18:16–17. 14 Cf. Schweid, “Two Neo-Orthodox Responses,” 22–24. 15 Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters, 33.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine circle of mankind and of human existence. This is a law that heaven and earth must obey without a will of their own. [. . .] This is a law that heaven and earth must obey without a will of their own. [. . .] That same law was offered to man so that he might choose to obey it of his own free will. It did not originate from within man but was addressed to him from without by that same lawgiving God. By obeying this moral law of his own free choice, man joins the great chorus of creatures that serve God. [. . .] With this philosophy as a guide, we need not fear what will happen to man’s moral character if he undertakes to delve into the workings of nature. Indeed, this philosophy expressly invites us to study the heavens and the earth so that the course of every star in the heavens and the growth of every seedling on earth may reveal to us not only the Creator but also the Lawgiver. The Will of the Lawgiver operates not only as the perfect, unchanging physical law in heaven and on earth, but also as the moral law that waits for men to accept it of their own free choice to rule the course of their daily lives. [. . .] It is not mere blind belief but the happy, unconditional subordination of man’s whole existence to this higher dictate of duty that can give him untroubled bliss here on earth and that can promote the fulfillment of our individual hopes and our hopes for all mankind.16

That is to say, scientific research poses no threat to the student. Research which assumes that the same God who created and put in place the laws of nature is also the legislator of the laws of the Torah will, in any discipline, reveal the moral law of the supreme authority. Students must choose this law willingly, allowing it to guide their daily lives, leading to their happiness and redemption. Kant had concluded that the source of morality is man’s practical reason, legislating as a categorical imperative the best possible morality based on what every person would want everyone else to do for the collective good. Hirsch disputes these conclusions and prefers the divine laws of the Torah as the source of morality. Discussing the difference between rational morality and the morality of Judaism and Halakhah, Hirsch writes: Exactly how far will you get by making virtue and morality dependent upon the most potent of all human incentives, that of selfishness and the urge of self-preservation? How far will you get if you try to make men unselfish by appealing to their egotism? How far indeed? A morality based on maxims such as those cited above will endure only as long as men who 16 Hirsch, Writings, 7:47–57.

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The Dual Truth view everything in terms of selfish gain will consider it to their advantage to practice honesty, morality and humanity. But it will collapse as soon as considerations of expedience command a change in tactics, as soon as the prospects of gain are too enticing, the temptations too attractive, the anticipated pleasures too sweet and the chances of immediate physical gratification too alluring. A morality based on selfish considerations will collapse once people come to trust in their own shrewdness or in the exaggerated promises of social or medical quacks as an insurance against the ruinous consequences of dishonesty or immorality. In the final analysis, a morality founded on such selfish underpinnings turns into its very opposite once the youth who has thus been trained to become an egoist goes out into life. [. . .] To do good because it is the Will of God [. . .] to give up selfishness and dehumanizing sensualism because God would have us do so; to practice justice and humanity; to be holy and human and to love all of His creatures— in short, to be human because God would have it so—this is the message of salvation Judaism has for the rest of mankind. ‫[ ואהבת לרעך כמוך‬love your companion as yourself], not because it is in your interest, not because it happens to be expedient, not because you expect others to behave in the same manner toward you, but… because I, your God, require it of you.17

Leibowitz agrees with Hirsch’s assessment of Kant’s conclusions.18 He also believes that God is the most sublime thing-in-itself—an unknowable being, who one must decide whether or not to believe in19 and he also thinks that the true categorical imperative is for man to accept the yoke of heaven as an obligation.20 In Leibowitz’s words: I do not see religious faith as a [logical] conclusion that a person reaches, but rather as a determination of values which a person decides; and like any value-content in a person’s consciousness, it does not derive from the information provided to him or given to him but is rather an obligation which a 17 Ibid., 389–391. Hirsch’s polemic is also against Kant’s entire rational moral system as well as utilitarianist philosophies based on Mill. 18 See Schweid, “Teo-tsentriut,” 18–19; N. Kasher, “Elohim Betefisat Hayahadut shel Leibowitz,” in Yeshaya’hu Leibowitz ‘Olamo Vehaguto, ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1995), 92–108. 19 N. Kasher, “Otonomia shel Hadat Veotonomia shel Haadam Hadati,” in Yeshayahu Leibowitz: Bein Shamranut Leradiqaliut, Diyunim Bemishnato, ed. A. Ravitzky (Tel Aviv, 2007), 105– 106. Kasher’s article presents (albeit from a perspective different than that of Ross) the influence of Kant on Leibowitz and the differences between them. 20 See Ross, “Avodat Hashem,” 132, 142; Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit,” 172.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine person accepts upon himself. [. . .] There are no paths to faith, because faith is the highest expression, perhaps the only expression, of man’s free choice. A person can accept upon himself the yoke of the kingdom of heaven and the yoke of Torah and the commandments, or refuse to accept them, and no method in the world can guide his determination and decision.21

However, unlike Hirsch, Leibowitz does not choose the norms of Judaism because of their divine source. Even if a real theophany at Sinai did take place, he argues, it failed at its pedagogical mission: immediately after Sinai, Israel worshiped the golden calf. He agrees with Kant that God is not an instrumental function meant to improve man’s morality.22 In his opinion, the norms of Judaism are superior, because they are the only way man can free himself of natural reality, the only way he can serve God selflessly. Only the commandments of Judaism run against the current of human nature and are designed to combat it,23 and therefore, the only way to achieve autonomy and freedom is through the observance of Judaism’s commandments.24

The Categorical Imperative versus the Halakhic Imperative As mentioned, Kant maintains that a person should obey the categorical imperative as an obligation of practical reason—doing something because it is right thing to do—and not due to his conscious, driving him to feel compassion. By feeding this feeling of compassion, man fulfills a human need and interest and does not fulfill his obligation in an autonomous-rational manner. Leibowitz follows in Kant’s footsteps, replacing the categorical, moral imperative with a halakhic imperative which should be obeyed out of a decision to serve God, and not for any other ulterior motive—neither to curb the evil inclination, nor to fulfill the call of the good inclination, both representations of human interests. It is interesting that a similar motif appears in Hirsch’s writings as well, despite the fact that he interprets the commandments as reflecting the greatest and highest system of morality. In his commentary on Lev. 19:18 on the famous commandment “and you shall love your comrade as you love yourself; I am the Lord,” Hirsch writes: 21 Y. Leibowitz, “Qeriat Shema,” in Emuna Historia Vearakhim ( Jerusalem, 1982), 11. See also Leibowitz and Ravitzky, Vikuh  . im al Emuna, 79–80. 22 See Ross, “Avodat Hashem,” 135. 23 See Kasher, “Otonomia,” 100–104; Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit,” 170. 24 See Ross, “Avodat Hashem,” 142–145; Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit,” 170.

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The Dual Truth Finally, the sum total of the duty to sanctify social relationships is capsulized in the mitzvah of loving one’s fellow man. All these requirements of social holiness are authorized by the Divine seal: '‫“[ אני ה‬I am the Lord”]. This statement clarifies that these teachings have nothing to do with selfish considerations or expedienc. They are ordained strictly as consequences of true awareness of God: God—hence respect everything that exists and lives, because the world and all that it holds belongs to God and is sacred unto Him! God—hence, we, too, are able and obligated to be holy, i.e., to be man, who is endowed with moral freedom; to be man, who emulates his Creator in truth, justice, and love.

Leibowitz writes similarly about the same commandment: “And you shall love your comrade like yourself” is not unique to Judaism. [. . .] Moreover, the verse “and you shall love your comrade like yourself”— as it is usually quoted—does not exist in the Torah: The verse says “And you shall love your comrade like yourself I am the Lord.” The obligation to love one’s comrade does not derive from man’s status as man but rather from his position before God. “And you shall love your comrade like yourself” without the conclusion “I am the Lord”—this is the great principle of the atheist Kant. The greatness and novelty of this great principle in the Torah is its placement and framing among the commandments. [. . .] Thus “and you shall love your comrade like yourself” ceases to be good advice, a pious wish, a lofty goal, and a sublime ideal, and becomes something real: a law which a person must relate to seriously—like laws enforced by the police.25

In his commentary on Lev. 25:36 “do not exact from him advance or accrued interest, and you will fear your God,” Hirsch explains the prohibition of taking interest along similar lines: The rationale of the commandment is not national or based on social classes: You must acquire the means that enable you to accomplish your life’s mission. But part of this mission is to acquire also the means that enable you to help your brother. For your brother is bound up with you, as part of the society in which you live; hence, you must help him, too, accomplish his 25 Leibowitz, Yahadut, 27. See Y. Leibowitz, Sheva Shanim shel Sih  . ot al Parashat Hashavua ( Jerusalem, 1988), 673–677.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine life’s mission. What you acquire, you acquire for yourself and for him also. His life is bound up with you and with your life. This ‫“[ עִ ם‬with”] makes you into an ‫“[ עַם‬people”]. Not communist coercion, not taxes imposed by a human overlord, not the specter of a Red revolution; rather, the recognition of duty dictated by the fear of God—that is what bonds the people together.

Hirsch offers similar interpretation to the commandment of charity, explaining that it should not be observed as an expression of compassion but rather as an obligation of justice. The rich man needs the poor man in order to fulfill his own obligation and actualize his ethical and spiritual purpose—not vice versa.26

Transcendentalism By removing God from man’s intellectual and ethical realms, Kant intensified God’s transcendence, leaving God as nothing but postulate (an a priori principle which cannot be proven), strengthening practical reason as the arbiter of ethical norms. While Hirsch accepts Kant’s notion of transcendence, he does not accept all of Kant’s conclusions. To Hirsch, transcendence is an important principle, serving him in his battle against a variety of philosophical ideologies: Spinozan pantheism, speculative materialism, Hegelian Christian dialectics, and kabbalistic and Hassidic panentheism—all of which he considers pagan abominations. By contrast, he has no qualms about confronting the inherent tension of a God who is both close and distant, a God who, despite being separated from his creations by an unbridgeable gap, answers man’s prayers and needs, performs miracles, delivers messages through prophecy, and intervenes in nature and in history according to an intentional plan. He does not even see anything wrong with corporealizing God if this will contribute to one’s faith, and prefers a corporeal God to the distant cold God of philosophy. Leibowitz, however, like the radical interpreters of the Guide for the Perplexed, takes the argument of transcendence to its extreme. He argues that nature and history are devoid of God’s presence; there is no connection between man and God, and one cannot even describe God as having a personality.27 As a man of science, Leibowitz recognizes the exclusive right of research to establish claims about physiology, nature, and the universe, and banishes 26 See Hirsch, Ex. 12:3–6; 22,24; Deut. 15:8. 27 See Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit,” 169.

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any religious statements from these disciplines. As a rationalist, he rejects all mystical, messianic or racist philosophies which attribute inherent sanctity or uniqueness to the Land of Israel, as opposed to any other land, or to the Jewish soul, as opposed to that of a gentile.28 Hirsch maintains that God is absolutely transcendent, and even with the most sophisticated scientific tools, man cannot arrive at the mystery of God’s essence or at the mystery of creation (i.e., the mystery of life). A created being, man’s intellect is bound to matter and cannot traverse the iron wall separating it from the realm of God’s supreme intellect. God can, certainly, oversee the world at His will, and even turn to man; but the opposite, without God’s assistance, is impossible. In his essay on “The Jewish Sabbath,” Hirsch criticizes the hubris of scientists, philosophers, and their followers, arguing that science is incapable of revealing the secrets of God, of creation, and of life’s beginnings: You are fools to believe that you will be able to analyze and process the Master Himself in your scientific experiments. [. . .] You will never be able to construct the beginning, the very first beginning of a living organism. [. . .] God in His freedom, and all that He has graced with a share of His freedom, are beyond your comprehension and mental grasp. [. . .] Wherever a form, a dimension, an organic structure or a thought-provoking purpose reveals itself, you will be inevitably driven to seek the Only One, the thinking, wise, all-powerful purpose-setting Creator (R. Judah Halevi).29

Leibowitz accepts this view in its entirety, both as a biologist and as a man of religion. He thus distinguishes between biological research and apprehending the essence of life or the soul: Despite the great achievements of all biological disciplines, scientific research, for methodological reasons, cannot decide between various ideological approaches. [. . .] Any scientific study of the phenomena of nature will reveal only a mechanism with physico-chemical significance. In this respect, the relationship between biology and the phenomenon of life is similar to the relationship between neuropsychology and the phenomena of psychic existence.30 28 Ibid., 164. 29 Hirsch, Writings, 8:202–203. 30 Y. Leibowitz, Bein Mada Lefilosofia: Maamarim Hartsaot Vesih  . ot ( Jerusalem, 1987), 14.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

The Essence of Judaism—Norms Both Hirsch and Leibowitz maintain that Judaism is the sum of its commandments. In this respect, Hirsch is following in the footsteps of Mendelssohn who maintained that Judaism is a practical code of laws, divine revelation never being meant to teach mankind about ethical truths, eternal scientific truths, or eternal philosophical truths about God (such as His existence, nature, His creation of the world and man, His reward and punishment). Leibowitz follows in the footsteps of Hirsch and Mendelssohn and thus deviates from Kant— who advocated freedom deriving from the autonomy of practical, adjudicating reason, and who considered heteronomous morality slavery—and from Hermann Cohen’s Kantian interpretation of Judaism. Like Hirsch, Leibowitz thinks that true freedom is the ability to freely choose to commit to following Jewish law.31 That being said, the motivations of Mendelssohn, Hirsch, and Leibowitz were all very different. Mendelssohn argues that eternal truths are perceived through intellect. Therefore, all of humanity is exposed to them and to the happiness which results from acting in accordance with them. In contrast, the norms of Judaism derive from historical truths (the Exodus and the theophany at Sinai), and they were granted to the Jewish people as a private gift. After Kant had ruled out reason’s ability to apprehend such truths, Hirsch argued that we need revelation in order to learn the truths we seek, primarily proper ethical norms. These norms, which can be used to sanctify sense experiences, were given to the Jewish people on deposit, so that they would foster them and teach them to all of mankind (as the first among equals and not as “more” equal), thus initiating the redemption of humanity. Unlike Kant—who maintains that human freedom can only be expressed by acting autonomously, by following the categorical imperative dictated by practical reason—Hirsch and Leibowitz believe that man can only be freed by willingly choosing to observe the commandments of Judaism as an obligation—as Judah Halevi put it: “Only a slave of God is free,” (in his poem Avdei Hazman [Slaves of Time]).

31 Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters, 31–32. I agree with Ross’ conclusion that in terms of this issue Leibowitz belongs to the generation of interwar Orthodox thinkers in Germany who refused to accept Kant’s autonomous morality as the manifestation of freedom, as well as Hermann Cohen’s Jewish interpretation (according to his earlier system) based on Kant. Ross does not note what I have added, that the source of this view was already present in the nineteenth-century in Hirsch’s teachings. See Ross, “Avodat Hashem,” 145. Kasirer and Glicksberg, Misinai Lelishkat Hagazit ( Jerusalem, 2008) attribute this worldview to Hirsch’s grandson Isaac Breuer, not noting that the latter had learned this view from his grandfather.

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Hirsch maintains that only the morality of the Torah—dictated by a God free from the restraints of nature, who created man, granted him free choice and gave him a material sensual body—allows man to free himself from the bonds of flesh, to sanctify his body, and to merit ethical freedom and redemption. Writing about the biblical concept of “impurity,” which was atoned for by the head-plate worn by Aaron when he officiated in the Temple, Hirsch explains: ‫[ טומאה‬ritual impurity] is a state in which every living thing—including man who is called to moral freedom—submits to the ruling force of the body. The essence of this force is embodied in death; hence ‫[ טומאת מת‬the impurity of the dead] is ‫[ אבי אבות הטומאה‬the primary source of all ritual impurity]. ‫ טומאה‬signifies the compulsion of natural forces, the power that basically has been considered a deity by pagans throughout the ages, people who deny the freedom of God as they deny the freedom of man, and who think that everything is subject to the physical compulsion of blind governing necessity. This conception is completely antithetical to the Sanctuary, whose purpose is to promote the idea of morally free man on the basis of the actual existence of morally free God. . . Just as He, in His almighty power and freedom, reigns supreme over all the compelling forces of nature, He also summons man, whom He created in the image of His Divine freedom, to rise above all the compelling forces of blind nature and lead a life of continually expanding moral freedom, a life of serving God and God alone, a life of holiness—and holiness means liberation from domination by the forces of blind nature.32

Explaining sanctity as the highest form of ethical behavior, he writes on Ex. 15:11 explicitly: “‫[ קדושה‬holiness] in man is the highest degree of moral freedom, where the moral will is no longer engaged in a struggle, but is absolutely ready to do God’s will.” Treating norms as the sum of Judaism was important to Hirsch not only to distinguish between them and eternal truths, but also to battle (what he considered) two pernicious phenomena: (1) The Reform movement, which in Hirsch’s view had devoured traditional Judaism—seeking to abolish the commandments, deeming them obsolete and inappropriate for the modern rational man, claiming that the essence of Judaism is a theoretical ethical monotheism based on principles of faith, not the commandments. Declarations of 32 Hirsch, Ex. 28: 38. See also Lev. 11:43–44, 19:2.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

faith are not enough for Hirsch. Man must submit to the will of God and his commandments; only these can banish idolatry and inculcate ethical habits. Because the Reform movement has nothing to do with Judaism, Hirsch rules that one should separate completely from the German-Jewish community under Reform control and establish a separate Orthodox community. (2) Christianity, which maintains that the commandments of Judaism were null after the coming of Jesus, and that the belief in his ability to save man from the bonds of flesh and sin (otherwise inescapable) is a preferable alternative. All the romantic philosophers of the time praised Christianity as the vehicle of Europe’s spiritual redemption. With considerable success, it chewed away at Judaism, as reflected by the initiation of religious conversions to make them equal members of the surrounding society, allowing them to enjoy European culture and to free themselves from the yoke of the commandments. Hirsch, however, maintains that Christianity has failed in its mission. Only Judaism and its demand for ethical action can bring salvation to mankind. For similar reasons, Hirsch also rejects the view of the philosophers and the kabbalists who maintain that Judaism is primarily a system of beliefs and metaphysical-theological dogmas, the commandments being only secondary. Hirsch bases Judaism on the 613 commandments, their goal to instill ethical behavior. Moreover, Hirsch maintains that an ethical explanation of the commandments is the next stage after accepting them as an expression of pure service of God. When answering why one should observe the commandments, he gives an answer reminiscent of Leibowitz’s recurring formulations: “Because it is God’s will, and it is your duty to be the servant of God with all your powers and resources and with every breath of your life. [. . .] This answer is not only adequate; it is essentially the only one possible. [. . .] we should have to perform them, not because there was such-and-such a reason for any commandment, but because God had ordained it. How else could we be servants of God or belong to Him?”33 Leibowitz considers the commandments the essence of Judaism for reasons similar to those of Hirsch—although he opposed different phenomena 33 Hirsch, Horeb, clv-clvi. On Christianity’s failure according to Hirsch see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 249–252. In my opinion, Leibowitz and Soloveitchik were not the first revolutionary thinkers to condense Judaism to Halakhah without questions of metaphysics and theology, as claimed by Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit,” 170. This designation belongs to Hirsch and Luzzatto (following in the footsteps of Mendelssohn). They also preceded Hermann Cohen in defining Halakhah as a system of morality. For a detailed description of Hirsch’s ethics see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 274–296.

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under different circumstances.34 He states that: “We define Judaism as an institutionalistic religion, not only because it has institutions (every religion has institutions) but because these institutions—the practical commandments— are, for Judaism, the religion itself; [the religion] does not exist outside of these institutions.”35 As mentioned, like Hirsch, Leibowitz also rejects Kant’s view that practical reason can adjudicate morality, freeing man from the bonds of nature and furnishing him with sanctity. He, too, maintains that intellect is bound to the body and to the circumstances of natural laws.36 He, too, rejects the views of the philosophers and the kabbalists, who referred to the commandments as only serving a functional purpose, and instead saw the pure service of God with practical commandments as the primary element of Judaism.37 But Leibowitz had different opponents to Hirsch. Leibowitz struggled against Israeli secularism, primarily institutionalized secularism, which was reflected by non-adherence to Jewish Halakhah, recoiling from service of God, and rejecting the burdens of tradition. He also struggled against those who opposed his claim that religious observance is what defines who is a Jew, and fought the spreading materialism of Israeli society and its institutions which he believed were leading to its moral decay. He maintained (like Hirsch with respect to the Reform movement) that a religious Jew cannot cooperate with a secular Jew, and that any dialogue between them is pointless.38 Leibowitz feared that the alienation of secular Jews from the commandments was preventing them from achieving transcendence, which, in his opinion, can only be realized through feeling an obligation to sincerely serve God through the performance of the commandments. Only the commandments allow man to transcend the bonds

34 Leibowitz also rejects the Reform movement although it was not one of his chief concerns. See Leibowitz, Yahadut, 14. 35 Leibowitz, Yahadut, 14. See also 17. 36 See Kasher, “Otonomia,” 106–111; Sagi, “Meh  . uyavut Datit,” 114. 37 See M. Halbertal, “Yeshayahu Leibowitz: Bein Hagut Datit Lebiqoret H  .  evratit,” in Yeshaya’hu Leibowitz ’Olamo Vehaguto, ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1995), 225. 38 See A. Sagi, “Petah  .  Davar,” in Yeshaya’hu Leibowitz ’Olamo Vehaguto, ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1995), 13–14. It is worth noting and emphasizing that according to Leibowitz the Reform movement perverts the history of Jewish religion which supports “Torah for its own sake”; the Reform movement bases Judaism on ethical humanism, seeking to use the Torah as a light unto the nations, a tool to bring redemption to mankind, like Kabbalah which wishes to use Judaism as a tool to mend cosmic, metaphysical worlds. According to this, it would seem that to Leibowitz, Hirsch is no better than the Reform movement. See Y. Leibowitz, “Mashmauta Hadatit Vehamusarit shel Geulat Yisrael,” in Emuna Historia Vearakhim ( Jerusalem, 1982), 120–133. Leibowitz levels the same criticisms against all Jewish ethicists, mentioning explicitly Luzzatto, Hermann Cohen, and Ahad Ha’am—see Leibowitz, Yahadut, 16, 233, 338.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

of natural law; only they can afford humanity true freedom. Note how similar the following is to Hirsch’s statements quoted above: The lifestyle of the world of Halakhah [. . .] is man’s uprising against the dominion of the blind elements of nature over his body and soul. [. . .] Religion, like the Torah and the commandments, redeems man from the bonds of nature, [. . .] from the bonds of natural causality, which lack all meaning. The man who lives in the world of Halakhah, when he sits and when he walks, when he eats and when he has relations—he does not only act in accordance with natural factors, and his life is not the result of only natural factors, acting upon the organs of his body and the whims of his soul—like the life of an animal. Rather he molds his own life, meaning he is autonomous in the most precise sense of the word. He is free; he determines the laws of his life. Only such an autonomous creature deserves the name “man.” This is the power and redemption of religion according to Halakhah: moving man from the world of natural necessity to a world of choice, intention, and purpose. This is the meaning of “no one is free but he who engages in Torah and commandments.” Religion which manifests as a revolutionary and rebellious force can be a powerful educational tool. It can be presented to the student as the only expression of human autonomy. No other human program can take the place of the Torah in this regard, in terms of laws and obligations, because every human ideal—ethical, societal etc.—despite any positive elements it may have, is ultimately determined by the tendencies and desires of its conceiver and therefore does not free man from his reliance on his own nature. Only the divine imperative, not contingent on man’s nature and not tailored to fulfill his material desires and mental impulses, has this power to liberate and its observance can be an expression of freedom. [. . .] A life [lived] in the framework of Torah and the commandments is a heroic life, in which man overcomes his natural tendencies and needs and subjugates them to a predetermined goal which is always present in his mind. Not in vain was it said: “Strong heroes, those who fulfill his command.”39

39 Leibowitz, Yahadut, 60–61. See also 28–31, 48–49. For a discussion of the contradiction in Leibowitz’s words between the commandments as goals in and of themselves and freedom as the purpose of keeping the commandments see A. Rosenak, “Yeshayahu Leibowitz: Teoria Vepraqsis,” in Yeshyahu Leibowitz: Bein Shamranut Leradiqaliut, Diyunim Bemishnato, ed. A. Ravitzky (Tel Aviv, 2007), 296–298.

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Hirsch seeks to use the commandments to sanctify sensuality, whereas Leibowitz seeks to use the commandments to transcend sensuality. Leibowitz also disputed fundamentalist religiosity which accused him of denying theological principles which involve God as a functionary within man’s life and within human history. As a rationalist scientist, he rejects principles such as the divinity of the Torah, divine providence, reward and punishment, redemption and messianism—because, in his opinion, the world “follows its natural course.”40 Against his detractors, Leibowitz argues that Judaism can be summed up as the observance of commandments according to the dictates of religion—not belief in religious dogmas as maintained by Christianity, and not a selection of commandments which provide for spiritual and societal needs as done by the Reform movement. That being said, he believes that the rabbinic establishment displays weakness when dealing with the reality of a sovereign Jewish state, demonstrating its inability to actively fit Halakhah to new circumstances. He advocates removing halakhic decision making from the hands of the rabbis in favor of novel legislation by the religious community in the state, following the principles and sources of Halakhah (a demand which Hirsch would certainly not have agreed with).41 Because according to Hirsch and Leibowitz Judaism is the sum of its commandments, providing man with the ability to combat his sensuality, they both denied any treatment of Scripture which would lower it from its exalted status. Hirsch—who sees the Torah as the source of the commandments, their goal ethical education leading to freedom—claims that Scripture contains no philosophy or mysticism, and no alternative form of science conflicting with reason; the Torah is a code of ethics for man’s moral improvement. Leibowitz—who believes that the Oral Torah is the source of the commandments’ authority, and who opposes using religion as an instrument to advance human goals, even ethical ones42—maintains that the Torah teaches neither physics nor ethics, but rather a 40 See Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit,” 165 and Leibowitz, Yahadut, 299–300. 41 See the discussion of Judaism as a religion of Torah and commandments and not of beliefs and dogmas in Rosenak, “Yeshayahu Leibowitz,” 283–285. On transferring legislative authority from the rabbinate to the people see Leibowitz, Yahadut, 56–57. 42 According to Halbertal observing the commandments for purely ethical reasons is, according to Leibowitz, idolatry. According to Channa Kasher, however, it is not idolatry but merely an insincere form of worship (avodah shelo lishma). See Halbertal, “Yeshayahu Leibowitz,” 221–226; C. Kasher, “Bein Avoda Shelo Lishma Leavoda Zara,” in Yeshyahu Leibowitz: Bein Shamranut Leradiqaliut, Diyunim Bemishnato, ed. A. Ravitzky (Tel Aviv, 2007), 257–266. See specifically 257 n. 4. According to Kasher, Halbertal’s view is similar to that of Shalom Rosenberg. Kasher agrees that there are contradictions within Leibowitz’s writings, and she offers on p. 266 and in n. 43 some proposals for their resolution.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

message of faith, demanding service of God out of freedom: “The subject-matter of the Torah and of all holy texts is realizing man’s status vis-à-vis God (‘I have always placed the Lord before me’) and demanding that man serve God, not teaching information about the world, nature, history or even about man himself. The Torah provides no informative material about the world or about nature.”43 Ultimately, according to both Hirsch and Leibowitz, the goal is the same: liberation from the bonds of man’s sensual nature by drawing close to holiness, and accepting the obligation to serve God. According to Hirsch, this process is carried out through the commandments’ ability to improve man morally; according to Leibowitz, the process is direct: brave observance of the commandments.

The Oral Torah I have already shown above, as well as in my book The Middle Way,44 that one of Hirsch’s revolutions within Jewish tradition was his innovative understanding of the Oral Torah. He argues that the Oral Torah preceded the written Torah both in terms of time and in terms of importance. At Sinai, Moses first received the entire halakhic fabric of the Oral Torah and only afterwards was given the written Torah. The written Torah is not the source of Halakhah (which the Oral Torah interprets and expands) but a short, summarized book of codes, its goal to assist Moses’s audience in remembering their study, serving as a written mnemonic to aid teachers and students in remembering the details of Halakhah. It is therefore no surprise that one who does not know Halakhah sees the Torah as a strange, closed book. With this reversal, Hirsch wishes to achieve two goals. One: to refute the claims of Bible critics who claim that the biblical text is the handiwork of man: obsolete, simplistic, vague and peculiar. Two: to refute the claims of the historical-positivist school, whose members claimed that only the ancient Written Torah is divine, whereas as the Oral Torah was written subsequently, evolving over the course of history, created by the Sages in the spirit of the Torah and ­according 43 Leibowitz, Yahadut, 340. See Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit,” 165. Chana Kasher in her article (“Lebiqoret Mishnato shel Yeshayahu Leibowitz,” in Al Daat Haqahal: Dat Upolitiqa Behagut HaYehudit, ed. B. Brown, M. Lorberbaum, A. Rosenek, and Y. Stern [ Jerusalem, 2012], 655–675), offers a close reading of Leibowitz according to different periods in his life, pointing to changes in his views regarding Judaism and the State within the boundaries of Halakhah. Likewise, she brings several examples that attest to the duality of Leibowitz’s views of Judaism as a need or a value, and the dichotomy between religion and science. 44 Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 258–264, based on Harris, How Do We Know This, 224–227.

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to the changing needs of the eras. By formulating this novel idea—that the Oral Torah preceded the Written Torah—Hirsch establishes its divinity, and accords its greater importance due to its more extensive detail and scope. Therefore, it can dictate the norms of the Jewish People as they were established at Sinai. In Hirsch’s own words: The Written Law renounces its own existence if we deny the Oral Law. [. . .] The Written Law itself makes it clear that its very being depends on the existence of the Oral Law. [. . .] It is not the Oral Law which has to seek the guidance of its authenticity in the Written Torah; on the contrary, it is the Written Law which has to look for its warrant in the Oral Tradition.45

Similarly, in his interpretation of the laws of Hebrew slaves and maidservants: The primary source of Jewish law is not the written word, the “Book,” but the living teachings of the oral tradition: the “Book” serves only as an aid to memory and a resource when doubts arise. The Book itself establishes the fact that the whole Torah had already been transmitted to the people and impressed upon them and lived by them for forty years, before Moshe— just before his death—turned over to them the Book of the Torah. . . On the whole, the “Book” records not principles of law, ‫כללים‬, but individual concrete cases, and they are recorded in such an instructive manner that one can easily deduce from them the principles that were entrusted to the living consciousness of the oral tradition. The language of this “Book” was so skillfully chosen that in many instances an unusual term, a change in sentence structure, the position of a word, an extra or a missing letter, and so forth can imply a whole train of legal concepts. This Book was not intended as a primary source of the Law. It was meant for those who were already wellversed in the Law, to use as a means of retaining and reviving, ever anew, the knowledge that they had already committed to memory. It was intended as a teaching aid for teachers of the Law, as a reference to confirm the Oral Law, so that the students should find it easy, with aid of the written text before them, to reproduce in their minds, ever anew, the knowledge they received by word of mouth. The relationship between ‫[ תורה שבכתב‬Written Torah] 45 Hirsch, Writings, 1:195–196.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine and ‫[ תורה שבעל פה‬Oral Torah] is like that between brief written notes taken on a scientific lecture, and the lecture itself.46

Leibowitz adopts the conclusions entailed by this stance—that the Oral Torah is far greater than and anterior (at least logically) to the Written Torah—but for completely different reasons. Like Hirsch, Leibowitz maintains that the norms which comprise the essence of Judaism are those of the Oral Torah; however, his reasoning is that they were legislated by men and for men to help them transcend nature. “The word of God” in the Bible is not the source of authority for man; man cannot understand the word of God. It was the creators of the Oral Torah throughout history who established the sanctity and status of the written Torah in the consciousness of believers;47 the authority of these sages, in turn, derived from the Jewish agreement throughout history to accept it upon themselves—not due to the divine origins of their teachings. Leibowitz writes: The religion of Israel according to the realms of Halakhah, of the Oral Torah, was not created by Holy Scripture; rather, Holy Scripture is one of the institutions of the religion of Israel. In terms of religion and in terms of logic and causality, the Oral Torah, which is the realm of Halakhah, preceded the Written Torah, which is the realm of belief and values. To use modern cybernetic terminology, one can define the relationship between the Bible and Halakhah as one of feedback. The Halakhah of the Oral Torah, which is a human creation, draws its authority from the words of the living God in the Bible, but [at the same time] determines the contents, structure and meaning of the Written Torah.48

With this statement, Leibowitz tries to achieve two goals. First, as a scientist he seeks to establish the conclusions of research: that Halakhah is an evolving organ within Jewish history, alternative theories failing to stand up to criticism. Second, as a religiously observant Jew and an anti-secularist, he rejects the claim that the commandments are obsolete or redundant, and tries to explain to his 46 Hirsch, Ex. 21:2. See n. 15 in Chapter One. 47 See G. Bareli, “Emuna Vemitsvot: ‘Eyn Betokan Ela Ma Shemegulam Baqelipa,’” in Yeshyahu Leibowitz: Bein Shamranut Leradiqaliut, Diyunim Bemishnato, ed. A. Ravitzky (Tel Aviv, 2007), 267; Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit,” 171–172. 48 Leibowitz, Yahadut, 21. See also 350 and Leibowitz and Ravitsky, Vikukhim al Emunah, 88–92.

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readers how a liberal, rational, progressive scientist such as himself, can think that there is value and importance in observing religious commandments.49

The War against Idolatry, Messianism and the Sanctity of People and Land—Sanctity as a Goal not as a Reality Leibowitz despises mysticism, agrees with Hirsch’s determined struggle against all forms of idolatry, and sees Christianity as a pagan, antisemitic phenomenon.50 Unlike Leibowitz, Hirsch was no lover of Maimonides (to put it lightly). But for various reasons he agrees with Maimonides that the battle against idolatry serves as the rationale for many commandments, and that this struggle occupies an important place in the world of Judaism. As one who clings to the notion of God’s transcendence, Hirsch detests the attribution of sanctity to material matter. Therefore, as mentioned above, he rejects the view of Spinoza, who identifies God with nature, and the view of Christianity, which maintains that God embodied the flesh of Jesus who with a “magic wand” redeemed humanity from the inescapable Original Sin of material sensuality. Hegel’s explanation of Christianity—that God manifests in human history through dialectical processes, which reach their pinnacle in the Christian-German state—was also obviously invalid from Hirsch’s Jewish perspective. Hegel’s dialectical combination of the object-matter of Spinoza with the subject-intellect of Kant, is, in his opinion, speculative philosophy disguised as paganism. Hirsch dubs all of these ideologies “new paganism,” stating that Judaism is the only possible solution for mankind’s redemption. Only by observing commandments hailing from a realm beyond this world can man rise up above his sensuality and sanctify it while still residing in the world. Hirsch also identifies pagan elements within Judaism. The mystics and the Hassidim argue that God is present in matter (panentheism) and praise ecstasy and delusion. Hirsch considers this a corruption of the transcendent God of genuine Judaism, a religion of clear logic and subtle emotion. Attributing inherent sanctity to matter is, in his opinion, a form of mystical paganism: [Sanctity] resides in an object only for as long as the object is a means to a ‫[ מצוה‬mitzvah] that is to be performed; but once the mitzvah has been 49 See Schweid, “Leibowitz,” 18; Z. Harvey, “Meqorotav Hayehudiim shel Leibowitz,” in Yeshayahu Leibowitz Olamo Vehaguto, ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1995), 39–40. 50 See Schweid, “Leibowitz,” 26; Leibowitz, Yahadut, 296, 328–330.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine completed, the object loses its sanctity. Thus Judaism opposes the superstitions of heathen mysticism, which ascribes magical powers to sanctified objects. Sanctified objects are a means in the service of an idea—and this idea alone is holy. Only so long as they serve as a means of expressing this idea do they partake of its holiness. The sanctity conveyed to them is not tangible and does not attach to them forever.51

Hirsch rejects the practical messianism of his kabbalistic contemporaries (such as Rabbi Kalischer), who believed that the Land of Israel and the People of Israel possess immanent sanctity and inherent uniqueness, and that one should ignore the three oaths and immigrate to the Land of Israel as an organized assembly. Hirsch confines the redemption of the Jewish People in its land to a utopian End of Days beyond history. He emphasizes on many occasions that the Land of Israel has no inherent value, and that the nation of Israel is a nation of Torah. The Jewish people became a nation outside of the land, received the Torah outside of the land, and consistently suffered moral failure when it dwelt within the land. According to Hirsch, the Temple and its vessels have no inherent holiness; holiness is dependent on divine commandments, as only God is holy. Those who observe the commandments can only aspire toward holiness but can never realize it completely.52 According to Leibowitz’s understanding of Maimonides, as long as mankind exists, idolatry will remain. It is man’s nature to be attracted to it, unlike service of God which requires man to overcome his nature. Therefore, Leibowitz expresses views similar to those of Hirsch, stating: By contrast, [accepting the yoke of the Torah and commandments] is easy and convenient for the mystical man. In other words: Paganism blurs the lines between holy and profane, by assuming that the connection between man and his God is given to him and naturally exists as part of divine creation. It assumes, whether consciously or not, that God’s place 51 Hirsch, Lev. 6:20. On Hirsch’s disagreement with Judah Halevi’s notion of the uniqueness of the People of Israel and the Land of Israel, see Breuer, Eda, 65; Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 55–61, 78–82. 52 On the new paganism see Hirsch on Ex. 8:22; Lev. 9:2, 10:1; Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 294–297, vol. 2, 263–269. On the redemption of mankind as a whole see, for example, Hirsch on Gen. 9:26 and Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 38–43. On postponing the return to Zion to a messianic era and the neutralization of the Land of Israel and the Temple from intrinsic holiness, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 47–55, 68–72, 89–99, and the excerpts there from Hirsch.

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The Dual Truth is the world, and that God is the world’s functionary; therefore, man is guaranteed divine providence, for good or for bad. In classic paganism, the gods are part of the reality of nature. In the disguised paganism of Christianity, God manifests himself within man. In Kabbalah, the sefirot and partsufim [faces of the Divinity] are divine facets which comprise the worlds or at least inhere within them, to the extent that “no place is empty of him at all.” [. . .] In light of this conception, “God is one” is transformed into a pantheon, and observing the Torah and the commandments ceases to be service of God as man’s ultimate purpose, and becomes instead a system of magical functions, which meet the needs of the divine. Man and his world become primary, God is caused to act on their behalf, and the performance of commandments is turned into idolatry.53

While the theory is similar, the motivations and circumstances are different. For Leibowitz, Zionism sought to find refuge for persecuted Jews: a worthy goal which he witnessed materialize in his life-time. In the first years of the State of Israel, he, like the religious Zionists, believed that this event constituted the beginning of redemption, “the fulfillment of God’s will, or at least an important milestone on the path to redemption!”54 Certainly then, his criticism of Hirsch’s views on the issue was especially harsh. But in time his view would change. In a number of articles published between 1950 and 1954 on the subject of religion and state, he fiercely attacks the helplessness of the religious establishment in Israel, and its failure to take halakhic initiative (in the realm of Shabbat, for example) to deal with the new circumstances created by a sovereign Jewish state, an unprecedented state of affairs, at least for the last two thousand years. He expected an upgraded State of Torah but in its place received “a religion which is the state’s concubine.” At the end of the fifties, despairing of his hopes, he preferred separation between religion and state. At the same time, he watched with apprehension at reprisal operations undertaken by the IDF at that time. In his opinion, these were accompanied by severe violations 53 Y. Leibowitz, “Avoda Zara,” in Leqsikon Hatarbut Hayehudit Bezmanenu, ed. A Cohen, Mendes-Flor (Tel Aviv, 1993), 380; Leibowitz and Ravitzky, Vikuh  . im al Emuna, 116. See Kasher, “Bein Avoda,” 262–266. She cites there other sources, more sympathetic to Christianity, and distinguishes within Leibowitz’s words between Christianity as polytheism, which is tolerable, and Christianity as the deification of man, which is idolatry. The pantheon is reminiscent Rosenzweig’s statements, see n. 155 below. 54 Ravitzky, “Leibowitz,” 23.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

of purity of arms and he wrote harsh criticism about the murder of innocents in the Qibya incident in 1953. Even then, he wrote that the soldiers’ lack of restraint was made possible by invalid use of “sanctity”: “If the nation, its wellbeing, the homeland, and its security are holy and if the sword is the ‘rock of Israel [tsur yisrael]’—then even Qibiya is possible and permitted” [emphasis in the source].55 His intellectual shift would reach its culmination in 1967, in the aftermath of the Six Day War. Leibowitz saw the danger occupation posed to the morality of Israeli society and state, and called for an immediate, unilateral withdrawal from the conquered territories. His views were only strengthened by the activity of “Gush Emunim” activists and their political supporters (who, according to Leibowitz, sanctify the army, the state, and the land at the expense of human life) and by what he considered moral injustice committed by Israel in the conquered territories. Leibowitz opposes any attribution of holiness to land, nation, state, army, objects or to any idea or human value. He considers all of them idolatry. In his view (which from then on would be similar in several ways to that of Hirsch) the Land of Israel is a task given to the Jewish People throughout its history. Its essence is not ownership of land but keeping the Torah while dwelling therein. The Jews arrived in their land as a fully formed people. The covenant between them and their God was forged in the wilderness and is not based on land. The Torah was given outside of the Land and the nation’s greatest era, socially, culturally, and creatively, was in exile. In the practical reality of the nation throughout history, the land did not occupy a central place and was only manifested in lives led according to the Torah and the commandments. Leibowitz does not agree with Hirsch that it is forbidden to actively establish a Jewish state in the Land of Israel. The state was established not as a phenomenon with religious significance but rather as a heroic act of patriotism, performed by religious and irreligious Jews alike. Leibowitz agrees with Hirsch that the religious terms “redemption” and the “end of days” should be seen as referring to a reality always existing beyond what is, always lying beyond the borders of history. However, because he believes that there is nothing beyond history, he conceives messianic redemption as an aspiration, which should be sought but can never be achieved. Leibowitz calls the rituals of army and state in Israel (and not just the rituals of nationalist culture) fascism, and brands the 55 Articles on religion and state in Leibowitz, Yahadut, 108–155. For the article “Leah  . ar Qibiya,” see there 229–234. The quote is from p. 234. On Leibowitz’s calls for withdrawal see ibid., 420.

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notion of the State of Israel being the beginning of redemption Sabbateanism and false messianism.56 He sees in the notion of Greater Israel characteristics of Nazim. He calls it idolatry, claiming that it leads to racial xenophobia, crimes, expulsions, jingoism and colonial occupation. He likened the throngs making their way to the Kotel on Shabbat and festivals to people attending a discoteque—referring to it as a “discotel.”57 Both Hirsch and Leibowitz maintain that man’s attempt to transcend into holiness is doomed to fail; human life is a striving towards sanctity, a mission which can never be completed. Hirsch maintains: There is no aspect of human life [. . .] for which this Law has not set a moral objective toward which the human personality is expected to mature and in whose realization the individual personality should find its own moral, God-ordained purpose. This way of life has been outlined by God Himself and is intended for all Jews, regardless of where and when they live, as the ideal of moral perfection toward which all should aspire, but which no one can ever attain completely.

And elsewhere: ‫[ קדשים תהיו‬you will be holy]: their calling is to be holy, and by this very calling they are ‫[ קדשים לאלהיהם‬holy to their God], ’‫[ עם קדוש לה‬a people holy to the Lord]; they are men sanctified unto God. [. . .] But they are not yet ‫קדושים‬, holy. Rather, their task is to ascend and to uplift themselves without letup to their holy calling. They must not confuse reality with destiny, imagining themselves already holy because they have been sanctified to a holy calling. Rather, their holy calling should be ever before them as a distant goal to which they aspire.58

56 See Leibowitz, Yahadut, 233, 403, 410, 421; idem, “Mashmauta shel Erets Yisrael Layahadut,” in Emuna Historia Vearakhim ( Jerusalem, 1982), 119. See also Ravitzky, “Mavo,” 10–11; Halbertal, “Leibowitz,” 223–226. 57 See Leibowitz, Yahadut, 401–431. See also notes 139–142 below. On the messiah as utopia in Leibowitz’s thought see Leibowitz and Ravitzky, Vikuh  . im al Haemuna, 97–105. Ravitzky notes there that Leibowitz’s approach is very similar to that of Hermann Cohen (Gate 13 of Religion of Reason), and Leibowitz does not respond. On the messiah as utopia in Hirsch’s thought see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 89–99. Kasher, “Lebiqoret Mishnato,” 668 notes that Leibowitz has changed his views regarding anthropocentric values. 58 Hirsch, Writings, 7:285. Numbers, 16:3–4. See also Hirsch, Writings, 2:376.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

Leibowitz maintains a similar view: Fulfilling the practical commandments is man’s path towards his God: the eternal path, its goal unattainable and unachievable. Man must know that his path has no end. [. . .] Man cannot achieve the goal of being close to God, who lies an infinite distance away from him. “For God is in heaven and you are on Earth”; therefore, what content and what meaning is there to performing the commandments? It is the effort which a person exerts to achieve the religious goal [emphasis in the source].59

Leibowitz, following in the footsteps of Hirsch and Hermann Cohen (who both believed that sanctity lies beyond nature), states that while sanctity cannot be humanly achieved, it is nevertheless man’s obligation to continue trying to approach sanctity as much as possible. The divine fiat is expressed in the future tense: “You will be holy.” The one who saw the entire nation as having actual holiness was Korah whose view the Torah invalidates. Only God is actively holy; it is man’s never-ending task. To quote Leibowitz from his article on Qibiya: From a religious perspective, only God is holy and only His commands are absolute. All of man’s values and all of the obligations and roles which derive from them are secular lacking any absolute meaning. Homeland, state, and nation are worthy obligations and tasks. But they will never become holy. That is—they are constantly subject to examination and submitted to criticism by something higher than themselves.60 The totality of practical halakhic commandments is what creates a sphere of holiness within life. [. . .] Only the dictates of religion, as established by Halakhah, are holy.61

59 Leibowitz, Yahadut, 24. See also ibid., 35; Y. Leibowitz, Sih  . ot al Pirqei Avot veal Harambam ( Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, 1979), 115; Sagi, “Meh . uyavut Datit,” 115; Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit,” 170, 173–174. 60 Leibowitz, Yahadut, 233. See also ibid., 421–422; Leibowitz, “Qeriat Shema,” 18. See Ohana’s article “Yeshayahu Leibowitz: Hainteleqtual Haradiqali Vebiqoret ‘Hameshih  . iut Hakenaanit,’” in Yeshyahu Leibowitz: Bein Shamranut Leradiqaliut, Diyunim Bemishnato, ed. A. Ravitzky (Tel Aviv, 2007), 155–177; Sagi, “Leibowitz: Hagut Yehudit,” 165. 61 Leibowitz, Yahadut, 32–33.

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The Dual Truth The holiness mentioned in the passage on tsitsit [“and you will be holy”] is not a fact, but a task. It does not say “you are holy,” but instead presents a requirement (a demand which it is doubtful if man can fulfill, although he must be aware that it is still demanded of him) “You will be holy.” By contrast, in the religious consciousness of Korah and his assembly “the entire assembly is holy”: holiness is given to us; holiness was granted to us.62

The Totality and Practicality of Halakhah As mentioned, Hirsch adopts Kant’s principle of imperative. However, instead of identifying it with the autonomous, categorical imperative of reason— meant to overcome both good impulse and evil impulse—he identifies it with the heteronomous command of God through the Torah, which is identical with the supreme morality, and which man must willingly choose as obligatory. As a neo-Orthodox thinker, Hirsch applies the divine imperative to all realms of human life and activity. There are two primary aspects to this application: The first: the notion that divine guidance is not confined to the synagogue or study hall but is relevant to every aspect of life. In politics, military, economics, society, culture, justice, and any other realm of life the divine imperative guides the way, filling it with purpose. The second: that a person’s entire day, and all of his actions, must be guided by the divine imperative—Halakhah: [God’s chosen] people are to counteract the compartmentalization of life into Divine and mundane, clerical and civil. They are to prevent the banishment of the Divine from the home, the temple from the State, and the inevitable result of such developments: the desecration and degradation of every aspect of true life—work, accomplishments, creativity and pleasure—depriving God of His world and mankind of its God. [. . .] In the Jewish kingdom every citizen would be a priest. [. . .] Every home would be a temple, every table an altar and every act of domestic or public life an act of Divine worship, glorifying God.63 62 Y. Leibowitz, Hearot Leparshiot Hashavua ( Jerusalem, 1988), 96 (parshat Korah  . ). See also on parshiot Ah  . arei Mot-Qedoshim and Emor. While Hirsch had already presented such a stance—emphasizing that the essence of holiness is mastery over sensuality and that it is a goal not a reality—it is possible that formulation of the view here is based on Hermann Cohen (Religion of Reason Out of the Sources of Judaism, trans. by S. Kaplan [Atlanta, 1995], 96), who in turn learned it from Hirsch. See also Y. Leibowitz, “Yih  . udo shel Am Yisrael,” in Emuna Historia Vearakhim ( Jerusalem, 1982), 117. 63 Hirsch, Writings, 7:405–406.

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Hirsch’s application of the divine imperative to daily life has two goals: the one, explicit and intentional opposition to the particularistic trend of Mendelssohn, subsequently maintained by the Reform movement, which limits the influence of religion to the realms of spirit and soul in the synagogue, preventing it from leaving these boundaries and permeating other aspects of life. The Reform movement wishes to imitate Christianity, the gospels stating that Jesus called for the separation between realms under the influence of religions and realms under the rule of the Caesar. Hirsch’s second goal is the aspiration to study secular subjects (which were allowed through the front door of the curricula in Hirsch’s school for girls and boys) according to religious criteria: religious history, religious physics, religious biology and so forth. It is worth noting that this plan was a resounding failure and Leibowitz regards it as completely invalid.64 Leibowitz also adopts the Kantian notion of imperative and agrees with Hirsch that the good, moral impulse, tainted as it is by personal inclination, cannot be the drive behind proper behavior. Actions thus motivated are merely self-serving. However, unlike Kant and Hirsch, Leibowitz identifies the Kantian principle of imperative with a person’s determination. It is a person’s obligation to serve God according to the norms of Judaism as they were established throughout history. These allow man to transcend the nature of his body, and to become free. Regarding the totality of Halakhah, Leibowitz modified his original all-encompassing view, and distinguished between the realm of societal and personal norms (which he applies without compromise) and the realm of scientific facts and values, upon which all political and public system operate, and to which Halakhah is indifferent and removed.65 Hirsch is careful to emphasize that Judaism’s constitution is a living Torah which deals with the daily life of this world, including the most prosaic matters, having nothing to do with mysticism, predictions of the messianic era, worlds beyond this one, fantasies which fog the senses, and speculative philosophies; in this sense it is different than both the Reform movement and Christianity. Here is just one of Hirsch’s many statements on the subject: Other religions teach what man must do in order to attain closeness to God in the next world; Judaism teaches what we must do so that God will draw near to us in this world. Judaism teaches: ‫[ עיקר שכינה בתחתונים‬the Shekhina 64 On the failure of Hirsch’s educational approach see Stern, Ishim Vekivunim, 59–66; Breuer, Eda, 39, 112–195. 65 See Sagi, “Leibowitz,” 166–167. On the totality of Halakhah in young Leibowitz’s thought see Leibowitz, Yahadut, 108–110, 119–120, 131–145.

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The Dual Truth dwells primarily below] (Bereshit Rabbah 19:7); God seeks, first of all, to dwell on earth together with man; He says: ‫ועשו לי מקדש ושכנתי בתוכם‬ (Shemot [Ex.] 25:8), “Let them make of their lives on earth a sanctuary to Me, and then I will dwell in their midst.” To perfect the world through the reign of the Almighty—not only in the heavens above, but also on the earth below—is the mission of Israel and the purpose of its Torah. That is why all the Torah’s promises relate to this world. Any charlatan can sign checks that are payable in the next world; it is easy to promise reward or punishment—in heaven or hell. But only ‫[ ה’ אלקים אמת ומלך עולם‬God, the king of the world and true] can make promises that are fulfilled on earth before our very eyes. The Torah’s ideal is ‫[ שכינה‬Shekhina] Wherever man sanctifies his home and makes his camp holy, ‫“[ שם ה’ מתהלך בקרב מחנהו‬There is God walking inside his camp”]; God fills him with rapture on earth and allows him to experience in this world ‫[ מעין עולם הבא‬like the world to come]. This is the Torah’s aim and goal for the Jewish people, and this is destined to be the lot of all mankind, when they return to “the way that leads to the tree of life.”66

Leibowitz makes a very similar argument: The religion of Halakhah deals with man and is interested in man in terms of his day-to-day reality. Practical commandments are the norm of this gray life, which are man’s true enduring existence [. . .] The character of halakhic Judaism is anti-rhetorical, anti-pathos and anti-visionary, and above all anti-delusional. It does not allow man to believe that reality is anything more than what it truly is and it prevents him from fleeing his duties and tasks in his lowly world, to abscond to an imaginary world where all is beautiful, good, and sublime.67

Universalism and Humanity In the debate between Maimonides and Judah Halevi regarding the equality of humanity, Hirsch, and after him Leibowitz, side with the former, maintaining that the Jewish people have no unique inner quality, and all options are available to all people. This is the main point on which Hirsch differs from his 66 Hirsch, Gen. 9:27. On Hirsch’s battle against the Reform movement see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 220–230. 67 Leibowitz, Yahadut, 22.

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cultural hero Judah Halevi, a result of his assimilation of enlightenment ideals, the cornerstones of European culture at the time. That being said, in Hirsch’s system, God and his Torah remain at the center of earthly existence. According to Leibowitz, by contrast, because the world and history are devoid of divinity, man remains at the center of earthly existence—a departure from the medieval view of Maimonides. Nevertheless, Hirsch and Leibowitz agree that the world and man have no supreme value or sanctity. Each one in his own way rejects humanism (self-worship or the worship of man) and accepts humaneness (love of others) as a result reaching two conclusions: 1. Racism and fascist nationalism are absolutely false. All humans on the face of the Earth are equal; all are obligated to serve God and deserve full rights.68 Hirsch writes against racism and advocates for equality, which derives from man’s shared creation in the image of God as taught by the Torah: He had chosen them [from Egypt] to proclaim the eternal freedom, the undying God-like nobility, and the kinship of God which are the birthright of individual man.69 The Jews [. . .] restored the lost consciousness of the one Father of all mankind, of the equal rights and the equal status of children of God inherent in all men. From the hands of those liberated from Egypt, mankind received the book which confirms and seals the rights, the freedom, and the God-like dignity of every human soul. [. . .] It is their teachings and their example which offer equally to the black slave on the plantation and to the European intellectual at his desk a basis for hope and confidence.70

Leibowitz opposes the atheist humanism of Kant, which deifies man; man is merely the image of God, and he must stand before his Creator: Morality as a supreme and absolute value is an atheist category, a result of the view that man is the purpose of existence, standing at the center of creation. The atheist Kant was a great ethicist, because for him man was God. The prophets placed man in front of God, and only from this perspective dealt with inter-personal relationships. 68 Schweid, “Leibowitz,” 17. It seems to me that Schweid does not distinguish between humanism, which was rejected by Hirsch and Leibowitz, and humaneness, which they both considered a value of supreme importance. On universalism and humanism in Hirsch’s thought see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 38–43. 69 Hirsch, Writings, 1:73. 70 Ibid., 76.

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The Dual Truth The very fact that man was created in the image of God deprives man of any inherent value. Man is not divine but only the image of the divine; in other words, he is not a value or a goal, and his only significance is his position in relation to God. This is the exact opposite of the atheist Kant, for whom man takes the place of God, and for whom the human individual is turned into a supreme value.71

National groupings and states are tools to ensure man’s welfare and his freedom from slavery to other people or nations. Their goal is to allow him to serve his God freely, allowing him to attempt transcendence towards sanctity. 2. There is primary importance to man’s moral-humane behavior towards others. Hirsch considers the divine Halakhah the source of ultimate morality and sees man’s moral improvement as the main goal of serving God through commandments. Leibowitz, in his theoretical system, absolutely rejects this opinion, arguing that a dichotomy prevails between morality and religion. That being said, a study of his writings demonstrates that he certainly believed that every person is obligated to act morally, regardless of any affinities to religion or commandments. He writes about a “moral postulate,” is cognizant of influence and moral consideration on the shaping of Halakhah, and even preaches like a prophet of doom about the moral decay entailed by the military occupation of the territories by the IDF and the settlers.72 The factors which drove these two thinkers to adopt the principles of universalism and humaneness are completely different as were their respective approaches to the principle of religious faith. Hirsch wishes to further the emancipation of the Jews, and to promote their complete participation in civil, social life of the European Diaspora, eventually redeeming it through the observance of Judaism. Particularism, racism, and fascist nationalism prevent the achievement of these goals. According to Hirsch, the principles of universalism and humaneness stand at the foundation of Judaism’s commandments, and complete identicality prevails between them. Leibowitz wishes to undermine the doctrines of messianic-nationalist Jews, students of Rav Kook and his son, whom he considered a racist and nationalist fascist, who lacked 71 Leibowitz, Yahadut, 239, 317. See also Hirsch, Writings, 1:74. 72 See his article “Qibiya,” in Yahadut, 232. On the distinction between humanism and humaneness see Leibowitz and Ravitzky, Vikuh  . im al Haemuna, 35. Much has been written about the contradiction between Leibowitz’s presentation of religion and morality as dichotomous and his moralistic preaching. Bareli, “Emuna Vemitsvot,” 277 discusses this. I believe that his simplistic answer does not solve the contradiction prevailing between Leibowitz’s theories and Leibowitz’s responses to timely issues and in his halakhic writing. On this tension see Rosenak “Yeshayahu Leibowitz,” 298–306.

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humaneness towards non-Jews. Unlike Hirsch, Leibowitz completely separates religion from morality, maintaining that moral arguments carry no religious significance. In his opinion, a conflict between religion and morality is possible, and in such a conflict faith holds the advantage, as was the case of the Binding of Isaac. Nevertheless, this does not detract at all from the value of rational, human morality in those many cases where no conflict exists; man is also flesh and blood, and has human systems of values.73 In summary, one can say that despite the disputes between Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch and Yeshayahu Leibowitz regarding fundamental elements of Judaism, it seems that Leibowitz nevertheless drew several important principles from Hirsch. He may have been conscious of this influence or not, and it may have been direct or indirect via the Kantian and Jewish views of the older Herman Cohen. Therefore, it seems that the influences on a young Leibowitz, in the context of the challenges of modern-religious Judaism in Germany, also served him in formulating his views regarding the creation of the state of Israel and Judaism—especially after the Six-Day War. Therefore, one can argue that Leibowitz’s paradoxical philosophy, which many researchers have sought to explain,74 was the product both of rationalist philosophy (Maimonides and Mendelssohn) as well as Romantic philosophy (Hirsch, [old] Hermann Cohen, and Rosenzweig). It is interesting that Leibowitz refuses to acknowledge any sources of influence besides Maimonides. Leibowitz was an extremely critical person; it was difficult to elicit as much as a compliment from him. If he disagreed with someone on an important subject, he could not consider him a source of influence or an authority in other parts of his thought. I thus claim that Hirsch’s philosophy exerted a profound influence on religious Jewish philosophy in the twentieth century, many of his views making their way into the view-points and education systems which had established this philosophy. This is reflected in the thought of Hermann Cohen and Franz Rosenzweig; through them it was further transmitted to thinkers belonging to the modern-religious trend in the State of Israel.

HERMANN COHEN, THE RELIGIOUS LIBERAL, AND RAV HIRSCH Hermann Cohen constitutes a link in the chain of religious-liberal thinkers stretching from Mendelssohn to Leibowitz. Having presented the two extremities of this chain—Mendelssohn at its beginning and Leibowitz at 73 See Sagi, “Leibowitz,” 167–168. 74 On Leibowitz’s paradoxical philosophy see, for example, Sagi, “Petah  .  Davar,” 11–15.

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its end—and having described Hirsch’s position on it, I will now discuss two intermediary links, one of which is Hermann Cohen. Influence appears to flow down the chain even though each link represents a full world of its own, different from all the others. Hermann Cohen’s influence on Leibowitz, for example, has already been the subject of research.75 Like Leibowitz, the neo-Kantian philosopher Hermann Cohen (in his earlier thought), maintained views completely at odds with the fundamentalist, rabbinic philosophy of Hirsch. For Hirsch, Judaism can be reduced to the Halakhah given at Sinai, the highest code of morality. Cohen, however, does not believe in real-historical acts of divine creation and revelation.76 Creation he sees as an unfolding process, revelation a reflection of the divine origins of man’s intellect and the fact that humanity is the handiwork of God. In his opinion, the supreme morality is the ethics of reason, embodying, in its most perfect form, the ethics of the prophets. Unlike Hirsch, who believed in heteronomous morality dictated by a divine entity with a personality, Cohen falls closer to the Kantian conception of God: God as a guarantor of man’s happiness, God as a postulate guaranteeing the unity of nature and morality. Cohen, in his earlier thought, prefers to identify the message of Judaism with ethical monotheism detached from ritual (as maintained by Reform thinkers). Hirsch, by contrast, in his struggle against the Reform movement, sought to prevent any deviation from ritual, considering every detail of the written and oral law a vital part of the comprehensive ethical system of Judaism. As is well known, Hermann Cohen in his old age—after he left his academic position and began teaching at the Hochschule für die Wissenschaft des Judentums (“Higher Institute for Jewish Studies”) in Berlin—underwent an intellectual shift. Personal need, and religious impulse, drove him to formulate another philosophy, the one described in his last book, Religion of Reason out of the Sources of Judaism.77 That being said, researchers are divided over the extent of this shift. Rosenzweig maintained that in his old age Cohen completely abandoned his neo-Kantianism, returning to the embrace of tradition. Rosenzweig even considered Cohen a precursor to his own philosophy 75 See Ross, “Avodat Hashem,” 131, 138–143. In his article, Ross discusses twentieth century Modern Orthodoxy’s relationship to Cohen’s interpretation of Kant, and to his attempt to use Kantianism to interpret Judaism. Pages 139–141 of this article are dedicated to summarizing Cohen’s thought based on the explanations of Julius Gutman, whom I have also used here. 76 See Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 97, 100. 77 Cohen, Religion of Reason.

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of religious existentialism.78 This is also the view of Hugo Bergman.79 Julius Guttman, however, believes that although Cohen’s thought underwent a significant and decisive shift, he incorporated these changes into a modified version of his existing philosophy. This is also the opinion of Nathan Rotenstreich and Eliezer Schweid.80 In any case, in his mature thought, Cohen returns to the particularistic religion of Judaism—a medicine for his soul—and in his later works similarities between Cohen and Hirsch. These are reflected by two phenomena. The first: the influence of Kant and his ethics, allowing both of them to return Judaism to philosophical discourse. The second: the religious-ethical pathos and the positive attitude towards the Jewish tradition, which characterized both of their philosophies. Although these shared elements were also accepted by the moderate nineteenth-century Reform movement, I nevertheless think that Rosenzweig—who knew Cohen better than anyone else81—is closer to the truth, and Cohen indeed underwent a complete shift to Jewish religious belief, distancing himself from neo-­Kantian idealism. Cohen’s deep religiosity and the roots he put down in the liberal Institute of Jewish Studies in Berlin distanced him from Bible criticism82 and the extreme end of the Reform 78 See F. Rosenzweig, Naharaim, trans. Y. Amir ( Jerusalem, 1960), 131–143, 158–159 (these passages have yet to be translated into English); idem, Philosophical and Theological Writings, ed. P. Franks, M. Morgan (Indianapolis, IN, 2000), 128. 79 See S. H. Bergman, Toldot Hafilosofia Hah  . adasha: Shitot Befilosofia Sheleah  . ar Kant ( Jerusalem, 1979), 192. 80 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 323; Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 66; Schweid, Toledot Hehagut Hayehudit, 346, 360. Y. Amir (“Lefikhakh Nivra Adam Yeh  . idi: Partiqularizm Veuniversalizm Befilosofia shel Hermann Cohen,” in Derekh Haruah  . : Sefer Hayovel LeEliezer Schweid, ed. Y. Amir, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem, 2005), 645–646, notes 10–13) clearly explains the dispute, giving details about the parties involved and adding the view of Michael Meyer who maintains that changes in Cohen’s views were a process of natural progression, and not a revolution. Amir takes a middle position. In his opinion (646, 653, 674), Rosenzweig’s view is overly radical and Gutman’s hesitant and multi-valued position shows that the change in question was an overhaul of Cohen’s teaching and a new trend, although this should not be seen as a bill of divorce from his original teachings. 81 According to Amir (“Lefikhakh Nivra Adam Yeh . idi,” 644–645), Rosenzweig was a close disciple of Cohen in the latter’s old age, and Rosenzweig considered him the precursor to “his new manner of thought.” Rosenzweig mentions in Naharaim his discussions with Cohen; the two philosophers also exchanged letters. See, for example, F. Rosenzweig, On Jewish Learning, ed. N. Glatzer (New York, 1955), 28. In the German original Rosenzweig refers to Cohen as his Herr Geheimrat (literally, “privy councilor,” but in practice, a term of honor and respect), see the Hebrew translation in Naharayim (167). Gutman was also a close disciple of Cohen, although he may have been less close to him than Rosenzweig and therefore was more hesitant in his discussion. 82 On Cohen’s arguments against dry philology see Schweid, Toledot Hehagut Hayehudit, 246. Rosenzweig who considered himself Cohen’s successor, attacks (see Rosenzweig, On Jewish

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movement, and, with important differences, drew him closer to the combination of tradition and modernity, which typified the thought of rabbis such as Hirsch and Frankel.

Transcendentalism I have already showed above the importance Hirsch ascribes to divine transcendence, and the extent to which he rejected pantheistic and deterministic identification between God and nature, as well as mystical panentheistic identification of nature as part of God. For Hermann Cohen, the principle of God’s transcendence is the essence of divinity. In this he follows in the footsteps of Kant, who rejects the centrality of the object in Spinozan pantheism, replacing it with the reason of the subject. This approach distances metaphysics and God from the world and from history, placing them beyond human perception. According to Cohen, because ethics only exist when realized by mankind, and the humans are a part of nature, there must be a link unifying the otherwise separate concepts of nature and ethics. The guarantor of this required unity of nature and ethics is the idea of God. However, the relationship between God, nature and ethics is not one of identity as maintained by pantheists, but a connection of sorts between nature and ethics through an idea lying beyond them, an idea which guarantees the link between them. Pantheism is deterministic; it neutralizes the autonomy of ethics—the basis of Kantianism. Spinoza’s morality is not a morality of obligation. It therefore has no place for guilt or sin, free will and the uncertainty of the future, creation, revelation—even in their most spiritual, pure and idealistic interpretations. The principle at the basis of modern idealistic ethics is transcendental monotheism and not pantheism or mysticism. It seems that the God of Cohen dwells within ethics, and is even more immanent in them than the God of Kant.83 Nevertheless, this deity is a far Learning, ed. N. Glatzer [New York, 1955], 79–80) Hirsch’s Orthodox, pseudo-historical pseudo-legalistic theory about the origins and validity of the law as well as Geiger’s liberal pseudo-logical pseudo-ethical theory. He does not, however, reject Cohen’s theory. Schweid maintains that Rosenzweig also expresses veiled criticism against Cohen for not taking the final step towards religions life (Schweid, Toledot Hehagut Hayehudit, 361. In my opinion, Rosenzweig did think that Cohen had taken the necessary step and therefore did not criticize him. 83 See Julius Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 318–320; Y. Ben Shlomo, “Filosofyt-Hadat Vetfisat Hayahadut shel Cohen,” in H  .  atima Lehermann Cohen: Dat Hatevuna Mimeqorot Hayahadut ( Jerusalem, 1972), 506–510; Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 60, 86, 90; Amir, “Lefikhakh Nivra Adam Yeh  . idi,” 654.

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cry from the God of Hirsch: a being with a personality who actively intervenes in history. According to Kant, God is needed to guarantee the happiness of the ethical man. According to Cohen, God is not needed for the man’s sake, but only to provide an objective basis for ethics, allowing the possibility of ethical behavior. His view that religion and metaphysics make identical claims, each in its own language, is far closer to the views of Hirsch than those of Kant.84 This is what Cohen has to say about the topic: Religion and ethics unite faithfully in God, as a guarantor of morality on the face of the earth. Without this guarantee, ethics would deteriorate to word games, and it is forbidden to play with words. The idea of God gives ethics the objective guarantee, which, for the certainty of its knowledge, cannot be detracted from.85

Link between ethics and religion I mentioned above that according to Hirsch (who maintains that Judaism is, in essence, Halakhah) Judaism is the preferred religion, because its essence is a divine ethical code—its purpose to provide individuals and mankind ethical freedom from sensuality, allowing them to sanctify even their physical bodies. Human reason, even if it does derive from a divine source, resides in flesh; it cannot escape physical influence without assistance from the historical revelation at Sinai. Revelation assists the purification of reason, revealing the identicality of their messages, both of them deriving from God. Without the divine ethics of Judaism, mankind would deteriorate into corruption. The moderate Reform thinkers also saw in Judaism an ideal system of ethics, and Cohen in this respect is following the path of nineteenth-century German-Jewish thinkers.86 84 S. Oko, “Hermann Cohen Umishnato Hadatit: Mavo,” in Hermann Cohen: Dat Hatevuna Mimeqorot Hayahadut ( Jerusalem, 1972), 16. 85 The article “Faith in God,” (Gottvertrauen [1916], Cohen, Jüdische Schriften, 1:101) appears in Hebrew translation in Amir, “Lefikhakh Nivra Adam Yeh  . idi,” 654. On Hirsch’s view see, for example, Ex. 32:1 s.v., ‫“( עשה לנו אלהים‬Make us gods”). 86 Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, vol. 2 dedicates a long chapter to thinkers who especially internalized the ethical content of Jewish religion. Besides Hermann Cohen, he also includes in his discussion Moses Mendelssohn, Luzzatto, and Moritz Lazarus. By contrast, in his discussion of Hirsch in the first volume of his book, in a chapter dedicated to the disputes regarding the historical development of Halakhah, he does not discuss Hirsch’s important emphasis of the ethical significance of the commandments—in Hirsch’s opinion, the essence of Judaism.

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According to Cohen, revelation was not a real historical event. Reason, created by God, is the manifestation of His revelation in the world, and they are identical in terms of their inner essence.87 Judaism can be reduced to the ethics of the prophets in Jewish tradition (beginning with Moses). This is, however, only a necessary and vital intermediate stage before the sought-after redemption. In Cohen’s opinion, the historical religion of Judaism is the source of the ideas of God and of ethics. The role of philosopher is to recognize this and to continue to develop and improve these ideas, refining and spiritualizing them, while using the principles which belong to the source. In his opinion, the ethics of religion reached their pinnacle in the ethics of the prophets. They managed to detach religion from the mythology and magic characteristic of ancient laws and rituals, bringing it to the maximal level of purity and profundity. It is this theme which dominates all of their prophecies. The prophets of Israel were the first to make social-ethical demands of mankind. Only the Jewish mindset, as manifested in the words of the prophets, makes no distinction between religion and morality, turning the Jewish morality into the basis for the ideal religion of reason. Only on the basis of the prophets’ morality—in terms of the proper relations between man and God, the proper relations between people, and the messianic redemption—can philosophy develop an ethics which is based on pure will of reason. Cohen writes the following about the prophets: They [the prophets] teach and discover the only God as the father and guarantor of morality, the foundation of morality. Thus, the content of their thought is morality. And thus were they similar in their thought to the scientism of moral teachings. [. . .] Their art gives rise to moral ideas, [. . .] the prophets are not artists, but rather teachers of morals, and not teachers who transmit an accepted teaching, but rather the fathers and conceivers of a new teaching. [. . .] God’s teaching is to them exclusively moral teaching.88

In Cohen’s philosophy of religion, God—who constitutes the ideal principle of reason and ethics—joins man as a creature of morality and reason. This ­connection is the meaning of man’s creation by God and God’s revelation 87 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 327; Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 100. 88 H. Cohen, Iyunim Beyahadut Ubeva’ayot Hador, trans. T. Wislovsky ( Jerusalem, 1972), 3–16; some of article (including parts of this excerpt) have been translated into English in E. Jospe (trans.) Reason and Hope: Selection from the Jewish Writings of Hermann Cohen (New York, 1971), 106–119.

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to man. The ethics of the prophets are a system bursting forth from the narrow space of those who expressed it, seeing all of nature, all statuses, all nations and states, and all of mankind and its history as a totality—without the particularism which characterizes other ethical systems both inside and outside of Judaism. When the time comes, religion must blend with the ideal ethical system of reason, which will completely absorb the divine idea, considering it its complement. Until this distant time, when the rational-voluntary ethical doctrine will lead society, the religious tradition of Judaism is necessary to immunize people from materialism and self-subjugation to nature; it serves to reinforce the divine idea.89 Unlike Hirsch, Cohen does not believe that Jewish Halakhah has any obligatory authority. Nevertheless, he shares with Hirsch and the historical-positivist school their opposition to the radical reformers, who invalidated Halakhah in an attempt to submit themselves to the enlightened world. Cohen felt an affinity to tradition and Halakhah, and sought ways to preserve halakhot which bore ethical significance, examining them according the criteria of morality and judging them by the personal religious experience they provide those who observe them. As a liberal thinker, Cohen gave every person the right to choose to observe the laws which fit his own ethical needs.90 The older Cohen was very cautious when expressing the relationship between mythology and idealism, between fundamentalism and liberalism. Like Hirsch, he preferred the law of Moses and the doctrines of the prophets after him (as a law which an autonomous Jew chooses as obligation and bequeaths to humanity) over the Kantian categorical imperative of practical reason. Kant’s constitutional state is not enough. It lacks the element of social justice and the battle against poverty and suffering—values preached by the prophets in the name of religious morality.91 Cohen thus takes a path begun by Hirsch and later continued by Leibowitz—the latter eventually disconnecting religion from morality all-together. Cohen, however, differs from them both in terms of the conclusions he reaches about this process. Like Hirsch, Cohen maintains that a religion of reason is a religion of legislation. 89 Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 321–322; Ben Shlomo, “Filosofyt-Hadat,” 510–511; Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 63–72; Amir, “Lefikhakh Nivra Adam Yeh  . idi,” 647–653. 90 See Oko, “Hermann Cohen Umishnato Hadatit,” 27–28. Ben Shlomo, “Filosofyt-Hadat,” 504–505. As is well known, Cohen studied from 1857 to 1863 (from the age 15–21) in the rabbinical theological seminary in Breslau and was also Graetz’s student. 91 See Schweid, Toledot Hehagut Hayehudit, 168–170; Amir, “Lefikhakh Nivra Adam Yeh  . idi,” 656, 668–669.

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Its goal is to teach morality, which can only be achieved through practical behavior on the part of individual and community.92 Jewish law serves as a standard by which all of the truth, good, and beauty which general culture aspires to achieve can be evaluated, a means of gauging their morality. There is nothing wrong with the uniqueness of the Jewish nation creating Halakhah within general society, and it is not necessary that this should prevent the Jew from participating in all areas of culture, infusing Jewish ethics into all aspects of life: “Worship is not limited to the synagogue; the law fulfills and permeates the whole of life with it. [. . .] The isolation in one’s own worship only establishes and strengthens the independence and sovereignty of moral judgment as a standard for all the directions and aspirations of culture in general.”93 However, unlike Hirsch’s neo-Orthodoxy, and Leibowitz’s orthopraxy, Cohen’s position is more liberal: he maintains that because the goal of Jewish law is ethical and educational (to the Jewish people, and mankind as a whole) one should treat Halakhah selectively, choosing those laws which actually lead to this goal. He writes as follows: Duty, as the law of God, [. . .] is identical with the law of morality. For God is the guarantor of the autonomous morality of man, insofar as he is the guarantor of the infinite development of the human soul. God’s command is the religious expression that may not contradict, but rather must be equivalent to, the principle of autonomy except for their methodological difference. If I act of my own will, I must first of all prove to myself that my will is not an affect, but pure will. Therefore, pure ethics, in its application to man, cannot do without the concept of duty; it must change the moral law into duty. The analogous change is completed in religion by transforming moral law into God’s command. It is certainly also a characteristic difference between the religion of Moses and every form of polytheism that the unique God does not decree particular commands to particular people, but gives commandments that are valid as laws for all men: the worship of God is tied to obedience to these commandments; they are meant first for the chosen people, then through them for 92 See Schweid, Toledot Hehagut Hayehudit, 138–139. 93 Cohen, Religion of Reason, 368–369. See note 13 there. Bergman and Rotenstreich noted the affinity to Hirsch’s system of Torah im Derekh Erets. See Amir, “Lefikhakh Nivra Adam Yeh  . idi,” 673. Hirsch bases his entire system of ethics on the idea that the Torah of Israel, the product of revelation, can be used as an objective standard for examining the achievements of European culture, the products of reason. When both disciplines are purified of their dross they are identical, as they are all ultimately from God.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine ­ essianic mankind. Correlation requires this. God cannot remain isolated m on his Olympus, but as creator of man and as Lord of the whole earth must impose his commandments upon man as laws for their life. [. . .] Man alone is the object and the goal of the law. The only goal of law is his moral perfection, his fulfillment as man. He should not become God but ought always to become more human. He ought always to remain man. [. . .] The law comes from God; the duty, from man. And the law is at the same time duty, just as duty is law. God commands man, and man in his free will takes upon himself the “yoke of the law.” The law remains a yoke. Even according to Kant’s teaching, man is not a volunteer of the moral law, but has to subjugate himself; but with this yoke of the laws, he also accepts upon himself the “Yoke of the Kingdom of God.” [. . .] As the object of knowledge, the commandment can only be proven to be God’s commandment through the fact that God is the God of holiness or the God of morality. Hence, it must remain that the final reason of the law has to lie solely in divine morality. From this it follows that all commandments must be weighed as to whether they can be appropriate means to this unique end.94

Teleology of Human History—Holiness as a Mission Both Hirsch and Cohen base themselves on modernist philosophy, both seeking a meta-narrative which leads mankind through history towards its purpose. Both believe that this fulfillment will take place in Europe, and on the basis of German culture which will absorb the ethics of Judaism and both, consequently, rejected the foundational ideas of Zionism.95 According to Hirsch, the ultimate goal of history is the redemption of mankind through its acceptance of the God of Israel as their king, and through its acceptance of Jewish morality as reflected in Jewish Halakhah which was revealed in a real historical, divine event. Cohen likewise adopted the teleology of the idealist philosophers who maintain that the world and mankind are always improving, always progressing towards redemption. 94 Cohen, Religion of Reason, 324, 338, 345, 354. See also 366–370, and note 13 above. Amir, “Lefikhakh Nivra Adam Yeh  . idi,” 669–673 describes Cohen’s positive attitude to Halakhah. On p. 669 he discusses the affinity between Cohen and Hirsch’s respective interpretations of intuitive commandments. He correctly distinguishes between Hirsch’s Orthodoxy and Cohen’s liberal freedom to choose. That being said, I do not find his distinction between Hirsch’s emphasis on cleaving to God and Cohen’s emphasis on ethics, convincing. In my opinion, both can be presented as figures who considered an ethical-pedagogical purpose which draws man close to sanctity and God the essence of the commandments. 95 See Oko, “Hermann Cohen Umishnato Hadatit,” 28–29.

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He also adopted the view, shared by Hirsch and Reform thinkers, that the Jewish religion and its ethics would play a key role in this process. I have already written in detail about Hirsch’s idea that the Torah’s commandments lead to ethical freedom and sanctity—a task with no end. Following in the footsteps of Kant—who maintained that sanctity is morality96—Hirsch, Cohen, and Leibowitz maintain that this key position of Judaism is a consequence of the fact that only Judaism is based on the idea of a holy and free God. He created man as a free being, He legislated for man obligatory ethical norms which free him from his material bonds, and this is which allows man to draw close to holiness. As Cohen puts it: A great center of gravitation comes into the world with the words: “Ye shall be holy; for I the Eternal your God am holy” (Lev. 19:2). This word “holy” has a twofold meaning: it relates holiness to God and to man. [. . .] Holiness becomes morality. [. . .] With God it [holiness] is being: “For I am holy.” With regard to man, however, it says: “Ye shall be holy.” Hence one may translate: “Ye shall become holy.” Holiness, thus, means for man a task, whereas for God it designates being. This designation of being with regard to God is not concerned with his metaphysical causality but with his purposive acting, which is the model for the purposive action of man. In holiness God becomes for man the lawgiver. Only as a holy one can He set these tasks; for holiness, already according to its original meaning, separates God from all sensibility. And this ­elevation above sensibility is the thing that is set as a task for man.97

Cohen also maintains that the task of becoming holy is infinite: Like ethics, religion too must always be concerned only with tasks which, as such, are infinite and therefore can require only infinite solutions. The I, therefore, can mean nothing higher and certainly nothing other than one step, a step in the ascent to the goal, which is infinite.98 96 See Kant, Critique of Practical Reason, 5:124–134. 97 Cohen, Religion of Reason, 96. See Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 101, 104. There is reason to believe that this position of Hirsch reached Leibowitz through Cohen. Because he links sanctity to morality, I believe that Leibowitz’s interpretation of “you shall be holy,” is closer to Hirsch’s interpretation than to that of Cohen. 98 Cohen, Religion of Reason, 204. See Amir, “Lefikhakh Nivra Adam Yeh  . idi,” 666–667. Hirsch and Leibowitz’s views on this issue were presented above in notes 58–60 and 62. Perhaps these statements are a criticism of Nietzsche’s Übermensch.

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According to Cohen, the unity of nature and morality is reflected in the teleology of the world and nature (of which man is part) and the ethical goals which are realized by only man and human society. Only when society is controlled by the ethical doctrine of reason—combining the idea of a monotheistic God with the morality of the prophets—can this goal be achieved. Cohen thus rejects, like Hirsch and many others, the deterministic pantheism of Spinoza. Hirsch downplays the philosophy of Greece in relationship to the morality of Judaism, even though both are important in building human culture. Cohen agrees. According to Cohen, the Greeks emphasized the science of reality, studying existence as it is. The prophets of Israel, however, dealt with an aspiration which must guide human society to achieve its goal. This is the meaning of the verse “from Zion Torah shall come forth.” The deeper truth, the place where the existent and the desired meet, is found in the teachings of the prophets of Israel. Therefore, redemption will only realized if we make use of their teachings.99 Hirsch, more than once, discusses the importance of Exile, in which, despite prevailing material and physical difficulties, the Jews preserved the Torah for the sake of mankind. Likewise, Hirsch denies the centrality of the Land of Israel: the danger of enrichment and prosperity entailed by dwelling therein constantly diverted the nation from the ethical system of Judaism. Ultimately, the land led them to corruption and eventually again to exile. Cohen discusses the importance of exile. Through their tribulations the Jews were purified, leading them towards the realization of the messianic idea. He also opposes a Jewish state, concerned that the land’s material wellbeing will lead the Jewish nation astray—distracting them from their mission for the good of the human race. Hirsch, Cohen (and many other religious thinkers from all different denominations of Germany, from Hirsch’s time onwards) consider “Germanness” and the German society and culture the basis upon which Judaism (as a separate nation maintaining its own laws) will exercise its influence. They both sought to balance universal and particular. Therefore, they, and others, opposed the basis of the Zionist movements, in which “lovers of Zion” sought to find happiness immersed in the materialism of their own land, in the form of an organized community or state.100 About

  99 See Oko, “Hermann Cohen Umishnato Hadatit,” 14. 100 See Ben Shlomo, “Filosofyt-Hadat,” 502–503; Schweid, Toledot Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 65–66; Amir, “Lefikhakh Nivra Adam Yeh  . idi,” 670–671.

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the unimportance of the state in Jewish history, and the benefits of the exile for fostering the nation’s true essence Hirsch writes: The law of the nations reflects the philosophy of an independent, prosperous national life becoming reality on its own soil and through its own resources. For Israel, supreme lex—the Law is the supreme factor in its existence. As a result of its unconditional acceptance of this Law in its midst, Israel became a nation in the wilderness before it could call an inch of land and soil its own. [. . .] Israel is to concentrate on the spiritual and moral values of human existence in the face of a world wedded to land and soil. [. . .] The Jew is certainly not called upon to reject the benefits of his material resources. On the contrary, he should take advantage of all the opportunities that life has to offer, provided he remains in control and does not gradually succumb to the mindless pleasures of crass materialism ‫וישמן‬ ‫“[ ישרון ויבעט‬But Jeshurun waxed fat, and kicked,” Deut. 32:15] has always been the historical fruit of excessive freedom, independence and prosperity. This is what happened to the people as it emerged from the desolation of the desert into the land of abundance and plenty. It did not take long before they turned away from God’s Law and, following the example of the surrounding nations, embraced the idols of wealth and political power.101 The people wanted to limit and restrict God to the narrow confines of the Temple. […] The time came for the Divine judgment to liberate and redeem the Sanctuary of the Divine Law. [. . .] The beleaguered Sanctuary of God’s Law which had become alienated from the people and estranged from the state, lay in ruins—free! For the destruction of the Sanctuary marked the beginning of the victorious march of the Divine Law through the centuries without bearers, without priests, without official power and force of arms.102

Cohen writes along similar lines: But how little the state meant to the people is manifested in the continuation and blossoming of the people even after the destruction of the state. [. . .] Without the state, even after the destruction of the state, the people flourished and grew into an inner unity. [. . .] Neither in this short and 101 Hirsch, Writings, 8:293. 102 Hirsch, Writings, 2:223.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine bygone past nor in any political present does Israel’s historical calling lie. The meaning and value of monotheism had to prove itself in this historical and political contradiction. The future becomes the actuality of history. Therefore, only a spiritual world can fulfill this national existence.103

Judaism versus Christianity: Which Represents the Religion of Reason? The idealist philosophers believe that Christianity—when distilled and purified of the remaining dross of mythology—is the religion of reason, which must mix with the achievements of philosophy. According to Kant, Judaism is an obsolete religion which has outlived its time. According to Hegel, Christianity succeeded Judaism, and already sublated, in a dialectical process, everything good that was once part of it. Judaism itself, however, has completed its task. Both Hirsch and Cohen rejected this worldview and thus continued the teachings of Mendelssohn. What Kant and Hegel did for Christianity, Hirsch and Cohen sought to do for Judaism. Both believed that Christianity—which corporealizes God—contains pantheistic and pagan elements, making it unsuitable for fulfilling the task allotted to it. In their opinions, Judaism represents, more than any other faith, the sought-after religion of reason. According to Hirsch, it is Judaism which will bring redemption to mankind. According to Cohen, in the end, Judaism will lead ethical philosophy to bring redemption. Cohen maintains that Judaism represents the pure primordial religion, the hallmark of reason. In it, religion and morality are made identical, and it is thus superior to its offshoot religion, Christianity.104 Both Hirsch and Cohen maintain that at no specific time in real history will this awaited redemption be achieved. Hirsch reads the prophetic verses about the messianic future as the description of a utopia lying beyond history. He does not, however, dwell upon this utopian territory, because for Judaism, real life in the present is more important. Both Hirsch and Cohen believe that every person can be redeemed at any moment; both seek the Garden of Eden in this world. Christianity, however, awaits a kingdom of heaven, redemption, only beyond history, in the world to come; it has no gospel within history and no message for day-to-day life. In his discussion of the three prohibitions, “They shall not make baldness upon their head, neither shall they shave off the corners of their beard, nor make any cuttings in their flesh” (Lev. 21:5), Hirsch develops the argument even further 103 Cohen, Religion of Reason, 251–252. See also Cohen, Iyunim Beyahadut, 88–91. 104 See Cohen, Iyunim Beyahadut, 18; Ben Shlomo, “Filosofyat-Hadat,” 496–498.

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and points out new facts from the Christian world that strengthen his claim that it is the religion of death: Heathenism, both ancient and modern, tends to associate religion with death. The kingdom of God begins only where man dies. For, in the heathen view, the deity is a god of death, not of life; a god who kills and never revives, who sends death and its harbingers—sickness and poverty—so that men, mindful of his power and their own helplessness, should fear him. For this reason heathen temples stand beside graves, and the foremost place of heathen priests is beside a corpse. There, where the eyes are dimmed and the heart is broken, they find fertile soil for the dissemination of their religion. He who bears on his flesh a mark of death [namely, baldness, shaving, cutting]—a symbol of death’s power to conquer all—and thus remains ever mindful of death, performs the religious act par excellence, and this especially befits a priest and his office. Not so are the priests in Judaism, because not so is the Jewish concept of God and not so is the Jewish religion. God, who instructs the ‫[ כהן‬a Jewish priest] regarding his position in Israel, is a God of life. The most exalted manifestation of God is not in the power of death, which crushes strength and life. Rather, God reveals Himself in the liberating and vitalizing power of life, which elevates man to free will and eternal life. Judaism teaches us not how to die but how to live, so that even in life we may overcome death, an unfree existence, enslavement to physical things, and moral weakness. Judaism teaches us how to live every moment of earthly life as a moment of eternal life in the service of God; how thus to live every moment of a life marked by moral freedom, a life of thought and will, creativity and achievement, and also pleasure. [. . .] When death summons the other members of the people to perform acts of loving kindness for the physical shell of a ‫[ נפש‬soul] that has been called home to God ’‫[ כהני ה‬priests of the Lord] must stand back and keep away. By standing back, they raise the banner of life beside the corpse. They awaken in people’s consciousness the idea of life and remind them of moral freedom, of man’s godly existence, which is not subjugated to the bodily forces that suppress all moral freedom. They reinforce in people’s consciousness the idea of life, so that it is not overshadowed by the idea of death.105

105 See also Hirsch, Ex. 16:25; Hirsch, Writings, 2:43, 68.

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Cohen points to the difference between the “Kaddish,” in which Jews pray that God’s name be exalted within history, and the “Lord’s Prayer” in which Christians pray for the coming of God’s kingdom beyond history: For my personal worship the Kingdom of God is not to be a future advent, but must be a permanent actuality. This idea is expressed in the Hebrew term: “To take upon oneself the yoke of the Kingdom of God.” [. . .] I do not wait for “the Kingdom of God” to come and merely pray for its advent, but bring it about through my own preparedness; through my own will I bring it about. Thus, the Kingdom of God is present to me and is a personal actuality for my consciousness of duty. Therefore, it is more than just an object of hope and confidence.106

As I explained above, Hirsch maintains that the sought-after sanctity through ethical freedom lying at the end of the process is an eternal task which can never truly be achieved. Likewise, Cohen believes that divine morality is expressed as sanctity and that ethical fulfillment is a never-ending task given to man. Even in the messianic era, in which world peace will be achieved, man will continue to endlessly deal with this at every moment.107 Both Hirsch and Cohen emphasize for their systems of redemption the universal aspect of the Bible’s worldview. Hirsch argues that the chosenness of the Israelites is only temporary. Cohen ignores or reinterprets the expressions of Jewish national particularism reflected in the sources. According to them both, at the end of the process, it will be Judaism which will redeem mankind. The Messianic future is summed up by the concept of a God purified of any sensual manifestation, and through the concept of drawing near to the pure moral ideal—a task with no end.108 Similarly, Hirsch attacks Christianity for preventing man from undoing his sins through repentance and for preventing man from achieving personal redemption in this world. Through his free will and actions man can free himself of his sensuality—unlike the Christian doctrine of Original Sin which maintains that man is bound to his desires. According to Christianity, there is no way for man to free himself from sensuality. Only belief in the messiahood and divinity of Jesus can redeem man in the world to come. In Hirsch’s opinion, such determinism never allows man to actively liberate himself and achieve 106 Cohen, Religion of Reason, 310. 107 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 319–320, 325. Ben Shlomo, “Filosofyt-Hadat,” 498; Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 101, 104. 108 See Ben Shlomo, “Filosofyt-Hadat,” 500–501; Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 62.

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moral freedom and therefore cannot lead mankind to redemption. Cohen also argues that the Christian worldview (which has been sullied by paganism) does not concord with his understanding of the messianic idea. Cohen agrees that, ultimately, the redemption is granted by God. However, he attacks the dogma of Original Sin, stating that, unlike Christianity, man, as a possessor of reason and of the will to become pure, is required and able to willingly rouse himself based on his reason—purifying himself from his sin and achieving forgiveness and redemption.109

Repentance, Love, and Mercy As I noted above, Cohen’s thought underwent a fundamental shift in terms of the role and contribution of religion to the teaching of ethics. Although Cohen’s religious pathos is evident in all of his writings, though it is most distinct in his later works. The rational theories which deem a person insignificant in relationship to mankind as a whole, did not silence the insights of Cohen as an emotional individual, religion surging within him with a turbulent life of its own. The role of religion in a philosophical teaching of ethics expanded in his thought to respond to personal human suffering, with regard to himself and with regard to others. Man feels within himself the spiritual need to purify himself of ethical sins and to personally merit moral freedom— as an individual and not just as part of the totality of history. Man feels intense compassion in the face of the other’s suffering. From being just another person in the collective of humanity, the other becomes a friend and a companion. This emotion undergoes a transformation from an emotion of respect to an emotion of love, and the relationship changes from an ethical relationship to a religious-ethical one. This demands concrete and active inter-personal cooperation. His is no longer the Kantian morality of acting in accordance with a general moral law; his is a new sense of personality, its ability to atone for sins setting him free. When he is certain of divine forgiveness, man determines to create for himself a new spirit, an expression of his freedom. His liberation from sin is the highest realization of the moral religion of reason. Cohen thus rejects, like Hirsch, the Christian theory of Original Sin which

109 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 325; Oko, “Hermann Cohen Umishnato Hadatit,” 23; Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 75–76, 103, 105; Schweid, Toledot Hehagut Hayehudit, 69, 346–349.

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does not allow man to repent on his own. Using characteristic Orthodox language, Cohen says: Thus [through the act of repentance] the new man is born, in this way the individual becomes the I. Sin cannot prescribe one’s way of life. A turning away from the way of sin is possible. Man can become a new man. This possibility of self-transformation makes the individual an I. Through his own sin, man first becomes an individual. Through the possibility of turning away from sin, however, the sinful individual becomes the free I. And only with this newborn man can the correlation between God and man become true. God does not want the sinner and his death, but he has pleasure in man’s turning away from his ways and therefore in his life, in his new life.110

Cohen sought and found the God of the individual, the God who allows a person a brave and active process of personal repentance which includes regret and resolutions for the future; in the end he is granted forgiveness and his free “I” is realized. Man performs acts before his God which are based on the belief in the power of good and a God who forgives. The power of knowledge which allows man to focus on his relationship with God is the power of love. Love of one’s companion is the foundation of the religious demand to love God. From the mutual love between people who are suffering flows the mutual love between an ethical God and a suffering and sinning individual. Just as I must love my companions and my companions me, so too God loves me and therefore I must love him. In Cohen’s words: Thus, it is established beyond doubt that love, as religious love, begins with the love for man. This love first teaches man to love men. First, it teaches man to recognize in poverty the suffering of man. First it teaches, therefore, in correspondence with this social insight into suffering, the kindling in man of the primeval feeling of pity. First it teaches, therefore, the establishment in pity of the true meaning of religious love, and the strict distinction of this true love from all the ambiguities of voluptuousness and also from the aesthetic pleasure, which is interwoven with it. First it teaches, therefore, the discovery in the next man of the fellowman. [. . .] Only now, after man has learned to love man as fellowman, is this thought 110 Cohen, Religion of Reason, 193. See Amir, “Lefikach Nivra Haadam Yeh  . idi,” 665–667.

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The Dual Truth turned back to God, and only now does he understand that God loves man, and indeed loves the poor man with the same favor as the stranger.111

Cohen in his later thought thus unites the God of morality with the God of religion, and the idea of the moral man with the religious one. In this way, he found the autonomy of religion, while still doing his best not to forsake the principles of his former system in which morality is primary, and the religion is only an important branch of it. This fundamental change in Cohen’s thought came at a price. Cohen had to give up on the ultimate transcendental demand of rationalism. The God of religion requires a certain degree of closeness to man. This creates a tension between him and the God of philosophers—the God separated from man by an unbridgeable gap.112 Therefore, Cohen now speaks of a God exalted above everything, with no other entity comparable to him. Cohen (like Hirsch) maintains that prayer is directed towards man: it fulfills the need of a person who yearns for his God.113 However, he did not succeed in softening the tension between the God of religion with personality, and God as an idea as in his philosophical theory.114 Cohen’s overhaul of the principles of his thought moved him to the right of liberal members of the Reform movement, in the direction of Hirsch. His words about repentance, love and mercy are notably similar to Hirsch’s expressions on the same issues. Giving up on absolute transcendentalism, creating an irresolvable tension between man and a God who is both as far and as near as can be, is also a feature of Hirsch’s thought (as mentioned above). Cohen’s discussions of the man who sins, repents, and gains forgiveness from his God are similar to Hirsch’s teachings—even if Hirsch’s simplistic interpretation of these concepts were considered invalid mythology for Cohen. Regarding the process of repentance and atonement as reflecting freedom, Hirsch writes in his commentary on Lev. 16:6: ‫[ כפרה‬atonement] is none other than a “burying” of the past. It is the supreme act of the power of God, who is omnipotent and absolute in 111 Cohen, Religion of Reason, 147. See there also 51–52. See Rotenstreich, Hamah  . shava Hayehudit, 67–71, 76–82; Schweid, Toledot Hehagut Hayehudit, 346–349; Amir, “Lefikach Nivra Haadam Yeh  . idi,” 660–664. 112 See ibid., 655. 113 See Hirsch, Gen. 24:53; 48:11: “Jewish prayer is not an outpouring from within oneself; rather it means infusing the heart with truths that come from outside oneself ”; Cohen, Religion of Reason, 379–381. 114 Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 323–329; Oko, “Hermann Cohen Umishnato Hadatit,” 24–26; Ben Shlomo, “Filosofyt-Hadat,” 486–493.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine His freedom. For only He can suspend the natural law of cause and effect which, after all, He Himself has instituted. He has the power to sever the connection between past sin and future life, so that the consequences of past sin will not mar the material and spiritual life of the future. Even a blemished past can be followed by a pure future. God has promised such a “burying” of the past to anyone who resolves to commit himself totally to the duty to which he is commanded. [. . .] One who says “‫[ ”חטאתי‬I have sinned] will be unable to repeat his sin. By recognizing the freedom of the moral will, he rejects any excusing of present or future sin.

Interpersonal love and compassion, as a foundation of Judaism, is also fundamental of Hirsch’s teachings; likewise is the mutual love prevailing between God and his creations and between man and his creator. However, unlike Cohen, Hirsch maintains that God’s love of and compassion for man has precedence over man’s love of others. Hirsch writes: “‘Love,’ say the sages, ‘love which bears and is born is the type of creation.’ ‘Love,’ is the message which all things proclaim to thee.”115 In his commentary on the commandment “You shall love your fellow like yourself ” (Lev. 19:18) he writes: This is the maxim that must guide all our social behavior in thought, word, and deed. The noblest of our feeling towards God and man is ‫אהבה‬, love. [. . .] For this requirement of love has nothing to do with the personality of the other; it is not based on any of his qualities. Its basis, rather, is ’‫[ אני ה‬I am the Lord]. In the Name of God, this duty is assigned to us in regard to all our fellow men. [. . .] The spiritually and morally perfect man does not distinguish between his neighbor’s welfare and his own welfare. [. . .] His love of himself, too, is but a recognition of duty. [. . .] From this same recognition of duty he directs his love to the welfare of his neighbor. He loves him as the work of God’s hands, who, like himself, was created in the image of God. By loving His creatures he expresses his love of God, ‫אוהב את המקום ואוהב את הבריות‬.

Hirsch also writes about compassion. In his commentary on Gen. 43:14 he writes the following: ‫[ רחמים‬mercy] denotes the attribute of God’s love for His creatures, which is most general and will never be lost. The attribute of ‫ רחמים‬should also be 115 Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters, 30.

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The Dual Truth the guiding principle in human relations. [. . .] ‫רחמים‬, the attribute by which our nation is distinguished (Yevamot 79a), means more than pity. ‫רחמים‬ stems from ‫[ רחם‬womb] which denotes the most intense and self-sacrificing investment of energy by one being for the formation and emergence of another being; the commitment of all of one’s blood and energy for the sake of another being’s formation and completion. ‫רחם‬, the womb, is the hearth of the deepest devotion. Afterward, too, when the new being has been completed, the ‫—רחם‬this deepest devotion—effects not only sympathy with the baby’s crying but even more intimate joy with its smiling. [. . .] From ‫ רחם‬derives the attribute of ‫רחמים‬. This attribute not only suffers when the other suffers, but knows no rest until it sees him happy.116

FRANZ ROSENZWEIG—THE RELIGIOUS EXISTENTIALIST—AND RAV HIRSCH The existentialist philosophy of Franz Rosenzweig, like the philosophies of Cohen and Leibowitz, is worlds away from the position of Rav Hirsch. Rosenzweig took the teachings of the older Hermann Cohen, detached them from idealistic neo-Kantianism (which had collapsed in the wake of the First World War) and connected them to the dialogical-existential thought of the time, based on the works of Schopenhauer, Kierkegaard, Heidegger, and Nietzsche. The personal experience and feeling of the “I” (the individual), which was lacking in the thought of young Hermann Cohen—an absence which he would rectify in his old age—was the axis and starting point of a young Rosenzweig. He deals with the personal and the real—not abstract essences. In his words, from now on, “philosophy does not have as object the objective, thinkable All and the thinking of this objectivity; rather, it is a ‘view of the world, the idea with which an individual mind reacts to the impression the world makes on it.”117 Rosenzweig detached himself from the rational “revelation” of his philosophical predecessors and from the ­historical-national-mythical revelation of his theological predecessors. Instead, he offered revelation as an element 116 In the Hebrew translation of this passage (S. Hirsch, Peirush al Sefer Bereshit, ed. M. Brauer [ Jerusalem, 1977]) the translator mistakenly writes ad shelo tireh beoshro, i.e., “until it does not see him happy.” 117 F. Rosenzweig, The Star of Redemption, trans. B. Galli (Madison, WI, 2005), 115. The expression is that of Schopenhauer, see M. Schwartz, “Meqomo shel Franz Rosenzweig Befilosofia shel Hayahadut” introduction to F. Rosenzweig, Kokhav Hageula ( Jerusalem, 1970), 50.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

of spiritual guidance, furnishing the various philosophical systems with validity: a spiritual intention which furnishes all of mankind’s scientific endeavors with meaning. Thus, the experience of revelation based on faith is joined with existential philosophy based on personal experience, the former furnishing the latter with objectivity.118 Rosenzweig’s cultural hero (as was Hirsch’s) is Judah Halevi who rejected the intellectualist approach of the philosophers, preferring reliance on experience and facts apprehended and proven by the senses. Despite this similarity, it is important to note, that while Hirsch rejected Judah Halevi’s idea of the Jewish people’s special chosenness, Rosenzweig adopted it, using it to explain the fundamental difference between Judaism and Christianity.119 Rosenzweig is a far cry from the apologetic fundamentalism of Hirsch—that is, his demand for complete submission to Halakhah, his mythological interpretation of creation, revelation and history, and his conception of the connection between man and God. Rosenzweig explicitly criticizes the pseudo-history and pseudo-law of Hirsch’s Orthodoxy, a sign that he was well acquainted with Hirsch’s thought.120 According to Hirsch, the Oral Torah and the written Torah were given to Moses at Mount Sinai from the mouth of the Almighty. According to Rosenzweig (as well as Martin Buber), the Torah was written in stages—first a core section in the time of King David or King Solomon, and was afterwards supplemented by other writers who added to this original nucleus; but all the while the unity of the work was preserved.121 That being said, Rosenzweig believes that the Torah is unified, and many of Rav Hirsch’s important principles appear in his philosophy as I will now discuss.

The Place of the Jewish People and Judaism in Human History versus the Gentile Nations and Christianity Hirsch’s relationship with Christianity is an ambivalent one. On the one hand, he considers the appearance of Jesus and his ethical influence on pagans a 118 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 343; M. Schwartz, “Meqomo shel Franz Rosenzweig,” 23–24; Schweid, Toledot Hehagut Hayehudit, 350–351. 119 See Schwartz, “Meqomo shel Franz Rosenzweig,” 35–37. 120 Rosenzweig, On Jewish Learning, 75–81. On Rosenzweig’s familiarity with and approach to the philosophy of Rav Hirsch see Y. Amir, Daat Ma’amina (Tel Aviv, 2004), 291, 306, and notes 39, and 41. 121 F. Rosenzweig, “The Unity of the Bible,” in Scripture and Translation / Martin Buber and Franz Rosenzweig; trans. by L. Rosenwald and E. Fox (Bloomington, 1994), 22–24; Rosenzweig, Naharayim: Mivkhar Ketavim, trans. Y. Amir ( Jerusalem, 1960) 31. M. Buber, Darko shel Miqra ( Jerusalem, 1964), 65–67, 310–311, 318–320.

309

310

The Dual Truth

positive occurrence, part of a larger divine plan for human history and the education of mankind. On the other hand, he attacks the idea of Original Sin (as formulated by Paul) as a deterministic worldview. He views Christianity as a new form of paganism which binds man to his sensuality, a religion which opposes man’s freedom and denies him the possibility of redemption in this world. Hirsch’s conclusion is that Judaism, with its idea of repentance, is the only religion capable of completing the process of mankind’s redemption. Hirsch writes about Christianity and Judaism: But what a miserable and hopeless picture of man is drawn by those who err and deny his purity. On the basis of the story of ‫[ גן עדן‬the Garden of Paradise] they have concocted a lie that undermines the moral future of mankind. We are referring to the dogma of “Original Sin,” on the basis of which they have built a spiritual structure against which the Jew must protest with every fiber of his being. It is true that, on account of the sin in the Garden of Eden, all of Adam’s descendants inherited the task of living in a world that no longer smiles at them as it once did, but this is so only because this same sin is still being committed over and over again. However, the express purpose of the present conflict between man and earth and of man’s resultant “training by renunciation” is to guide man toward moral perfection, which will pave the way for his return to Paradise. But to say that because of “Original Sin” sinfulness is innate in man, that man has lost the ability to be good and is no compelled to sin— these are notions against which Judaism raises its most vigorous protest. Man as an individual and mankind as a whole can, at any time, return to God and to Paradise on earth. Toward this end, man needs no medium other than devotion to duty, which is within the capacity of every human being. Toward this end, there is no need for an intermediary who has died and then been resurrected. This is attested to by all of Jewish history, from which we learn that, in subsequent generations God drew as near to men of purity as He did to ‫[ אדם הראשון‬Adam] before the sin. Avraham, Moshe, Yeshayahu, Yirmeyahu, and others like them attained God’s nearness simply by their faithfulness to duty. The first principle of Judaism—the one, free God—goes hand in hand with the second principle, namely that of the pure and free man. The dogma of Original Sin is a most regrettable error of an alien faith. They think that, in consequence of this sin, sinfulness is innate in man, and that man can be saved from the curse of sin only by virtue of the belief in a certain fact. In the story of ‫[ גן עדן‬Gan Eden],

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine however, there is no mention of a curse against man. To this day, every Jew avows before God: ‫נשמה שנתת בי טהורה היא‬, [The soul that you have given me is pure], and it is up to me alone to keep it pure and to return it to You in its original state of purity. As our Sages teach us: “…There is no age in which people like Avraham, Ya’akov, Moshe, and Shemuel do not live” (Bereshit Rabbah 56:7). In every age, in every generation, man is capable of ascending to the highest levels of morality and spirituality.122

In Hirsch’s understanding, God’s plan for the people of Israel is that it be an eternal nation—an anchor for the continued existence of monotheistic morality. Thanks to the Torah, the Nation of Israel continues to evolve, drawing closer to the pinnacle of the Torah. The Torah, however, constitutes an exalted heteronomous morality, and therefore while eternal it does not evolve. It stands beyond time and place; consequently, any attempt to change it or tailor it to the spirit of the times is unacceptable. Hirsch writes about the Torah’s uniqueness and timelessness: The Torah [. . .] did not spring from the breast of mortal man; it is the message of the God of Heaven and Earth to Man; and it was from the very beginning so high above the cultural level of the people to which it was given, that during the three thousand years of its existence there was never a time yet during which Israel was quite abreast of the Torah, when the Torah could be said to have been completely translated into practice. The Torah is rather the highest aim, the ultimate goal towards which the Jewish nation was to be guided through all its fated wanderings among the nations of the world. [. . .] The Torah has outlived all the generations of Israel and is still waiting that coming age which “at the end of days” will be fully ripe for it. Thus, the Torah manifests from the very beginning its superhuman origin. It has no development and no history; it is rather the people of the Torah which has a history. And this history is nothing else but its continuous training and striving to rise to the unchangeable, eternal height on which the Torah is set, this Torah that has nothing in common with what is commonly called “religion”; [. . .] it is not based on the ideas which the Jews once upon a time had of God and their relations to Him, but on those which they should have at all times according to the will of this One and Eternal God. [. . .] Unlike “religion”, the Torah is not the 122 Hirsch, Gen. 3:19, see also Hirsch, Writings, 1:178–180, 216; 2:10.

311

312

The Dual Truth thought of man, but the thought of God, expressed in Divine Laws which are to be carried out by man as symbolic actions. [. . .] [It] is, therefore, a Divine document, the authentic form of which must be kept and preserved with scrupulous accuracy, so that man should be able to study and assimilate the Divine thoughts contained in it.123

The Torah is different from all known systems of law: While all other religious laws and doctrines (like all man-made institutions) may have been products of their times and creations of human minds, springing from the outlook, during any given period, of the people that adopted them, this particular religion and this particular law must have had a superhuman origin. For Judaism is the sole religion, the sole law, with which the very people among whom it first emerged, frequently found itself in open conflict. [. . .] It is precisely the conflict of centuries, which the Law of Moses had to wage with this people before the latter would be conquered, that supplies the clearest evidence of [its] higher origin.124

There is no historical development of the Torah. It is the people that develop to be worthy of it: The same ‫[ הגבלה‬restriction] is continued by the encampment of the sons of Abraham and the Levi’im around the Sanctuary of the Torah and by the keeping of the people at a distance from this Sanctuary, and thereby the same fact of the Torah’s superhuman origin and its validity independent of time and place is established for all time. In the course of time, the need for asserting this fact will increase. For all classes of the Jewish people—irrespective of profession or occupation—are called upon to study the Torah, accept its authority, and fulfill its commandments, and the Torah is destined to accomplish its mission among the people. The Torah will penetrate every spirit and every heart, shape every thought and every feeling, every outlook and every accomplishment, and the people’s spirit, energized by the Torah and growing stronger from generation to generation, will grow ever closer to the spirit of the Torah. Finally, the gap 123 Ibid., 7:185–187. See also Hirsch, Ex., 19:10–15. 124 Hirsch, Writings, 8:312.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine between the Torah’s ideal and its realization amidst the people will close and thus the presumptuousness in Korach’s claim, ‫כי כל העדה כלם קדשים‬ ’‫[ ובתוכם ה‬that all the congregation are holy, every one of them, and the Lord is among them] 125

Rosenzweig is far more moderate in his treatment of Christianity, which, in his opinion, properly fulfills its role among the nations. Like Hirsch, Rosenzweig also believes that the Torah of Israel is an entity beyond time. The nation of Israel is indeed eternal (as maintained by Hirsch and other before him like Krochmal) yet does not develop (as opposed to Hirsch’s view). In Rosenzweig’s opinion, both religions have equal status; both keep eternity on the path to redemption. A necessary symbiosis of co-partnership prevails between them. Each needs the other as they participate in the process of drawing near the “kingdom of heaven.” Christianity walks an eternal path from Jesus’s first coming to his second. It is a path within time, within nations, within history— on both ends standing a God who transcends time. Therefore, Christianity was able to penetrate and absorb the pagan nations. In Judaism, by contrast, eternity is seen at all times; Judaism is fixed, standing within a life of eternity. Judaism lives in its own redemption and preceded eternity. The nation of Israel has one past, present and future, always lying above time, place, and historical changes, creating a time of its own. It walks within history but exerts no influence on it. It dwells separately from other nations, and does not penetrate them nor they it—the nations of the world are only subject to the influence of Judaism. The Torah (the nation’s daily life) remains equally valid at all times, and thus, with Torah in hand, and without change, the nation of Israel awaits redemption. The Jew needs no renewal to connect with God and eternal life; these are natural to him. The Christian needs divine grace to free himself of his sin and to connect with God. Judaism lives an eternal life, and, therefore, religion and society are harmoniously united within it. On the path of Christianity towards redemption, political society is separate from the path of the ecclesiastical religion. The difference between Hirsch and Rosenzweig lies in their opinions about what constitutes the primary focus of Judaism. According to Hirsch, the Torah is central. The nation is only a nation due to the Torah and their observance of it. The nation continues to develop and advance, molding itself and mankind to fit the Torah. According to Rosenzweig, the life of the nation is central. This life is manifested in the unique lifestyle advocated by the Torah which reflects 125 Hirsch, Num., 17:25.

313

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The Dual Truth

c­ onstant life in eternity, with no development or advancement. The basis for the nation’s existence is its tribal, familial blood relations and the tradition passed down from generation to generation, an affinity more emotional than ethnic. It is Christianity which is entrusted with historical redemption.126 This is what Rosenzweig writes about the nation’s eternity which is based on blood relations, separate from all other nations and religions: PRAISED be he who has planted eternal life in our midst. The fire burns in the heart of the Star. It is only out of the fire of the center that the rays shine forth and flow outwards irresistibly. The heart of the fire must burn without ever stopping. Its flame must eternally nourish itself. It does not want nourishment from anywhere else. Time must roll past it without power. The fire must beget its own time. It must beget itself eternally It must make its life eternal in the succession of generations, each of which begets the following one, as it itself again will bear witness to the preceding one. The bearing witness takes place in the begetting. [. . .] The community of the same blood alone feels even today the guarantee of its eternity running warmly through its veins, [. . .] not an enemy to be restrained, over which perhaps, perhaps even not—but it hopes that—it will be triumphant, but child and grandchild. That which for other communities is future and therefore in any case that which is still on the other side the present—is for it alone already present; for it alone, that which is future is nothing foreign, but something that is its own, something that it carries in its womb, and it can give birth to it every day.127

The Supremacy of Historical Experience and Spontaneous Love over Rational Apprehension As a romantic, Hirsch rejected speculative, rationalist philosophy and dismissed the possibility of using it to apprehend eternal truths. Instead, he preferred personal, and collective experience, lived in history and passed down reliably from generation to generation. That being said, as one who had internalized the Haskalah, he also opposed any worldview which is mystical, overly sentimental or mysterious. As I have shown above, Hirsch believes that 126 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 348–351; Schwartz, “Meqomo shel Franz Rosenzweig,” 33; Schweid, Toldot Hafilosofia Hayehudit, 68–69, 139–142; Amir, Daat Maamina, 214–220. Leibowitz deems this approach “pitiful.” See Leibowitz, Hayahadut, 332. 127 Rosenzweig, Star of Redemption, 318.

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the commandments the Jewish people received in revelation reflect supreme ethical freedom. At their basis is God’s love of us, and our love of Him—the one who created us as a people, brought us out of Egypt, and gave us the Torah. From this love derives the obligation to love every other person as beings created in God’s image who walk the path of morality. This love, is also the basis of the commandments. Clear and healthy logic allows man to freely choose the heteronomous, ethical system of the Torah and to accept it upon himself. Religious emotion bridges between clear logic and observance of the commandments and acting morally. The redemption will arrive when all of mankind freely chooses this morality. Hirsch praises factual experience, preferring it to speculative emotionalism, mysticism or philosophy. He praises the role of reason, which processes the information of the nation’s experiences of Exodus and revelation, and emphasizes the role of emotion which leads to action: Indeed, what possible relationship could there be between a sphere of ethereal emotion and such concrete historic realities as ‫[ מתן תורה‬the gifting of Torah], ‫[ קריעת ים סוף‬the splitting of the Red Sea], ‫יציאת מצרים‬ [the Exodus], and ‫[ דרך המדבר‬the way through the desert], the foundations of Judaism. How can vague sentiment comprehend and absorb such laws as those concerning ‫[ עריות‬incestuous relations], ‫צדק משקלות‬ [fair weights], ‫[ ריבית‬interest], ‫[ שעטנז‬mixed linen and wool], and ‫[ מלאכות אסורות‬work forbidden on a holiday]. How could such realities be produced from mere emotion, or how could such laws be obeyed within a framework of mere intuitive sentiment and “belief ”? [. . .] “I have caused you to see in order to have you know [. . .] that the Lord alone is God and none else beside Him” [Deut. 4:35] Your covenant with God does not refer you to mere “belief,” but to that which you yourself have seen and experienced. God has placed the foundations of His covenant with you upon a world of concrete realities; namely your election and your commitment. To the reality of the creation of heaven and earth He has added the reality of His revelation, confirmed by the experience of your own national history. [. . .] It is on this clear historic basis, on realities confirmed by the concrete experience of an entire nation, that Judaism stands, in both theory and practice. In Judaism, emotions must not be allowed to run away with the mind. Rather, the emotions must be guided by the senses, grasped by the lucid intellect and considered by logical thought so that they serve as guides for every aspect of our lives. [. . .]

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The Dual Truth Clear reasoning and vigorous willpower: these are the forces on which Judaism counts; in Judaism, the heart and the emotions only serve to mediate between intellect and action.128

The Exodus from Egypt is the unique, eternal testimony for our entire Jewish concept of God. It bears no relation to what the delusions of atheism, or idle speculation, or the postulates of nature contemplation, or other nebulous forms of theology understand by the name “God,” and want others to understand. It is the event that with one blow overthrew the gods of Egypt, the god of Spinozan restriction, the god of Hegelian evolution, as well as the tunnel vision of atheistic materialism.129

As an existentialist, Rosenzweig also preferred personal, spontaneous experience over systematic, speculative, and all-encompassing thought. At the basis of his philosophy, stands the personal and real while the theoretical and abstract are rejected. Thought can only describe and analyze the facts of being and reality, as presented to mankind through experience. God, the world, and their multi-faceted nature are a primary source. Only after these can reason attempt to understand and unite these phenomena. Therefore, Rosenzweig’s cultural hero (like Hirsch) was Judah Halevi—who based Judaism on the experiences of the Exodus and the theophany at Sinai, events passed down from generation to generation—even if Rosenzweig himself did not recognize them as truly historical.130 Rosenzweig seeks to build a new philosophy describing the unfolding process between creation and redemption, an idea which rejects both the rational explanations of speculative reason as well as the interpretations of traditional mysticism.131 In his words: Thus man—no! not man, but a man, an entirely specific man became a power dominating philosophy—no! his philosophy. The philosopher stopped being a quantité négligeable for his philosophy. The c­ ompensation 128 Hirsch, Writings, 2:141–143; See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 393–402. 129 Hirsch, Writings, 1:30. See also Hirsch, Ex. 19:4; 20:2, 12. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 94–95. 130 See Amir, Daat Maamina, 111–112. 131 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 331, 333–334. Schwartz, “Meqomo shel Franz Rosenzweig,” 23–28; Schweid, Toldot Hafilosofia Hayehudiṭ 351–352.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine that philosophy promised to give in the form of mind to the one who sold his soul to it, no longer inspired full confidence. Man, not the one who is transported into the intellect, but the man endowed with a soul, the one whose mind was only a frozen breath of his living soul—it is he, doing philosophy, who rallied from philosophy: it had to acknowledge him, to acknowledge him as an inconceivable thing for it, and yet, because he ruled it, could not be denied. Man, in the simple oneness of his own being, in his being which was established on his last name and his first name, strode out of the world that knew itself as a thinkable world, strode out of the All of philosophy.132

As in the philosophies of Hirsch and Cohen, for Rosenzweig, love is primary; as in Hirsch’s philosophy, for Rosenzweig, love of God precedes love of man. In Rosenzweig’s opinion, knowledge of creation and revelation (that is man’s un-mediated awareness that he is a creation of a free God who loves him) leads man to respond out of free will to acquire love of God, to seize it, leading him to spontaneous love of the other (who is also a divine creation), embodying this in actions as commanded by God. This is a religious morality, based entirely on love; it does not derive from any rational consideration, but only from spontaneous love burst forth. This effluence of love, which fills all things with the thought and action, will bring redemption to the world.133 This is what Rosenzweig has to say about love stemming from the interconnected freedoms of God and man: [M]an can only externalize himself in the act of love, once the soul has been awakened by God. Only the love received from God makes the act of love on the soul’s part more than a mere act, namely the fulfillment of a—commandment of love. Since God commands love toward man, love is immediately led back to love toward God, because love cannot be commanded except by the lover himself. Love for God must be externalized in love for the neighbor. So love for the neighbor can be commanded and it must be commanded. This love derived its origin from the mystery of the oriented will. Only the form of the commandment makes visible behind that origin the presupposition of love received from God, and this presupposition distinguishes it from all moral acts. Moral laws do not seek 132 Rosenzweig, Star of Redemption, 16. 133 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 313–335; 343–346.

317

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The Dual Truth only to be rooted in freedom—as love toward the neighbor also wants it—they actually do not want to recognize any presupposition other than freedom.134

As in Hermann Cohen’s case, it was this theory which drove Rosenzweig to return to Judaism. His is not the classical repentance of a believer who has sinned and feels remorse; rather he repents in the modern sense—he is one who once rejected Jewish theology for philosophical reasons, detached himself from tradition, but then re-revealed the greatness of Judaism and returned to it. The classic idea of teshuva (repentance), which was so fundamental for Hirsch,—the element of Judaism which distinguished it from Christianity— became in modern garb something more akin to Rosenzweig’s and Cohen’s personal rediscoveries.135

Creation, Revelation and Redemption Like every religious thinker who draws his philosophy from Scripture, the axis of creation-revelation-redemption was an important aspect of Hirsch’s thought. The creation of the world and man by God—a historical act of creation ex nihilo—is the foundation for every person’s obligation towards his creator. The path to uphold this obligation was transmitted to the Jewish People for mankind as a whole in a unique public revelation of God to man. Without this revelation, man would not be able to establish a moral society. God has a great plan, unfolding in history, to educate humanity to crown God as its king, to accept upon itself the morality of the Torah. To this end, God selected one family, from which sprung an entire nation in a unique act of creation. This nation accepted the Torah on behalf of mankind, and was then sent to mankind to convey to it its morality. Only this morality—which derives from a God free of the bonds of flesh and from human inclinations—can bring mankind to its goal: lives of morality and sanctity, led by God, redemption already in this world. Rosenzweig incorporated this same axis of creation-revelation-redemption into the center of his own system. In his book, Star of Redemption, he presents these three key events as the three vertices of a triangle of human history. He presented the three fundamental facts of the cosmic existence— God-world-man—as the three vertices of existence. The combination of these 134 Rosenzweig, Star of Redemption, 230. 135 See Schweid, Toldot Hafilosofia Hayehudit, 343–350, 353–357.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

two triangles creates a star of David, presenting a model of all the possible connections between the three fundamental facts in each one of the key points in human history and the time between them: the encounter and relationship between God and the world is encapsulated in the term “creation,” and it is dedicated to the past; the encounter and relationship between God and man is encapsulated by the term “revelation,” which is dedicated to the present; the encounter and relationship between man and the world is encapsulated in the term “redemption,” meaning that the world will be redeemed by man and for him, and it is dedicated to the future. The process of redemption is actualized already in history itself; mankind and the world merit eternity already in their ephemeral lives; at the end of the process the world and man will unite with God and the unity of being will be achieved.136 It should be emphasized that in Rosenzweig’s philosophical system, unlike Hirsch’s, the creation of the physical world is not a single act transpiring at a certain point within history; it is not an act of creation ex nihilo. Rather it is a constantly unfolding event: humanity and the world continuing to exist due to God. The creation discussed by Rosenzweig is the first revelation; it establishes the connection between God and the world. On the one hand, the wonderful harmony and regularity of the world and man, on the other hand the freedom of individuals possessing the uniqueness to act and overflow with love spontaneously—these were formed in the first creation by a God who himself overflowed with love. The true revelation to man (the second revelation) was also not a historical event; its purpose was not to establish dogmas. Rather it was the free act of a loving God, beginning in the past but connected to the present, in which he turns to man constantly; mankind responds, requiting its love to God, acknowledging him as an overseeing creator and a loving father. Redemption is “establishing the world, perfecting the universe in the kingdom of Shadai,” in which miracles will once again be magnified, and the encounter between Godman-world will be renewed in perfect harmony. As noted, by loving God one engenders love of one’s comrade. The effluence of human love—overflowing spontaneously, without following the cold calculations of reason—is the religious ethic responsible for bringing redemption to the world. Another difference between Hirsch and Rosenzweig is related to the content of revelation. Hirsch identifies religious morality with the morality of law; Rosenzweig, however, distinguishes between the two. The morality of law is

136 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 335–336; Amir, Daat Maamina, 129–145.

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The Dual Truth

general, rational, and purposeful. Redemption, however, will come from spontaneous and personal acts of love.137 Another important distinction between the two is that Hirsch distances himself from any form of pantheism, deeming it paganism. Rosenzweig, however, speaks explicitly about man’s acts of love animating and awaking the world to life (unlike Hegel and Schelling, who maintain that the dialectical process actualizes itself and does not require human actions). In other words, alongside the relationship between God and man, there is a relationship between God and the world. Thus, both the world and man—two of God’s creations—are redeemed, achieving complete unity with God from the power of love.138 In the last section of the Star of Redemption, Rosenzweig draws closer to tradition and traditional worldviews, which had already been strongly expressed by Hirsch. Rosenzweig returned from philosophy to practical religion—to historical Judaism, and to its authority to dictate a religious lifestyle for a religious community. At this point, revelation is the historical basis of Judaism (and Christianity). The commandment of love is turned into a formal law, and the redemption is expressed by the future coming (or second coming) of the Messiah.139

Land, Exile, Language Hirsch, who sought to increase Jewish emancipation and participation in public life with Germans, remained faithful to the tradition which neutralizes the Land of Israel and a Jewish return to it. He consigned it to a utopian time beyond history, as maintained by the tradition of the three oaths. In his opinion, the land was never a central element of Judaism; it never had any inherent value, and never was anything besides a tool. The nation was established in Egypt and received the Torah in the wilderness. Its greatest leader never even set foot in the land. When this tool proved disappointing, a more effective tool was chosen—exile. It became apparent that dwelling in the land was ­detrimental to the morality of the nation—its main mission to the world. The material abundance provided by the land, in exchange for following the path of the Torah, corrupted the nation dwelling therein. It caused it to betray God and his law, and therefore, the land spat the Jews out. By contrast, in the more modest conditions of exile, the nation better fulfills its mission. It can find satisfaction 137 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 340, 342, 345; Schwartz, “Meqomo shel Franz Rosenzweig,” 28–32; Amir, Daat Maamina, 135–138. 138 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 346–347; Cf. Amir, Daat Maamina, 259–260. 139 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 347–348.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

in its achievements, as it watches humanity progressing towards ethical monotheism in the spirit of the Torah of Israel. For Hirsch, Hebrew was a holy tongue, the language of prayer and Torah learning, a language which preserves the unity of the nation, maintaining its unique character in all corners of the Diaspora. By contrast, Hirsch’s language of culture and the quotidian was German, the language he used to write his books, articles, and sermons. Hirsch thus speaks negatively of the land and of a real Jewish state, contrasting with his positive portrayals of the spiritual life in the Diaspora: It was not God’s Will that the Children of Israel should become a nation in the land that was destined for them and develop into a nation in accordance with the conditions and influences of that land. Rather, unlike all the other nations, they became a nation before they possessed a land. [. . .] What other nations receive from the soil of their land, Israel receives from its relationship with God. The emergence and existence of other nations are rooted in the soil of their land. They prevail over the land and conquer it, and by cultivating it and developing it, they turn it into the basis for the development of their society. At the same time, they are subject to the climatic influence of their land. The climatic conditions of the land determine the physical, intellectual, moral, and social development of their culture. They therefore come to deify what they consider to be the forces that shape their culture; they come to worship these factors as gods on whom their national prosperity depends. Not so Israel. Israel is to bring into its land its physical, intellectual, moral, and social culture already fashioned by God. Israel is not to subordinate itself and its national life to the land; instead, it must make the land subordinate to itself and to its national life as fashioned by God. Thus, through its very national existence, through its national life and national prosperity, Israel shall proclaim that God is the sole true Power and that He alone is the Source of the welfare of all nations.140 For other nations, material independence and material prosperity constitute the main objective—almost the sole objective—of their national unity. Yet, for the Jewish nation, precisely this objective is of secondary import. To be sure, God watches over the national welfare, just as He watches over the welfare of each individual. [. . .] Not only our personalities and destinies belong to God, but our material welfare, too, depends solely on Him. [. . .] [Material welfare is mentioned] only as a 140 Hirsch, Deut. 32:9; See also Gen. 12:2–3; Ex. 6:7.

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The Dual Truth secondary consideration. [. . .] because the nation of Israel, as such, has neither national might nor national possessions.141 [The law of the nations] reflects the philosophy of an independent, prosperous national life becoming reality on it own soil and through its own resources. For Israel, supreme lex—the Law is the supreme factor in its existence. As a result of its unconditional acceptance of this Law in its midst, Israel became a nation in the wilderness before it could call an inch of land and soil its own. [. . .] Israel is to concentrate on the spiritual and moral values of human existence in the face of a world wedded to land and soil. [. . .] The Jew is certainly not called upon to reject the benefits of his material resources. On the contrary, he should take advantage of all the opportunities that life has to offer, provided he remains in control and does not gradually succumb to the mindless pleasures of crass materialism. ‫וישמן‬ ‫“[ ישרון ויבעט‬But Jeshurun waxed fat, and kicked,” Deut. 32:15] has always been the historical fruit of excessive freedom, independence and prosperity. This is what happened to the people as it emerged from the desolation of the desert into the land of abundance and plenty. It did not take long before they turned away from God’s Law and, following the example of the surrounding nations, embraced the idols of wealth and political power.142 The people wanted to limit and restrict God to the narrow confines of the Temple. [. . .] The time came for the Divine judgment to liberate and redeem the Sanctuary of the Divine Law. [. . .] The beleaguered Sanctuary of God’s Law which had become alienated from the people and estranged from the state, lay in ruins—free! For the destruction of the Sanctuary marked the beginning of the victorious march of the Divine Law through the centuries without bearers, without priests, without official power and force of arms.143

Or, to cite another example, “Israel accomplished its task better in exile than in the full possession of good fortune.”144

141 Hirsch, Lev. 2:1. 142 Hirsch, Writings, 8:293. 143 Ibid., 223. 144 Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters, 82. Within history, Hirsch preferred a blessed exile in which the Jewish People fulfill its mission as a nation of Torah and opposed forcing the redemption, considering it a breach of Halakhah. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 63–67, 89–98.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

I have already shown above how these ideas—or at least some of them— trickled into the teachings of Cohen and Leibowitz. Rosenzweig, who held similar views, is another link in the adoption of these ideas in the axis between Cohen and Leibowitz. On the one hand, Rosenzweig’s stance derived from a fear of normalization, assimilation, and apostasy. On the other hand, it was a consequence of his wish to preserve the spiritual eternity of a nation detached from materialism and history. Because the nation and its eternal life stand at the center of Judaism, they are not dependent on any external, earthly element such as land or language. Like Hirsch, Rosenzweig emphasizes the fact that Israelite nationhood began in Egypt; the Israelites came into the land as a nation, already possessing God’s commandments; and they already knew from prophecy that God would exile them from it while remaining with them. According to Rosenzweig, the nation is a nation only by virtue of its guarded blood relations, the basis of its connection to God and the shared destiny of its members. The holy land and language continue to be the nation’s spiritual possessions even when they are actually absent, allowing the people to preserve their uniqueness by negation. Those whose land and language are holy cannot incorporate the lands and languages of others into their inner lives. These can only be a part of secular, quotidian life. The holy tongue eternally perpetuates foreignness, allowing a spiritual connection among the nation’s members to the exclusion of all others. As an eternal nation, the Jewish people’s mission is to fully free itself of any aspiration for political, earthly existence, and to preserve the pristine nature of the holy tongue from any ephemeral influence. Historically, life in an independent state was transient and non-essential. It is the eternal life in exile which allows the nation to detach itself from the influences of time and history, to live its true life—a life of love for God and one’s companions, a life of spiritual goals, a life lived above material elements in expectation for redemption. Rosenzweig thus sanctified, like Hirsch, exile as the true homeland of the Jewish people.145 145 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 351–353; Schwartz, “Meqomo shel Franz Rosenzweig,” 34; Amir, Daat Maamina, 221–223; P. Mendes-Flohr, Qidma Venaftuleha (Tel Aviv, 2010), 219–224, 272–278. Mendes-Flohr’s study which includes works of Rosenzweig which demonstrate a more complex approach in comparison to that of Hirsch, deserves special attention; he considered himself neither a Zionist nor an anti-Zionist. In any event, Mendes-Flohr claims, Gershom Scholem’s critique (in Devarim Bego, [Tel Aviv, 1976], 407–425) of Rosenzweig’s approach to Zionism—which does not address these sources and accuses Rosenzweig of simply adopting the Orthodox position which preceded him— is not precise, even though it is overall correct. Mendes-Flohr does not fail to mention Scholem’s own Zionist stance—identifying Zionism with Messianic, apocalyptic and ecstatic movements, an identification which Rosenzweig rejects out of hand.

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Rosenzweig describes his attitude towards the Land of Israel as follows: For this reason, the tribal legend of the eternal people begins otherwise than with indigenousness. Only the father of humanity, and even he only as regards the body, is sprouted from the earth; Israel’s ancestor, however, immigrated; his story begins, as the Holy Books recount it, with the divine command to go out of the land of his birth and to go into a land that God will show him. And the people becomes the people, as in the dawn of its earliest times so later again in the bright light of history, in an exile, the Egyptian one as later the one in Babylon. And the homeland in which the life of a people begins to feel at home and ploughed in until it nearly has forgotten that being a people means still something other than remaining in a land—for the eternal people the homeland never becomes its own in that sense; it is not permitted to sleep at home; it always remembers the lack of constraints on a traveler and is a knight truer to his land when he lingers in his travels and adventures and longs for the homeland it has left than in the times when he is at home. The land is in the deepest sense its own only as land of longing, as—holy land. And this is why for it, even when it is at home, again differently from all peoples of the earth, this full proprietorship of the homeland is disputed; it is itself only a stranger and tenant in its land. “The land is mine,” says God to the people; the holiness of the land removes the land from its natural hold as long as it could take hold of it; the holiness infinitely increases its longing for the lost land and henceforward no longer lets it feel entirely at home in any other land; it forces it to gather the full weight of its will to be a people into that one point which for the peoples of the world is only one among others, into the real and pure vital point, into the community of blood; the will to be a people cannot cling here to any dead means; this can be realized only by means of the people itself; the people is a people only through the people.146

As a people eternally living outside of history, political life does not affect the Nation of Israel: With no State, then, no world history. Only the State causes those reflected images of true eternity that mould the bricks of world history as times to 146 Rosenzweig, Star of Redemption, 319.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine fall into the river of time. AND that is why the true eternity of the eternal people must remain always foreign and annoying to the State and to world history. Against the hours of eternity, which the State in the times of world history carves with a sharp sword into the bark of the growing tree of time, the eternal people every year places untroubled and intact ring upon ring round the trunk of its eternal life. [. . .] The Creation itself as a whole, however, is held together with Redemption in all time, as long as Redemption is still in its coming, only through the Eternal People placed outside all World History. In its life alone the fire burns that nourishes itself from itself and therefore has no need of the sword that would bring nourishment to its flame from the woods of the world.147

It is important to emphasize that the tendency to neutralize the Land of Israel was an approach also taken by the Reform movement. That being said, I do not think that Rosenzweig admired this approach, estranged as it was from large swathes of Jewish history, and leading, in his opinion, to assimilation. Rosenzweig also explicitly criticized the pseudo-history and pseudo-law of Hirschian Orthodoxy, as well as the pseudo-logic of divine unity and pseudo-ethics of loving the other in the thought of Geiger. Unlike Hirsch, Rosenzweig considered the scientific study of Jewish sources an obligation. But he, too, disapproved (like Hermann Cohen) of Bible criticism and dry philological analysis that do not address the personal and living message of Judaism—a deficiency also pointed out by Hirsch.148 In my opinion, Rosenzweig was influenced by the “romantics,” those who loved living tradition and the nation’s historical experience—such as Judah Halevi, Hirsch and Hermann Cohen in his old age—and not the scholars of the Reform movement.

Torah and Commandments As I have already shown above, the basis of Hirsch’s teaching is the Torah; only through observing the commandments (written and oral) did Israel become a nation. Unlike other moral codes, products of human reason, the ethics of the Torah represent a supreme immutable morality; they are the key to the life of the nation and the redemption of mankind. Only the morality of the Torah 147 Ibid., 354–355. 148 See Hirsch, Writings, 1:342–343; Rosenzweig, Star of Redemption, 53; Rosenzweig, On Jewish Learning, 57–59; Schweid, Toldot Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 248–249, 360–361.

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detaches man from his sensuality; only it enables the path to sanctity. All other religions and philosophies are bound to the material; they are nothing more than new variations on paganism. Moreover, the human reason which serves as their basis, is subject to personal interests, its goals changing in step with changing times, its laws mutable, susceptible to improvement by means progress. Unlike the program of the Reform movement, it is forbidden to change or modify the Torah’s commandments as they stand above time and place, constituting the zenith, the ultimate destination of mankind’s aspirations. By contrast, in Rosenzweig’s thought, the life of the nation is the primary emphasis, not the Torah, and he maintains that the morality of the Torah is an act of love, not merely a calculated intellectual measure to achieve specific goals. In his opinion, Judaism does not constitute the law, it creates it. “Its essence is to be a Jew.”149 However, even according to this perspective there is immense importance to Jewish life being lived according to the Torah—a view akin to the stances of Hirsch and Cohen. According to Rosenzweig, the Torah is a special way of life for a special people—it is a way of life which does not change with the changing times, always remaining relevant, unlike other nations whose laws change with the passing eras. Rosenzweig opposes the Orthodox position which advocated dogmatic necessity, obligation, and imposition of prohibitions and permissions. But he also opposes the Reform perspective on Halakhah based on the teachings of Geiger, and the complete rejection of Halakhah as maintained by his friend Buber. He opposes the “all or nothing” approach, but just as much opposes the “all.” He prefers the criterion of ability without unmoderated enslavement to the commandments. Rosenzweig, therefore, also does not accept intransigence of Hirschian Orthodoxy, which does not fit the fluctuating needs of the new penitent, and instead demands adapting every commandment to a person’s personal ability.150 Hirsch writes as follows in the Nineteen Letters. Truly when the mind has realized [. . .] that the noble life can only be erected upon ideas inwardly recognized [. . .] will [it] go back to the ancient fountains of Judaism, Bible and Talmud, and the one effort will be to obtain the concept of life out of Judaism and to comprehend Judaism as the law of life, and this effort will lead to the transposing of that which holds the theory of truth and life into actual practical truth and life, in 149 “The letter to Halow,” translated into Hebrew in Rosenzweig, Mivkhar Igrot Veqitei Yoman, ed. R. Horowitz ( Jerusalem, 1987), 225–226. 150 See Rosenzweig, On Jewish Learning, 79–80, 85–86; Amir, Daat Maamina, 30–31, 298–291; Mendes-Flohr, Qidma Venaftuleha, n. 145 above.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine accordance with the old adage, now, alas, nearly forgotten “to learn and to teach, to keep and to do.”151

I believe that Rosenzweig is responding to these exact words in his address “Upon Opening the Jüdisches Lehrhaus.” The correct direction of education must from this point forth be from life to Torah and not the reverse: It is a learning in reverse order. A learning that no longer starts from the Torah and leads into life, but the other way round: from life, from a world that knows nothing of the Law, or pretends to know nothing, back to the Torah. That is the sign of the time. [. . .] There is no one today who is not alienated. [. . .] [W]e all know that in being Jews we must not give up anything, not renounce anything. But lead everything back to Judaism. From the periphery, back to the center; from the outside, in.152

Rosenzweig, like Hirsch, dedicates extensive descriptions and explanations to the framework of Jewish life, prayer, the Sabbath, the festivals and other hallmarks of Jewish existence.153 Hirsch sought to strengthen the religiosity of his congregation. Rosenzweig, however, sought to draw the commandments closer to the new penitent—including himself. According to Rosenzweig, one must return to the Torah from life itself. The Torah, that is, the law code beyond time, is what allows Israel to live an eternal life above time and history, what allows them to confidently await the messianic redemption. This will be brought about by acts of love, Jewish morality, which will allow mankind to free itself of its characteristic idolatry, leading to the unification of man and the world with God.154 Rosenzweig describes the idolatry of the time, a demonstration of modern man’s enslavement to his impulses, in Leibowitzian terms: Names change but polytheism continues. Culture, civilization, people, state, nation, race, art, science, economy and class—here you have what is certainly an abbreviated and incomplete list of the pantheon of our contemporary gods. Who will deny their existence? No “idolator” has ever 151 Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters, 202–203. 152 Rosenzweig, On Jewish Learning, 98. 153 See Amir, Daat Maamina, 223–231. 154 See ibid., 341, 349, 351. Schwartz, “Meqomo shel Franz Rosenzweig,” 37–39; Schweid, Toldot Hafilosofia Hayehudit, 357–359.

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The Dual Truth worshipped his idols with greater devotion and faith than that displayed by modern man towards his gods… A continual battle has been going on to this very day in the mind of man between the worship of the One and the many. Its outcome is never certain.155

Religion and Nature, Torah and Science Hirsch maintains that the law of the Torah, like the laws of nature, are indisputable facts; they were legislated by God, Creator of the world, giver of the Torah, the orchestrator of history. In theory, the conclusions of Torah and science are identical. Practically, however, when difficulties arise it is the true Torah which is to be used as a touchstone for evaluating the conclusions of science, a means of purifying them. Therefore, any contradiction between religion and science is impossible, and the difficulty will be resolved when both have been distilled and purified. Human reason is also a divine creation, God’s gift to man. Therefore, the achievements of science and intellect— including philosophy, history, and all branches of culture which are the fruit of reason purified of interests—are identical to the worldview of the Torah when it has been cleansed of its years of accumulated dross. Hirsch seeks to pave a middle path between two extremes: the philosophers and scientific researchers who deny the Torah’s divinity and the invalidation of science and research by the devout, based on the idea of “establish[ing Judaism] in science and as science.”156 His claim is that there is but one truth and whatever comes from God belongs to this truth. I have already cited above Hirsch’s statements about the indeticality of Torah, science, and general culture.157 About the one truth, Judaism as science, and the use of revelation as a criterion when a difficulty arises in the theory of identicality Hirsch writes: [ Judaism] rouses us to the endeavor to understand the world, man, human history, and God’s plan operating therein. In this effort, personal 155 From Rosenzweig’s work Jehuda Halevi (Berlin, 1900). It was translated into Hebrew by Nehama Leibowitz in her book on Exodus. The English version cited appears in N. Leibowitz, Studies in Shemot, trans. A. Newman ( Jerusalem, 1976), 321. This is reminiscent of similar words written by Yeshayahu Leibowitz about the Kabalistic Pantheon. (see above n. 53). 156 Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters, 218. 157 See above Chapter One, notes 17–18; Chapter Two, note 23.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine study and thought, universal human experience and the Torah are to be alike utilized, for the latter is as real and actual a source of instruction as the two former. True speculation does not consist, as many would-be thinkers suppose, in closing the eye and the ear to the world round about us and in constructing out of our own inner Ego a world to suit ourselves; true speculation takes nature, man, and history as facts, as the true basis of knowledge, and seeks in them instruction and wisdom; to these Judaism adds the Torah, as genuine a reality as heaven or earth.158 The view of the reconstruction of Judaism as a science I have evolved almost alone out of my inner consciousness.159 There can be only one truth. That which is true by the standards of dogma must be true also according to the standards of scholarship, and, conversely, that which scholarship has exposed as falsehood and delusion cannot be resurrected by dogma as truth. If the results of scholarly research have convinced me that the Halakha is the comparatively recent creation of the human mind, then no dogma can make me revere Halakha as an ancient, Divinely uttered dictate and allow it to rule every aspect of my life. […] In order to justify their attitude about scholarship and dogma, they smuggle into Judaism from alien sources the concept of a distinction that is foreign to Judaism and to the true science of Judaism. Jewish thought knows of no such distinction between faith and science which assigns faith to the heavenly spheres and science to the earth.160

I have already shown above how Leibowitz does not accept Hirsch’s position and instead adopts Mendelssohn’s approach of complete separation. While Hermann Cohen does adopt Hirsch’s identicality approach, it seems that he does not concur with him that, practically speaking, when difficulties arise, religion is to serve as the criterion of truth. In the above discussion about Cohen, I have shown how he sought to base the necessary symbiosis of rational ethics on the morality of the Jewish prophets. Cohen went a step further, deeming Mendelssohn’s position—complete separation between religion and philosophy, and his view that the Jewish religion, is nothing but a law code devoid of philosophical significance—erroneous. Likewise, he considers the “dual truth,” the view that religion and philosophy are two contradictory truths, mistaken. 158 Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters, 146–147. 159 Ibid., 214. 160 Hirsch, Writings, 5:312. On Hirsch’s special approach of identicality, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 402–406, 418–422.

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According to Cohen, such a distinction between contents is invalid, and the only difference between religion and science is the method used to reach the same identical truth. In this scheme, each method makes up for the deficiencies of its counterpart. Religion is anchored in divine revelation. Philosophy and science are anchored in rational processes free from any external authority. Cohen writes as follows: Religious truthfulness also guards against the false determination of the relation between religion and philosophy. The thesis credo quia absurdum becomes entirely impossible. Equally, the separation between faith and reason is only permissible for the purpose of methodological distinction. The distinction may not be strained to the point of contradiction. Only a distinction is to be assumed, not a separation. [. . .] This is the meaning of the title which Saadiah gave to his book, and which one could actually translate Faith and Reason: ‫אמונות ודעות‬. This unifying tendency attains its classical maturity in Maimonides, but his predecessors are not inferior in their frank rationalism on this principal point. Bahya says (Duties of the Heart 1, 2): “It is true, when the philosopher says that the final cause and the final principle could be honored according to their nature only by the prophet of the time or by the competent philosopher.” Furthermore, Joseph Albo makes a valid distinction between theory and practice with regard to the concept of heresy. Theory he sets free. In no way, should this permit a double truth, but only freedom of thought; the autonomy of philosophy is protected against the revealed faith with its laws. No religious truthfulness can be established exclusively on authoritarian faith; for through this the authority of reason would be renounced, which, together with the truthfulness of knowledge, cannot be denied.161

Like Hirsch, Rosenzweig maintains that God is the source of all being. Therefore, the laws of morality legislated by man’s reason, which are the o­ bligation of all mankind, must integrate with the divine laws of nature, which organize the world of which man is a part. The message of revelation, however, is an important and distinct addition which is indispensable. That being said, according to Rosenzweig, reason and revelation are not identical; they are two different sciences: theology and philosophy, two different parts of a greater truth 161 Cohen, Religion of Reason, 421. On the dual truth approach see Chamiel, The Middle Way, 482–491 and n. 196 there; see also Chapter Thirteen below.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

d­ ependent on one another for their mutual perfection. In addition to the law of the Torah and of rational morality, there is also the ethics of religious belief. This latter category is not a law so much as a divine demand for acts of love, acts which flow from God’s love; these cannot be decreed upon man, and can only come about spontaneously. The exterior of every commandment in the Torah is law—the decree of God. However, the true content of the commandments are current, existential demands from the individual who now has an encounter with a caring God who responds with love. While Rosenzweig does not dismiss the importance of a law rooted in history and tradition, for him the commandment of love remains the essence. Only the organization of societal life and its demands for real order justifies the embodiment of the act of love in a positivist law. Ultimately, the God of law and the God of love are one and the same—a God who is both vengeful and benevolent.162 Rosenzweig’s philosophy is based on the idea of a “believing science.”163 In this respect, Rosenzweig is unlike Mendelssohn, who considers reason the exclusive criterion of truth, the commandments of revelation constituting the historico-particular aspect of Judaism which he separated from philosophy, and unlike Rosenzweig’s friend Martin Buber, who dismissed the commandments as unimportant and who also advocates a separation between science and faith: If Wissenschaft and religion seek to know nothing of each other, but do know of each other, then neither is of much use. There is only one Truth. No honest man can pray to a God whom as a scientific scholar he denies. No man who prays can deny God. I do not mean that the scientific scholar perceives God in his test-tube or his notebook. But the contents of testtube and notebook cannot exist without God. God is not the object of Wissenschaft; the world is that. But God made the world that is the object of Wissenschaft. [. . .] He is transcendent to Wissenschaft but also transcendental to it; Wissenschaft does not contain him, but would not exist without him; he is not in it, but it is beneath him. [. . .] It is not belief that is opposed to knowledge, but believing knowledge to unbelieving knowledge.164

Although Rosenzweig does not go as far as accepting Hirsch’s position—that religion and science are theoretically identical—he nevertheless expresses a very 162 See Gutman, Hafilosofia shel Hayahadut, 341. 163 See Schwartz, “Meqomo shel Franz Rosenzweig,” 41; Amir, Daat Maaminah, 13–15. 164 Translation from Scripture and Translation / Martin Buber and Franz Rosenzweig; trans. by L. Rosenwald and E. Fox (Bloomington, 1994), 26.

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similar view: that both are necessary and supplement each other, an alliance of sorts. In his opinion, the correct position strives to combine and connect them and is thus constructed from both of them; it unearths that which is buried in the world creating actual out of potential, causing revelation, and afterwards redemption. Rosenzweig describes a new type of theologian-philosopher who is identified with the character of the saint; the perfect person who mixes within himself philosophy and theology, mending the tear separating them: The theologian whom philosophy requires for the sake of its scientific character is himself a theologian who desires philosophy—out of concern for integrity. What was a demand in the interests of objectivity for philosophy will turn out to be a demand in the interests of subjectivity for theology. They complete each other, and together they bring about a new type of philosopher or theologian, situated between theology and philosophy.

The truth of the philosopher is called by the theologian creation, therefore as far as he is concerned: Theology [. . .] calls in philosophy today in order, theologically speaking, to throw [. . .] a bridge from Creation to Revelation, a bridge on which the connection may take place between Revelation and Redemption. [. . .] Philosophy contains the entire content of Revelation. [. . .] In Creation, Revelation is—“foreseen” in its entire content, exactly in accordance with today’s notion of faith, hence including also Redemption. 165

SUMMARY In this chapter I have tried to show that despite the many reservations of non-Orthodox Jewish philosophers in the twentieth century about the Orthodox fundamentalism of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, they were nevertheless influenced by him in many respects. With Mendelssohn and Kant hovering in 165 Rosenzweig, Star of Redemption, 116. See also ibid., 314–315. Cf. Mendes-Flohr, Qidma Venaftuleha, 202–208; Amir, Daat Maamina, 314 writes that in Rosenzweig’s case these were “two that are one,” whereas in Hirsch’s case the intention is Torah with Derekh Erets, the “with” being the bridge between the two separate realms. In my opinion, for Hirsch these two domains are not separate but identical, at least in theory. By contrast, I accept Mendes-Flohr’s position that for Rosenzweig there are two distinct domains which ­complement each other and require each other.

Hirsch’s Influence on Religious Jewish Philosophy    Chapter Nine

the background, Hirsch’s trailblazing breach of the early nineteenth-century wall of Orthodox seclusion, and his call to combine tradition with modernity, proved to be highly influential for religious Jews in his generation as well as later generations in twentieth-century Germany. All Jewish thinkers in Germany were familiar with his teachings and writings, even if most disagreed with him. Nevertheless, some of his positions and biblical interpretations made their way into the teachings of Hermann Cohen, Franz Rosenzweig and Yeshayahu Leibowitz, whether consciously or not. His pathos, religious depth, and romanticism, his rejection of the holiness of object or people, and his refusal to recognize the sanctity of land or of mystical messianism within history allowed many modern thinkers—not just Orthodox fundamentalists—to accept his ideas. His recognition of the intrinsic value of European culture, of purified science and philosophy, and their importance to forming the complete Jew and his adoption of the morality of the commandments as the essence of Judaism and as leading to the redemption of mankind as whole, found an attentive ear among various thinkers. Hirsch regarded himself a man of the middle, between Reform and devout. The older Cohen did not follow the path of radical Reform; Rosenzweig had reservations about the Reform movement; and Leibowitz vigorously opposed it. The three also opposed all the varieties of Orthodoxy, and sought a place for themselves in the middle—within the tension between reason and revelation. Though they had difficulties finding such a place, their eventual destinations were in terms of many important insights, close to the neo-Orthodox teachings of Hirsch, which, alongside Zecharias Frankel and his historical positivists successors, was to the right of them. The next two chapters will be dedicated to another group of Jewish thinkers in the twentieth century: rabbis, halakhic decisors, and students of Talmud, who in their youth studied in yeshivot in Eastern Europe, immigrated from Germany and became Neo-Orthodox, adopting important aspects of Hirsch’s thought.

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CHAPTER TEN

Hirsch’s Influence on Rabbi David Tsvi Hoffmann’s Commentary on the Pentateuch

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ltra-Orthodox ideologues who deem Hirsch a member of their camp tend to censor important parts of his philosophy, most of them failing to truly follow in his footsteps, remaining faithful to their Haredi views, far more radical than anything espoused by Hirsch. Unlike Hirsch, they reject the notion of secular studies for young students, and forbid the pursuit of an academic education. Unlike Hirsch, they consider a woman’s status, be it halakhically or socially, inferior to that of a man. In their opinion, Hirsch’s views on these subjects were nothing but a necessary concession, a result of the unique circumstances prevailing in Germany in Hirsch’s time, but Hirsch never intended to establish his positions as norms for later generations. I have already shown how these interpretations are mistaken, driven by a desire to present Hirsch as a Haredi figure. It is interesting to note, that religious Zionist thinkers—who also sought to adopt Hirsch as their own—claimed that his prohibition against an organized pre-messianic immigration to Zion was meant only for his generation. They believe, in fact, that he is a precursor of Zionism.1 The exceptions to these revisionist attitudes are three modern Haredi thinkers: Rabbi Professor David Tsvi Hoffmann (1843–1921) Rabbi Yehiel Yaakov Weinberg (1884–1966), and Weinberg’s disciple Rabbi Professor Eliezer Berkovits (1908–1992). All three of these rabbis began their careers 1

See above Chapter Two, and Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 438 n. 139; vol. 2, 94–98, and n. 137 there.

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as graduates of Haredi yeshivot in Eastern Europe, continuing their theological studies in German universities. They all would later associate with Hildesheimer’s rabbinical seminary in Berlin, they all taught Bible, Talmud, and Halakhah, and they served as halakhic decisors for the Jews of Germany. All three of them adopted Hirsch’s motto “Torah im Derekh Eretz,” each in his own way, each on the basis of his predecessors’ interpretations. In the next two chapters I will present their views: in this chapter, presenting Hirsch’s influence on Hoffmann’s biblical exegesis and in the following chapter elaborating upon the views of Weinberg and Berkovits regarding the subject of “Torah im Derekh Erets.” In my discussions, I will address whether they deviated from Hirsch’s original position or accepted it in full. Likewise, in these two chapters I will raise further issues which attest to Hirsch’s philosophical influence on these three rabbis, each one in a different way—Hoffmann was influenced by Hirsch directly; Weinberg was influenced through his teachers and from reading Hirsch’s writings; and Berkovits was influenced by his teacher Weinberg and also from reading Hirsch’s writings. For the purposes of this discussion, I will analyze selected texts representing the philosophies of these three figures, substantiating my interpretations.

RABBI DAVID TZVI HOFFMANN Rabbi Professor David Tsvi Hoffmann was born in Werbau, Hungary within the borders of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. In his youth, he studied in various yeshivot in Hungary, notably the yeshiva of Rabbi Moshe Schick in Sankt Georgen in 1859, and afterwards (from 1860 to 1863) in Hildesheimer’s seminary for Torah and the sciences in Eisenstadt. In the latter, the system of “Torah im Derekh Erets” was implemented in practice, and the sciences were studied alongside Torah. His dispute with the devout Orthodox, who opposed this curriculum, prompted Hildesheimer to leave Eisenstadt in 1863. Hoffmann left as well and moved to a yeshiva in Pressburg headed by Abraham Samuel Benjamin Sofer, the son of Rabbi Moses Sofer (the “Hatam Sofer”). During this time, he received a secular education, attending the evangelical gymnasium in that city. In 1865, he began studying in the University of Vienna. The following year he immigrated to Germany, and enrolled in the University of Berlin where he studied philosophy, history, and oriental languages. In 1870, he received his doctorate from the University of Tübingen, for his thesis “Mar Shmuel, the Rosh Yeshiva in Babylonia.” In his last years of study, he moved to Hochberg in the vicinity of Würzburg, serving as a teacher in the rabbinical

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seminary’s preparatory program; he also got married in Hochberg in 1867. At that time, Hoffmann became close with Rabbi Isaac Dov Bamberger who was then serving as the city rabbi of Würzburg. In 1871, Hirsch invited Hoffmann to join the teaching staff of his school in Frankfurt which was run according to the principles of “Torah im Derekh Erets.” It was there that Hoffmann and Hirsch would become friends. Two and half years later, in 1873, his rabbi and teacher Hildesheimer invited him to join the teaching staff of the rabbinical seminary he had established that same year in Berlin. Hoffmann served as a lecturer on Talmud and Halakhah, and in 1885 began teaching the top class. Upon the death of his teacher in 1899, he was appointed head of the seminary, first on a temporary basis, afterwards permanently. He became a supporter of the Torah Umada (“Torah and Science”) system and one of the leading members of the Wissenschaft des Judentums movement in Germany—one of the few great Torah scholars to belong to the movement. He continued teaching Bible, Halakhah, and Talmud, and serving in his position until his death. During his tenure at the seminary, he became a member of the separatist Adat Yisrael community in Berlin, afterwards serving as its Av Beit Din (head of religious court). In 1918, at the age of 75, he received an honorary professorship from the government in Berlin Hoffmann was intimately familiar with the personalities and teachings of the three leading figures of Jewish Orthodoxy in Germany at that time. These leaders were divided over such issues as: Orthodox secession from the Reform community; studying secular studies in addition to Torah; and using modern philological and academic tools to interpret and study the holy texts of Judaism. While Hildesheimer is generally considered Hoffmann’s primary influence, in this chapter I wish to show that in his commentary on the Pentateuch, Hoffmann frequently makes use of Hirsch’s thought and own commentary and on a variety of important issues, Hirsch’s views exerted a formative influence on Hoffmann’s thought. Although Hoffmann primarily occupied himself with the study of Talmud and Halakhah, he also taught Bible, and his scholarship in this field was largely dedicated to refuting the arguments of Bible criticism—specifically its ­impugning of the Torah’s unity and divine origins. In addition, he sought to prove in his commentary (as Hirsch, Malbim, and Rabbi Jacob Tsvi Mecklenburg had done before him) that the Pentateuch, when interpreted according to its simple meaning, fully accords with the interpretations of the Sages in the Oral Torah and the Midrash Halakhah, which, according to him, were also transmitted to Moses from the Almighty. But Hoffmann was more daring than others.

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He had no qualms about explicitly discussing the views of Bible critics down to their minute details, seeking to use their own tools against them, explaining the errors of their system. He thus took Hildesheimer’s version of “Torah im Derekh Erets” to its extreme, an approach at odds with Hirsch’s opposition to applying modern critical tools to the Holy Scriptures.2 Although he urged Hoffmann to use his biblical commentary to confront Bible critics and the Reform movement, Hirsch strongly opposed using a historical approach to study the written or Oral Torah, or to analyze the laws of the Tannaim and Amoraim. Hirsch, in fact, harshly criticized Hoffmann’s doctorate and its modern-sounding title, which literally translated reads “Mar Shmuel, the Rector of the Jewish Academy in Nehardea, Babylonia.” His work included a biographical and historical study of the Sages and their rulings—specifically the amora Shmuel—showing how their personalities and environs influenced their actions and words. He based himself on researchers such as Frankel, Graetz, Rapoport and others—figures whose systems Hirsch sharply opposed. In an exchange of letters between the ultra-Orthodox Hila Wechsler—who complained to Hirsch about the work after it was published in Leipzig in 1873—Hirsch declared that, in his opinion, the work was heresy. Because it included dissent from a fundamental truth of Judaism, Hirsch concluded that its author was not sufficiently mature, and that he should therefore refrain from publishing anything else at least for the next five years. In his letter, Hirsch noted that he had warned Hildesheimer when he founded his seminary not to incorporate into its curriculum the same style of historical criticism which characterized studies in Frankel’s seminary in Breslau. The letters were sent to Hoffmann who responded with surprise. He turned to Nathan Adler in London and to Hildesheimer and received encouragement and support from both of them. Hoffmann’s commentary on the Torah is based on lectures he delivered in Hildesheimer’s seminary. Only the commentary on Leviticus, compiled from his lectures delivered from 1873/74 to 1876/1877, was fully published in his lifetime (1905–1906). He also edited his commentary to Deuteronomy on his own. The first volume he published himself in 1913, whereas the second volume was published by his son in 1922, a year after his father’s death. The commentaries on Genesis and Exodus were published in stages by his students and relatives, who edited and translated them into Hebrew from handwritten notes he had penned in preparation for his lectures. Over the course of 34 years, 2

About the Berlin Seminary and the dispute between Hirsch and Hildesheimer see the beginning of Chapter Eleven.

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he taught both Genesis and Exodus seven times. Because Hoffmann did not edit his manuscripts into a cohesive whole, inconsistencies between various interpretations appear within the same work. The Hebrew translator, Asher Wassertheil, notes this in his introduction to the commentary on Genesis (5) and I will also demonstrate below that due to Hoffmann’s lack of thorough editing, the work is sometimes inconsistent. Hoffmann also composed works on the Mishnah, Midrash, and Talmud as well as a critique of Julius Wellhausen’s Bible criticism. He also wrote a book of responsa, Melamed Lehoil, which was published in three volumes in 1926, 1929, and 1932. Although his responsa demonstrate his understanding of the spirit and circumstances of the time, he never deviates from halakhic tradition.3

The Relationship between the Written Torah and the Oral Torah and the Role of Midrash Halakhah and Aggada As mentioned, Hoffmann’s commentary on the Torah was published in stages, beginning with the publication of his commentary on Leviticus in 1905. Hoffmann added a preface and two introductions to this volume. In the preface and the first introduction he writes some general comments about his interpretive method; in the second introduction he makes some specific remarks about his commentary on Leviticus. In the preface and general introduction, he admits that in writing his commentary he was bound to the Orthodox doctrine (identical to the beliefs of Hirsch) that the written Torah and the Oral Torah were given to Moses by the Almighty at Sinai. In his opinion, it is the duty of any Jew who seeks to interpret Scripture to bind himself to this doctrine—requiring expertise in all the secrets of the Oral Torah. Therefore, he explains, his goal is to prove logically and scientifically, that the interpretations of biblical criticism, both higher and lower, are erroneous and misguided, and are merely consequences of either hatred or ignorance. While Hirsch had the same opinion of Bible criticism, he, unlike Hoffmann, chose not to address its interpretations, fearing to expose his readers to its views and regardless dismissing any use of scientific tools to study Holy Scripture. Hoffmann, who on this subject followed the footsteps of his rabbi Hildesheimer, maintains that it is extremely important to combat criticism with its own tools, exposing its errors 3 This summary of Hoffmann’s biography is based on A. Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography (Lanham and London, 1986), 185–222 and E. M. Lifschutz, “Maamar Haarakha al Ishiuto Veavodato Hamadait,” which was published as an introduction to Hoffmann’s Rayot Makhriot neged Wellhausen ( Jerusalem, 1928), vii-viii.

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and ­mistakes, defending divine origins of the Holy Scripture as well as the laws of the Mishnah and Talmud. Hoffmann writes as follows in his introduction: I admit freely, that due to the principles of my faith, I could reach no other conclusion but that the Torah was written by Moses our teacher, certainly not after Moses’s time. [. . .] However, seeking to provide these “dogmatic axioms” scientific basis, I always strove to base myself only on these arguments—their truth being apparent even to those with a different world view than my own.4

And in his first introduction: We believe that the entire Torah is true, sacred, and given from the mouth of the Almighty. Each and every word was written based on God’s orders. This is the essence of “Torah from heaven.” The Prophets and Writings were written with divine inspiration, or, at the very least, by those possessing divine inspiration, basing themselves on the spirit of God which surged within them. [. . .] Therefore, one who insults these books, and denies their sanctity or divine origins, he has, by doing so, left Judaism. Therefore, a Hebrew commentator must rebuff, with both hands, any explanation which does not accord with the belief in the truth, divinity, and sanctity of the Torah.5 Every Jew who seeks to clarify the Torah of Moses, must reckon with a special condition which must influence his entire process of interpretation. That condition must dictate to him, as it were, the rules one follows as an interpreter. The condition is as follows: belief in the divinity of Jewish tradition. True Judaism attributes to the Oral Torah the same importance enjoyed by the written Torah. The Oral Torah includes within it interpretations of obscure passages and ambiguous statements in the written Torah, as well as commandments which do not appear in the Torah of Moses. [. . .] Just as the Written Torah could not include within it things which contradict one another, so too it must not contradict the Oral Torah which also originates from Sinai. Any interpretation standing in opposition to the interpretation 4 5

D. Z. Hoffmann, Sefer Vayiqra, trans. T. Har Shepher and A. Lieberman, vol. 1 ( Jerusalem, 1953), 1. Ibid., 7.

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The Dual Truth accepted by the Sages, or bearing within it an idea which could be used to reject a certain halakhah—this is included in the category of “interpreting the Torah contrary to its true intent.” Such an interpretation must be banished from the boundaries of Israel.6 In our interpretation, we will grasp the Masoretic text with both hands, completely rejecting any textual criticism which departs from the circle of tradition and breaches its boundaries. With a holy trembling, we will approach the sanctuary of Torah, without casting even a shadow of doubt on its divine content; we will break ourselves free of the yoke of Higher criticism, which presumes to be the highest judge of our Bible. We will walk in the light of tradition, believing in its divinity and with it and by it we will strive to interpret the words of Scripture. Nevertheless, we will also take note of interpretations which have a different point of view than our own, judging their merits as much as possible.7

The source of both the written Torah and the Oral Torah is divine; both are from Sinai. The Oral Torah belongs, in Hoffmann’s opinion, to the same stratum of importance and time-period as the written Torah. Its task is to interpret difficult passages within the written Torah, clarifying the latter’s intentions and adding additional commandments. If any contradiction between these two Torahs is found, one should not be given precedence over the other—they are of equal status—and in such a case, one should recognize the problem and attempt to solve it with learned, interpretive tools, just as two contradictory verses in the Written Torah can be clarified by a third one. This explanation is completely at odds with that of Hirsch, who maintained that the Oral Torah is primary, both in time and importance, whereas the Written Torah is a book of codes, a mere abstract of the Oral Torah. The role of this abstract is to assist the teacher and student in memorizing the primary Oral Torah, and to assist in restoring forgotten laws by employing the thirteen hermeneutical principles— the key to deciphering its code. Hoffmann continues and explains: The way in which Jewish interpreters perceive the relationship between peshat and derash exerts a special influence on the character of their commentaries. We have already mentioned above, that many laws were not 6 7

Ibid., 3. Ibid., 8.

Hirsch’s Influence on Rabbi David    Chapter Ten explicitly mentioned in the written Torah and were transmitted to us in tradition. The Sages sought to find a basis for these laws within the written Torah itself, succeeding due to their deep analysis, that is, by delving into the depths of the idea expressed in the Torah’s words, or by investigating the way in which that idea was expressed. This research is called derash and those same rules upon which the traditional laws are based are called midrash. This view of Midrash, shared by Maimonides and expressed by other Torah greats, we place at the basis of our interpretation of the Torah of Moses. According to this view, the laws are not produced by derash, but are rather received [from Sinai]. In derush the Sages only sought an asmakhta: a stronger basis, or a means to guard over them [the laws] so they would not be forgotten. And truly, through deep research they found that almost all laws are alluded to and have basis in the written Torah, and sometimes its laws were based on the Oral Torah. [. . .] All laws are from Moses at Sinai and we only seek allusions in the Torah for the aforementioned reasons. Nevertheless, we should not confuse derash with asmakhta. The derash seeks to find an allusion in the Torah for a law that was already known orally, placing it in the category of commandments which are mideoraita [biblically obligated]. This is despite the fact that the derash is not powerful enough to completely determine and prove law where the law not already received from tradition [whereas the asmakhta is a textual basis for rabbinic commandments].8

Hoffmann agrees with Hirsch that Sages do not innovate laws; they were received orally at Sinai. However, his explanation for the essence of Midrash is completely different than that of Hirsch. According to Hirsch, the Midrash reflects the Sages’ efforts to reconstitute laws which were transmitted at Sinai but were forgotten. This is the reason for rabbinic disputes about Halakhah. According to Hoffmann, however, the Midrash reflects the Sages’ attempts to use derash, to find references and a stronger basis for laws which they already knew from oral tradition. Alternatively, they represent the Sages’ attempt to ensure that these laws would not be forgotten in the future. It is clear that Hoffmann is aware of Hirsch’s interpretation of Exodus 21:2, even adopting some of Hirsch’s formulations from there. Nevertheless, to Hoffmann the meaning of these formulations, although still fundamentalist, is entirely different. Hoffmann claims that he is following in the footsteps of Maimonides and seeks to base his view 8

Ibid., 5.

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on Maimonides’s use of the term asmakhta. He completely ignores, however, the fact that Maimonides maintains that the majority of the laws in the Mishnah and Talmud (besides those without any dispute, or those which are explicitly deemed “deoraita”) represent the Sages’ own innovative legislation (thus they are subject to dispute). These pieces of legislation were given support by being linked to verses in the written Torah. According to Maimonides, the Sages provided a midrashic asmakhta to deoraita laws (which were received from Sinai, undisputed, and included in the 613 commandments), a way to show the beauty of the Torah and its wisdom. However, this was certainly not the case for most laws appearing in the Mishnah and Talmud; most of these were newly legislated rabbinic laws (which are not included in the 613 commandments). The Sages based these on written Scripture by taking verses out of context. Hoffmann also ignores the motivation which drove Maimonides to limit the extent of the written and Oral Torah to the undisputed 613 commandments alone. Maimonides was concerned by the fact the majority of laws in the Mishnah and Talmud are subject to dispute. If these laws were known from Sinai, why would there be any disagreement over them?9 Another consequence of Hoffmann’s stance (which is identical to Hirsch’s view) is that the Sages’ interpretation of the Torah is the primary and exclusive meaning of the text. Literal interpretation or Bible criticism, which oppose the interpretations of the Sages, are misguided: From everything said up until this point, it follows that every Jew who seeks to interpret the Torah of Moses must be well acquainted with the laws which explain the verses and complement them. Only complete mastery over this primary key grants one the ability to fully comprehend the true content and interpretation of the words. Any interpretation of the Torah which is not based on these axioms is, from the Jewish perspective, a sin against truth. We will have many opportunities to comment every time on the useless theories floating in the air, meanings attributed to 9 On Maimonides’s stance see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 159–164. On Hirsch’s stance see ibid., 258–264. Hoffmann does not explain why, according to his system, there are any disputes in Halakhah. Hoffmann sought to answer this question in his book Die erste Mischnah und die Controversen der Tannaim, see D. Z. Hoffmann, Hamishnah Harishona Uplugta Detanai, trans. S. Gruenberg (Berlin, 1914), chap. 5, 49. He suggests there, that disputes about new issues were a result of the disbandment of the Supreme Halakhic Court in the Temple, and that disputes about familiar issues were a result of students who began to prefer logical argumentation over tradition, each side of the dispute arguing that its own logic was the correct tradition. See Sagi, Elu Vaelu, 178–179.

Hirsch’s Influence on Rabbi David    Chapter Ten Scripture by interpreters, who ignored the Israelite tradition, or did not accord it sufficient consideration.10

Hoffmann was aware that he was following in Hirsch’s footsteps. At the end of his second introduction, he writes about commentaries which he especially took note of. He lists three Christian interpreters, the midrashim on Leviticus, and classic interpreters—both medieval and modern: Weisel, Jacob Tzvi Mecklenburg, Hirsch, Malbim, Judah Leib Shapiro and Luzzatto’s Hamishtadel. He has especially warm things to say about Jacob Mecklenburg’s HaKetav Vehaqabbalah, and about Hirsch and Leibush who invested great effort to unite the Oral and written Torahs: The former [Mecklenburg in his HaKetav Vehaqabbalah] aimed to make Scripture accord with tradition. Because this book is so full of good explanations, it is fitting for every Jew to read it. The latter [Hirsch] also succeeded in giving received laws a basis in the written Torah. He deserves, incidentally, special appreciation, as almost all of the instructions of our Sages are transcribed in his commentary in their proper place. Malbim’s commentary on Sifra is an explanation of Leviticus; one can learn much from it.11

In terms of the Midrash Aggada, Hoffmann’s view is very similar to that of Hirsch, and is opposed to the views of Wechsler, for example. The Midrash Aggada is not from Sinai. It is a collection of ideas, contemporary scientific theories, and words of wisdom and rebuke—the personal thoughts of those who spoke them. One who hears or reads them may analyze them with his own logic, and they obligate no one: I intentionally mention here only the halakhot—i.e., those which were received and which were meant to establish rules for the use of the commandments (halakhah—the line of direction, a rule, from the word halakh [walk] combined with “after,” that is, a rule by which we behave). Those proverbs, stories, words of wisdom and rebuke, included under the name Aggada, their purpose is to express a parable, wisdom, rebuke, or an 10 Hoffmann, Vayiqra, 6. On Hirsch’s stance see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 102–104, 264. 11 Hoffmann, Vayiqra, 14.

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The Dual Truth interpretation of verses that do not contain laws. One cannot say of these that they were given at Sinai, and therefore, we have no obligation to accept them. In this matter we must seize hold of the words of Rabbi Shmuel Hanagid in his Introduction to the Talmud, who says as follows: “Haggada [=Aggada] is any interpretation in the Talmud on any matter that is not a commandment—this is haggada; one should only learn from it something that make sense logically. And you should know that any matter which the Sages established as Halakhah in relation to a commandment, that is from our master Moses peace be upon him, who received from the mouth of the almighty; one may neither add nor subtract from it. However, their interpretations of verses (said by each Sage as happened to him, as he saw with his own knowledge): those things from these commentators which appear logical we learn; but we do not rely upon the rest [of their interpretations].12

The Torah and the Commandments as the Highest Form of Morality for Israel and Israel’s Mission to Transmit it to Mankind In his first introduction, Hoffmann argues that the Torah has no other goal but to provide its adherents with a moral education. Mystical esotericism, philosophical, theological, and metaphysical ideas, physical scientific information about the world and man—none of these are provided by the Torah. “True Judaism sees in all of Scripture ‘Torah’ (i.e., Divine teaching). This Torah was given by the will of God to Israel, to guide it along the straight path, and through it mankind as a whole.”13 Walking this straight path will draw Israel (and through it mankind, the object of its mission) close to God and to sanctity, that pinnacle of morality. Hoffmann says in his second introduction: The God of Israel demands two things from Israel before giving them the Torah at Sinai (Exodus 19) “1. And you shall be to me a kingdom of priests. 2. You shall be to me “a holy people.” While each of these two demands is a goal in and of itself, fulfilling the first demand is the means to fulfilling the second. As a “priest,” Israel should aspire to cling to God, expecting God to fulfill his promise “And I will place my sanctuary in your midst and 12 Ibid., 6–7. On the nature of the Midrash Aggada according to Hirsch see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 265–273. 13 Hoffmann, Vayiqra, 5. On ethical education as the goal of the Torah according to Hirsch, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 274–300.

Hirsch’s Influence on Rabbi David    Chapter Ten I shall walk in your midst.” This is a goal in and of itself. However, it is also a means of turning us into a “holy nation”: elevating us to the level of divine sanctity and moral perfection. That is, in our personal and public lives we should aspire to do what is good, upright, and that which finds favor in the eyes of God. This last matter is a goal in and of itself, and is also a means of turning us into true “priests.” It provides us a portion close to God, so that “all of us should be filled (as Judah Halevi says in the Kuzari) with the holy spirit.” It allows us to reach the level of prophecy and be qualified to appear as the guides of mankind as a whole—as messengers of God’s will.14

In formulating the purpose of the Torah and the commandments, Hoffmann, like Hirsch, also follows in Judah Halevi’s footstep. The purpose of the Torah and the commandments is moral education; with their help, one can achieve sanctity and closeness to God. However, Hoffmann, unlike Hirsch, addresses the issue of prophecy as well. While Judah Halevi dealt with this issue, Hirsch (who did not consider it a prerequisite for the success of the Jewish mission to mankind) preferred not to. Hoffmann also accepts Hirsch’s argument regarding the importance of recognizing that ethical actions must be guided exclusively by the divine fiat of the Torah. Rational morality is insufficient, lacks a basis, and is doomed to collapse under the weight of human interests: The Way of God. It seems that this is the most appropriate name for the religion of Israel. Indeed it is the path which if traversed constitutes God’s will; the path which a person must walk, while clearly recognizing, that it is indeed God’s path, and that by walking it—he performs the will of God, and serves Him. It is insufficient for these intentions to guide man only while he performs what Maimonides calls “revelational commandments” [Shemona Peraqim, chapter 6]. Even when performing “justice and righteousness,” even then it must be the will of God which guides him. One who acts righteously and justly for other reasons, is doing so for more or less selfish reasons. His righteousness and justice have weak foundations.15 14 Hoffmann, Vayiqra, 10. On the Jewish People’s mission to mankind according to Hirsch see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 82–88. 15 D. Z. Hoffmann, Sefer Bereshit, vol. 1, trans. A. Wassertheil (Bnei-Brak, 1969), 287. Hoffmann notes there that this is Hirsch’s view. On Hirsch’s stance regarding this issue see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 283–288.

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Similarly, Hoffmann writes in his commentary on the verse “and these are the ordinances” (Ex. 21:1) that human states and societies cannot survive without God’s protection. Human laws and regulations are incapable of establishing a state and maintaining it in the long-term. A state established on such foundations will ultimately collapse and disintegrate. Only God’s laws can serve as a true basis for the maintenance of a society and state.16

THE CONTENT OF THE ETHICAL CODE AND SANCTITY AS ITS GOAL In all of his writings, Hirsch emphasizes man’s ethical freedom. As I have explained above, he argues that observing the Torah’s commandments out of free will leads man to ethical freedom. A person who observes the commandments sanctifies his body, frees himself from the sensuality of the flesh, and achieves closeness to God and to sanctity within this physical world. Enslavement to sensuality and the laws of physical nature—death, pain, disease, desires of the flesh and so on—is impurity. Freedom from it, however, and directing it towards the will of God is purity and sanctity.17 On this issue, Hoffmann follows in Hirsch’s footsteps. In explaining the instruction to circumcise a boy on the eighth day after his birth, Hoffmann says: It follows, that the rationale for instituting circumcision on the eighth day after birth is different. It is related to the code of purity and contamination, inasmuch the idea of time behind both of them (the eighth day)—is similar. Only on the eighth day can the young boy be sanctified to serve the creator through circumcision and thus receive his highest purpose. On the first seven days after his birth he is still fully under the influence of the physical act of birth; he is not yet ready for his new existence. [. . .] The seven-day impurity of the Niddah, as well as the impurity of a woman who gives birth to a boy are also based on this: the Torah sees the physical power as active and influential for a period of seven days. It is thus possible to connect the commandment to circumcise on the eighth day to the impurity of his mother.18

16 See D. Z. Hoffmann, Sefer Shemot, trans. A Wassertheil ( Jerusalem, 2010), 271–272. 17 For a discussion of impurity and ethical freedom in Hirsch’s though see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 288–297. 18 Hoffmann, Bereshit, vol. 1, 260. See Hirsch’s commentary on Leviticus 12:3, which seem to be the source of Hoffmann’s idea.

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Hoffmann explicitly declares that his source for his explanations about forbidden foods and laws of impurity is Hirsch. “In our attempt to explain the foundations of forbidden foods and purity laws, we primarily follow in the footsteps of Hirsch’s commentary on the Pentateuch; his view serves as the platform for the following explanations, albeit with some changes.”19 As for impurity, Hoffmann argues that there are three types; relevant to our discussion is the second: impurity of the human body which indicates a person’s sins against himself. Hoffmann explains their essence: As for the second type of sins which correspond to the second type of impurities, it should be noted that the nation of Israel is not only obligated to serve as a kingdom of priests and to perform its rituals—it must also be a “holy people.” Qadosh [holy] means “separate,” that is, separated and disconnected from sensual pleasure, aspiring to transcend it. Therefore, a Jewish person must abstain from all pleasures and materialism, and turn to divine, sublime matters, drawing closer and closer to perfection and emulation of God. One can justifiably see the second type of impurities as the symbols which remind a person of the opposite of this sanctity—because they sometimes come as a direct result of lives of hedonism, or because, as Hirsch says, they are the results of an absence of inner freedom which is the origin of lives of lust. One who descends to this level, must distance himself not only from the camp of the Shekhina but also the camp of those “close to God”—that is, those aspiring to emulate God. Thus, one will always remember the obligation to be holy and to abstain from desires.20

Not every aspect of this explanation is Hirschian. According to Hoffmannn, impurity is a psychological state, a lack of inner freedom, the characteristic of a person whose body is afflicted, of a person who feels enslaved to the forces of nature without any ability to free himself of them. This is truly Hirsch’s idea. Preaching to abstain from material pleasures, however, is Rashi’s explanation (Lev. 19:2) and it is based on certain views held by the Sages. But Hirsch did not accept this view. According to him, one is permitted, even obligated, to enjoy this world with one’s body. Any form asceticism is invalid, as it suppresses these important and vital urges. As long as pleasure, enjoyment, and happiness are performed for the sake of goals designated by God in the laws 19 Hoffmann, Vayiqra, 217. 20 Ibid., 219–220.

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of the Torah, and as long as they are confined to ethical boundaries, man can achieve the sought-after sanctity in body and soul all at once.21 When explaining the rationale of the commandment of circumcision, Hoffmannn’s return to the Hirschian orientation is apparent: sensuality is not meant to be suppressed but rather sanctified. He also explains circumcision as man’s sanctification of sensuality in service of God: God wishes both body and soul to be sanctified in his service: Through circumcision man will walk before God and be perfect. From the onset, he was designated to serve his creator, and by sinning and distancing himself from Him the Blessed, he is divided in two. Two opposing forces reign within him—one for God, the other against Him. Man’s spirit rises up high, aspiring to draw close to its creator and to serve him, while his sensuality opposes divine law and order, and prefers chaos bereft of any constraint. However, this duality is not due to the Blessed One’s will or actions. For when He created him, He intended to make all of man to serve Him: with both sensuality and spirit. But He gave man complete freedom—allowing him to realize this plan or to thwart it. After mankind turned away from the Creator, Abraham was the first to submit himself to God’s service, by allowing his spirit to overcome his sensuality. But God does not wish that man’s sensuality be suppressed. Rather He wishes that it also take part in serving God, and thus be sanctified. This sanctification of sensuality in the service of God is performed by man through the act of circumcision.22

When writing about the importance of enjoying the world’s bounty, in his explanation of the prohibition of leaven on Passover, Hoffmannn bases himself on Hirsch’s interpretation once again: “The prohibition of eating and benefiting [from h  . amets] were so that we would always remember that [in Egypt] we were not free even in the use of our faculties and were restricted in our enjoyment of life’s joys (slavery and oppression) as explained by Samson son of Raphael Hirsch in his commentary on Ex. 12.”23

21 On this position of Hirsch, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 288–290. 22 Hoffmann, Bereshit, 253. See Hirsch’s comments on Gen. 17:10–11, which seem to be the source of Hoffmann’s idea. 23 D. Z. Hoffmann, Sefer Devarim, vol. 1 (Tel Aviv, 1960), 267.

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In Hoffmannn’s interpretation of the rationale for certain forbidden foods, as well as the permission to eat domesticated animals, he also follows Hirsch. Hirsch writes on this subject: These laws are not intended to preserve the health of our bodies, but to ensure the spiritual and moral health of our souls. They guard the sensual aspect of our personality from unrestrained animalistic passion, and keep our moral and spiritual will from becoming dulled and unresponsive. They impress upon us the basic prerequisite for our ability to fulfill our mission: We must keep our physical bodies on the narrow path of living purity; that is what will enable the body to be the obedient servant of the nobler part of our being.24 ‫[ בהמה‬domestic animal] and ‫[ חיה‬wild animal] are two different classes of mammals. The ‫ בהמה‬submits to the service of man; it serves as a ‫[ במה‬platform] to man’s ascendance. The other mammals are included in ‫חיה‬. They possess “independent life” and are not subject to man’s control. [. . .] A ‫ חיה‬may be eaten only if it possesses the character of a ‫—בהמה‬i.e., there is no antagonism between it and man, but it tends to submit to his authority.25

Like Hirsch, Hoffmannn rejects the interpretations of those commentators who maintain that foods forbidden by the Torah are detrimental to health, or that these prohibitions are measures intended to oppose idolatry and promote Jewish separateness from the nations. He explains: It should be assumed as follows: God’s recognition of unique people within humanity drove them to draw close to God by offering sacrifices and to elevate in fire living beings unto the heavens, as a symbol of human personality. [. . .] It was that same recognition which led them to choose those living creatures which were closest to man’s nature. [. . .] This system of sacrifices, which preceded the era of Moses, was later developed and perfected when Israel was chosen to be a “kingdom of priests and a holy people,” serving as a law in the day-to-day, family life of the chosen nation. The nation of priests chooses as its food, only the flesh of animals which exalted people considered worthy for a sacrifice to God. However, now the Torah designates those animals which in ancient times were simply 24 Hirsch, Lev. 11 after verses 46–47. 25 Ibid., 11:2.

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The Dual Truth called “not pure,” (i.e., not appropriate to be offered on the altar) as “contaminated” to the nation of Israel and as “a disgusting thing.” An Israelite who eats of them disgusts and defiles his soul (Lev. 11:43; 20:5). The Torah thus elevated the dietary laws above every external ritual, designating it as element influencing and forming the contours of inner life. [. . .] The nation of Israel, whom God gave the special mission of being a “nation of priests and a holy people,” must organize its daily life around the laws given to it by God. It must also observe the dietary commandments, allowing it to fulfill its role and to preserve its quality which prepares it for the fulfillment of its mission.26

In other words, the prohibition is not related to physical health but the inner health of the soul. Diligent observance of these laws serves as the bedrock of purification and sanctity. Later, Hoffmann, like Hirsch, notes that man’s sanctity is his free spiritual ascent, accomplished by observing the commandments of the Torah. This is the task assigned to him. Nothing in this world possesses immanent sanctity. Only the transcendent God, the legislator of the commandments, is holy and perfect: In essence, only God is absolutely holy, and in him are contained all the highest ethical qualities. Humans however can only achieve sanctity relatively. Therefore, man’s mission is to follow the absolutely holy God, in order to ascend to the highest possible level of holiness: “for I am God etc. and you shall sanctify yourselves and be holy for I am holy.” This means: I who give you these laws, so that you distance yourself from impurity, I am your God. Therefore, be holy and keep these laws precisely, for thus you shall sanctify yourselves and emulate Me. For indeed I am the legislator; I am the absolute sanctity. And the laws which I give you will necessarily lead you to sanctity. “And you shall not defile your souls” This indicates that eating something impure besides being “disgust of the soul” is also “defilement of the soul” which in its essence is the weakening of ethical vigor and the soul’s inability to attain holiness.27

26 Hoffmann, Vayiqra, 218 (emphasis in the Hebrew). 27 Ibid., 247. On Hirsch’s stance regarding the morality of the Torah’s divine law and the task of one who observes the commandments to free himself from impurity and to seek sanctity, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 293–296.

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Hoffmann (like Hirsch), maintains that one who does not observe God’s commandments diminishes holiness and desecrates the name of God: Contempt for God’s commandments is a desecration of God because the commandments bear God’s name (“the commandments of God”). Such a desecration of God’s name is particularly grave if the transgression was committed in public. Therefore, in addition to the prohibition “you shall not desecrate,” is the commandment “and I shall be sanctified” etc. God wishes to be recognized as holy, among the Children of Israel, as exalted and sublime, so that all should be subordinate to him and be committed to his service.28

Hirsch writes along similar lines in his commentary on the same verse (Lev. 22:32). As is his practice, he uses his interpretations as a springboard to attack the Reform movement: ‫[ ולא תחללו את שם קדשי‬and do not desecrate My holy name]. When God’s sanctuary was erected in our midst ‫([ לשכן שמו שם‬for) His name to dwell there,] His name was associated with us—with every aspect of our lives as individuals and as a community. Ever since, we and all that is ours are His; His Torah abides among us, instructing us how to prove ourselves as His own and how to be worthy of the Name we bear. God’s Name, which we bear, is to be ‫קדוש‬, the supreme Absolute in our midst. At the same time, it is to be the breath of our life, which will animate and sustain us in His service, and bind us to be faithful to duty. If we refuse to sacrifice any impulse of our nature, any stimulus of our aspirations, any fiber of our being, any fragment of our possessions, to the fulfillment of His Will, we are ‫מחללים את שם קדשו‬, we desecrate His holy Name—which is the highest, the holiest, and the absolute; the sole justification for our lives and possessions; that which is to hold total sway over us—to become ‫[ חלל‬desecrated], a lifeless, powerless shell. And if our insubordination becomes known to others our example shows them the impotence of God’s name that rests upon us. It shows them that one can call himself a Jew, and at the same time make a mockery of this Name. For to such a Jew, the duty to obey God is of no value; all that matters is that he be able to satisfy an urge or gain some benefit. All can see that one can call himself 28 Hoffmann, Vayiqra, 84.

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The Dual Truth a Jew, and still not recognize God’s will as the absolute and his own will as conditional, but, rather, set up his own will as the absolute idol before which God’s Will must give way.29

Nevertheless, it was important for Hoffmann to emphasize that the nation of Israel has no inherent sanctity. Its sanctity is functional, and mankind as a whole is important to it. In his commentary on the verse “For mine is all the world” (Ex. 19:5) he says in line with Hirsch: That is to say: all the nations of the world are mine. Therefore, when I take you as my nation, do not think that I am only a national God, the specific God of Israel, and that all other nations have other deities. No. For “mine is all the world,” and only in one regard are you my nation: that you may be for me a “kingdom of priests,” that you should serve me just as priests serve divinity; and a “holy people”: as my nation you shall be holy, that is separated from every impure-thing, for indeed “I, the Lord your God, am holy.”30

29 Hirsch, Lev. 22:32. Hoffmann also is obviously firmly opposed to the Reform movement and its leadership. For example, he prohibits playing an organ during weekday prayers in the synagogue as it constitutes an imitation of heretics and their practices. This is to avoid giving validity to the destructive innovators and creating a slippery slope leading to further leniencies in the spirit of the Reform movement—such as women choirs in the synagogue, or changes in the liturgy meant to deny a personal Messiah, the return to Zion and the renewal of the Temple service. See D. Z. Hoffmann, Shut Melamed Lehoil ( Jerusalem, 2010) [first published in Frankfurt, 1926], 42–50. That being said, Hoffmann followed in the footsteps of Etlinger and Hirsch, who did not treat sinners from the laypeople of the community with severity, and did not categorize them as “those who desecrate the Sabbath in public.” Like them, Hoffmann maintains that their status is that of tinoq shenishba (a kidnapped child), and he rules that such Jews are not spitefully heretical (lehakhis) and they have no intention of denying principles of faith. According to Hoffmann, the Jewish public in our time is mostly filled with people desecrating the Sabbath, and therefore one who desecrates Sabbath does not think of himself as breaking the boundaries of tradition. Therefore, Hoffmann rules, that such people may be counted towards a minyan, and that a mourner who desecrates the Sabbath should not be prevented from leading services, nor should he be removed if he has begun leading. See ibid., 60–61. For other responsa from Hoffmann which were meant to protect from innovators and rebels, and to prevent the desecration of God’s name which could result from dangerous leniencies which appear to emulate non-Orthodox practices see ibid., 272–274, 388–389. On Hirsch’s stance in his struggle against the Reform movement see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 220–229, and n. 118 there. 30 Hoffmann, Shemot, 196. See Hirsch, Ex. 4:22–23; 19:5–6; Lev. 18:4–5, 20–26.

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WHAT DOES THE TORAH TEACH? WHAT IS GOD’S PLAN FOR HUMAN HISTORY? AND WHAT IS THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN SCIENCE AND TORAH? While he does cite Hirsch as his authority on this issue, Hoffmann’s treatment of contradictions between the statements of science and those of the Torah’s revelation, is different than that of Hirsch. That being said, in terms of the fundamental question—what does the Torah mean to teach us?—his view is very close to that of Hirsch: The Torah is a book of laws. It seeks, as reflected in its name, to teach [lehorot] Israel what they must and must not do. However, history also had to be included in this book, because history—as recounted in the Torah—is an inseparable part of the Torah’s message. [. . .] However, the most important thing is not the knowledge of these events—for such knowledge in and of itself does nothing to promote our spiritual and moral development; it is far more important to recognize the causes of these singular events and the internal connections between them. We must know that all the events in the history of the world are the acts of God. God leads all things towards a single goal, designated by him as the end of history and as the conclusion of creation. Thus the Torah recounts the acts of God—their goal to create an abode for God on Earth, and to educate mankind to be worthy of God’s closeness. Thus, after all mortals had forgotten their creator, God set aside a nation with an awareness of its own uniqueness. At the same time, the sequence of events was directed in such a way, that that nation would find a proper dwelling place for itself and for God’s temple, as soon as it reached the appropriate level. [. . .] After man was created, God saw that he was very good, that is, not only was he capable of maintaining himself; but also worthy of promoting his mission and goal—that of man. We thus learn that all created things have a dual purpose: their own purpose on the one hand, and their service of man, on the other. The only purpose of the creation account is to teach us this. It is not to lecture us about different scientific theories about the world’s creation. [. . .] The Torah asserts only one principle, albeit a very important, clear and unambiguous one: that all of existence came into being by the Blessed One’s will, and continues to exist by his will alone.31 31 Hoffmann, Bereshit, 9–12. On Hirsch’s stance see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 100–102, 423–424.

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Like Hirsch, Hoffmann also maintains that the goal of the Torah is not to teach us science or history. It is a book of laws, its goal to educate mankind. While the stories in the Torah are historically true and written with divine inspiration,32 nevertheless, they are not the Torah’s primary purpose. In addition to all of its laws, the Torah teaches that all things are created and transpire by God’s will. The Torah presents the divine plan for history. The goal is universal—to educate man in divine morality through the Jewish people, and to educate the individual to live a spiritual life of sanctity, the ultimate goal to draw close to God. Like Hirsch, Hoffmann does not accept philosophical interpretations of the Torah. In his commentary, on Leviticus, discussing the value and meaning of the sacrifices, he describes down to the minutest details the rationale of the sacrifices as maintained by Maimonides (and after him Abarbanel). According to this position, the sacrifices, like many other commandments, have a rational basis: they were meant to uproot idolatry gradually, as the nation was still not mature enough to separate itself from sacrificial offerings. These sacrifices were accepted means for serving God, and the Torah allowed them to remain in order to strengthen faith in Him. This view fits Maimonides’s overall system: the goal of the commandments is to lead man to spiritual perfection on the basis of physical perfection, the latter serving prerequisite for the former. Hoffmann writes: But the perfection of the soul is in essence [according to Maimonides's view] nothing more than correct worldviews, especially the worldviews about God, his existence, his unity, his spirituality, his strength and his pre-existence etc. According to this, the primary goal is to plant in people’s hearts correct opinions about God. However, we cannot accept this view of Maimonides, and prefer the opinion, that correct worldviews lead to actions which are good in the eyes of God. And we hold the view, in agreement with many of our Sages, that the primary service of God is good actions (“study is not the main thing, rather action”) and that this is the highest purpose of the commandments. For this reason alone, we cannot agree with Maimonides’s view about sacrifices.

Therefore, Hoffmann (like Hirsch) concludes that the significance of the sacrifices is symbolic (not mystical or philosophical but romantic). 32 See Hoffmann, Bereshit, 203. See also ibid., 204–205, 236, 233. About the divine plan for human history according to Hirsch, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 38–43. About the Jewish people’s mission to mankind for this purpose, see above n. 14.

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The sacrifices embody unique ideas which are meant to educate people to submit themselves to God’s will with awe by choosing to lead ethical lives. They will then sanctify themselves, and cleave to God with love, and He will dwell among them in their daily lives. Hoffmann writes explicitly that he is following Hirsch (as expressed in Jeschurun 4, 22) and Judah Halevi (Kuzari 1:109).33 In his commentary on Deut. 6:4 “Hear O Israel the Lord is our God the Lord is one,” Hoffmann accepts Hirsch’s romantic view that this verse refers to God’s exclusive kingship and fatherhood over the world--a view opposed to the elitism of Maimonides and the philosophers. According to them, the Torah is discussing here the secret of God’s essence—his absolute and abstract unity. In his commentary on Deut 30:11 “For this commandment which I command you this day, it is not too hard for you,” Hoffmann writes: “In other words, the Torah has no mysterious practices that only unique individuals can participate in such as the mysteries of the Egyptians and Greeks. The Torah also has no ‘secrets beyond the comprehension of human reason’ (Samson Raphael Hirsch).” According to Hirsch and Hoffmann, this view does not exist in the Sages’ interpretation of the Torah. Therefore, Hoffmann later argues that the meaning of “with all your heart” is not “with all your intellect” as interpreted by the philosophers but rather “with all your inclinations and ambitions.”34 This approach leads to Hirsch’s and Hoffmann’s similar interpretations of the creation account, which contradicts what we know from modern, empirical science. If the creation account is not meant to transmit scientific or philosophical information—only religious-spiritual messages—then it should not be read as a scientific account but rather as a description of how things appear to an observer: The “firmament” is what appears to us like the bottom of the sky, like a plane made out of air, from which rain falls. The sun and the moon are the “great luminaries” which shine upon the Earth, and the stars, even though they are bigger than the moon, appear to us as smaller and less influential. The only information

33 Hoffmann, Vayiqra, 59–67 (the quote is from p. 67). On p. 59 Hoffmann provides a bibliography about the value of sacrificial service and he includes in his list the following sources: Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed, part 3, 26, 32, 46; Judah Halevi, Kuzari, 2: §25–28; Abarbanel, Introduction to Commentary on Leviticus; Hirsch on his commentary on the Torah. See Hirsch, Lev. 1:2, 9:6. On Hirsch’s romantic stance which stands in opposition to Maimonides’s view see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 82, 196–197, 199, 203–204, 208–209, 291–292. 34 Hoffmann, Devarim, 94–95.

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we receive from the Torah about creation, are those facts which are important for human history—not theoretical-physical knowledge: Therefore, the Torah does not teach the nature of other worlds, or the nature of the sun, moons and stars; it teaches even less about the world of angels and spirits. It sees in the sun and moon nothing but luminaries, their purpose to illuminate the world and to serve as signs for festivals, days, and years. The stars are only mentioned in passing, as the moon’s escorts, appearing with it at night, their appearance marking the night’s onset.35

Hoffmann discusses at length the contradictions between the statements of the Torah and the arguments of geologists—who claim that the world could not have been created in six days—a subject Hirsch never discussed explicitly in his Torah commentary and only in his essays published in Jeschurun. Hirsch notes that the Sages proposed the solution that God created worlds and destroyed them, before creating our current one. Some commentators (including Maimonides, Guide for the Perplexed, part 2, 17) even suggest that the laws of nature operating during creation were different than those which would operate afterward. Hoffmann cites these same explanations, and picks them as preferable interpretations. He explicitly claims that his view is similar to that espoused by Hirsch: Even Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch agrees with our conception; it is fitting to cite him as he expressed himself in the curriculum of his Real School in Frankfurt am Main in 1873: “Even the generous hundreds of thousands and million years, attributed to the development of the Earth by the geologists, even these did not startle Judaism. […] The Sages of Judaism, the rabbis, also speak of worlds that preceded this world of ours, but were destroyed, worlds which the Creator created and destroyed, before he created this world of ours in its current form and in its current configuration. However, our Sages of blessed memory never established within the principles of faith the acceptance or denial of such views or views like them. They of blessed memory allowed for any hypothesis, as long as it did not harm that fundamental truth of ‘In the beginning God created the earth.’”36 35 Hoffmann, Bereshit, 11. See ibid., 35. Cf. Hirsch, Gen. 1:5. 36 Hoffmann, Bereshit, 51. The English here is based on the Hebrew translation of this text. As can be seen, the translators seem to have made small changes in order to reinforce the notion that Hirsch accepted the words of the Sages in the midrash as the correct explanation

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However, a deeper look into Hoffmann’s statements reveals that his views represent classical fundamentalism (the limiting identicality approach) whereas Hirsch’s approach is a form of neo-fundamentalism. Hoffmann fully accepts— as a statement of fact not a suggestion—the Sages’ interpretation in Bereshit Rabbah that God created earlier worlds. Unsatisfied with these creations, God destroyed them, one after another, until he eventually created our current world in six days. Geological findings belong to earlier worlds which the Torah has no reason to mention, as they exert no influence on man’s world. Therefore, nothing found by geologists contradicts the Torah. As asserted by exegetes of the past, the current laws of nature were put in place by the creator during this new act of creation. The Torah does not agree with the (Platonic) belief in primordial matter and laws of nature, from which the world slowly evolved by itself. Rather, our world was created from nothing, down to the smallest detail, in all its perfection, over the course of six days. During these six days, the laws of nature did not yet apply, and only were enacted once God rested from his labor.37 A careful look at Hirsch’s writings reveals how his view is different than that of Hoffmann; it is, as mentioned, neo-fundamentalist. Generally his approach is the ‘restrictive identicality’ approach, that of classic fundamentalism. However, when a theory has been empirically proven, but still contradicts what was stated in revelation, one can adopt instead the ‘interpretative identicality’ approach— as long as the inerrancy of the Holy Scriptures is kept intact. This inconsistent view is most prominently apparent in the excerpt appearing on the previous page. According to Hirsch, Judaism does not fear scientific claims about the age of the world. Even if the statements appearing in the writings of the Sages and in the Midrash Aggada (which is not from Sinai) prove to be false, and the scientific theories true—this will be no cause for concern. The truth is, Hirsch argues, that the Torah and the Sages made no scientific claims about the world or man; such ideas are not part of the belief system of Judaism. Therefore, any scientific theory can be correct as long as it does not compromise the principle that God created the world ex nihilo. When this happened, or how it unfolded does not concern the Torah. In Hirsch’s words there: “In the view of our Rabbis, for the age of the world. The correct translation of the sentence which starts with the words “the rabbis also” is: “Our Rabbis, the Sages of Judaism, discuss (Midrash Rabbah 9; Tractate Haggigah 16a) the possibility of worlds before our world […] they were willing to live with any theory.” The word “also” at the beginning of the sentence does not appear in the original, and Hirsch speaks about a possibility and not of a decisive fact (one can see the entire original passage in my book, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 419–420). 37 See Hoffmann, Bereshit, 49–51.

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the Book of Books was intended to be mankind’s guide for life on earth as it is at present. . . Anything beyond that simply did not exist for our Sages.” The Torah’s task is not to teach the sciences; it is meant to teach a person behavioral norms, educating him to be an ethical and spiritual person who clings to God. Hirsch treats Darwinian evolution in the same way. He maintains that there is no reason for Judaism to reject this theory. It even reinforces belief in God, as long as all agree that it was God who created the first cell from which everything began—instilling it with the potential to evolve into the variety of species which now live in the world.38

SECULAR STUDIES AND WISSENSCHAFT DES JUDENTUMS We have mentioned Hirsch’s and Hoffmann’s views regarding the Jewish people’s mission to redeem mankind, and the commandments of Judaism which embody the highest morality, by which humanity will become increasingly more ethical, and cling to the sacred kingdom of God. From these it follows that secular studies and scientific study are important disciplines which must be taught alongside religious studies. Hoffmann, following in the footsteps of Hirsch and Hildesheimer, mentions this in his speech to the teachers and students of the seminary on the occasion of the opening of winter semester in 1919.39 At the beginning of the speech, Hoffmann explains that he will deal with the important connection between Jewish culture and general culture, especially between Torah studies and scientific research. To this end, Hoffmann cites a verse from that week’s Torah portion about Noah’s prophecy to his sons: “God beautify Japheth, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem; and let Canaan be their servant” (Gen 9:27). He mentions the Sages’ interpretation of the verse: “The beauty of Japheth will be in the tents of Shem.” There is no doubt in my mind that the foundation of Hoffmann’s speech was Hirsch’s interpretation of this verse as well as his articles “Hellenism and Judaism” (Jeschurun 3 [Frankfurt 1856], 109) and “Judaism and Rome” (Frankfurt 1857).40 38 On Hirsch’s stance regarding the age of the world and the theory of evolution see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 418–422. For a discussion of the difference between classic fundamentalism and neo-fundamentalism, and Hirsch’s classification as a neo-fundamentalist, see ibid., vol. 1, 149–151, 420–421, 511; vol. 2, 302. 39 Printed in German in Jeschurun 7 (Berlin, 1920). For an English translation see M. B. Shapiro, “Rabbi David Zevi Hoffmann on Torah and Wissenschaft,” The Torah U-Madda Journal 6 (1995–1996), 129–138. 40 Hirsch, Writings, 2:200–211, 275–278. On Hirsch’s stance regarding secular studies, and his opposition to Wissenschaft des Judentums see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1,

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Nevertheless, Hoffmann’s development of this idea—in the direction of historical-philological research of Jewish texts (Wissenschaft des Judentums)— accords with the view of the seminary’s founder Hildesheimer, but not with that of Hirsch. Hoffmann explains the Sages’ statement: the tents of Shem are study halls; by this they meant that it is permitted to introduce into study halls a variety of cultures, as long as these contribute to the nobility of mankind. This was the view of the greats of Israel from time immemorial. The goal was always to enlighten and illuminate believers. Only a noble soul finds contentment and happiness in the purity and seriousness of the Jewish ethical system. Only an intellectual, who has studied secular subjects, can find satisfaction in the belief in the one creator of the world—ruler of human fates, benefactor of all creations. Therefore, Judaism happily promotes every victory and achievement of true study. It sees in these the victory of truth over falsehood, clarity over fancy and misguidedness, triumph over the forces of darkness constantly persecuting the Jews. Hoffmann quotes Hildesheimer’s speech from the seminary’s first school year in 1873. Hildesheimer had said then that the presence of Jews in all disciplines constitutes a sanctification of God’s name (qiddush hashem). In his words, the new seminary accords the same love to all disciplines and fields of study, as they all contribute to the glory of God’s name. The seminary will continue to ensure that early Jewish studies such as midrash and history will be researched from new perspectives and using new sources. Hoffmann adds that religious studies will be enriched and advanced in the wake of serious and sincere study, their principles will being clarified academically, and their errors being rectified. Based on Hirsch’s interpretation of Judah Halevi, Hoffmann maintains that the truth of revelation does not contradict the truths of reason achieved through human spirit (as long as they are truths and not merely theories). To the contrary, research will support revelation, clarifying it and making it fully comprehensible. Hoffmann continues in a Hirschian spirit: one should accept Japheth, who bears with him beauty and harmony, as a brother and companion, so that Shem and Japheth can be united. Together, they will strive to venerate and glorify God, declaring that the kingdom of God resides in the tents of Shem, his laws ruling over the actions of mankind, all creatures continually keeping his will. That being said, Hoffmann maintains, like Hirsch, that Japheth 425–447. On Hellenism and Judaism and Jewish identity and science see Hirsch, Writings, 2:280–290.

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is only a secondary resident in the tents of Shem. Shem is in charge of the household. The standard of all human activities is to be based on the teaching of those dwelling within the tent. Therefore, Hoffmann says, whoever wishes to change the Jewish religion to better fit it with general culture has made an error; this must not be forgotten. The Reform movement compromised and abased the superiority of the divine law, adopting spiteful measures to combat the traditional study of Torah. In their opinion, the message of revelation has been supplanted by research. Based on mere hypotheses, they have annulled and modified 2,000-year-old traditions, seeking to push Shem into the dark corner of the tent. The Torah states that leadership must be in the hands of those who have sovereignty over Canaan—the symbol of egoism, violence, materialism, and hedonism. Although it was Hellenism which brought mankind the important message of beauty and good, as well as the desire to learn and become enlightened, it did not have the insight to impose justice, love, and moral purity on human society; only these values can redeem mankind. Hoffmann, like Hirsch explains that Hellenism submitted itself to Ham, its education and science being mobilized for the pursuit of material and hedonistic ends. Only the Shemite teachings called in the name of the one God, the omnipotent creator of the world. Mankind, which is created in his image, is required to follow in his ways out of free will. Shem taught the commandments to mankind, and at the same time taught humanity to be true, just, and ethical like its creator. If humanity acts thus it will be pleasing to God; He will then dwell in our midst and grant us eternal redemption. At that point, Ham will also achieve his goal—serving Shem and Japheth. Hoffmann once again quotes Hildesheimer from the same speech: the teachers of the seminary must reveal to their students the Jewish ideas about God, as well as the Torah and the past and future of the nation. Doing so will make the students proud to participate in the spiritual redemption of mankind, and enthusiastic to observe the commandments with happiness. Hildesheimer had stated then that only through the laws of the Torah, transmitted in a divine revelation, can complete redemption be achieved. It is the commandments which tie existence to God. Therefore, Hoffmann concludes, we must banish from our tents Bible criticism which opposes our path, and we must prove that its assumptions are false. In any event, one should never deviate from true faith. Thus Hoffmann, like Hirsch, connects the divinely revealed commandments of the Torah, their ethical nature, and the need to transmit the ideas of Judaism to mankind as a whole with the need to teach secular studies. Only through this cooperation can redemption be achieved. He adds to this Hildesheimer’s ­position

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(which is opposed to that of Hirsch) that of this includes using scientific methods to analyze the texts of Judaism.

THE LAND OF ISRAEL In terms of the Land of Israel, Hirsch had little influence on Hoffmann. Hildesheimer’s strong influence is evident in Hoffmann’s writings on this subject. Hildesheimer admired Herzl and Zionism and made a great effort to assist the developing settlement in the Land of Israel, cooperating with the Hovevei Tsion movement. Hirsch, by contrast, considered any institutional, organized settlement of the land a transgression and rebellion against God. To him the land is a harsh one—geographically, politically, and climatically. Hoffmann, unlike Hirsch, maintains that the Land of Israel is the ideal location for the existence and flourishing of Judaism—it lies on the axis of three important continents, the homes of cultures which Judaism is entrusted with influencing. It is fertile, easily defensible, and climatically comfortable. God chose it as the place to rest His presence upon His nation. It is there where his kingship will first appear and He watches it directly. Therefore, it is the ideal location for advancing the moral ascent of the nation, for the good of mankind as a whole. Immigration to the land and settling it must be among the nation’s top priorities. This goal will be fulfilled in its entirety when the nation puts its trust in God alone, serving him and beseeching Him for redemption.41 That being said, Hoffmann agrees with Hirsch that the land has no immanent sanctity, and that it is not a goal in and of itself; it is only a tool which the Jewish people must use to fulfill its mission. Only as a nation of God must you enter the Promised Land. [. . .] The Nation of Israel is not like other peoples—their character and destiny a product of the land which has fallen to their inheritance. For Israel, destiny precedes the inheritance of the land. Indeed, the Land must serve as means for achieving the nation’s destiny, of advancing its mission. But a time may come, when Israel will need to strive towards its destiny without its land. Therefore, Israel must receive its role before it inherits the land.42 41 See Hoffmann, Bereshit, 122, 206, 210, 236, 240, 254, 257, 334, 356, 365–366, 430, 473; idem, Devarim, 67; Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography, 193. On Hirsch’s stance towards the Land of Israel, which is the complete opposite of that of Hoffmann. see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 47–61, 72–74. 42 Hoffmann, Shemot, 71–72. For Hirsch’s stance see The Nineteen Letters, 159–161; Ex. 6:8; Lev. 2:1; Deut. 4:5, 16:9, 27:18–19, 32:9.

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THE STATUS OF WOMEN This subject does not particularly concern Hoffmann. His position, as evident from his interpretation of the beginning of Genesis, is inconsistent. In similar fashion to Hirsch (who maintains that a woman’s status is even greater than a man’s), Hoffmann states that a woman’s status in Judaism is equal to a man’s ever since creation. That being said the woman is given a special task alongside man: The woman’s purpose is not just this [procreation]; she must also serve as the man’s ezer (helpmeet) so that he can achieve his goal. This is conditional, however, on the man recognizing woman as such a helpmeet, according her an appropriate status. Therefore, Adam was originally created alone, so that he would feel the need for this helpmeet. [. . .] kenegdo: as is common in the language of our Sages: appropriate, fitting—that is, a helpmeet who fits him and is equal to him.43

However, later in the Torah portion, Hoffmann describes the woman as weak and dependent, willingly submitting herself to the authority of her husband. This dependence is also spiritual: He shall reign over you. This does not specifically mean a woman’s subjugation to her husband as is customary in the lands of the East. Rather, it refers to the natural relationship between the two sexes: the weaker and dependent woman willingly submits herself to her husband’s superiority. The three unique punishments imposed upon the woman, fit the circumstances which led her to sin. For indeed “she saw that the tree was good for food, a delight to the eyes, and desired to make one wise.” Pain—corresponds to the desire to eat; the desire for her husband—corresponds to the delight of the eyes, and man’s dominance over the woman, that is, the woman’s spiritual dependence on the man—corresponds to the desire [to make one wise].44

In his explanation of the prohibition “You shall not commit adultery” in the Ten Commandments Hoffmann explains like the Sages: “A man’s wife is 43 Hoffmann, Bereshit, 72. On Hirsch’s stance on women in Judaism see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 152–166. 44 Ibid., 86.

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his most precious possession, a possession forbidden for another to touch.”45 In his commentary on false witnesses (Deut. 19:17) on the verse “and the two men shall stand,” Hoffmann accepts without reservations the Sages’ derivation in Sifri that a woman may not serve as a witness. Hoffmann also cites Josephus’s interpretation of this law (arguing that he learned this from the tradition of the Sages): women are simple minded. Because according to Hoffmann all laws are from Sinai, it is obvious that this law must also not be altered and is neither dependent on culture nor time.46 This is more reminiscent of the views of most medieval sages and members of the eighteenth-century Haskalah movement, who lowered the woman’s status, placing her under the protection of her husband.47 Notably, in his responsa, Hoffmann rules that women are allowed to vote in community elections, although they themselves cannot run for office.48

FURTHER INTERPRETATIONS IN WHICH HOFFMANN’S COMMENTARY SHOWS AFFINITIES TO THAT OF HIRSCH Hoffmann mentions Hirsch dozens of times in his commentary on the Torah. Generally, he accepts his interpretations. However, at times he cites Hirsch’s interpretation—in summary or at length—only to reject it. Below are some representative examples in which he follows Hirsch’s interpretation, sometimes quoting Hirsch ad verbatim, sometimes citing him by name, sometimes not mentioning him at all.

Genesis 1.  2:15–17, 69–71. The sin of Adam and Eve. Hoffmann accepts Hirsch’s rejection of the Maimonidean interpretation of the account: that it is not a historical event but only an allegory about man’s status—before he sinned, man knew to choose between truth and 45 Hoffmann, Shemot, 255. 46 See Hoffmann, Devarim, 381–382. In the next chapter I will show how Berkovits disagrees. 47 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 128–135, and n. 2 there. 48 Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography, 220. It is interesting that Weinberg, who taught at the Seminary after Hoffmann, when asked the same question ruled that in theory there is no reason for a woman not to run for office. See M. B., Shapiro, Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy: The Life and Works of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg 1884–1966 (OxfordPortland, OR, 1999), 218–220.

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falsehood, afterwards he preferred to choose between good and evil according to societal norms apprehended by the imagination. According to Hirsch and Hoffmann, the account is a historical event in which Adam decided to choose between good and evil using his limited reason, instead of following divine instructions. 2.  3:7, 81–82. “And they knew they were naked.” Hoffmann cites Hirsch’s interpretation that the Torah is teaching that when man fails to act in accordance with God’s will, he becomes embarrassed of his body, and all the impurities of the naked body are awakened. 3.  12:10–13, 214 and n. 35. “Say, please, that you are my sister.” Hirsch and Hoffmann takes sides with Rabbenu Nissim against Nachmanides: Abraham made no error when he arrived in Egypt with Sarah. His actions were logical given the circumstances. Abraham did not seek to enrich himself at the expense of Sarah’s safety. He asked her to say that he was her brother, allowing them to stall for time by negotiating with potential suitors until danger had passed. The alternative would have been sure death for Abraham and a life of humiliation for Sarah. 4.  15:8, 240. “How can I know that I will acquire it?” Hoffmann adopts Hirsch’s explanation: Abraham did not doubt God’s promise; he merely asked, “How we will know (me or my descendants) that the time has arrived to inherit the land?” This is a request to know when and under what circumstances will God’s promise come true. 5.  22:11–12, 338–339 in n. 2. Abraham’s greatness in the Binding of Isaac. Hirsch, and after him Hoffmann, reject the views of interpreters (Geiger) who explain that Abraham’s greatness was obeying the angel which commanded him to “cast not your hand on the lad”: a protest against the institution of human sacrifice practiced by the pagans. In their opinion, Abraham’s greatness was his willingness to offer his son as a sacrifice, following the divine fiat without protest.

Exodus 6.  Introduction, 15. Hoffmann explains, like Hirsch (Gen. 17:17; Ex. 6:2) that the transformation of the tribes of Israel into a nation during their Egyptian slavery was an act of divine creation—comparable to God’s creation of the world in Genesis.

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 7.  6:6, 71. “I will bring you out. . . I will deliver you. . . I will redeem you.” Hoffmann writes that Hirsch is correct to note that the three expressions of redemption correspond to the three levels of exile mentioned to Abraham in the Covenant between the Pieces: “Your offspring shall be a stranger” corresponds to “I will redeem”; “and shall serve them,” to “I will deliver you”; “they shall afflict them” to “I will bring you out.” In the Covenant with Abraham, the progression is from lesser to greater affliction; in the Exodus redemption, it is the reverse, from greater to lesser.  8.  12:15, 124–128. “From the first day.” Hoffmann cites Hirsch’s interpretation on Deut. 15:3 and agrees with him that the matsa which the Children of Israel ate during the Exodus was the bread they ate throughout their bondage in Egypt. In other words, it is bread of slavery and dependence.  9.  20:21, 263 The altar. Hoffmann commends Hirsch (Ex. 20:21; 27:8; 348) for his explanation of the altar’s symbolic significance— it represents Israel’s task of elevating all earthly things to heaven, to God. The Torah instructs us to aspire to ascend to the heavens. This idea is part of Hoffmann and Hirsch’s system of ethics. 10.  21:20, 303. “Vengeance shall surely be exacted.” Hoffmann cites as a possible interpretation of the verse Hirsch’s suggestions that because a gentile slave has no blood-avenger, the community takes upon this role instead, exacting vengeance for the loss of God’s image. 11.  21:30, 313. “If a ransom be laid upon him.” Hoffmann cites Hirsch: the fact that this is expressed conditionally, teaches us that the obligation to pay “ransom” (kofer) does not only apply to a case of a stoned ox; it applies to any case in which ransom is imposed upon the owner of an ox—for example, if the ox intended to gore an animal but instead gored a human, as ruled in the BT Bava Qamma 43b. 12.  23:18, 329. “You shall not offer the blood of My sacrifice with leavened bread.” Hoffmann maintains, like Hirsch, that the “sacrifice” in question is the Passover sacrifice. He quotes Hirsch’s statements that the main element of the Passover sacrifice is the sanctification and devotion of the Jewish home, promoting eating a meal at home among family. Once again, we see the theme of sanctifying the material and physical through commandments as a necessary element of one’s path towards sanctity.

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Leviticus 13.  4:2, 124. “If anyone shall sin in error.” Hoffmann adopts Hirsch’s explanation: one who sins in error must bring a sacrifice because he was not careful to avoid transgression—in other words, he was frivolous, not directing his life to constantly walk on the path of God. One who sins intentionally, however, is exempt from a sacrifice and is liable to receive karet. 14.  5:21–22, 152. “Commit a sin against God and deal falsely with his neighbor.” Hoffmann’s cites an idea from Hirsch that sinning against one’s friend is akin to sinning against God. This is based on Rabbi Akiva’s comment in Sifra on this verse. 15.  10:1, 204. “And they offered a strange fire before God.” Hoffmann uses Hirsch’s explanation to interpret the sin of Aaron’s sons Nadab and Abihu. There is no place for subjective judgment in the service of God—even if it derives from a worthy feeling of great joy. Such actions are driven by impulses, zealotry or human ideology and not by God’s guidance. 16.  13:2, 220, 254. Hoffmann cites Hirsch’s proofs in his commentary that the affliction of tsara’at is not an infectious disease, but rather a symbol of ethical transgressions committed against society by the afflicted. 17.  19:23–24, vol. 2, 41. “You shall consider its fruit forbidden (orlah).” Hoffmann accepts Hirsch’s explanation for the prohibition of orlah. A person must abstain from a tree’s fruit during the first three years of its life. This act of forbearance reflects a person’s elevated ethical level, symbolizing that he is worthy of reigning over nature and partaking of this important creation of God. 18.  23:15–21, vol. 2, 94, 161. (Hirsch 23:15; 21:36) The cycle of yearly festivals comes in two parts: In the first part, is the festival of Passover which is concluded with Shavuot seven weeks after it. In the second part, is Sukkoth which is concluded by Shemini Atseret seven days after it.

Deuteronomy 19.  3:26, 65. “But God was angry with me for your sake (lema’ankhem).” Hoffmann accepts Hirsch’s translation of lema’ankhem as “for your benefit” as opposed to “because of you.”

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20.  17:9, 12, 312. “And you shall come to the Levite priests and the judge. [. . .] To the priest [. . .] or to the judge.” Hoffmann adopts Hirsch’s interpretation. It is ideal that the head of the court be the High Priest, but even another judge can fill this function. 21.  17:15, 332. “You shall surely appoint for yourself a king.” Hoffmann refers the reader to Hirsch’s article in Jeschurun 4, 127, about the commandment to appoint a king and the nation’s request for a king as recounted in the Book of Samuel. 22.  21:5, 409. “And the priests shall draw close.” Hoffmann adopts Hirsch interpretation: the priests only draw close after the neck of the heifer has been broken, so that it should not be erroneously considered a sacrifice. 23.  24:1, 458. “And he will write for her a bill of divorce and place it in her hand.” Hoffmann cites Hirsch and justifies his approach. Hirsch writes that the decree of the rabbis of Ashkenaz in the time of Rabbenu Gershom forbidding the forceful divorce of one’s wife is not a sign of progress but rather of the decline of Jewish matrimony. It was a step-down from a situation in which men were on a sufficiently high level to make the correct decision about divorce, to a situation where many abused this right. 24. 25:5, 473. “Her husband’s brother shall go into her, and take her to him to wife, and perform the duty of a husband’s brother to her.” Hoffmann cites Hirsch and justifies his approach. Hirsch writes that the reason for levirate marriage is not to provide the widow with a livelihood, but rather a desire to perpetuate the deceased brother’s house. 25.  28:20, 518. “Until you are destroyed.” Hoffmann cites Hirsch’s interpretation of the verse: because the Nation of Israel never left God completely over the course of history, therefore the full extent of this curse will never be applied to them, only gradually. The curse unfolds in stages. Likewise, Hoffmann accepts Hirsch’s explanation that not the entire nation is stricken by every curse listed—rather some parts of the nation receive one curse and other parts another. 26.  29:3, 537. “And God did not give you a heart to know.” Hoffmann writes about this difficult verse: “Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch interprets that even though God performed great miracles for the Nation of Israel, they did not merit that these should properly operate on their apprehension, understanding, and inner comprehension.”

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Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors JEHIEL JACOB WEINBERG

R

abbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg was born in 1884 in Ciechanowiec, Poland.  He lived in Poland and Lithuania until he was 30, studying in Mir and Slobodka yeshivot. He was the student of Rabbi Elijah Baruch Komay in Mir and the student of Mordechai Epstein, and Natan Tsvi Finkel and study partners with Natan Tsvi’s son Rabbi Eliezer Yehuda Finkel in Slobodka. During his time studying in Slobodka, he was deeply influenced by Rabbi Israel Salanter, the founder of the Mussar movement—as well as by Naftali Amsterdam and Isaac (Itzele) Blazer. He served as rabbi of the Lithuanian town Pilviškiai in 1908–1914. He was a member of the Agudat Yisrael movement and published novella and editorials in defense of the Lithuanian yeshiva world. Before the outbreak of World War I, Weinberg left Lithuania for personal and family reasons (his medical problems and his failed marriage) and moved to Berlin. There he familiarized himself with German Orthodoxy, in all its variety, and with Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer’s rabbinic seminary. In order to serve as a rabbi in Germany, Weinberg was required to receive an academic education. To this end, he moved to Giessen, Hessen, where he began his studies in Bible and philosophy in the local university with professors Paul Kahle, Hans Schmidt, and Ernst von Aster. In 1921, Kahle asked Weinberg to deliver lectures as part of the university’s Jewish studies department, a task which Weinberg carried out with great success. In 1923, Weinberg submitted his doctorate on the Syriac translation of the Bible (the Peshitta). Kahle and Schmidt recommended ­approving

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the degree, subject to corrections. Weinberg did not do as was required and did not receive his degree. In 1924, he was appointed teacher of Talmud and Halakhah at the Neo-Orthodox seminary in Berlin. In the thirties, he was appointed the seminary’s rector until it was closed on Kristallnacht, November 9, 1938. Weinberg spent the Holocaust in Warsaw ghetto, and afterward in a Russian POW camp in Wulzberg until liberation in 1945. Weinberg chose not to confront the heads of the yeshivot in Palestine/Israel and spent his last twenty years living in Montreux, Switzerland. He died there eighteen years after the establishment of the State of Israel.1 His halakhic rulings and responsa were preserved in his book Seridei Esh in four volumes, its first volume published in 1961 and the last in 1969. His many essays were gathered in his book Lifraqim, which was published first in Biłgoraj (1936), in subsequent editions in Jerusalem (1967, 2002) and in the compilation Kitvei Ha-Gaon Rabbi Yeh. iel   Yaakov Weinberg, edited by Marc Shapiro in two volumes (the first published in Scranton, 1998, and the second in 2003).

Romanticism and Rationalism A neo-romantic, Hirsch was an emotional man, charismatic and enthusiastic, a lover of nature. A romantic in his thought, he believed that criteria of speculative philosophy—based on Maimonides, founded on non-Jewish philosophy—should not be used to establish truth. All too human, this type of philosophy is exposed to the temptations of sensuality. Hirsch preferred reliance on the nation’s past experiences and the experiences of the senses and emotions, believing that divine revelation—encapsulated in the Torah, and transpiring at Sinai—is, generally speaking, a better source of truth. That being said, he opposed excessive emotionalism, being swept away by sentiments and delusions and blurring of the senses. Therefore, he rejected mysticism, Kabbalah, and Hassidut, preferring clear, healthy logic—a key given to man from his creator alongside the Torah. When purified of its errors, such logic reaches identical conclusions to the messages of the Torah.2

1 This biographical description is based on M. Shapiro, Between the Yeshiva World and the Modern Orthodoxy, The Life and Works of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg:1884–1966 (OxfordPortland, Oregon, 1999); A. Sorasky, “Rashei Peraqim Letoldotav,” in Lifraqim ( Jerusalem, 2002), 35–60. 2 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 392–402. On the soul in Salanter’s ethical system see I. Etkes, R. Yisrael Salanter Vereshita shel Tenu’at Hamussar ( Jerusalem, 1984), 311–335.

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A review of Weinberg’s writings demonstrates his ideological affinity to Hirsch; he too was a romantic. According to this characterization of his personality, the influence of Israel Salanter decisively contributed to his thought. He believed that the Jewish People are led to faith, by their religious souls—not by reason.3 Weinberg writes about the encounter between intellectualism and romanticism in the Jewish soul: The Jewish soul can only be redeemed through religion. Only his religion! The Jewish soul is multifaceted and complex. Excitement from the world (both concealed and revealed) excitement from life (the outer life of nature and the inner life of the soul)—these are deeply ingrained in [the Jewish soul] gushing and flaming, relentlessly flowing. The soul has no correction but creativity which will empty its remaining powers, smooth out its wrinkles, and let shine forth the sparks of its light. Religion serves as the source of this creativity; it is the conclusion and the sum of its [the soul’s] creative mission. The defilement of our nation’s power and the impulse of its creativity—its sources are one of weakening religiosity. When religion is revived in [the Jew’s] heart, it will be a time of rebirth for the Jewish person’s soul, the hour of its redemption and resurgence. In our time, when the modern man’s soul is almost suffocated, buried under the thick layers of the culture of excess, the spiritual air has been poisoned by haughty science. In this Hell which prevails in our day, religiosity cannot awake; it cannot fortify itself; it cannot be made into an element and power of creativity—except on the basis of practical commandments. Wholeheartedly and lovingly accepting the yoke of the Shulhan Arukh— not breaking it off—will revive the swooning Jewish heart. It is [the Jewish heart’s] only medicine, and without it will expire and die. The modern scholars of Judaism studied it as a system of knowledge, religion and ethics, their eyes distracted from the complex psychological layer which we call: “The Jewish soul.” That soul—each one of its folds is a storming, surging sea, each one of its movements encases a mighty force that can build and destroy worlds in a relentless cycle. The failures of every recent attempt to “heal” the national spirit or to “resurrect” the restoration of Israel’s creativity, should be attributed to this oversight. Any attempt at resurrection which does not begin with a resurrection of religion in the 3

See Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 97–98, 155.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven heart—or a resurrection in the heart through religion—will end in ruin and decay because it begins with falsification and blindness. Religious liberalism sought to create a new and strange creature: naked religiosity, detached from its source, devoid of the roots of life— which may indeed be adorned and bedecked with shrouds of the dead, but not revived or fructified. Religious liberalism’s haughty step over the “transmitted commandments” was like a blindness of the eyes and a confounding of heart all at once: blindness to the edicts of nature (the nature of the soul and the nature of the Jewish religion) and a confounding in response to the nation’s great inheritance, from its greater moments—the revelation of religious presence. [. . .] The organization of the Jewish soul is one of a kind. It yearns and makes waves in response to every small breeze, to every hidden movement. Its inner rhythm is comprised of the most radical extremes. It is drawn to all the magic in nature, to its abundance of colors and sounds, and in this season, it hears those sounds and voices, rising and bursting forth from behind this spotted, colorful veil. There is none like the Jew with such a simple sense of reality; there is none like him inclined to delusion and imagination. The Jew is a marked intellectualist. His intellectual nature and tendency to analyze and critique are highly developed. The intellectual sense of the Jew is satisfied by the logic of the Talmud, by analyzing and clarifying the terms of Halakhah and jurisprudence, as well as by research of the sciences. But in the world of logic, he does not find full satisfaction and fulfillment for his longing soul, for his parched, yearning heart. There remains within him an emptiness, reserved for different streams of creativity, streams of creativity which the spiritual air of intellectualism suffocates. This soul needs new worlds; their rebuilding does not contradict those values which were meant, in the first place, to satisfy other needs of the soul. [. . .] The root of their sickness [for Jews in our time] must be sought not in Exile; Exile is the symptom of the sickness not its cause! Rather it is the sin of failing to fulfill the great task entrusted to us by our divine nature. I am referring to the great destiny of the Jew: to use his spirit to take all the contradictions and dichotomies of impulses and emotions, inclinations and preferences, qualities and virtues—which have created an un-mendable rift in the human spirit and have caused endless running

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The Dual Truth about—and to create a unified mixture and a creative, peaceful compromise, constituting enrichment and uplifting of the particulars through generalization, and generalization through the particulars, of the spiritual bounty encased in its depths.4

In the poetical language of a preacher and a romantic, using the tools of Hegel, Salanter, and Rav Kook, Weinberg describes the necessary synthesis between healthy, intellectual logic and creative, experiential emotion—along with the practical commandments of divine revelation. According to him, it is this which will enliven Jewish nationalism and the Jewish soul. Hirsch demands a similar combination. Both Weinberg and Hirsch exclude from this combination “asphyxiating” speculative philosophy which has given up on emotion and the commandments. In their opinion, this—giving up the commandments—was precisely the goal of modern Maimonideans—the Reform movement and members of the historical-positivist school and their Conservative successors, and the secular intellectuals of Weinberg’s time. Weinberg proceeds to describe Greek philosophy, contrasting it to the Torah of Israel, basing himself on Hirschian romanticism: Indeed, it is true, that Greek philosophy achieved, in part (if not purely) the idea of the Creator’s unity. But for it, this idea was abstract and cold—purely metaphysical and mathematical, lacking the warmth of faith, and bereft of an ethical life and world-view. In Israel, this great idea appeared in the vision of its God, in the holy fire of blazing faith. This belief in a single God ignited the flash of morality in the Israelite soul: love-of-people, compassion for God’s handiwork, empathy with the pain of the tormented and suffering, and a vigorous demand for social justice.5

Weinberg, in a sermon delivered at a circumcision, discusses the patriarch Abraham, the first to receive this commandment. He says that Abraham’s 4 J. J. Weinberg, Lifraqim ( Jerusalem, 2002), 185–187. See also J. J. Weinberg, “Hadatiyut Veqiyum Hamitsvot” (1920) in Kitvei Haga’on Rabbi Yaakov Yeh  . iel Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 2003), 286. 5 Ibid., 297. For a similar expression by Hirsch, see Writings, 2:202–204. Weinberg expresses clear criticism of Maimonides, noting Hirsch and Luzzatto’s criticisms of Maimonides which he deems justified. See J. J. Weinberg “Hah  . innukh Shelanu” (1952) in Kitvei Haga’on Rabbi Yaakov Yeh  . iel Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 2003), 323.

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p­ hilosophical conception of the Creator is linked to the emotion of love and compassion rooted within him—the image of God within man. Weinberg adds: It was not with philosophical lectures about the essence of being, about the actions of creation, and about the essence of the creator that [Abraham] instilled within their hearts [of people] belief in the Creator of the world. It was with justice. It was his practice of justice and kindness, which he disseminated around him. They [his adherents] did not recognize the Creator through logical contexts, but rather, through the shining lens of justice, they saw the Leader of the world in his goodness.6

Torah im Derekh Erets Marc Shapiro describes in detail the development of Weinberg’s views regarding the importance of European culture and secular studies for Judaism, especially for the young Jew. Analyzing texts from different periods in Weinberg’s life, Shapiro clearly shows that Weinberg’s views on the subject underwent a gradual but ultimately dramatic shift. In Shapiro’s opinion, Weinberg’s departure from Lithuania for Germany and the beginning of his academic studies represent turning points in this process.7 In his youth, when he lived in Lithuania, Weinberg completely rejected (as befitted a representative of the Lithuanian Yeshiva elite) the positive attitude of German neo-Orthodoxy (based on Hirsch and Hidlesheimer) to everything beautiful, good, and true in the general culture of Europe. Unlike his cultural hero, Israel Salanter, Weinberg believed then that combining general culture with Judaism is forbidden and dangerous—even for the Jews of Germany. He declared that the day that the walls of the Ghetto fell, allowing the creation of this hybrid culture, was “as difficult for Israel as the day they worshiped the Golden Calf.”8 Torah study is the only way to maintain and advance the Jewish people and to preserve the halakhic observance and faith. “Judaism is the source of human perfection and its end,” and there is no need for general education or foreign language study.9 6 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 248. See also G. H. Cohen, “Bein Olam Hayeshivot Vehaortodoqsia Hamodernit Beiqvot Sifro shel Marc Shapiro al Hagaon Ry”y Weinberg Ba’al Seridei Esh,” Badad 13, ed. Y. Domb (Ramat Gan, 2003), 155. 7 Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World. 8 J. J. Weinberg, “Al Hasifrut Haortodoqsit,” (1911) in Kitvei Haga’on Rabbi Yaakov Yeh  . iel Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 2003), 65; Shapiro, Kitvei Hagaon, vol. 2, 41–47. 9 Ibid., 66.

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The first signs of change in his views appear already in 1916. He agreed that reforms should be made to the Heder education system in eastern Europe. He adopted Salanter’s attitude: the system of German-Jewish Orthodoxy suits the Jews of Germany who live in a special environment of education and thought—but not the Jews of Poland and Lithuania. Even after he moved to Germany, Weinberg continued to associate himself with Lithuania and the yeshiva world and, as a rule, continued to oppose the combination of Torah study and modernity—certainly for anyone who wished to be a Torah great or a leader of the generation. This was despite the fact that he had already begun to realize that German Orthodoxy had achieved certain things in its own field.10 While living in Berlin, Weinberg delivered a number of lectures in the rabbinical seminary and became familiar with the dispute between the Berlin school of thought (including the separatist community there) based on the teaching of the seminary’s founder Hildesheimer and the Frankfurt school based on Hirsch. Shapiro describes in detail these disputes and explains that they were related more to political-societal issues and less to ideology. For example, while the Frankfurt school promoted separation from the Reform community, Berlin promoted communal unity. Frankfurt was far more rigid in its treatments of those different from it, the Reform, historical positivists, Zionists, or others. Despite these differences, there was an ideological consensus between the two streams, both promoting the following of Neo-Orthodox dogmas: (1) Both the written and Oral Torah are divine. (2) Scripture is inerrant, that is, it contains no errors or contradictions and it is true scientifically, historically, geographically and in all other aspects. (3) Complete observance of the commandments is required. (4) Integrating secular studies, including the academic level, is an optimal approach and not a post-hoc compromise—“Torah im Derekh Erets.” In this area, there was only one important argument over principles: the treatment of Wissenchaft des Judentums. Hirsch’s successors harshly criticized any use of modern and philological-historical research tools in their studies of Scripture, arguing that these texts are divine and cannot be studied using the same tools applied to human texts. By contrast, Hildesheimer’s successors maintained that it is imperative to study religious texts with modern tools in order to refute Bible criticism’s arguments against the divinity of the text as well as those arguing for the historical development of Halakhah—using their own tools against them.11 10 See Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 63–65. 11 See Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 76–84; Breuer, ‘Eda, 120–136, 157–189.

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Once he had begun his academic studies, Weinberg realized the importance of research in the Jewish studies, and gradually began supporting “Torah im Derekh Erets,” especially in regard to Wissenschaft des Judentums. That being said, he still maintained that there was no place for secular studies in yeshivot: In the Yeshiva, people oppose studying enlightenment writings, or reading about foreign knowledge. This is not due to a hatred of enlightenment, but rather a desire not to lose the remnant of original life. To these people, the Yeshiva is not a workshop to make rabbis. It is a Jewish enclave, and therefore they strive to maintain a unified spirit. They fear the dualism and spiritual rupture taking place in the heart of the young man educated in European culture.12 The Yeshiva must remain as is, just as it has always been: the home for the Jewish soul, free from quotidian concerns, detached from the material world, so that it may be worthy to live in the spirit of God’s Torah.13

As mentioned, Weinberg had now reached the conclusion that German Orthodoxy had great importance, and that Hirsch had saved Orthodoxy in Western Europe: Some identify the reason [for the failure of devout education] with a more spiritual cause. They maintain that secular education distanced our youth from the front of faith; it saps the strength and prevents the advancement of this young generation. However, this opinion also has no basis. The first thing to contradict this assumption is a significantly sized group within German Jewry which has joined devoutness and secular education together, making them into one unit. Besides this, is it not an insult and blasphemy to our fathers and ourselves to claim that Judaism—as a religion and as a world-view—only continued to exist thanks to ignorance and blindness? Does this not mean that now it has no right to exist, and that the hour of its death will come when enlightenment proceeds to infuse everyone?14 12 J. J. Weinberg, “Hayeshivot Berusia” (1920) in Kitvei Haga’on Rabbi Yaakov Yeh  . iel Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 2003), 230. 13 J. J. Weinberg “Ba’ayat Hayeshiva” (1925), in Kitvei Haga’on Rabbi Yaakov Yeh  . iel Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 2003), 128–129. 14 J. J. Weinberg, “Derasha Lerosh Hashana avur Haav Haivri” (1924) in Kitvei Haga’on Rabbi Yaakov Yeh  . iel Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 2003), 128– 129. In this year, Weinberg wrote the praises of the educational system in Hirsch’s girls’ schools, a dramatic

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The Dual Truth Even today, the opinion of many Torah greats in Eastern Europe is that the Jews of Germany who are faithful to God’s Torah constitute the soul of Orthodoxy as a whole. I believe that German Orthodoxy has a specific destiny and mission, which may serve as an example, inspiring imitation among the Jews in other lands, if it should be made a meeting place of Torah. […] There is no doubt about this historical fact, despite the objections of Hirsch’s critics, and despite the halakhic arguments against the step he took: Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch saved German Jewry from the threat of extinction. Thanks to his rescue efforts in his time, not only separatist Orthodoxy but even the devout of the greater community, many of its heads originating from the separatist community, continue to exist.15

Command of the Lithuanian, purely Orthodox, yeshiva study of the Talmud, Midrash, and Halakhah; command of the academic critical study of texts— these qualities made Weinberg the perfect candidate to replace Rabbi Abraham Elijah Kaplan (who died suddenly in 1924) and to serve as a teacher of Talmud and Halakhah in the Rabbinical Seminary of Berlin and as halakhic decisor for all of Berlin’s Orthodox Jewish population. He successfully synthesized the two methods of studying texts, proving his worth as successor of Hildesheimer and David Tsvi Hoffmann.16 In a eulogy for Hanoch Ehrentrau, in a 1927 conference of religious academics in Berlin, Weinberg said the following: Admiration of tradition on the one hand and a sense of respect for scientific research on the other hand create a special type of problem. This problem is not the property of people free in their opinions, their hearts proud of science, to whom admiration of tradition is strange. The devout also, whose eyes look in only one direction, are to have no part in this. These latter ones are forced to bear the guilt of hating culture and being lazy in thought as the price of the comfort afforded by a lack of problematic issues. [. . .] German Orthodoxy has acquired for us honorable treatment and feelings of admiration throughout the Jewish world, because it made a real deviation from that stance of Eastern European rabbis. See below in the section about the status of women according to Weinberg. 15 Weinberg, “Ba’ayat Hayeshiva,” 231—232. 16 Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World¸ 84–89, 91–94, 99.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven attempt to connect the Torah with science. It was this that gave us people of such great [intellectual] stature as Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer, Rabbi David Tsvi Hoffmann and Professor Barth— who with their scientific labor and toil fertilized the spirit of Israel. […] You also are about to stand face-to-face with scientific research. You also have been entrusted the task of continuing this hard and heavy labor, loaded onto your shoulders by the generations preceding you—to continue the work of creating a synthesis of faith and culture. This synthesis must not be limited to the domain of insignificant matters and trivialities—such as inventing the Shabbat belt to allow carrying house keys on Shabbat, or inventing cream for shaving without a razor and the like. Rather this labor is as broad as it is deep, and thus it must be, and thus you must propagate it. It is not to use technical methods, products of Western progress, in order to cover up our Hebrew existence and in order to assuage the pangs of our conscious. Rather it is to delve deeply into the sources, making a new retrieval, to fertilize the spirit and to create a complete synthesis between Torah and life.17

At this point, Weinberg already identified completely (in his opinion at least) with the middle way of neo-Orthodoxy. Running between the Reform and secular to its left and the radical Orthodox to its right, this path was based on the methods of Hirsch and his student and friend Hildesheimer— the system of “Torah im Derekh Erets.”18 In his opinion, as he says in that same speech, the proper aspiration should be to create a synthesis between these two important, yet different fields—between religion and science, between faith and culture. It is this synthesis which will enliven the spirit of those who study Judaism in this manner (religious scholars and students) and will allow and complete unification of the Torah with life. Fertilizing Jewish science and enriching the nations culture will lead to a sanctification of God’s name, precisely as was done by Ehrentrau. This synthesis is not limited to the trivial technicalities of halakhic issues. It encompasses all aspects of life, and especially the manner in which one deals with the sources of Judaism. For the first time, Weinberg intellectually identifies with German neo-Orthodoxy—especially the Berlin school, even if societally he still sees himself as a member of Lithuanian Judaism, acting as 17 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 407–408. 18 On Hirsch’s identicality approach, his system of “Torah im Derekh Erets,” and his attitude towards Wissenschaft des Judentums see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 412–447.

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its representative in the seminary. His speech shows that this identification led him to defend, for the first time, the German system of Neo-Orthodoxy from its critics and detractors, to the right and to the left, within Germany—those who argued (in his opinion due to their hatred and envy) that this approach is a compromise which harms religious emotion and excitement and also lacks the authenticity of Eastern European Jewry. Shapiro explains that according to Weinberg here, the system of “Torah im Derekh Erets” and Wissenschaft des Judentums—the combinations of Lithuania with Berlin—is superior to the system of Eastern Europe which advocates only Torah. This latter system does not contend with the modern world, and therefore exposes the youth to the danger of losing their religion. He adds that, although Weinberg at this stage continued to defend the system of study in Lithuanian yeshivot, he already understood that the future lay in the West.19 Shapiro explains that Weinberg disputed Hirsch not only on the subject of Wissenschaft des Judentums, but also in terms of separatism. While Weinberg was a member of the united community, this was not ideological. He maintained a neutral stance between the two camps, supported both of them, and hoped their dispute would come to an end. However, unlike Hirsch and his successors in Frankfurt, Weinberg saw no religious obligation to join the separatist community.20 New challenges to the idea of “Torah im Derekh Erets” were posed by the rise of the Nazis in 1933, growing antisemitism, and the legislation of discriminatory anti-Jewish laws. European culture’s betrayal of German Jewry alienated many observant Jews. Following these events, many students in Germany decided to go study in Lithuanian yeshivot. Members of the devout Orthodoxy in Eastern Europe and Germany argued that the times had changed, and that in Germany also secular studies should be abandoned, and the focus should be directed towards Torah study alone. This was, for example, the opinion of Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski, Rabbi Elhanan Wasserman and the young Shimon Schwab who all raised classic Haredi arguments to this effect. Schwab maintained (in error) that Hirsch himself had never offered his approach as anything more than a temporary emergency measure; it was never meant to be a system for the generations. Despite this concentrated attack, Weinberg remained loyal to the system of Hirsch and Hildesheimer.21 19 Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 99–102. 20 Ibid., 106–107. 21 Ibid., 150–153. See especially note 70. See also Chapter Two above for decisive proof against Schwab’s erroneous claim. See also Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 438–439.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven

In a speech delivered in the Seminary at the beginning of the school year in the summer of 1934, Weinberg said the following: Therefore, the opposite path is more appropriate. Even in the future, one should continue discussing talmudic and halakhic questions, according to principles proven, tried, and accepted for the work of educated thought. But some influence and teaching from precise scholarship should also be accepted. Because the subject of talmudic-halakhic research are very ancient books, the first prerequisite, like any philological research, is to identify the authoritative document. A philologist does not begin discussing the meaning of a certain word, the interpretation of a certain sentence, or [attempt] to resolve difficulties of content and language until he has first discerned the document—the language of the words in their original form. However, such critical scholarship is completely lacking in halakhic literature. Documents are accepted by later generations without them investigating how they received them from their predecessors. The researcher relying on it does not bother to ask if his predecessor erred, or whether the language of the document before him is complete or corrupt. When some contradiction is found between different sources or within the Talmud itself they do not examine whether or not the fault lies in an incorrect document, but rather seek to settle the contradiction—in other words, to make the document suit the original—using various methods of “pilpul” [logic-chopping]. Do not be afraid of the derision from the “world of learners”; do not allow it to prevent you from pursuing this aspiration. You have the power to cite the names of great individuals such as Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer and Rabbi David Zvi Hoffmann. They associated with the greats of their generation, and were highly honored by them. Yet, at the same time, they were also founders of this new science. It follows that yours is a double task: To bring love of the old study hall, into those circles, to whom this was the last remnant of a past that had transpired and declined. And to reintroduce the love of science, research, and new perceptions to those who value the Torah, and its accompanying literature that came afterwards, as something with no second.22 22 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 420–421. See also J. J. Weinberg, Seridei Esh ( Jerusalem, 2012), vol. 1, § 162, 415; Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 143–145, 192–200. See also Cohen “Bein Olam Hayeshivot,” 144–147.

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Weinberg (who may already have been the head of the seminary) declared in his speech to his students that despite the derision of the yeshiva world, the system of the seminary would continue unabated, following in the footsteps of Hildesheimer and Hoffmannn. It would combine dialectical yeshiva studies with research of the holy texts, identifying the reading of the correct manuscript or print before relying on what is available and trying to resolve difficulties and contradictions without resorting to empty logic-chopping. This version of “Torah im Derekh Erets” brings the adage to its farthest possibilities for the religiously observant. And indeed, Hirsch opposed such a path. In 1935, in his parting speech from Moshe Auerbach, the Jewish history teacher in the seminar, Weinberg described the study of Jewish history as the integration of events with their embedded lessons and philosophies—essentially Hirsch’s system.23 With the rise of the Nazis in 1933, the conditions of German Jewry rapidly deteriorated. In a series of racist laws, reaching their peek with the Nuremberg laws in 1935, Jews were dismissed from government jobs and public institutions and Jewish journalists, artists, and intellectuals were removed from their posts. The Jews became subjects without rights. Jews were forbidden to marry non-Jews, and a law was passed to defend German blood and honor. In 1937, aryanization was implemented—that is, stealing Jewish businesses and forcing their sale to Aryans. That year, Weinberg sent a letter to the periodical of the separatist community of Frankfurt, Nahalat Tsvi, demonstrating what I believe to be the beginning of Weinberg’s departure from his earlier interpretations of Hirsch’s “Torah im Derekh Erets” approach.24 In this essay, Weinberg claims (mistakenly) that there was no real dispute between Hirsch and Hildesheimer. In his opinion, Hirsch focused on 23 See Weinberg, Lifraqim, 424. On Hirsch’s method of studying history see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 428–430, vol. 2, 337–342. 24 J. J. Weinberg, “Rabbiner Samson Raphael Hirsch zum Problem Judentum und Weltcultur,” Nahalat Zwi (Frankfurt, 1937) translated into English by J. Munk as “Samson Raphael Hirsch on Judaism and Secular Culture,” L’eylah, 28 (London, 1989), 30–33. For a discussion of the events of the thirties see S. Ettinger, Toldot Am Yisra’el Ba’et Hah  . adasha (Tel Aviv, 1969), 298– 300. Unlike Shapiro (Between Yeshiva World, 110–111) Cohen argues that Weinberg’s calm in the face of the Nazi take over lasted only two months—until a boycott of Jewish businesses was declared in April of 1933. From that point onwards, Weinberg was all too aware of the great dangers posed by the Nazi regime—though he continued to hope and pray that the deterioration of Jewish life in Germany would soon come to an end, and that the Nazis’ diabolical plans would not be implemented. See Cohen, “Bein Olam Hayeshivot,” 152.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven

e­ ducation of the community and the family in order to create the best possible Jew while Hildesheimer focused on talmudic studies and the cultivation of rabbi-researchers. Weinberg thus succeeded in turning the seminary into a representative of Hirschian ideology and in turning Hirsch into a personality who had forged the organic, vibrant, religious community of Jewish Orthodoxy, ­successfully dealing with the challenges of modernity—a role model and a figure to be admired for the generations. In terms of his interpretation of Hirsch’s system, the word “synthesis” as representative of the relationship between Torah and general culture, does not appear in this article. Weinberg once again presents himself before the reader as a representative of Eastern European Jewry. However, at the same time, he emphatically states that it is forbidden to conceal Hirsch’s system in order to preserve the status-quo, as done by Eastern European Jewry. Rather, the Hirschian system should be understood, and be used as an example of proper Jewish Orthodoxy. Weinberg claimed that the Jews of Eastern Europe and the yeshiva students appreciate, more than any other community, Hirsch’s system and it is more important to them than for others. In Eastern Europe, Judaism has become fossilized, detached from life, and irrelevant to the modern era and its challenges. Therefore, already in Heder, it is appropriate to implement new educational methods for teaching Judaism. However, the system described by Weinberg is no longer the comprehensive and encompassing system which he had believed in until this point. Weinberg still rejected the view that Hirsch’s approach was a non-optimal compromise for his time, a means of allowing livelihoods with the legal societal and economic circumstances of his generation; according to Weinberg, Hirsch considered his approach an optimal system. That being said, Weinberg rejects the view espoused by Maximillian Landau in an article published in Nahalat Tsvi: that Hirsch believed that all noble things in human culture can enliven and enrich the personality of the Jew in all its aspects. Landau believed that Hirsch considered both areas identical, likening this to a tree with one root, from which different branches sprout in a number of different directions. Weinberg, however, claimed that no Orthodox Jew can accept the opinion that a lack of secular education is a reprehensible thing or that there exists a system of values beyond Judaism which has the ability to enrich it. Weinberg claims (erroneously in my opinion, see note 37 below) that Hirsch in his writings never claims that Judaism and secular cultures complement each other. Nor does Hirsch ever indicate that Judaism can suffer the presence of another culture within its

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ranks. Art, the academy and other disciplines must be infused with a spirit of Torah; with Torah, every human action can be raised to a spiritual level. But, using Aristotelian terms, Weinberg explains that Torah is the form, the essence, whereas Derekh Erets is the matter. Shapiro summarizes Weinberg’s approach to Hirsch’s take on this issue as going through three phases. First, he opposed it; afterwards he believed that is was appropriate only for German Jewry; and finally he accepted it in its entirety.25 I wish to make two claims: A) In my opinion, Weinberg did not truly understand Hirsch’s approach to the relationship between Torah and European culture and reason. Had he properly understood it, he would have had difficulty accepting it. His rejection of Landau’s interpretation is evidence of this. B) In my opinion, in addition to the three stages already mentioned, Weinberg’s thought went through an additional stage of regression. This began with the deterioration of Jewish life in Germany in the thirties. The seminary’s closure at the hands of the Nazis, the horrifying experiences of Holocaust, and the establishment of the state of Israel shocked Weinberg to his core. His Lithuanian stances became somewhat more pronounced, and from then onwards his statements about the subject were inconsistent. Although he remained faithful to the basis of Hirsch’s system, I believe that the horrors of the thirties, and subsequently the Holocaust, drove him to question general culture—in all of its betrayal, wickedness, and violence. On the one hand, the establishment of a materialistic, secular, indulgent State of Israel exacerbated his dread of the dangers modernity posed to faithful Judaism. On the other hand, it allowed his fears of assimilation to abate. He would continue to maintain this regressive approach even though he clung to the view that Hirsch’s system was optimal and relevant to all times; that without secular studies, Haredi-Religious Judaism would have trouble fulfilling its task on behalf of the Jewish people. Being removed from the academic-critical greenhouse of the seminary, and spending time at the Yeshiva in Montreux seemed to have influenced his continuing retreat from the Hirschian system. In my previous book, I presented in great detail my interpretation of Hirsch’s views regarding the relationship between Torah and science; my view is that of Mordechai Breuer.26 According to this interpretation (which is similar to that of Landau), Hirsch maintained that in principle, the statements of Torah 25 Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 150–157, and the references to relevant writings of Weinberg on the topic in notes 80 and 92. 26 See above note 18.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven

delivered in revelation—when purified of erroneous interpretations—are identical to the conclusions of rational, human research (also when the latter is purified of sensuality and personal interests). This view is based on the claim that reason is also a gift of God, just as much as the Torah. One who believes that these two realms contradict each other is a heretic. That being said, because reason has practical difficulty overcoming sensuality, revelation should be used as the criterion by which the statements of reason are evaluated. However, when a scientific conclusion, which seems to contradict the Torah, is irrefutable, then the Torah is to be reinterpreted to allow it to accord with ­science. This stance, which suffers from inconsistency, can be defined as neo-fundamentalism. Hirsch thus preserves the principle that the divine, sanctified text cannot err as well as the principle of identicality—all at the expense of treating the Torah as the exclusive arbiter of truth. Another conclusion: Because reason and Torah are identical, when one area is unclear, forgotten, or elusive the other area can be used to help; thus, both areas of knowledge complete each other.27 According to this interpretation, Hirsch’s stance is not a synthesis of science and Torah, as Weinberg maintains. A synthesis can mean one of two things: In chemistry, one can take two different elements or materials, and through a chemical process create with them a new material which includes both, the original components now indistinguishable. In Hegelian philosophy, the word “synthesis” was used to represent the sublation of a synthesis and an antithesis—that is, two contradictory polar opposites—creating a meta-stance which contains both positions and thus resolves the contradiction. Because for Hirsch both disciplines are essentially identical, it is wrong to use the word synthesis in discussions of his philosophy. In my opinion, had Weinberg properly understood Hirsch’s position, he would have had difficulty adopting it in light of his Lithuanian-yeshiva background—in which he was taught that a human discipline must not be accorded an identical status to a divine one.28 27 For examples of the identicality of reason and revelation according to Hirsch, see his commentary on Gen., 3:24; 7:9, Lev. 25:18–19; Deut., 16:1; Hirsch, Writings, 2:141–143, 247– 248; 7:385. Breuer, ‘Eda, 74 and 358 n. 75. 28 Shapiro argues (Between Yeshiva World, 64 n. 76) that Breuer offers two contradictory interpretations of Hirsch’s approach to the relationship between Torah and “Derekh Erets” in two different places: his article “Torah im Derekh Erets” from 1970 and his book ‘Eda Udyokana from 1986. In 1986, Breuer believed that it made a difference whether or not Torah and science complement each other, whereas in 1970 he considered this distinction irrelevant both sources being identical. Likewise, whereas in 1970 Breuer believed in a “synthesis” (a chemical compound not a physical one) in 1986 he did not. However, unlike Shapiro—who understood from Breuer’s 1986 book that there is not complete identicality and only mutual

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Further evidence of this can be found in Weinberg’s words about the early philosophy of Hermann Cohen penned in 1951: For even a great Jewish philosopher like Hermann Cohen published a pamphlet during the First World War in which he proved that the spirit of Judaism and the spirit of Germanism are identical. . . It is true, that Hermann Cohen would later regret this, recounted by his great student Franz Rosenzweig. Nevertheless, this failure of a great philosopher, whose soul was entrenched in Judaism, attests to the failure of German Jewry and its great distance from Jewish sources. Hermann Cohen was carried away by the demands of the time, which went astray in the current of spiritual assimilation, fooled and entranced by the external splendor of the new European civilization.29

In terms of the regression I mentioned above, one can find in Weinberg’s post-Holocaust thought several statements reflecting a highly significant, strategic withdrawal from a full acceptance of Hirsch’s position. In an article dedicated to Hirsch entitled “Hamoreh Hagadol” (“The Great Teacher,” published in 1951) Weinberg writes that Hirsch gradually saved German Jewry from being ensnared in the net of European culture, a culture which he now considers inferior and dangerous: It was he who made the great declaration about the birthright of Jewish culture. It is the first source of true culture, the heart and soul of humanity. enrichment—I believe that in both works Breuer is proposing complete identicality between the two areas and not a synthesis (a compound created from two non-identical materials). In 1986, Breuer writes (according to the Hebrew editing from 1990, which he himself helped translate from German): “‘Jewish Humanism,’—advocated by the Jewish and secular enlightenment, [in which science and Torah] do not stand next to each other (as maintained by Mendelssohn) but rather integrate and mix together concentrically—has, in Orthodoxy been turned into actuality and even an obligatory task. Here what is intended is not a synthesis but identicality which can be, to a great extent, proven. The Jewish perspective and the secular perspective are meant to fructify and complement each other” (ibid., 74). In other words, because they are identical they can complement each other without fear. Breuer later understood that synthesis and identicality cannot cohere together and therefore corrected himself in his later work. Shapiro himself writes (Between Yeshiva World, 99 n. 113) that according to Breuer, one cannot speak of a “synthesis” in Hirsch’s thought, but Breuer prefers to use Weinberg’s terminology to describe the relationship between Torah and science. I explain the background for Breuer’s interpretation which has ideological significance but not a semantic one. See also ibid., 154, n. 85. 29 J. J. Weinberg, “Hamoreh Hagadol” (1951) in Kitvei Haga’on Rabbi Yaakov Yeh  . iel Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 2003), 346.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven In it the teaching of God was exalted, the teaching of kindness and truth, of true ethics and justice, directed at the rectification of the individual and through him society as a whole. And he stood before the plague of the current [European culture] which smote the vast majority of German Jewry. And he saved the surviving remnant, small in numbers but great in quality.30

The synthesis created by Hirsch applies in Weinberg’s opinion, not to all that is good and true in European culture but only to its greatest philosophers: For he was the first in this last age, to seek to create a deep synthesis of true, authentic religiosity with the best philosophical thought of the modern era. This fact alone is sufficient to place him in the top ranks of the greats of Israel, the spiritual greats and the teachers whom we produced in the European diaspora.31

Unlike Hirsch, Weinberg now thinks that revelation is the one and only source of truth, thus practically dismissing the importance of reason, and the basis of the synthesis: The gentile worldview is based on intellectual apprehension and human reason; in its opinion, these are the sources of knowledge about reality, the way to examine man and determine its role. Judaism, by contrast, declared the divine revelation as the one and only source for apprehending and knowing reality. Weinberg further opposes his former views in his article “Hah.  inukh Shelanu” (“Our Education”), which he published in several places from 1951– 1952, including the majority of his article from 1934 on the same topic. At this point, he believes that the need to incorporate secular studies into the Jewish curriculum and for pedagogical reform is not inherent or value-based. Rather, it is an existential need, meant only for the changing times, as it was in Hirsch’s time as well: The pedagogical methods of the past can no longer satisfy us. They must be replaced with new, more modern pedagogical systems. Pedagogy is a science; it seeks to tailor the school to the environment outside it, to the prevailing atmosphere in the home and in the family. But family 30 Ibid., 341. 31 Ibid., 342.

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The Dual Truth e­ nvironment and atmosphere are things that change with the fluctuations of the times; pedagogy must tailor itself to fit them. [. . .] The question of curriculum is no simple matter, first and foremost, [we must address] our approach to secular studies. How can religious and secular studies be fitted together to create one harmonious unit; to create the ideal type of the Jewish Torah scholar, who is at the same time also an educated man, and an expert in the secular sciences? There was a time, when secular studies were seen as extraneous and even damaging. This worldview is now obsolete. No person says anymore that there is no need for secular studies. Secular studies are used as a tool in an existential war, a tool which cannot be given up. [. . .] Already 70 years ago, righteous men in Germany, such as Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer and Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (their memories should be a blessing), established practical schools and gymnasiums for the children of devout parents, allowing them to enrich themselves with secular studies without any damage to their Jewish education. Through this action, they saved a large part of German Jewry. Great Torah scholars did not come out of these schools, but they remained Jewish all the days of their life. In a later time, the devout Jews realized that they had exaggerated with their curriculum; they realized that devoutness without erudition cannot defend against spiritual and psychological assimilation; therefore, with the aid of teachers from Eastern Europe, they began expanding the religious studies curriculum.32

Hirsch and Weinberg’s words before the holocaust, about a comprehensive and vibrant European culture, were now forgotten. Now this culture was nothing but technical tools—easy to contend with. Therefore, the devout worldview which refuses to teach secular studies disgraces Torah Judaism, suggesting that Judaism is weak, suggesting that is should fear them. Religious studies in yeshiva constitute true enlightenment, and contain everything in terms of values. Secular studies are but a concession to circumstances. The great synthesis has shrunk to a small synthesis of Torah with some external, professional studies—nothing more. Weinberg expects that the rabbis of Europe and the heads of yeshivas there, and afterwards in the State of Israel, will realize that this shrunken Hirschian model can capture the hearts of secular Jews and can invigorate a modern Jewish society in which the Torah is alive:

32 Weinberg, “Hah  . innukh Shelanu,” 313–315.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven I worry that fear of the secular Haskala is causing, God forbid, the Torah to be degraded. Is it permitted for us to state that our divine Torah cannot compete with external disciplines, with some grammar, and mathematics, with geography, history and other such disciplines? [. . .] The struggle between the internal powers of creativity will continue constantly until it finds its correction in a synthesis—not a solution-compromise which generally entails rot and emasculation; rather, a higher synthesis that unites opposites and brings them to harmony and to even more fruitful creativity. [. . .] As for the Haskala, certainly the rabbis were correct to claim that we need not collect scraps from the tables of others when we have such a great treasure troves of culture of our own, the two Talmuds: the Babylonian and the Jerusalem, which with their spiritual bounty can feed hundreds and thousands of generations. But what? One must also learn non-Jewish languages and acquire technical skills and the like. If so, say that you have in mind a professional, technical education, the study of a trade and preparation for work in economic, social and public life. But do not demand education without specification and do not speak slander of the Jews of the yeshiva, as if they were uncultured and backward. [. . .] We know—indeed, we know!—that the old educational way has lost its attractiveness. Both Jewish lives and the lives of humans in general have undergone a fundamental change. We must introduce modernization into education. But at the same time, we wish to propagate certain parts of the old education system: its fundamental principles and its idealistic spirit. We wish to pour old wine into new vessels. We wish to infuse our Jewish education with new blood, and a new power of attraction. For us the most important thing is guarding our great and sacred heritage. We wish to mix the old with the new, ancient Judaism, pure and good, with the positive values of our time. We hope and we believe that we can thus create a new generation and initiate a new religious revival. Our pupils were our greatest propaganda. We hope that they succeed in guaranteeing for the Jewish religion the place it deserves in the Jewish state. They, our students, will show the nation as whole the simple truth: that secular studies are not enlightenment, and are nothing but technical tools, whereas religious studies are true enlightenment. They will banish from our devout world the “monster” and “ghost” of the Haskala.33 33 Ibid., 316, 324, 326, 336–338. See also 314–318. As mentioned, Shapiro does not see such a shift in Weinberg’s thought. That being said, Shapiro does show that already in 1934,

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A similar retreat can be found in Weinberg’s article “Torah im Derekh Erets— Mishnato shel Rashar Hirsch” from 1959. Here secular studies are neither seen as a necessity of livelihood, nor as a supreme value; they are simply necessary for the survival of the world: In truth, Rabbi Hirsch taught with all of his heart, a combination of Torah with Derekh Erets in the widest sense of the word. Seclusion from the world, avoiding all the studies necessary to live in the world, has caused Judaism to become in the eyes of many a synonym for cultural poverty. Therefore, many Jews fled from Judaism, after tasting secular enlightenment. They thought that Judaism and culture were irreconcilable, complete opposites, that the two must be distinct, only one chosen. [. . .] Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch thus laid the cornerstone for the ancient truth— that Judaism and culture are not contradictory elements and causes, but rather the reverse: their relationship is one of reliance and mutual enrichment. Not only does Judaism permit and suffer the presence of culture in its domain, it is actually the most supreme body of culture.34

Weinberg offers his own interpretation of Hirsch’s criticism of Mendelssohn. Mendelssohn’s view, which he referred to as “mental duality,” is that Judaism and Plato (whom Weinberg refers to as foes) are two separate domains standing alongside each other: Judaism brings only the laws of behavior, and the German “Plato” brings all the wisdom and culture. Weinberg emphasizes that this is not the case according to Hirsch. Rather we must derive our worldview exclusively from Jewish sources. He is careful to note his opinion regarding what Hirsch intended by “Derekh Erets”: With the word “Derekh Erets,” Hirsch had in mind professional enrichment which prepares a person for activity as a citizen and scientific t­ raining Weinberg was less expressive about the topic (in his first article on education, most of it included in his later article from the fifties). However, in Shapiro’s opinion Weinberg reticence was only when he was directly addressing the Jews of Eastern Europe or when writing popular articles; in such cases he did not fully develop his system. In other words, the shift is tactical and limited to specific audiences. I, however, wish to show that the tactic gradually became a strategy, and began to be directed at additional audiences, including readers in Frankfurt in 1937. See Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 156 n. 91, and 179–180, n. 32. Shapiro uses Weinberg’s introduction to “Hah  . innukh Shelanu” to show that Weinberg remained completely loyal to Hirsch’s system. 34 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 218–219.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven and practice to fight the culture-war of pristine Judaism—the only thing he deemed proper for molding the spiritual and ethical character of the Nation of Israel as a whole and every individual within it. All of culture must be used as weapons for a strong war against every destructive force and as a shield in our own cultural liberation.35 35 Ibid., 219–220. Shapiro notes (Between Yeshiva World, 154 n. 85), based on Eliav, that Hildesheimer held the compartmental approach. In my book, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 357–361, 478–482 and n. 192, I propose that Mendelssohn, a mature Luzzatto, Ernst Simon, and Leibowitz all held this view (I have since changed my mind regarding Simon, which I will explore in my next book). Researchers who maintain that Hirsch held the compartmental approach, include Eliezer Schweid, Aviezer Ravitzky and Yehoyada Amir. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 406, n. 92. I wish to add that, in my opinion both Weinberg and Yitschak Heinemann (whose interpretation Weinberg opposes there) misunderstood Hirsch’s criticism of Mendelssohn. In my opinion, his criticism is not related to the question of whether the Torah is inferior to philosophy or the reverse, or if they are equal. The question posed by Hirsch is whether Jews should continue to be apologetic with an air of inferiority, like Mendelssohn, or if they should be proud like Hirsch. Hirsch criticizes Mendelssohn in The Nineteen Letters (189), writing that Mendelssohn’s statement that “that it [is] possible to be a strictly religious Jew and yet to shine distinguished as the German Plato” is no longer appropriate, and that one should endeavor for the recognition of the importance of the Torah and its institutions for the present, as well as for the future redemption towards which the present is striving. However, Hirsch elaborates on this in two places in his writings (1) Writings, 7:161. There Hirsch turns the apologetic “yet” of Mendelssohn into a source of pride—“only thus”: “[W]e may perceive our relevance and function, in and for our own day and age, as Jews—not to be modern Europeans despite the fact that we are Jews, or to be Jews despite the fact that we are modern Europeans, but to be modern Europeans precisely because we are Jews. We must learn to understand that we can make no greater contribution to human happiness than by dedicating all our energies most happily and devotedly to the observance of the timeless Jewish Law of God, whose custodian we are.” (2) In his commentary on Gen. 26:15, where he states that the slogan and aspiration coined by Mendelssohn is mistaken and dangerous; we must change it and demonstrate superiority not compromise: “Only then can we look forward to the last stage of ‫תולג‬, a stage in which we will win the respect and recognition of the nations, not although we are Jews, but because we are Jews.” Another term coined by Hirsch, related to the previous one, was also modified by Weinberg. Hirsch writes: “The more the Jew is a Jew, the more universalist will be his views and aspirations, the less alien will he be to anything that is noble and good, true and upright in the arts and sciences, in civilization and culture […] The more the Jew is a Jew, the more gladly will he give himself to all that is true progress in civilization and culture—provided that in his new circumstance he will not only maintain his Judaism but will be able to bring it to ever more glorious fulfillment” (Writings, 6:123). Weinberg, however, writes as other Orthodox thinkers wrote before him: “As the Jew is the most Jewish, he becomes more beloved by the nations. A Jew with a complete Jewish visage inspires respect and affection; when he distorts its shape he inspires mockery and hatred. This has come to pass in history; the assimilated Jews are the most

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In other words, according to Weinberg, European culture is not a special value and does not enrich Judaism (which is what Hirsch had actually maintained). Rather, it is a tool to be used to acquire a trade, to learn scientific research methods to be used in the battle for Torah. In Weinberg’s opinion, Hirsch does not identify “culture” with “Derekh Erets.” “Culture” is a “general name for all those intellectual possessions and values which constitute the foundation of spiritual life . . . only in Judaism, can one actually find this culture in its strongest most pristine form.” This concept should not be confused with “practical and technical sciences, learning language and professional training. These are things required in the war for life.”36 Weinberg summarizes: They claimed that Rabbi Hirsch felt special admiration for German culture, as if he admitted to modern philosophy’s right to exist as complementary to Jewish culture, serving as intellectual inspiration. I have found no support for such a view in all of Rabbi Hirsch’s writings. To the contrary, he fought against the attempt to measure Judaism with philosophical criteria and demanded the opposite: to measure world-philosophy with the criteria of the Torah of Israel.37

This synthesis, or meziga (mixture), as Weinberg now refers to it, is very limited in its scope and applies only to professional training. European culture does not complete or enrich Judaism (as opposed to what he said just a few pages before and to what he wrote in 1937), and there is no culture to be found among the non-Jews. Weinberg had traveled far since his days in the seminary before the rise of the Nazis, as I described above. In the last year of his life, 1966, Weinberg wrote a letter which contained the following: It was a mistake of the Rabbi […] to be seduced by the false enchantment of a doctorate. Truth be told, I very much regret that I ever was seduced to ornament myself with this gentile title. Nevertheless, I should be judged favorably. For family reasons, I was forced to leave Lithuania, where I had been the rabbi of an important city, and to come to Germany. And there hated. An assimilated Jew is a pathetic, fake creature who elicits disgust” (Lifraqim, 446). According to Weinberg, observance of the commandments will save us from misfortune; according to Hirsch, it will allow us to receive the culture of Europe and to develop. 36 Ibid., 220–221. 37 Ibid., 222. The idea of Torah and science mutually complementing each other is actually quite salient in Hirsch’s writings. See, for example, Writings, 6:20–21, 23–24, 63, 87–90.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven the only way to receive a position was by wearing this crown. I truly wanted to rid myself of this title completely, which does not befit one who grew up in the yeshiva study hall and whose pride and splendor is our holy Torah. But alas, neither my students nor the Germans, wish to forget this title of mine. In any case, yeshivot which wave the flag of Torah should not bring this false deity into their sanctuaries. The crown of Torah should be on top of the crown of doctor. Yet one must preserve the title of “Rabbi” inside hedges and fences, to avoid every scrounger with a rabbinic hat upon his head, who is a “grandson” of some tsadiq, putting this crown on his head without permission and rabbinical ordination .38

I think these words speak for themselves.

The Totality of the Torah As I have discussed above, Hirsch opposed what he considered the Reform and Christian approaches, which seek to limit the domain of religion and the mission of rabbis and priests to the walls of the synagogue and church (based on Jesus’s principle of separation). At every turn, Hirsch stressed that the Torah is a Torah of life—including modern life. It applies to every aspect of life, and its principles should influence and guide both the individual and the society. Therefore, one must sanctify material life and the life of the body and sensual pleasures, elevating them and raising them with ethical practices based on the commandments of the Torah. This also demands vigorously opposing the separation of religion from all aspects of public life, whether this be in the Kehilla or a Jewish state. Only when non-Jewish authority seeks to impose its rule upon a Kehilla, should one strongly fight to prevent such an interference in the religious life of the Kehilla.39 Weinberg identifies this view of Hirsch, and sympathizes with it with completely, reiterating it on several occasions. Thus, Weinberg writes about non-separation: The Jewish nation never recognized the place of religious Christian priests in the common sense of the word. This separation between religious worship and civil life, as prevails today in most Jewish communities in 38 Letter to Simcha Ehlberg, published after his death in Hapardes (Nissan, 1966), 5–6. Also published as an appendix to Weinberg, “Hamoreh Hagadol,” 356. As I wrote above, Weinberg did not formally receive the title “PhD.” 39 On Hirsch’s stance see in detail in the previous chapter in the section on Hirsch and Leibowitz paragraph 8. On separation of religion and state see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 85–86.

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The Dual Truth Western Europe, is a foreign weed which has penetrated Judaism from without. A true Jew does not distinguish between life according to religion and life without any connection to the sanctity of religion. For a religiously observant Jews, the meaning of the commandments is practical, and he sees in them blessing and good. In the eyes of the observant Jews, their fulfillment is both necessary and unavoidable as are all the material needs of daily life. It may be that the shining impression of religion and its strong power suffered somewhat as a result. But in their place religion struck roots which cannot be moved in the reality of life. [. . .] The rabbis who act based on the practices of the time are not like the rabbis of old. Their path is that of religious priests; they are synagogue preachers. These sorts of positions bear no resemblance to Judaism and share nothing with it. This new practice—to perceive the rabbi’s task as that of a preacher and to see the platform of the synagogue as their area of activity—cannot coexist with the spirit of the people and with the Torah of Judaism; it is the diametrically opposed to it.40

He writes as follows about the totality of religion over all aspects of life, in Judaism. Religious education is the only guarantee for its [ Jewish existence’s] continuation. For the religion of Israel is not just a religion. It is all encompassing; it encompasses the Torah of Israel, the wisdom of Israel, science, life and world-views, obviously the light of Jewish life, the traditions of Israel, virtues, beauty, the soul of Israel, and Jewish grace.41 Those who observed the religion of Israel never perceived it to be a stumbling block on the path of life. The feeling of life and the feeling of religion did not oppose each other; they united and mixed together. The religion confined neither itself nor life; it spread out over all aspects of life and left its mark upon them. It did not confine itself to the four cubits of religious worship but rather gathered under it all of man’s actions and plans; it tended to and influenced, as per its nature, all actions of ­creation be it in 40 J. J. Weinberg, “Gaon Yehudi Sheberusia: Zekher Lerabbi David Karliner” (1915) in Kitvei Haga’on Rabbi Yaakov Yeh  . iel Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 2003), 199–200. 41 Weinberg, “Hah  . innukh Shelanu,” 333.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven nature, beliefs, science of politics—[it covered] e­ verything ­conceived by man’s spirit.42

The Centrality of Observing the Commandments I have already shown that as far as Hirsch is concerned (following Judah Halevi), observance of the commandments is the central foundation of Judaism. This position was also developed in the wake of the Reform movement and Christianity both of which denied the need to observe the commandments. Following Paul, Christianity deemed belief in the divinity and messiahhood of Jesus the path to achieving redemption, the only way to overcome earthly sensuality. The Reform movement deemed ethical monotheism, devoid of practical commandments, the central message of Judaism, its acceptance capable of redeeming mankind. Hirsch, by contrast, states that only observing the commandments of both the Oral and Written Torah allows for the existence of true, unbiased, divine morality and the path to redemption lies only in this.43 Weinberg adopts this principle in its entirety. For example, he writes as follows in his article “Mosad Harabbanut—Teudato Shel Rav Beyisrael”: Judaism has no love for empty phrases and entertainment with spiritual values and thoughts that are not manifest in practical obligations, hovering about in a world of imagination. Judaism demands discipline based on a constant and unceasing regimen of observance and actualization in day to day life. [. . .] Therefore, the Jewish rabbi should be careful not to be ensnared by this modern phraseology, which is in truth nothing but an emulation of Christianity, which declared annulment of law, standing man only on faith and sublime values. By contrast, the purpose of Judaism is to implement faith and sublime values in the practical world, to give real, tangible expression to that higher inspiration which our religion provides us. “We will do and we will hear”—hearing, listening to the divine vision, comes with action and from it. Observing commandments is what creates that air of sanctity in which a person can soar and reach that spiritual height, which our Sages called “clinging to God.” [. . .] The mission of the rabbi in our day—if he wishes to be faithful to the historical tradition 42 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 181. See also ibid., 216–218. 43 See Hirsch’s stance in detail in the previous chapter in the section on Hirsch and Leibowitz, paragraph 5.

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The Dual Truth of the rabbi in Judaism—is to safeguard the uniqueness of Judaism. This uniqueness means observing the commandments that were given to us in the Written and Oral Torah in their traditional forms. Observing these guarantees historical continuity as well as national perfection.44

This is what Weinberg writes in a proposal entitled “Historical Judaism” which he submitted to the European rabbinical conference of 1957: The conference announces before the public opinion of Jews and the world that we have no other Judaism besides the Torah and commandments, based on the Written and Oral Torahs, that which was formed, clarified and explained in the Talmud and the Shulkhan Arukh. Only this Judaism is the historical Judaism of the Nation of Israel. Only this Judaism manifested itself in the real lives of the Nation of Israel over the course of all generations; it is what made all the scattered people of Israel—in different lands and under the rule of different cultures and languages—into one national unit, unique in its characteristics and defined by its spiritual and mental essence. [. . .] Liberal Judaism bases itself on a few verses in the Torah; because [these verses] find favor in the eyes of the non-Jewish world, it declares them the essence of the Jewish religion. This Judaism is not the historical Judaism. It is, rather, an arbitrary construction of people devoid of the Torah of Israel, people whose hearts have lost faith, with no other goal but to blur the boundaries between the religion of Israel and other religions. [. . .] We recognize no other Judaism besides the Judaism of Torah and commandments. This is the historical Judaism of three and half thousand years and all those who deny it must write on the horn of an ox [openly and clearly]: we have no portion in Judaism!45

Ethics Hirsch developed a comprehensive system of ethics based on the thought of Judah Halevi. I described it in detail in my book The Middle Way.46 44 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 291 (1955). 45 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 583–584. It is interesting to note how similar he sounds to Leibowitz’s statements about the same subject. See also, ibid., 183, 185–189, 218, 225, 227; idem, “Hadatiut Veqiyum Hamitsvot” (1920), in Kitvei Haga’on Rabbi Yaakov Yeh  . iel Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 2003), 286–288 (emphasis in source). 46 Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 274–297.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven

In Chapter Nine, in the section on Hermann Cohen, I summarized this teaching in a ­paragraph entitled “The Link between Ethics and Religion.” According to Hirsch, the commandments, which derive from God, have primarily ethical contents and intentions. The goal of the Torah is to teach the Jewish individual and nation the supreme morality which sanctifies both body and soul, all with the universalistic goal of redeeming mankind from animal sensuality, by allowing him to freely choose this morality. No human system of ethics can assist in this task; humans primarily emphasize the aesthetic, external and flashy elements of morality. Humanity is in constant danger posed by the human impulse of sensuality. In a deterministic world devoid of God, its deities the forces of nature, it is impossible to overcome this impulse. Only free divine guidance, unbound to matter, can contend with this danger. It seems that Weinberg identified well Hirsch’s position, and adopted a similar approach. On the one hand, Weinberg’s stance was developed in opposition to secular, rationalistic, and materialistic views which deemed the Torah a series of anti-ethical, irrational and obsolete norms. On the other hand, his stance was aimed at those who claimed that religion and morality are two separate spheres, and that using the Torah as a tool of ethical education detracts from its supreme value and spiritual sanctity. Weinberg writes about the importance of religion and its morality in his introduction to an essay on Hirsch from 1958: Those attempts to free man from the “opium of religion” and to ground him on secular, real lives, with nothing but the physical labor of the market and economy failed absolutely and completely. In the wake of material culture comes terrifying ethical desolation. Sexual abandon and wildness, which has grown strong in our day, is the direct result of breaking religious restraints. There is no other restraint for the animal impulse embedded in man, besides that of religion. For with the arguments of free and arbitrary philosophizing, it is possible to purify all the creeping things in the world. It is clear that denial of religion leads to a cooling of the soul and absolute indifference to ethical culture and every spiritual value; and its end is dreary emptiness and poisonous despair.47

This is what Weinberg writes about Jewish morality in response to a question posed to him about “who is a Jew”—an episode which rocked the Jewish world 47 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 208.

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in the fifties: “Certainly the morality which accompanies the Torah of God is the soul of Judaism. For lives of morality and spiritual purity constitute a major principle in Judaism. And it is clear that this requires no further emphasis. A Jew who violates the laws of morality is unfit and his religiosity is tainted.”48 In 1911, Weinebrg wrote about the difference between the morality of the nations—which is linked to material culture and detached from a free, transcendent God—and the practical, divine, and value-based morality of Judaism: At the basis of Jewish morality lies the principle of “learning is not primary, but rather actions.” And this statement need not be explained as practical, in the sense of guiding one’s lifestyle, but rather as conceptual, in the sense of establishing the character and form of the Jewish ethical system: For the theoretical side, the analytical research and the scientific basis are not primary; rather it is the practical, ethical purpose which became the cornerstone of Judaism and the fundamental line in all of recognition of concepts and its evaluation of values. The ethical recognition of Judaism is purely ethical—if one can say such a thing—without a trace of a mixture of any other interpersonal relationships; the ethical recognition of humanity, however, is mixed with various interpersonal relationships; entering the domain of aesthetic emotion which serves as its basis. Indeed, many have already commented on the special character which distinguishes the spirit of Israel from the spirit of the ancient nations; the ancient nations were linked to and immersed in nature in all their being; external nature ruled over them and all their culture; they venerated— with a divine veneration—natural powers and the strengths of its deities; therefore, sensuality ruled over them to the depths of their souls and gave shape to all aspects of their cognition; this led to the development of a sense of beauty, and the aesthetic emotion among the ancient nations and 48 Weinberg, Seridei Esh, section 4, 380. See also Cohen, “Bein Olam Hayeshivot,” 153–155. On p. 139 there, Cohen cites Weinberg’s responsum on the source for covering women’s hair (Seridei Esh, section 1, § 78, 209–228). Weinberg argues there that the rationale for women covering their hair is ethical—overcoming the evil impulse—for the woman, so that men do not look at her covetously, and for the man so that he does not covet her, requirements of modesty, simplicity and ethical purity. As evidence, Weinberg cites Hirsch, Horeb, 2:288– 292, 377 where he discusses the sanctity of thought commanded to Jewish men and women. Modesty and the head coverings of married women signify to men their moral obligations, a symbol of comradery and purity of thought.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven their spiritual successors—the nations of Europe. But beauty only deals with the appearances of nature and the cognition of the senses, requiring nothing from inner spiritual cognition. [. . .] Judaism did not admit to other elements or principles in morality outside of the idea of God. Morality is comprised of and woven from the idea of God and one’s relationship with him—the relationship of the part to the whole. Morality does not draw from the heart; to the contrary, the heart draws its sustenance from the conduit of morality, overflowing from the divine source—this also does require further emphasis: The deep recognition that morality is not to be understood as reality unless it is established on the strong basis of the divine idea and not the blurry vagueness of human will, which is woven and plated with from egoistic emotions and murky inclination—this higher recognition [. . .] was first introduced and publicized by Judaism. And let not this matter be light in your eyes! The idea is deeper and more comprehensive than it would seem upon superficial study. It entails looking at a full comprehensive world, penetrating the depths of every spiritual and sensual being.49

In his halahic rulings, Weinberg also takes into account meta-halakhic considerations—ideological, sociological and ethical, as much as the halakhic discourse allowed it. Gavriel Haim Cohen writes about this at length, bringing many examples of rulings supporting his thesis.50

Mission to Mankind Hirsch thoroughly developed the idea of Jewish mission; the roots of this idea lay in the medieval philosophies of Judah Halevi, Nahmanides and Maimonides, and it was later used by the modern philosopher Moses Mendelssohn.51 According to Hirsch, the Jewish people possess no inherent superiority over other nations. Abraham was chosen because of his moral talents, which made him eligible to be the father of the Nation of Israel, the firstborn among nations, a nation which received the Torah from God, and was sent as His messenger to gradually bequeath divine morality to the nations, 49 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 235–236. See there also 302, 346–348 (“religion and morality descended from heaven, bound together, to the world of Judaism”), 560–562, 578–579 (emphasis in source). 50 Cohen, “Bein Olam Hayeshivot,” 134–140. 51 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 5–8, 13–14.

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ultimately leading to the redemption of mankind as a whole. The massive changes in Europe in the wake of the French revolution clearly augur the approach and realization of the redemption through the Torah, the Jewish people its bearer.52 Weinberg adopts this idea as well, and it appears in several places in his writings. In an article from 1913, just before World War I, he writes: It was not yesterday that we came to be upon the earth and our existence will not extend for a mere morrow or two. Our ancestors sacrificed their lives observing the divine inheritance; they died sanctifying God’s name, yet we are already ceasing to wait and expect? Indeed, the waiting and expectation cost us great and terrible suffering. But we can find recompense for our suffering in the full knowledge that our bitter lot is that of those who bear the word of God in the world, and that we, scattered among the nations, are destined to establish for mankind the kingdom of spirit. There is no need for us at all to force the redemption. The historic future is certainly on our side. Anyone whose ear is attentive to the quiet materialization of moral forces will realize that we are living in a great era, an era gravid with absolute victory and complete domination in favor of the principles of Judaism and its visions. On the historical horizon, appear to the open eye rich perspectives and great hopes. [. . .] Do we not hear with own our ears the beating wings of the future, foretelling the coming of Judaism? Only one deaf in both ears can deny this.53

Weinberg wrote similarly about the mission of the Jewish State in an article from 1959: As I have stated elsewhere, the Nation of Israel cannot be a secular nation like others. Israel is the prophet among nations. This is its lot in life, its historical mission and its national purpose. The lot of the Nation of Israel is inextricably linked to this purpose. The hardships and troubles of Israel are its share in the great struggle between the purpose and the lack of interest and inability to fully realize this purpose. The nation of Israel must— compelled by an order from the heavens—be a prophetic nation; it must 52 For a comprehensive description of Hirsch’s ideas of universalism and mission see ibid., vol. 2, 38–46, 75–89. 53 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 267.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven empty the world of impure idols, of rule by strength, of power and evil, and must assist, through its existence and example, the fulfillment of God’s word and the victory of justice, rectitude, and mercy. Only the r­ ealization of this destiny will redeem the Jewish soul, and through it, mankind as a whole, which flutters over an abyss of jealousy, hatred and competition, between nations and between individuals.54

Zionism and the Land of Israel I have discussed Hirsch’s attitude to the Land of Israel elsewhere.55 His stance is comprised of two parts. (1) The Land of Israel is an instrument and not a goal, a need not a value. The only value is the Torah. The Torah is above time and place. It is eternal and immutable. It serves as a portable homeland for the Jewish people wherever they are. The Jewish people, like the land, is also an instrument. It was chosen to disseminate the values of the Torah, and to this end received a land where it could achieve this goal and constitute a model nation. When it does not walk along the path of Torah, it is exiled from its land, being harmed greatly as a result. (2) It is strictly forbidden to immigrate to the Land of Israel or settle it in an organized fashion; it is certainly forbidden to establish Jewish sovereignty in the land without divine intervention—an event that will only take place at the end of history. The three oaths which God adjured Israel remain in force. We must continue with our mission of disseminating the morality of the Torah and its values to mankind. We must conduct ourselves with a joy borne of obedience and cooperation with the state which has taken us in, that is, until we fulfill our mission. At that point, real history will come to an end and God will miraculously redeem us—as described by the prophets of Israel. In principle, Weinberg accepts the first half of this stance and rejects the second. At the end of a halakhic responsum sent to Rabbi Mordecai Gifter in 1961, Weinberg expresses his views about the status of the Land of Israel: Before his death, Moses, peace be upon him, revealed the secret of the nation’s existence. It is not specifically tied to the land but rather to the 54 Ibid., 295–296. See also ibid., 454–455, 460–462, 560–562; Weinberg, “Hadatiyut Veqiyum Hamitsvot,” 287–288; idem, “Hah  . innukh Shelanu,” 313. 55 Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 39–98.

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The Dual Truth “Torah commanded to us by Moses.” The land is nothing but a platform for the spiritual legacy of the sacred Torah. But our legacy, that is, the basis of our lives and existence, is only Torah. We need not feel shame in the face of those who scoff [at us]. Rather, we should declare openly that [our] national territory is the Torah, and that the land is [only given] to us on condition that it be linked to and folded under [our] spiritual legacy. In this, we are separated from every other nation and language. And one who does not admit this has denied the main principle of Judaism.56

That being said, Weinberg could not bring himself to accept the second half of Hirsch’s stance. We can suggest several reasons for this. First, he lived for many years within the neo-Orthodox community of Berlin, its ideological basis in the thought of Hildesheimer who supported a moderate attitude towards the views of others, including Zionists. Second, Weinberg was awed by the success of the Zionists: settling the land of their forefathers with growing momentum, establishing a flowering Yishuv and afterwards a sovereign state, defeating their many enemies surrounding them. Like Rav Kook, Weinberg admired the secular pioneers settling the land with self-sacrifice and in the face of hardship. He also admired the fighters who sacrificed, and thus sanctified their lives—as opposed to the Haredim who did almost nothing. He describes the establishment of the state as a momentous event, part of a historical process orchestrated by God. In his opinion, one should do everything possible to help this project (including immigrating to the land) and in a sense, one can see in Weinberg a Haredi Zionist. He was proud of the new state, and understood well its immense importance in the battle against assimilation. That being said, Weinberg argues time and time again that we are only at the beginning of the path: the state is only a key to redemption which has been given to us and the messianic era must appear soon. This era will be inaugurated with miraculous divine intervention—a non-Maimonidean view. Alongside a sense of pride for the state and its accomplishments, Weinberg felt disappointment that former glory had yet to be restored, and that atheistic materialism still reigned in Israeli society. He writes that in order to advance this 56 Weinberg, Seridei Esh, part 1, § 183, 512–513. See Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 98, nn. 111 and 112. It seems that Weinberg wrote a sermon on this topic in 1905, writing a letter about it to Sheftel Kramer, saying that Jewish nation-hood is different than other nations—it is only spiritual and it is based on the Torah and morality; Weinberg’s article in Lifraqim (“Perot Ufrah  . im,” known in the first printing of Lifraqim as “Teh  . iya Datit”), 178–181, is based on this principle. The first version of this article was printed in 1920 and afterwards in an improved version in 1928.

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u­ ltimate goal, there must be a great spiritual, awakening of faith, leading to a spiritual, ethical and cultural redemption. It is the task of the religious Jews in Israeli ­society to convince secular Jews to return to the ancient books and sources, and to establish a state in the spirit of the Torah. Only such a state will have the ability to create a Jewish people faithful to its path, with the assurance that God will stand at its side in the future. As I showed above, Weinberg also tried to convince religious elements to introduce into their educational systems core studies, adjusting religious schools to modern life and making them more appropriate for secular students. Thus, he believed, would the state progress from a territorial Zionism to a spiritual Zionism. Thus, would the messianic era arrive.57

The Status of Women in Judaism Elsewhere, I have explained in great detail the special attention Hirsch paid to the status of women in Judaism.58 To summarize: Hirsch was pressured by the advancement of women in Reform circles and the emancipation of women in nineteenth-century Europe, as well as the harsh criticism of the attitude to women evinced in Jewish sources by the Reform movement and German academia. He, therefore, ignored all expressions of female inferiority in the Bible, Talmud and medieval thought, stating apologetically, that from time immemorial women were always more respected and valued in Judaism. Women were always equal to men, and were even considered ethically and intellectually superior to men. It is therefore, women’s duty to protect men, who are exposed to temptations and who struggle to overcome their impulses. True, women have their own domain of activity: the home, men’s partners in building the family; however, this domain is extremely important for the nation’s future. Therefore, great importance should be ascribed to educating women in the spirit of Judaism from a young age and they should be taught Hebrew and the Bible in addition to receiving an appropriate secular education. To this end, Hirsch established in his Frankfurt community a school for all ages which girls also attended. In his book Horeb, his articles in Jeschurun, and his commentary on the Torah, Hirsch frequently writes against those who oppose Jewish 57 See Weinberg, Lifraqim, 255, 293–300, 397, 434, 455–457; idem, “Hah  . innukh Shelanu,” 330; idem, “Yisraelim Veyehudim” (1950), published in Kitvei Hagaon, vol. 2, 357–360; idem, “Liqrat Aliyah Ruh  . anit” (1952) published in Kitvei Hagaon, vol. 2, 361–366; idem, “Herzl Ish Dat” (1935) published in Kitvei Hagaon, vol. 2, 306; idem, Seridei Esh, vol. 2, § 7, 354–355; Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 147–149, especially nn. 56–58; 177 n. 25. 58 Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 152–181.

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t­ radition, those who claim that Judaism treats women as inferior. To the contrary, he argues, the marital life of those who keep tradition is the most content and most beautiful. From this philosophy of Hirsch, Weinberg adopted the emphasis on the importance of women in Judaism as partners of men, women’s respected status and their important role in the family—in which women have an advantage over men. In a blessing for a wedding, Weinberg writes about the role of the woman in the home: Her husband’s heart trusts in her—she creates for him the only place in the world in which he feels trust. She provides him a homeland! [. . .] Only one thing truly brings man happiness: a corner of contentment and serenity. The Hebrew woman is graced with a special talent in this regard, and has the ability to turn even a small, cramped room into a house full of the pleasures of happiness and contentment. [. . .] To whom are we indebted for the beauty in our lives? One has to say: the Hebrew woman. The Sabbath eve is her most magnificent gift, the gift of her heart to the Hebrew family. Within the Hebrew woman lives a tradition of nobility, a soul of greatness, a sublime tradition. Her heart is awake to religious beauty and strong emotions pulse through her; but nothing is as active as religious beauty. [. . .] The fear of God and grace within it, beauty and the fear of God at his side, a combination of beauty and fear of God which gives beauty the glory of holiness and purity—this is the vision of life which Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (may his memory be a blessing) of Frankfurt taught the women of Israel in Germany.59

Regarding marital life in Judaism, Weinberg writes: But behold indeed it is so, that traditional Judaism does not know “love” in its new meaning. It is a completely different type of love; it is not charming or inebriating, but it can solder hearts and bind them, forge them together for all their lives and for eternity. It can change two people, mixing them into one unique and special unity, a unity of body and soul. [. . .] That which is called “free love” is not actually free as a principle; and it is not even worthy of the name “love.” One endowed with the power to self-­critique and judge, one who knows how to trace the roots of his emotions, he will 59 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 435, 438.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven easily realize that this word is but c­ amouflage for an entirely d­ ifferent type of emotion. . . [. . .] In Judaism, a family is not just sharing of marital relations; it is primarily sharing of ideas and ideals. A man and a woman come together in a covenant in order to work together towards a shared idea and vision; in order to realize this idea in their lives. The woman is not the husband’s object or possession; she is not a trinket or decoration; rather she is his “helpmeet.” And Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch put it well in his commentary on the Torah: The man is lost and lacks independence when he is without a wife; only both together constitute a human. [. . .] Of Isaac it says “Isaac then brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he took Rebekah as his wife. Isaac loved her, and thus found comfort after his mother” (Gen. 24:67) And Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch explains in his commentary: And Isaac brought her into his tent as if she were Sarah his mother, and he loved her, and then he found comfort after his mother.60

In 1916, Weinberg wrote about Judaism’s stance on women: Judaism has already solved, in a sense, the issue of the emancipation of women. It surely recognized, without any hindrance, the absolute virtues of the woman, so much so that Sarah was given privilege over Abraham our patriarch to exercise authority over practical matters. This command—to listen to her precisely—was given to him by God. [. . .] A task, there is none more beautiful than it, was given to her by the Torah: to participate in building the home, in strengthening the Hebrew nation and in molding the young generation. [. . .] If she does not wish to be the maidservant of her husband than she must be unto him an advisor. If the modern woman cannot bear to be but a trinket or ornament, then her value should be her becoming the soul of the home. [. . .] And indeed, this will be her lot: To teach and guide the youth, to be a home, a mother, and to stand with faith at her husband’s right side.61 60 Ibid., 440–441. Note the similarity to Hirsch, Writings, 8:89–90, 103 and in his commentary on Gen. 1:28; 2:18, 23–24; 5:1–2; 23:19; 24:67. For a discussion of Weinberg’s halakhic rulings regarding women’s issues and women’s status—reflecting his esteem for them, and the importance he ascribed to the modern woman and her education, see Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 209–220; Cohen, “Bein Olam Hayeshivot,” 148–151. See also n. 120 below. 61 J. J. Weinberg, “Derasha Lerosh Hashana Bishvil Haisha Haivrit” (1916) in Kitvei Haga’on Rabbi Yaakov Yeh  . iel Weinberg, vol. 2, ed. M. Shapiro (Scranton, 2003), 135–137.

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In a letter sent to the conference of Agudath Yisrael in Kovno 8 years later, Weinberg was more daring in his treatment of the status of women. It was 1924, the year he was appointed teacher of Talmud and Halakhah in the seminar in Berlin. He wrote to the participants in same vein as Hirsch on the subject of educating young women, and using the same slogan “do not forget your daughters.”62 As mentioned, at that time Weinberg’s identification with Hirsch’s “Torah Im Derekh Erets” only grew stronger. Like Hirsch, he believed that a woman’s loyalty to a life of Torah is what guarantees the continued existence of the family and nation. Consequently, it is forbidden to neglect her education and it is imperative to teach her Hebrew, Jewish studies , and required general studies such as a foreign language, mathematics and the like (like Hirsch’s curriculum). It is out of place to forbid these studies: No group ignored women more than Orthodox Judaism in the East. It is hard to comprehend although it is true, that we undervalue the role filled by the Jewish woman in life. Even though she always was, and still is today, limited to her “four cubits” of family life, she has immense power in public life. [. . .] As long as the Jewish woman was faithful to us, as long as she felt her historical task as the bearer of the sacred national tradition, she defended Israel and protected it from elimination and destruction. [. . .] When the great rabbi of Frankfurt, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, peace be upon him, wished to save a Judaism that was being lost, he first sought the merit of the Jewish woman. It is only thus, that we can understand the secret of his great achievement. He had great assistance in his rescue efforts—the Jewish woman assisted him! The female students of Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch mended what had been ruined by the daughters of Mendelssohn. The latter destroyed the Jewish home; the former built it anew. [. . .] Jews of Lithuania, [. . .] it is better that you save the Jewish home. Reacquire the dedication and loyalty of our wives and daughters. They will protect the Sabbath; they will defend the yeshivot, even without the approval of Jewish and non-Jewish officials. Jews of Lithuania, do not forget that we will become the most powerful segment of the Jewish Nation when the Jewish woman walks alongside us. With women, we are protected from all danger, whether it be from gentile anti-Semites 62 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 463–464.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven or wicked Jewish Bundists. [. . .] In these most dangerous of times, the woman’s hidden, silent strength saved us. Therefore, Jews of Lithuania, through all your worries and troubles do not forget the Jewish woman!63

Attitude Towards Christianity I have already explained in great detail Hirsch’s attitude toward the Christian religion.64 To summarize: according to Hirsch, classical Christianity based on the teachings of Paul, is absolutely invalid. It failed in its task, and whoever seeks the redemption of mankind best not adopt it. This is because, according to Christianity, ever since the fall of Adam, mankind has been cursed, incapable of freeing itself from the bonds of sensuality of the flesh. This is, in essence, a new form of paganism, belief in deterministic forces of nature. Therefore, according to Christianity, there is no value in the commandments or practical ethics; none of these can do any good, and in order to be redeemed in the Afterlife it is sufficient to believe in Jesus. All that is left in this world is asceticism and delusional ecstasy—sanctification of death and not of life. Only Judaism offers man the freedom to overcome his inclination and to be moral, by observing the values and commandments of the Torah. Only thus will man be redeemed. The same ideas, and in similar terms, were expressed by Weinberg: Out of the nullifying experience of the infantile ego, shocked by his helplessness before the forces of nature, the Christian man arrived at religious emotion. His religiosity afforded him a redemption from the bonds of unconquered reality, a redemption from the torments of a broken will. From here we learn how Christianity arrived at its denial of life, its flight from this world and a life lived within it. And we understand why Christianity has so little effect on the character of its adherents. For religiosity born of spiritual crises, has no other ideal or emotions but passive 63 J. J. Weinberg, “Al Tishkekhu et Haisha Hayehudia” (1924), in Kitvei Hagaon, vol. 2, 236– 239. See note 4 above. See also Weinberg’s responsum in Seridei Esh, part 1, § 77, in which he permitted the religious youth group “Jeschurun” (operating in Paris after the end of World War II) to conduct mixed activities, including both boys and girls, based on the rabbis of Germany before the war who succeeded in educating the youth due to their educational flexibility—in contrast to the failures of the inflexible rabbis of Eastern Europe. On Weinberg’s rulings on issues related to the status of women, see Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 209– 220; Cohen, “Bein Olam Hayeshivot,” 148–151. 64 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 238–276.

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The Dual Truth devotion. Such a stance—that man has no power over what occurs in his life—inevitably leads to deep pessimism. Abstinence from life—this is the Christian redemption. But such a spiritual condition is not sustainable. In man’s soul, there is a far greater power—the tempestuous emotion of life, the desire for conquest and victory in the war for existence. Christianity failed to subdue the inclination for conquest and victory so deeply imprinted into the very existence of the nations. Therefore, it had no recourse but to shirk the religious commandments, or to confine religion to desolate monasteries—a refuge for those abstaining from the world, who sit and conceive delusions and illusions, those who have no connection to the habitation of the world. And thus, the development of the nations inevitably came to be what it is. The Christian religion received from the idolaters of the past an almost pagan image—in its name they fight, oppress and torture, conquer and subdue. And this is the source of the world’s hatred for the eternal nation. [. . .] But the Israelite religion is not like this. It is not born of a crisis in the soul. [. . .] Jewish religiosity does not denote flight from life, and it cannot be turned into asceticism; it is the body of life and not just a means of justifying or sweetening the fate of life.65

SUMMARY Three important figures shaped Weinberg’s personality and exerted a profound influence on him: Salanter, Hildesheimer, and Hirsch. Weinberg was a student of their students first in Lithuania, later in Germany. Up to this point, I have presented some of the important areas in which Weinberg was influenced by Hirsch, as well as areas in which he was influenced by Salanter and Hildesheimer. I have noted when Weinberg disagreed with Hirsch, and when he misunderstood him. I will now move on to Weinberg’s main student, Rabbi Professor Eliezer Berkovits, examining how he was influenced, directly or indirectly, by Hirsch.

ELIEZER BERKOVITS Berkovits was born in 1908 in the city of Oradea in Transylvania, later annexed by Romania in 1919 (at that time it was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire). 65 Weinberg, Lifraqim, 214–215. See also 180–181.

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As a child, he attended a Jewish elementary school that combined religious and secular studies. Upon graduation, he studied for a year at the local yeshiva, headed by Rabbi Haim Judah Levi, where the accepted method of study was that of the Lithuanian yeshivot. When he was 15 years old, he went to study at the Klausenburg Yeshiva in Romania, which was headed by Rabbi Akiva Glasner. Rabbi Glasner had replaced his father, Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Glasner, one of the founders of the Mizrahi movement, who had immigrated to the Land of Israel at the end of his life. In 1924, one year later, Berkovits left Eastern Europe to study at the Frankfurt Yeshiva in the Hirschian neo-­Orthodox community. At the same time, he studied secular studies privately, completing his German matriculation exams in 1927. During his fourth year at the yeshiva he was accepted as a student at the University of Frankfurt. At the end of 1928, Berkovits moved to Berlin to study in the Hildesheimer’s Rabbinical Seminary, continuing his study of philosophy at the University of Berlin. From that time until the end of 1938, Weinberg served as Berkovits’s rabbi and ­mentor.66 Berkovits received his Ph.D. in philosophy in 1933 for his thesis entitled “Hume and Deism.” In 1934, he received ordination to serve as a rabbi and religious judge from Rabbis Weinberg, Glasner and Eliezer Judah Finkel (head of the Mir yeshiva). Berkovits served as the rabbi of Charlottenberg Orthodox community in Berlin from 1936–1939. As a Romanian citizen, he was neither arrested nor sent to a concentration camp. But at the beginning of 1939, having been warned that he was to be summoned for questioning by the Gestapo, he fled Germany with his wife and two children and arrived in London. He took with him a number of Rabbi Weinberg’s manuscripts which Rabbi Weinberg gave to him before he travelled (these later served as the foundation for the latter’s responsa Seridei Esh). Rabbi Weinberg was subsequently deported to Poland, with nothing but the shirt on his back. From 1940 until 1946 Berkovits served as the rabbi of Leeds, where his third son was born. Afterwards he served as the rabbi of Sydney Central Synagogue until 1950. In 1950, he moved to the United States, where he became rabbi of the largest Orthodox community in Boston (Adath Jeshurun). In 1958, he accepted an invitation to become head of the philosophy and Jewish Thought department at H. T. C. (Hebrew Theological College) in Skokie, and he moved to Chicago. It was there that he wrote his central philosophical work on Judaism: God, Man and History. The book was first published in 1959 in English, and appeared in Hebrew in 2010. Berkovits retired 66 See M. Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit: Mah  . shevet Hahalakhah shel Harav Prof. Eliezer Berkovits ( Jerusalem-Bnei Brak, 2013), 390–405.

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in 1975 and moved to Israel. He settled in Jerusalem, where he devoted himself to writing and lecturing on medieval Jewish philosophy to students from Yeshivat Mercaz HaRav (at his home, in an unofficial capacity). Berkovits passed away in Jerusalem in 1992. A collection of excerpts from his books and his philosophical essays was published in 2001, entitled: Essential Essays on Judaism.67

Rationalism and Romance, the relationship between philosophy and religion Like Weinberg and Hirsch, Berkovits was also a neo-Romantic. Berkovits’s full academic education in philosophy distinguishes him from both Hirsch and Weinberg; Hirsch only briefly participated in academic studies alongside his talmudic yeshiva education, and was mainly a commentator and a preacher. Weinberg studied for an academic degree in Bible studies alongside his traditional Torah study, but he, too, was inexperienced in the realm of philosophy and expressed himself in the language of sermons. While in Leeds in 1943, Berkovits wrote an article suggesting that in the wake of the Emancipation, new rabbinic leadership was required for the Jewish people. The Emancipation had destroyed the barriers that separated the Jewish community from European culture, leading to a conflict between the two. It appears that Berkovits was then flirting with the idea of a “dual truth”; the modern Jew lives in two contradictory worlds, both of which contain truth: The conflict between the traditional world of the Jew and his modern life shaped by a new and dynamic civilization shattered the spiritual unity within the Jew, and to the extent that this happened, the old rabbinic type disintegrated. […] The new situation demands new men, men who themselves are children of this new situation. The must themselves have suffered all the agonies of the dualism in the life of the modern Jew. The conflict of the two worlds must have torn their own hearts and minds; without this they cannot realize how genuine and serious the problems are, or begin to seek a remedy. As long as the present period of transition lasts, it is vital that leadership should grow from the great spiritual travail in the clash of the two civilizations. This can only happen where men actually live in the two worlds. Living in two worlds obviates one-sidedness in two respects. It obviates the one-sidedness of a rabbinical authority rooted in the past, 67 Biographical information based on M. Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit, 11–20. See also 414–422.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven and the one-sidedness of exclusive attachment to Western European civilization. The rabbi who is fitted for authority and leadership today in Jewry must be deeply rooted in both historic Judaism and modern European civilization. He must be a talmid hacham and a scientist, philosopher, or historian in one. Europe and Sinai should meet in his soul. And only as far as he is able to maintain his Judaism in his own personal experience of the conflict will he be able to give guidance to Jewry today. Only a personality harmonized within itself, after a struggle of conflicting ideas, will be able to reveal the message of Judaism to this generation, for such alone will be in a position to translate it into the terms of our age. Such an achievement demands knowledge and character; real knowledge of Judaism combined with critical insight into the structure and workings of Western civilization, and a character that is strong enough to bear the strain of leaving many problems unsolved, strong enough to think sincerely while deliberate in translating thought into action, cautious and yet bold.68

In other words, there is currently no solution to the conflict between European culture and traditional Judaism, and between reason and revelation. In contrast to Rav Kook and Rabbi Soloveitchik who struggled to believe that a resolution of these tensions was sometimes possible (through a Hegelian synthesis), Berkovits proposes no dialectical solutions. His view is far closer to the “dual truth” of Samuel David Luzzatto and Leo Strauss who posit that we must live in two contradictory worlds without seeking to resolve them. That being said, he did not believe that this was a permanent state of affairs; he hoped that solutions, currently unavailable to us, would be found in the future. It seems that Berkovits continued to vacillate in his quest for solutions; at the same time, he sought to adapt the writings of medieval Jewish philosophers to the reality of the modern era. As a philosopher, he developed, established and formulated his views on Judaism and culture according to the method espoused by Hirsch, based on the approach of Rabbi Judah Halevi. In doing so, he rejected Maimonides’s position that revelation and philosophy are identical, but that reason serves as the primary arbiter in Judaism—the standard for all that is true and good. However, as I shall clarify below, Berkovits—who, like Weinberg and Hirsch, internalized the ideals of the Haskalah—agreed with 68 E. Berkovits, Essential Essays in Judaism, ed. D. Hazony ( Jerusalem, 2002); 197–198. The essay “Towards a Renewed Rabbinical Leadership” was first published in 1943. Throughout this chapter, I will indicate the first printing of each essay in parentheses after the citation.

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their rejection of both the particularism of Rabbi Judah Halevi and the mysticism of the kabbalists, and opposed any mystical interpretation of Judaism. In his God, Man and History, which was first published in 1959 while he was at the Hebrew Theological College in Chicago, Berkovits presented a new overarching approach to the relationship between revelation and reason. Berkovits’s critiques of Maimonides and other rationalist philosophers (Saadia Gaon, St. Augustine, Lessing, Kant, Hegel, Krochmal and Hermann Cohen), were deeper and more profound than those of Hirsch, who believed that purified philosophy is identical to revelation, but that Aristotelian philosophy is foreign to Judaism. Hirsch believes that reason is subordinate to sensuality and personal interests. Revelation serves as the correct standard for establishing what is true and good. Only when the conclusions of science have been fully proven will they be able to serve as the criteria for a new interpretation of revelation (Hirsch believes that this is the position of Rabbi Judah Halevi, as well). Berkovits, on the other hand, now maintains a compartmental approach and argues that there is a dichotomy between rational philosophy and Judaism, between the absolute God of the philosophers and the God of religion. This, he believes, is the position of Rabbi Judah Halevi. The absolute God of the philosophers, argues Berkovits, cannot be interacted with. He is inaccessible and it is impossible to know anything about Him by means of reason. The rationalist philosophers tried to bridge this gap, suggesting sophisticated proposals that do not stand up to criticism. In contrast to this God of philosophy, the God of the Bible forgoes His exalted glory, restricting and limiting Himself and His infinite power (intellectually, not spatially). He performs acts of kindness and shows interest in mankind as a hidden God, manifesting Himself only on rare occasions from behind a veil of limited strength. By doing so He enables the few encounters with the prophets as individuals and with the people of Israel as a nation at Sinai. These encounters must be limited, since their multiplicity would result in intellectual coercion. God would become an incontrovertible reality who forcibly controls the individual and prevents him from freely choosing to recognize God and to commit himself to Him. Were this the case, no one could be held responsible for their actions. For this reason as well, God does not openly intervene in the course of history. This self-imposed restriction of power enables a human being to physically and mentally withstand the great fear of this encounter, and also enables the most important encounter—the creation of a finite world and God’s involvement within it. From these encounters, we learn about God’s existence, about creation, about God’s demands from humankind, and about man’s purpose as God’s partner. Like Hirsch, however,

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Berkovits does not ignore the importance of reason. According to Hirsch, the intellect does not determine facts, rather it processes the historical facts of the creation of the world, the Exodus from Egypt and the revelation in Sinai apprehended by the senses. Once these sense perceptions have been apprehended, it is man’s duty to accept them as his moral compass. Berkovits also believes that only after receiving these messages (which can be achieved only through the experience of encountering God) can one use reason and draw the correct conclusions from this knowledge.69 This is how Berkovits expresses his critique of rationalist philosophy and describes the relationship between revelation on the one hand and reason and scientific research on the other: Saadia and Maimonides, each in his time, undertook to guide those of their generation who were perplexed by the conflict between traditional faith and beliefs, on the one hand, and philosophical ideas and metaphysical concepts, on the other. The doubters were to be offered certainty, and the hearts of the confused were to be enlightened and reassured. Both these giants of medieval Jewry accomplished their task by subordinating religion to the supreme authority of the intellect. On the foundations of Arabic Aristotelianism, Maimonides constructs a view according to which metaphysics and Judaism are ultimately identical. In this system, religion becomes the highest rung of the ladder of metaphysical knowledge. […] The result of this philosophy of religion is that only a person who has mastered all the disciplines of human knowledge may then attain the knowledge of God. It follows inevitably from such a position that living according to the law is secondary to the intellectual service of God through contemplation. The conflict between religion and reason is in this way resolved—but so thoroughly that, as the result of the identification of the two, religion becomes absorbed by metaphysics. […] Medieval philosophers expended a great deal of creative effort to explain the specific needs of man which require revelation, but all their efforts do little more than reduce revelation to an ancillary of reason. […] In essence, these thinkers 69 On Berkovits’s God who hides and limits Himself, see E. Berkovits, God, Man, and History, ed. D. Hazony ( Jerusalem, 2004), 49–50, 62–67, 150–151, 154–155 (all citations will be from the this edition). On Hirsch’s approach to the relationship between emotion and reason and between Torah and philosophy, see his Nineteen Letters, 43–45, 180–187 and his commentary on the Bible, Exodus 20:2; Leviticus 10:9–11; 19:18; See also Writings, 2:141–143; 7:200; Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 392–422.

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The Dual Truth adhere to the dictum of Augustine that while revelational knowledge is first in history, rational insight into the divine will is first in dignity. […] In the present study, we will continue on a path that was pioneered by that “most Jewish of Jewish philosophers,” Judah Halevi. To this day, he has remained the solitary figure among Jewish philosophers of religion who succeeded in recognizing the independence of the religious realm, while nevertheless maintaining a healthy respect for the faculty of reason in its own domain. He saw clearly the difference between philosophical thought concerning God and the reality of religion as manifest in attachment to God. Revelation and reason do not conflict in Halevi’s philosophy; but neither has reason a chance to absorb revelation, nor need revelation defame the intellectual faculty of man—or denigrate human nature—in order to establish its own validity.70 Science deals with events as they occur in the external world of “objects”; the encounter, on the other hand, is an event that occurs on the most intimate level between one subject and another. Science, in order to succeed, must eliminate all personal and conscious elements from the field of observation, for the personal and the conscious are threats to the validity of the scientific method. Thus, the scientist is an observer; he must never be a participant in the event he investigates. If he does not remove himself from his field of observation, he interferes with and upsets the data. In the encounter, however, the opposite is true: The more intense the personal presence and the richer the conscious element, the more valid the experience. In scientific study, we deal with events in their objective relatedness to the outside world; in the encounter, however, we establish a relationship in the inner world of personal reality.71

Berkovits agrees with Hirsch (based on Rabbi Judah Halevi) that Judaism prefers the sense experience derived from the encounter with God over-andabove an intellectual approach: This knowledge that the Eternal is God cannot be gained by any intellectual insight. It must be shown to man. Moses was saying to Israel: at Sinai, you knew God—his presence, his word, and his command—by actual 70 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 3–5, 11. The description of Rabbi Judah Halevi is taken from Wilhelm Windelband’s A History of Philosophy (1909), 255. 71 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 22–23.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven experience, in which all of your senses were involved. The knowledge that God was addressing himself to them was “shown” to them; it happened to them. The event itself brought the awareness of its own certitude.72

Berkovits agrees with Hirsch (based on Rabbi Judah Halevi) that the truth of the Torah and its credibility are based on historical eye-witness testimonies that have been transmitted to the people through tradition rather than on intellectual study: Biblical religion is history; and history is not taught by means of treatises on logic or mathematics, but through the records of eyewitnesses, or such as are based on them. […] First of all, there is what may be called the prophetic witness, the testimony of the unique personalities who are known as the prophets of Israel. […] Nor does the witness of prophecy stand alone. Of far greater importance is the witness of Israel, the testimony of the Jewish people. […] The Jews became the Israel of history because of what they held to be true about their biblical history with God. The story of the patriarchs, the Exodus, the revelation at Sinai, the journey through the wilderness, the prophets’ struggle with the obstinacy of the people—for the Jews, these were not the legends to which they gave some naïve consent. They were events in their own history, which obligated the people for all generations. […] There never existed a generation in which some Jewish fathers did not teach their children how to live in loyalty to the meaning of the Jewish encounter with God. […] Indeed, Israel itself is the witness. The existence, the history, and the survival of the Jewish people are themselves the most imposing witnesses to the Jewish encounter with God.73

Although the encounter is experiential rather than an intellectual, it does not fall into the category of a mystical connection to God—a concept foreign to Judaism. Like Hirsch, Berkovits rejects mysticism, even though he was a romantic: The encounter should not be confused with the mystical communion. The mystic’s goal is the surrender of personal existence. His desire is to merge himself in the One, to pour himself into God, to be drawn into the 72 Ibid., 17. 73 Ibid., 27–31.

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The Dual Truth All. […] In the encounter, on the other hand, the original separateness is affirmed; in fact, it is granted its highest dignity by being sustained by God. The encounter may occur because the individual personality is safeguarded. Where there is encounter, there is fellowship; and fellowship is the very opposite of the mystical surrender of man’s identity in an act of communion. Judaism is not a non-mystical religion; Judaism is essentially non-mystical because it is religion. The mystical communion is the end of all relation- ship and, therefore, also the end of all religion.74

Reason is also profoundly important. If reason can accept as its basis the credibility of the divine encounter and its consequences, it may be possible to leave behind the compartmental approach and return to the absolute God of philosophy. According to this, philosophy and religion are identical; revelation is the gateway to know God and His relation to His creations, serving as a criterion for determining what is true and good, which is the position of Hirsch (based on his understanding of Rabbi Judah Halevi): The religious thinker starts out with a number of certitudes which are germane to religion. Religion has shown him that God is One, and that “there is none else.” He also has definite cognizance of the “edge” of divine transcendence jutting into the sphere of human experience. If he then, impelled by intellectual curiosity, inquires into the logical or metaphysical consequences of the fundamental religious experience, he may discover the entire discipline of a philosophy of religion. He will find that the One has to be thought of as incorporeal; that if “there is none else beside him,” then God must be infinite. These insights may further lead the religious thinker logically to the idea that the transcendence of an incorporeal, infinite being has to be absolute. In this way, we may be able to readmit a great deal of the philosophy of religion, which we were at first compelled to reject. There is no path from the metaphysical Absolute to the God of religion, but there is one from the revealed God of religion to the Absolute of metaphysics and its incorporation into the body of religious affirmations.75 74 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 39. See also Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit, 422. 75 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 54–55. See also Berkovits, Essential Essays (1962), 238–239. Kelner in his introduction to the Hebrew version of God, Man and History (Elohim, Adam, Vehistoria [ Jerusalem, 2010], 7–14) argues that as an independent thinker, Berkovits is really an Aristotelian Maimonidean who made use of Halevi and

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Torah Im Derekh Erets Like Weinberg and Hirsch, Berkovits was also a proponent of the position that considered the study of secular subjects an obligation—“Torah Im Derekh Erets.” He thus agreed with Weinberg’s position (rejected by Hirsch) that the use of modern research methods is important for the study of Judaism, following the Wissenschaft des Judentums method used in the rabbinical seminary of Berlin, founded by Hildesheimer and Hoffman, where Berkovits had studied and been ordained as a rabbi. This method has been implemented in Israeli universities and in Jewish-studies faculties world-wide. He writes emphatically about the importance of secular studies, particularly when the Jewish people are sovereign in the land of Israel in an article on Torah and science (1962): It is inconceivable that the Jewish people could exist in the State of Israel for a single day without effective mastery of those sciences which form the foundation of present-day civilization. Since it is the intention of the Tora that there be a people of the Tora, living in the land of Israel, it must also be the intention of the Tora that Jews be physicians, engineers, physicists, mathematicians, men of creative search and practical application in every field of human endeavor, without whose knowledge and skill no nation can survive. This is obvious in our own days, and the situation was undoubtedly the same whenever Israel lived as a people in its own land. Agriculture, commerce, industry, national administration, and defense, whether on an advanced, modern level or during the periods of the First or Second Temple, have always required education and training in those disciplines called limudei hol. The very existence of the State of Israel demonstrates that the raising of the question of permissibility of secular Platonism merely as a gateway to Judaism. I am trying to show here that Berkovits was an emotional Romantic, far removed from the cold rationalism of Maimonides. I also show that on many issues Berkovits relies on his Romantic predecessors, Weinberg and Hirsch, whose cultural hero was Halevi. However, as neo-Romantics who followed the Enlightenment and internalized it, they were unable to accept the esoteric particularism of Halevy and his conclusions; only in this sphere did they make final determinations in the spirit of Maimonides’s universalism. Like Kellner, I am also disturbed by Jewish thinkers who prefer Halevy’s particularistic interpretations over the teachings of Judaism and reject the universalistic teachings of monotheism. As noted, following the Enlightenment a more universalistic approach developed. Unfortunately, most Orthodox thinkers still prefer Halevy’s particularism or that of the Kabbalah and the Zohar. In my opinion, this stems from racism and ignorance.

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The Dual Truth studies, as if a question of halacha were involved, is one of the unhealthy manifestations of the exilic mentality. Only in the diaspora could the fantastic idea have arisen that scientific knowledge and education were only for the Gentiles, whereas a Jew should occupy himself only with the Tora. […] The neglect of any branch of learning which is essential for the survival of the Jewish people is an anti-religious act, directed against Judaism itself. In this sense, the pursuit of scientific inquiry and the acquisition of scientific techniques, upon the application of which the survival of the Jewish nation in a Jewish land depends, is not only to be tolerated but must be considered a religious demand that emanates from the very intention and purpose of the Tora itself.76

When the Jewish people are sovereign in their land, the study of secular knowledge is a religious commandment. Did Berkovits think in terms of the Weinberg’s later view, which reduced secular studies to a practical, instrumental necessity? Or did he deem secular studies a fundamental value, essential for formulating a comprehensive worldview, as did Hirsch and Weinberg prior to the rise of the Nazis? I believe that Berkovits gives a clear answer in this same article, and that, in this regard, he identifies completely with Hirsch’s position: It is inconceivable that Jews as individuals and Israel as a nation should make practical use of successful scientific inquiry, and yet the genius of Judaism should nonetheless ignore the fact that the same scientific disciplines carry within themselves certain insights or suggestions which carry consequences for religious faith and for that ultimate truth which is God’s own seal. In the continuous progress of human knowledge and search for the truth, there is ever present a spiritual challenge that influences the life of man in its entirety. […] All so-called limudei hol are now within the scope of Jewish religious interest and concern. Without a knowledge of their premises, methods, and conclusions by the believing Jewish scholar, a comprehensive worldview of Judaism cannot be formulated. […] For the religious Jew who sees in Israel’s return to the land of its fathers the hand of God, the historic necessity for scientific effectiveness imposed by the return becomes a divine command. We interpret it as meaning that Israel, the people of the Tora, must acquire mastery in the realm of 76 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1962), 236–237. See also Berkovits, Essential Essays (1979), article on “The Spiritual Crisis in Israel,” 211–212.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven worldly knowledge and weave the pattern of unity between fact and value, faith and reality, between life and Tora. “For this is your wisdom and your understanding in the sight of the peoples.77

For Berkovits—as is true for Weinberg’s early thought—the use of modern tools for the study of Jewish texts (as was the practice in Hildesheimer’s Rabbinical Seminary in Berlin) is essential to the rabbinic leader no less than the study of secular philosophy. In an article discussing the new type of rabbinic leadership required in the modern era (1943), Berkovits writes that although the modern rabbi cannot hope to master all the talmudic knowledge required of him—as done by the Jewish greats of previous generations—he must have the proficiency to be able to discuss a specific topic at any given moment, and exhibit his mastery of the subject both from the perspective of Jewish tradition and from the perspective of general education. Berkovits argues that in contemporary times there are areas in which the power of this “new” type of rabbi is even greater than that of the “old” rabbi: “firstly through our ability to point out previously unseen significance in Jewish conceptions by contrasting them with related ideas in non-Jewish thought; and secondly by applying to the study of the traditional literature of Judaism modern methods of research.”78

The Centrality of the Commandments Hirsch believes that the essence of Judaism is not great faith, profound thinking about eternal truths, mysticism or familial ties—but, rather, the observance of the commandments. As a neo-romantic, Hirsch maintains that the foundation of Judaism is revelation, and that its core is comprised of those actions to which every Jew obligates himself, rather than religious theory. The commandments of the Torah encompass every aspect of life. Berkovits is in full agreement with this position: As religion is inconceivable without revelation, neither is it possible without the law of God. God’s involvement in the world and his law for the world are one. The law is the bond that preserves the relationship of divine concern beyond the fundamental religious experience of the encounter itself. The encounter passes quickly, but the law of the Eternal 77 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1962), 242–245. 78 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1943), 198–199.

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The Dual Truth remains forever. As the crystallization of what God desires of man, the law is the guarantee of God’s continued interest in man. As long as God’s law stands, he too remains involved in the destiny of man. When the mystery of the encounter has faded away, God is still related to man by means of his law. When the precious moment in which man is granted the certitude of the Presence has sunk into the darkness of the past, the “fellowship” with God may still be maintained by doing the will of God. The law is the avenue of contact beyond the point of encounter. […] The law of God in the system of Judaism is extremely ramified: It embraces the entire life of the Jew. Man in time and in space, man in society and man in the world, are the subjects of the law. The rhythm of the day and of the week, of the year and of the years, is determined by numerous regulations. […] The law also prescribes one’s dealings with the world of things about us. […] The pursuit of agriculture, the building of a home, have their respective observances. And, needless to say, the same is true of man’s intercourse with his fellow man in society or in the family, in the state and among the nations. All are circumscribed by the law. Every important event in the life of the Jew is brought under the dominion of the law. There seems to be no niche or nook into which the law has not penetrated. The law is present all the time and everywhere. The Jew is indeed surrounded by mitzvot on all sides.79

In the sovereign state of Israel, the Torah and Halakhah encompass all aspects of life to a much greater degree than in Jewish communities in the Diaspora: The exilic, defensive posture is no longer valid. One has to go out and meet this new challenge and show how this new Jewish reality is to be structured meaningfully and effectively by the creative power of halacha. One has to leave the ramparts built around the “private domain” of the congregation, the Jewish school, or the home in exile, and restore halacha to its original function as a pathway for the “public domain,” for the life of the Jewish people in a Jewish state. To mention just a few areas: halacha in the State of Israel ought to concern itself with the social gap, with questions of economic honesty and fairness, with issues of the work ethic and problems of labor relations, with medical ethics, even with such matters 79 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 89–92. See also Berkovits, Essential Essays (1943), 122– 123, and idem, Essential Essays (1973), 181–182.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven as meaningful driving laws in the cities and on the highways and with adequate enforcement.80

Moral Law: The Contrast between Revelatory Laws and Human Law and the Laws of the Sages Hirsch posits that it is not the role of the Torah to provide us with information about the world. For this reason, it does not contain p­ hilosophical, ­scientific or physical information. The purpose of the Torah is to teach proper behavioral norms. Given its divine source, the commandments of the Torah embody the highest and most lofty ethics. God is free of matter and therefore the law he has set forth and revealed to us is devoid of any personal interest or sensuality, elements that limit human legislation. This law is balanced; it is opposed to sensuality on the one hand and to asceticism and the denial of physical life in this world on the other. The primary purpose of the Torah is, therefore, to make us better people. It contains laws that encourage the person who fulfills them to control his impulses and desires, while, at the same time, purifying material life, thereby achieving sanctity and closeness to God. Evil, sensuality, impulses, and desires are necessary in man’s world; without a choice between good and evil—without temptation—there is no sin, no challenge, no freedom; without these, man lacks any true value. The purpose of the commandments is to direct every individual to channel his desires towards positive purposes as determined by God. Performing the commandments from an early age makes use of those actions to train the individual to learn self-restraint, to accept responsibility, and to choose good deeds. For this reason, it is important to include study of the commandments together with the other areas of study that the educational system desires to convey to the students.81 Berkovits writes along similar lines. On the human need for freedom from the forced enslavement of sensuality, Berkovits writes in an article on sexuality and morality (1976): As a devar mitzva, the biologically impersonal is transformed into the human and personal. Jewish sexual ethics can perceive the sexual act in its 80 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1979), article on “The Spiritual Crisis in Israel,” 211. 81 See Hirsch, Genesis 2:16; 3:19; Hirsch, Letters II, 207–208, 321; 47–57, 124–125, 130, 248–249, 281, 304, 389–391, 425–427; Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 279–301.

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The Dual Truth most humanized and personalized transformation as an act of sanctification. To sanctify oneself at the moment of intercourse is the ideal of sexual fulfillment. […] Freedom, like love, is of the very essence of personal existence. He who submits to the biologically impersonal is held captive by necessity, the essence of the impersonal. It is not enough to free oneself from meaningless taboos. If one wishes to be human, one has to commit one’s freedom to personalizing the impersonal within man’s bio-psychic reality. 82

On the purpose of the Torah and its commandments as the correct way to develop moral norms, Berkovits writes: The idea of creation has nothing to say about the causal nexus of events in the post-creation phase of the cosmos. Creation does not deal with the technique or method of actualization. It is thus surprising that for so many centuries people have read the story of the creation as if the Bible were a textbook on physics or natural history, or as if the story were meant to be a lecture on metaphysics or cosmology. In actuality, no theory of any kind is presented. [. . .] The primary significance of the biblical idea of creation is neither cosmological nor physical, nor even metaphysical; it is essentially religious.83 What is the purpose of the law? […] When asking about the purpose of the law, then, we ought to consider those aspects which seem significant in the context of our human condition and its problems. The interpretation presented earlier emphasizes the ethical significance of the law of God. This was borne out by the quotation from Jeremiah. The relational attributes as a code for human behavior declare: when meeting the world outside, you do it by relating yourself to it, by establishing fellowship with it through caring involvement. This is the essence of the imitation of God, and it invests the law with an ethical purpose. This does not mean that the law is identical with ethics. The law has meaning on many levels of human existence, and only after analyzing them separately can we grasp its various implications for man. Undoubtedly, the law has meaning on the ethical level.84 82 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1976), 114. 83 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 75. 84 Ibid., 90–91.

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On the advantages of the absolute law of the Torah over relative and subjective human legislation, and how Torah law works to correct behaviors: An eternal truth becomes the law of God when action in accordance with it is explicitly desired by God. […] The binding force of a code instituted by society or the state is relative; the force of the one willed by God is absolute. It is not, however, in the difference in the rigor of its application that the distinction between relative and absolute obligation is reflected. A secular society need not be less exacting in its demand for obedience to its laws than a community governed by a divine law. Mercy as well as justice are the things in which God delights. But a law instituted by a will of relative authority admits of compromise for the sake of expediency; the law of absolute authority will not be overruled by such considerations. All secular ethics lack the quality of absolute obligation. They are as changeable as the desires and the wills that institute them; the law of God alone is as eternal as his will. Secular ethics, derived as it must be from a relative will, is subjective; God alone is the source of objectivity for all value and all law. Relativistic ethics, serving the goal of subjective desire, is essentially utilitarian; the desire of God alone makes the object of the desire an end in itself. […] The motivation of all action being a desire, the ethical deed requires an “appetite for goodness.” Judaism assumes that such an inclination is indeed implanted in human nature. It is the good inclination (yetzer hatov), which—like its adversary, the evil inclination (yetzer hara),—has its seat “in the heart.” It is an emotional force, a desire for the good. It is present in all men but—unfortunately—it is helpless in the conflict with the other, self-centered and self-regarding urges and needs of physical man. It is therefore necessary to foster the emotional force of the desire for the good, to increase its intensity and its hold over the emotional pattern of the human personality. In order to achieve effective ethical conduct, not the mind alone, but, foremost, needs and appetites have to be educated; […] the sublimation of desires is brought about by inhibition. Preventing the satisfaction of natural wishes, we erect emotional dams, creating reservoirs of emotional energy. […] There is within Judaism a code of commandments which achieves the inhibition of some natural needs and desires. […] The only way of educating the biophysical instrument of action is by making it perform. This task is fulfilled by the other group of “ritual laws,” which has its place in the category of commandments of positive injunction (mitzvot aseh), prescribing

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The Dual Truth certain religious performances. […] The purpose of the inhibitive rules is to practice saying “no” to self-centered demands; whereas the fulfillment of the positive commands is the exercise of saying “yes” in consideration of an order different from one’s own. […] The value of a culture is expressed not in what people think consciously, but in what they do habitually. The civilization of the highest order is that which succeeds in teaching man’s physical self to show, in its own “automatic” way, respectful submission to an order that is determined by the desires of the spirit and the longings of the soul. Through the all-encompassing discipline of religious observances, the awareness of the other affects the habits of the entire physical element of the human being. The inhibitive regulations establish a pattern of behavior which disciplines the self-regarding impulses and, therefore, directs the “attention” of the unspent emotional energies toward an outlet by means of submission. At the same time, the prescriptive laws develop physical dispositions and skills to act at the behest of a will outside the physical realm.85

Thus, Berkovits agrees with Hirsch, that it is not the pure and proper intention that is at the foundation of a moral code (as posited by Kant)—rather it is performance of the act itself. A possible explanation for the commandments of the Torah is that their goal is to educate a person to behave morally. The purpose of the Torah is not to provide scientific information or theoretical guidance. It is to educate by means of commandments to act or to abstain. Only moral law that embodies the divine will can obligate. All other human legislation is, by definition, subject to the utility, desires, and personal interests of the legislator and those who obey it. The commandments affect the moral character of man. Negative commandments train him to overcome his selfish, lustful desires, and prevent him from succumbing to them.

85 Ibid., 105–118. See also 131–134. For a detailed discussion of Berkovits’s moral theory, which illustrates how his principles are different and much bolder than those of Hirsch, see Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit, 98–102, 126–128, 209–244, 255–261, and A. Rosenak, “Eliezer Berkovits: Halakhah Veortodoqsia Modernit,” in Devarim Hadashim Atiqim: Mitos Mistiqa Upulmus, Filosofia Vehalakhah, Emuna Veritual Bamahshava Hayehudit Ledoroteha, vol. 2, ed. R. Elior ( Jerusalem, 2011), 618–622. I have no doubt that the quotes from Berkovits that appear in this citation are heavily influenced by Salanter’s Torat Hanefesh that Weinberg imparted to Berkovits. According to Berkovits, Kantian intent is not sufficient, and action is the essence of Jewish morality. See on this subject D. Hazony’s introduction to Essential Essays on Judaism, xx-xxiv.

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Positive commandments train the individual to perform divinely ordained moral acts as part of his routine. Up to this point, there are clear parallels between Berkovits’s approach and the neo-Orthodoxy of Weinberg and Hirsch. Berkovits, however, does not stop here, and his position, taken as a whole, is radically different from that of Hirsch. It is clear from his other writings that Berkovits believes that Halakhah has two sources of authority which counterbalance one another. Apart from the heteronomous source of the law, representing the divine will as manifest in the revelation at Sinai, there is also an autonomous human source of religious authority linked to the frameworks of time and place. This difference stems from the disagreement between Berkovits and Hirsch regarding the significance of the roles and activities of the Sages in the Mishnah and Talmud. Hirsch believes (following the approach of the Geonim), that the Oral Torah was given at Sinai, and that the central role of the Sages was simply to transmit to future generations those Mosaic laws that had been forgotten, and, when necessary, to reconstruct them. According to Berkovits, however (following the approach of Maimonides), an important part of their role was legislation—albeit on the basis of Torah and the long-standing principles of Halakhah. Nevertheless, the Sages were obliged to also take into consideration autonomous moral principles, social and cultural changes, together with the economic and political demands of their time and place. In his Towards Historic Judaism (1943)86 Berkovits writes that this is how the Sages acted in every generation in which there was Jewish sovereignty or some level of autonomy (until the end of the period of the Talmud), and that Halakhah developed according to contemporary needs. Therefore, in our generation, which is engaged in the development of autonomous Jewish life in the Land of Israel, rabbinic leaders must return to the source and spirit of Halakhah evident in previous periods of Jewish sovereignty. It is essential to cultivate those conditions that will restore to Judaism the possibility of developing and growing organically, thus creating conditions for reform. This is the only way to enable the implementation of Halakhah simultaneously with modern Jewish life. With the abolishment of Jewish autonomous institutions, and the sealing of the Talmud, the living Jewish reality ceased to exist. The authority of the book superseded the authority of living scholars, bringing to an end the organic development and evolutionary power of Judaism. During the tragic years of exile, the structure of Judaism solidified and lost its ability to develop. The task of our generation is to free ourselves both 86 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1943), 155–175.

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from the failures of Orthodox rigidity and from the Reform of the Diaspora— the rejection of Judaism’s glorious past, leaving only destruction in its wake. We must encourage new stages of development. Berkovits is even more emphatic on this point in a later article that discusses the decline of Oral Law, “Conversion According to the Halakhah” (1974), which was written after full Jewish autonomy in the land of Israel had been established. He explains that the meaning of the covenant between God and Israel relating to the Oral Law is the subjective partnership of the halakhic decisor with the will of God, which is expressed in the Torah. In other words, the halakhic decisor acts as a legislator in the spirit of the Torah, according to his judgment of each unique situation and of the needs of that particular generation. But in the mutuality of the covenant, the responsibility has fallen to him to take upon himself the risk of determining, in the light of the totality of the Tora as teaching and living, the manner in which the will of the other party to the covenant is to be realized in a specific situation. Ultimately, he has to do that in the independence of his own conscience, which is imbued with Tora. […] Only in this way may the generality and abstractness of the Written Tora be transformed into torat hayim, a Tora of life, its realization in whatever situations Jews find themselves in the course of history.87

Berkovits explains further that committing the Oral Law to writing was a catastrophe. First, the Mishnah was written down, and then the Talmud, each offering more extensive exegesis than its predecessors. With the codification of the Mishneh Torah and the Shulhan Arukh, the Oral Law became a Written Torah. All this was done for lack of a better choice, in an attempt to ensure that Halakhah would not be forgotten in trying times: It was an unavoidable violation of the essence of halacha when the spoken word was forced into the straitjacket of a written mold. It was no one’s fault; nevertheless, it was a spiritual calamity of the first magnitude. Orthodoxy is, in a sense, halacha in a straitjacket. Having had to transform the Oral Tora into a new written one, we have become Karaites of this new Written Tora, forced upon us by external circumstances. It was part of the spiritual tragedy of the exile that exactly what halacha in its original 87 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1974), 97–98.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven vitality and wisdom intended to protect us from has happened. In a sense, we have become Karaites. God can no longer rejoice over his “defeat” by his children. It is a condition we have had to accept. It is the price we have paid for the preservation of our identity and Jewish survival. […] Many of our inherited molds are leaking and cannot meaningfully contain the life that has fallen to the lot of our generation. What is needed is to retrace our steps. To return to the original halacha, to rediscover it, and, having rediscovered it, to restore it to its original function.88

Berkovits emphasizes that he is not calling for reform. Rather he seeks to return to the original Halakhah that is both dynamic and vibrant. This will allow it to resume its former position as the conductor of normative life for the Jewish people in their land, living their lives with full commitment to Halakhah. It is the stagnation of the Torah and its laws that so deeply pains him. He declares his fear of Heaven, revealing to the reader his great love for the Torah—Torah study and Halakhah—and all factions of the Jewish people: What is needed is not less study of Tora, but better study of Tora; not less dedication to halacha, but more faith in halacha. Where there is greater faith, greater boldness is justified. As in the past, because it was a time to act for God, shackles had to be placed on the Oral Tora in violation of God’s command, so now the hour has come when the need to act for God places upon us the responsibility to free the Oral Tora from its shackles, in obedience to God’s original command. There are risks involved in such an undertaking. Because of it we need not less but more fear of heaven. But possibly, most of all, we need more love of all Israel, to illuminate our love of Tora. And to pray to God for his guidance.89

Berkovits’s sharp criticism of the Orthodox movement on his right and the Reform movement on his left, and his central argument that Halakhah developed according to contemporary needs as understood by the Sages in the Mishnah and Talmud, attest to Berkovits’s ideological closeness to the Positive-Historical School (later known as the Conservative movement), its forbears Krochmal and Luzzatto, and its founders Frankel and Graetz. In this, he distances himself from 88 Ibid., 101. On Berkovits’s attitude to the Written and Oral Torah, see Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit, 161–187. 89 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1974), 102.

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the Orthodoxy of Rabbis Hirsch, Chajes, Weinberg, Kook and Soloveitchik. In fact, it was the refusal of the administration at the Conservative movement’s Jewish Theological Seminary to offer him a faculty position that ultimately led him to the Orthodox Hebrew Theological College. It is hardly surprising that, despite Berkovits’s expectations, there were quite a few tensions between him and the other Orthodox rabbis in the institution, leading one of them to declare him a heretic, causing a tempest in the school. Weinberg received a letter complaining about the positions espoused by his former student, and in his response, he admitted that Berkovits’s statements were damaging and could not be accepted.90 90 See Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit, 403–405, 415–422. Roth describes JTS’s refusal as a paradox (p. 416). On Berkovits’s position regarding the supremacy of the divine law revealed at Sinai, see ibid., 231–244. On the integration of autonomous human decision making throughout history based on the needs of the generation, see ibid., 250–260. Rosenak, “Eliezer Berkovits,” 622–630, also notes Berkovits’s unique approach to the integration of revealed law with autonomous human legislation. Institutionally, Berkovits presents himself as an Orthodox member of HTC, and the arguments that he makes about conversion are presented as coming from a pluralistic Orthodox rabbi. In my opinion, Berkovits’s thinking and philosophy fall into the realm of classical Conservative Judaism, which believed only in the divinity of the written Torah. I therefore question whether it was appropriate for Roth to give his book the title Ortodoqsia Humanit (Humanistic Orthodoxy). It is important to emphasize, however, that Berkovits’s identification with the Orthodox movement in this 1979 article was after a leftward shift of the Conservative movement in the United States in the 1960s and 1970s. This change apparently was precipitated by the weakening of the Conservative center and the influence of Mordecai Kaplan that led many rabbis in communities that were not affiliated with J.T.S. to renounce belief in a divine Torah—an essential principle in Berkovits’s philosophy. JTS began teaching Bible criticism in 1959 (apparently due to the influence of H. L. Ginsberg who was a professor of Bible at the time), and in 1972 a number of significant changes were made to JTS administration. Berkovits may better be identified as liberal neo-Orthodox or as a classical Conservative. Roth also shows that Berkovits’s philosophy of Halakhah was influenced by Weinberg (Ortodoqsia Humanit, 287–289, 399–405) and by Moses Samuel Glasner (ibid, 405–413), although he emphasizes that Berkovits goes much further than Weinberg. In my opinion, he also went further than Glasner in making what he viewed as necessary changes in Halakhah based on meta-halakic principles, even when they contradicted the Shulh  . an Arukh. There is no doubt in my mind that Weinberg and Glasner would not have agreed with Berkovits that the Orthodox movement should, on the basis of national unity and love of the Jewish people, compromise with the Reform movement in matters of conversion. It is interesting that regarding the Sabbatical year in the State of Israel, Weinberg rules that selling the land to the Arabs constitutes contempt for the Land of Israel. Berkovits agrees, but he was far more determined and daring than Weinberg in this regard. Berkovits rules that it is possible to abrogate the Sabbatical laws requiring the land to lay fallow by applying to the national economy the overarching halakhic principle of the importance of saving life (piquah  .  nefesh); similarly, he believed that the ultra-Orthodox practice of purchasing foreign produce would bring disaster to Jewish agriculture in Israel, and that Rav Kook’s leniency upon which the national-religious rely—permitting the land to be sold to non-Jews—is a disgrace to the

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With regard to the question of conversion, which was a point of contention among the different denominations of Judaism in the United States, Berkovits argued that Karo’s Shulh. an   Arukh should not be determinative, since it does not relate to the contemporary realities of a particular social and national situation in which many people are not prepared to accept the obligation of the commandments. Here, Halakhah must take into account meta-halakic principles— like national unity and love of the Jewish people—principles of Halakhah from a period when it was still dynamic and vibrant. Therefore, creative concessions are required from both the Reform and the Orthodox movements, who must recognize this common goal. Berkovits emerges as one subscribing to the superior conception of pluralism: Apart from the practical considerations, there is also a moral question to be raised. By insisting that in matters of conversion the Orthodox view must prevail exclusively, we have, of course, stated that our numerous non-Orthodox brothers and sisters have to be excluded from having any say in such a vital issue as what it means to be a Jew. Do we have the moral right to make such demands? It is true that we maintain that Tora is revealed to the Jewish people by God and, therefore, the law regarding conversion has divine authority. I, too, believe that, together with all Orthodox Jews. Nevertheless, I cannot overlook the fact that, no matter how strongly I believe it, it is still only my personal belief. And if there are tens of thousands of us who so believe, the faith in Tora “from heaven” will still remain our belief. No matter how convincing our reasons and our proofs for the faith may be for us, they will still be no more than reasons and proofs for us; enough for me, clear and convincing, like the brilliance of a clear and cool morning, yet inseparable from my subjectivity. It is true that our opinion in this matter of conversion is identical with that of the nation and the land. On this see Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit, 189–197, and Rosenak, “Eliezer Berkovits,” 633–635. Rosenak (616–617, 635) notes there that Berkovits was associated with Orthodox discourse for technical, not ideological reasons, and that ideologically he was very close to the Conservative movement. Rosenak also believes that Berkovits’s transition to Anglo-Saxon culture in 1939 influenced his attitude towards Halakhah. On the difference between Weinberg’s juridical approach, which tends to be lenient but which always seeks partners and previous sources upon which to rely, and Berkovits’s rulings and the philosophical approaches of Goldman and Leibowitz, all of whom attempted to reconcile Halkhah with the needs of contemporary society where Jews are sovereign in their land by means of far-reaching or even revolutionary changes to the Halakhah—see Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 188–192; Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit, 435–449.

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The Dual Truth great Tora scholars of our generation. But again, this too is our recognition of their greatness. If we should be mistaken, if the great Tora scholars themselves should be mistaken, then their own greatness would be of little consequence. But, of course, we are right, our faith is true, and the greatness of the “great ones” is unquestionable. Indeed—so we believe. That Tora is “from heaven,” min hashamayim, so I believe; but I cannot help recognizing that the fact that I so believe does not make my belief a faith that is itself from heaven. The Tora is from heaven, but my faith that it is so is not; neither is my interpretation of the meaning and consequences of that faith from heaven. If so, how can we deny Conservative and Reform rabbis and scholars the right to their interpretation? Of course, we Orthodox are the only Jews faithful to the demands of Tora. But no matter how much we insist on this, it will, nevertheless, remain our own subjective insistence. Could not, then, our non-Orthodox brothers and sisters turn to us and say with equal right, since our interpretation of Tora and Judaism is mistaken, that we do not represent “Tora-true” Judaism and that only theirs is the true way?91

The superior pluralist is not satisfied with mere tolerance or moderate pluralism. The tolerant individual believes that his opponent’s views must be indulged and that every individual be allowed to live according to his own choices and be permitted to express his own positions, even when one is certain that his opponent is wrong. The moderate pluralist, however, believes that there is value to his opponent’s position, and therefore, one must consider it and learn from it. The superior pluralist believes that in the absence of conclusive, proven evidence for his position, he may be mistaken and his opponent correct. According to this, the position of one’s colleagues has the right to exist no less than one’s own view—even when he truly believes in the correctness of his path, and that the truth is with him.92 91 Ibid., 90–91. 92 On Berkovits’s position regarding conversion and on his pluralism, see Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit¸ 198–207. It is interesting to note that Roth does not make note of the high degree of pluralism presented here by Berkovits and attributes his position to that of a moderate pluralist. It appears to me that Berkovits is clearly arguing that the Orthodox position may very well be mistaken. Roth quotes Menachem Fish who also does not distinguish between moderate pluralism and the superior-conception of pluralism. Roth is correct in noting that the Orthodox stance is, at best, tolerant, and here, too, I question whether Roth is correct when he describes Berkovits as an Orthodox humanist. For more on tolerance and pluralism, see the last chapter of this book.

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Holiness Following in the footsteps of Rabbi Judah Halevi, and to some extent, Kant, as well, Hirsch believes that holiness is the highest level of morality. This is the stage in which a person comes closest to a state of total control over his sensuality and desires, channeling them solely to positive purposes as determined by God. It is only by means of observing the commandments of the Torah that an individual can reach full morality by means of which man adheres to God, and his soul and body are elevated to the level of holiness. Afflicting the body, asceticism, and suppression of normal day-to-day life are contrary to Judaism and make the attainment of holiness impossible. Hirsch also believes that it is impossible to fully attain holiness, and certainly not to remain on that level in a constant manner.93 Holiness is a constant aspiration but ultimately an unattainable desire. Berkovits writes in a similar vein. He agrees with Hirsch that only the full integration of the body with mind and soul by means of practical performance of the commandments will lead to control of the powerful energies of physical desire. This stands in contrast with other moral theories based on faith (Christianity), knowledge (Plato) or on practical reason and intent (Kant). Berkovits, however, does not exclude the possibility of attaining holiness, emphasizing the importance of examining the outcome of the act and its impact on others and on society at large: One should serve God with one’s entire being. But one can do this only if the self-centeredness of man’s vitality is curbed and his organic reality conditioned for the awareness of the divine. Through the education of man’s physical component in the will of God by means Of an all-­embracing system of religious observance, the biological functions themselves become dedicated; man’s nature becomes purposefully directed and may now fulfill itself and yet serve God. Only here do we reach the most intimate interpenetration between mind and matter, the closest union between spirit and body, between the needs of the creature and the purpose of the Creator. It is possible for man to satisfy all his needs in doing the will of God. It is here that man’s dual nature is brought to harmony. It is the vindication of matter through its union with the spirit and its association with a divine purpose. […] Through their union in the mitzva, the great transformation takes place: the spirit becomes “materialized” 93 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 288–296.

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The Dual Truth and, therefore, effective; the body is “spiritualized” and, thus, oriented towards the divine. This is holiness. […] Where natural needs and urges become directed toward goals which may be acknowledged in the presence of God, and where spiritual aspirations become effective through their “communion” with the material sources of vitality, there alone may holiness be found. Only life is capable of holiness. Any ascetic rejection of the world of the senses excludes the possibility of sanctification. It is not the will that is holy, but the deed, because in it the spiritual and the material unite. And it is through the holy deed alone that body as well as soul may be sanctified. […] Only here, where the spirit need not deny the body and the body need not feel shame in the presence of the spirit, in the deed of unification between the two, may we find the culmination of all religious aspiration—the sanctification of life.94

Regarding the rejection of asceticism Berkovits continues: In this world man is a composite being, consisting of mind and matter, of soul and body. That God made him that way means that he has to make sense of his life in the form in which he was granted life. Any rejection of the body is a rejection of man himself, of man as God created him for the tasks of this world.95

On the other hand, regarding the importance of enjoying the joint pleasure of the body and soul as an obligation within the framework of the commandments (an idea emphasized by Hirsch on many occasions), he writes: Sensual enjoyment is fully accepted within the purposefully directed experience, which is the essence of its personalization. The biblical commandment “and you shall rejoice before the Eternal your God” is addressed not to the spirit of man or to his soul, but to his entire bio-psychic reality. To rejoice before God in the wholeness of human nature is the mitzva.96

94 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 128–132. See Hazony’s introduction to Essential Essays on Judaism, xxxvii-xxxiv. 95 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 120. See also ibid., 76–77; Berkovits, Essential Essays (1976), 106–108. 96 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 115.

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On the importance of the consequences of the act of an individual and of the nation on others and on society (a matter that Hirsch does not emphasize, deeming it obvious), Berkovits writes: The contribution of the body to the deed necessarily places the deed in the world outside of man. The deed, directed to the outside, is always in relationship to an “other.” This other may be the world, a neighbor, or God. However, in order to be, the deed must be effective; and it must be so in the place where it belongs—in the external world, in history. In fact, the deed is the stuff of which history is made. As the deed of the race, so its history.97

This definition of holiness renders irrelevant the arguments of the NeoPlatonist (Rabbi Judah Halevi), the mystic and the kabbalist (Nachmanides, the Kabbalists and Judah Loew), regarding the immanent sanctity of the Jew, the people of Israel, and the Land of Israel. Having rejected mysticism, both Hirsch and Berkovits believe that there is no immanent sanctity in any object, place or living creature. Holiness is functional; it is connected to the worship of God and closeness to Him that emanates from mutual choice. In his essay on holiness (1969) Berkovits writes: Holy objects and animals are holy because they have been severed from their “natural” place within the neutral scheme of things and given a function within a realm that is reserved for the service of God. Their character is now determined by their relatedness to the divine; the purely ritualistic meaning of the term is still close to its primary non-religious significance. Essentially, it means being set apart from and being assigned to. The assignment, however, is a specific one: Assignment to God. […] The one whom God chooses is holy. This gives us the definition: To be holy is to be chosen by God, by being brought near to him. […] Thus, through the exodus God revealed his own holiness, and in so doing, in acting as their redeemer because of his holiness, he also sanctified them in choosing them and taking them for his own. […] [But] they cannot be his own in spirit unless they choose him as he chose them, unless they draw near as they were brought near. They cannot be his very own unless they give themselves to him to be his very own. Therefore, “You shall be holy, for 97 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 138. See Hazony’s introduction to Essential Essays on Judaism, xxiv-xxviii.

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The Dual Truth I, the Eternal your elohim, am holy.” […] Israel sanctifies itself by striving to fulfill God’s will in all matters in which it has been revealed or may be ascertained. […] Holiness is being with God by doing God’s will. Now, it is the will of God that man should act ethically. But if he acts ethically for the sake of the good, he is an ethical man; if he does so for the sake of God, in order to do God’s will, he is striving for holiness. […] The revealed will of God, his voice and his law, is the instrument of man’s sanctification. As man does the will of God, he moves toward God in response to God’s movement toward him; he sanctifies himself in response to God’s holiness. Thus by keeping the commandments as a means of human sanctification, man acknowledges God’s holiness, which requires that man, too, be holy. Thus God is being hallowed. On the other hand, the violation of God’s commandments is a rejection of the instrument of human sanctification and of the demand to “be holy, for I, the Eternal your God, am holy.” It implies a denial of God’s holiness. It is tantamount to a profanation of “the name of his holiness.” 98

Clearly, Berkovits follows Hirsch in maintaining that holiness is acquired by man’s moral actions when the underlying motive is to perform God’s will as embodied in the commandments of revelation. This stands in opposition to Kant, who believes that holiness is connected to the humane moral act resulting from the categorical imperative of practical reason. According to both Hirsch and Berkovits, only a response to the divine moral imperative, which is free of conflicts of interest and the desires of the physical senses and the ego, will lead to holiness and man’s redemption. When violated, there is no sanctification; there is only desecration. Holiness is not immanent.

Mission, Universalism and Messianism Hirsch, following in the footsteps of Rabbi Judah Halevi, Maimonides and Mendelssohn, adopts an approach that recognizes the Jewish people’s charge or mission to humanity. By means of this approach, Mendelssohn and his successors respond to the question of why only the Jewish people merited divine revelation. The answer to this question is a universalistic one. All human beings were created 98 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1969), 279–280. 283–285. On the sanctity of objects and places, see also 301–302. On holiness of objects according to Hirsch, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 55–57, 68–72.

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equal. However, the people of Israel were chosen as first among equals to receive the Torah, for they are the most appropriate ones to educate all of humanity to recognize a single God and the morality of the Torah. Over time, however, all will become equal. Halevi sees no connection between this mission and universalism, since in his opinion the Jewish people have a unique genetic advantage over gentiles, which is why they were chosen for this mission. In his opinion, even in the Messianic future, when gentiles will recognize and obey the one God of Israel willingly, this gap will continue to exist. After the Haskalah, however, some of Halevi’s followers chose the universalist position of Maimonides, among them the neo-Romantics Hirsch, Weinberg, and Berkovits. Demands for equal rights, liberty, fraternity, and emancipation cannot be voiced by those who view themselves as superior to others.99 On this point Berkovits writes: The concept of Israel as a holy nation not only does not conflict with the universalism of Israel’s prophets, but actually leads to it as its own logical completion. The idea of a holy nation is not to be confused with that of nationalism. The goal of nationalism is to serve the nation; a holy nation serves God. The law of nationalism is national self-interest; the law of a kingdom of priests is the will of God. From the point of view of a nationalistic ideology, the nation is an end in itself; the holy nation is a means to an end. Since, however, the end is the wholeness of life in relationship to God, it obviously points beyond the national frame: The holy nation is the instrument for the realization of a supra-national purpose in history. The nation works toward a universal goal. As such, it does not exclude other nations; on the contrary, the end which it serves seeks the completion of its aspirations by means of these nations. The individual Jew does not live alone. Hence, if his deed is to be effective, he must unite with others in the common pursuit of Judaism’s goal. The result is, inevitably, the “holy nation.” But a holy nation cannot live in complete isolation. The more far-reaching the understanding that a people of God achieves with the rest of mankind, the more effective its deeds. The greater the understanding, the wider the area of life that becomes Godoriented. The deed is therefore always public: the deed of the individual takes place in his immediate society, in the midst of his people; and the deed of the nation is undertaken in the context of the life of the nations. As the individual must make common cause with the ­community, so 99 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 1–2, 5–13, 78–89.

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The Dual Truth the nation with the community of nations. Realization through the holy people of points to fuller realization through mankind. The goal of Judaism is accomplished when it is reached by all mankind. Since, however, the goal is not essentially the teaching of noble ideals—which would indeed be rather easy, and ineffective—but rather their realization in history, one has to start with the smallest unit of living reality within which the deed of Judaism may become history-making; and such a unit is the nation. Individuals may teach; a people is needed in order to do effectively. Nationality here is not an ideological requirement, but a historical necessity. The gradual realization of the universal purpose in history is unable to dispense with the instrumentality of the holy nation. The universal purpose and its practical implementation in history determine the national characteristics of Israel. The “holy nation” is in fact the only people on earth whose very raison d’etre is the pursuit of a universal goal. It is the universalistic idea at the heart of Israel’s existence which determines its national distinctiveness and uniqueness. […] A universal mankind will come into being only through the reconciliation of all separative interests, ambitions, and aspirations in the world. […] The harmony of mankind is the end-result in history of a development which starts with the individual mitzva, the deed of interpenetration of the spiritual and the material. The God-orientation of the whole of the human being is the beginning of a process that aspires to a kind of universalism, or to what we have called the God-orientation of all life. […] But we render the individual deed effective by building humanity within the nation, by relating the entire scope of a relatively self-contained society to God. And one builds humanity by striving through the people for the final goal: To establish the world of mankind as the kingdom of God. The holy nation is properly called the chosen people. The idea expresses, first of all, the practical necessity of a national instrument for the realization of the supra-national goal. This world will be established as a kingdom of God when all the nations submit to the will of God. But before all nations will do so, one must do so. The “kingdom of priests” is the necessary pathfinder and forerunner of the kingdom of God. If the universal goal is to be accomplished in history, there must be a stage known as “his first fruits.” […] To submit the entire structure of a people’s life to the will of God is a national obligation only if the will of God has been revealed to the people as a whole. Only because God addressed himself to the people is the fulfillment of his will a national

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven r­ esponsibility for Israel. […] Why did God address himself to one specific tribe, and not to all the nations of the earth at once? Is it because only among this tribe did he first encounter the personalities who were best qualified to become the patriarchs of a proposed holy nation? In answer one may ask: Who would fathom the mind of the Almighty? 100

Thus, we find that Berkovits agrees with Hirsch that the Jewish people are not a goal in and of themselves; rather, they serve as a tool in the hand of divine providence, its goal—the establishment of biblical moral rule over all humanity—ultimately anointing God as king over all humanity. The Jewish people were sent to all humanity at the behest of revelation to advance this goal. It was for this purpose that they received the Torah. The members of the nation must be aware of their mission; they should actively strive to fulfill it to the best of their ability. The nation of Israel has no intrinsically immanent genetic quality. It was chosen to serve as an avant-garde to the nations of the world because of transitory superiority or for some other reason. In Hirsch’s opinion, both the people and the land are tools for the effective implementation of the commandments of the Torah, leading to redemption. He believes, however, that the nation proved in the past that it is incapable of carrying out its mission in its land. This tool is, therefore, no longer applicable and its people must instead complete their mission in exile. Berkovits disagrees. In his 1979 article “Identity Problems in the State of Israel,” Berkovits writes that without fulfillment in the Land of Israel there is no chance for the sanctification and redemption of the Jewish people, which will ultimately lead to the redemption of humanity: The group to be created to suit the comprehensive deed as a historical reality is a people, in sovereign control of the major areas of its life. The faith of Judaism requires such a comprehensive deed. Realization in the largest collective, mankind, is the ideal; the instrument of its realization in history is the people. Since our concern is with the comprehensive deed of Judaism, the people is Israel. Of necessity, the covenant had to create the people with which the covenant was concluded. If, however, the people of Israel is the instrument of realization, there must be a land of Israel as the place of realization. There must be a place on earth in which the people are 100 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 141–144.

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The Dual Truth in command of their own destiny, where the comprehensive public deed of Judaism may be enacted. 101 Basically, Jewish messianism has never been either a matter of politics or an expression of mere nationalism; it is a manifestation of the essence of Judaism. It is a faith in the inevitable triumph of the divine purpose in history, which, in the course of its unfolding, would return Israel to the Holy Land and there, in the fullness of its public life, embody Judaism. 102

Both Hirsch and Berkovits speak about a divine historical plan which they both seek to chronicle. Hirsch stops with the Emancipation in Germany, from where, in his opinion, Judaism will promote the redemption of mankind until the end of history. Only afterwards will the Jewish people return to their land in a miraculous fashion. Berkovits, by contrast, believes that Jewish sovereignty in the State of Israel is a necessary stage in the path to humanity’s redemption. In the same article, written after the Six-Day War, Berkovits asks: “Has the Messiah already come?” Does sovereignty over the Land of Israel and the unified city of Jerusalem indicate that we are in Messianic times? He answers these questions in the negative: It is enough to look out the window to realize that nothing could be further from the truth […] But now we have seen a smile on the face of God. It is enough. It will be enough for a long time. We have been called to a new beginning. […] Judaism was never meant to be realized in the midst of a Christian or Marxist civilization. If the diaspora were left to itself, the future of a meaningful form of Judaism would be dim. This “new thing” that God is preparing in Zion we do not yet know. But the unsolved problems, the numerous challenges, are addressed to Judaism from the foundation of a new reality that asks for Judaism in its fullest sense. Therein lies the promise of the future for all Jews. Will Jews understand it? 103 101 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1974), 181–182. 102 Ibid., 183–184, 258. See also Berkovits, “The Spiritual Crisis in Israel,” in Essential Essays (1979), 208–210. It should be noted that his ideal (as was true of Hirsch, as well) is that humanity will fulfill all the commandments of the Torah, a conception contrary to Halakhah! 103 Ibid., 188–190.

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These words contain harsh critique of Hirsch’s anti-Zionist stance, which suggested that a return to Zion within history is a rebellion against God. It is also a criticism of the position of nationalist, mystical, Messianic Jews in Israel (among them, students of Yeshivat “Merkaz HaRav”), who are certain that they are in the midst of an irreversible process of redemption rendering superfluous any human action in the area of Halakhah or morality. Berkovits argues that the road to redemption remains long, and that its realization remains a formidable challenge. In order for the nation of Israel to be qualified for its universal mission to bring redemption to humanity, first and foremost the Judaism it presents must be comprehensible and applicable to every intelligent person. It must, at the same time, establish a comprehensive worldview for the people of Israel. Therefore, every Jew must also study secular knowledge: What [the medieval Jewish philosophers] wanted to emphasize was that the truth of Judaism has universal meaning and applicability. Because of its universal import, it must be, at least potentially, recognizable as “your wisdom and your understanding in the sight of the peoples.” It must retain its ability to deal meaningfully with the human situation, even though only the Jew must accept its pronouncements as binding for himself. The moment Judaism loses this ability, it ceases being a world religion and degenerates into a marginal sect. This is, however, the danger if we turn away from the challenges of the various branches of human knowledge. A negative attitude to secular knowledge will not only prevent “the peoples” from seeing in Judaism “our wisdom and our under- standing,” it will not even allow the Jewish people to gain a comprehensive Jewish worldview. It may lose us the historic Israel and replace it with a handful of life-estranged Jewish sectarians.104

What is the character of the Messianic future? Regarding this question, Berkovits adopts Hirsch’s approach: There is a share of human responsibility in making the Eternal King over all the earth by placing all life under his sovereignty. The striving 104 Berkovits, Essential Essays (1962), 243–244. As stated above, it appears that Berkovits, like Hirsch, would like all the nations to observe as much of the Torah as possible in the future. Since tradition negates this attitude, an elegant approach is required to overcome this challenge.

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The Dual Truth for this goal is the meaning of history. […] The divine responsibility for creation is the guarantee that the purpose of man’s formation in freedom and responsibility will not ultimately be thwarted. That is the root of the messianic faith. God’s intention for man, as revealed in the encounter and by his law, will be fulfilled. It is the messianic promise, inseparable from history. […] The messianic fulfillment is beyond any doubt. The most convincing indication of this is the survival of Israel. […] The return of Israel to its ancient homeland in our days, as Israel maintained for numberless generations that it would do, is incomparable in human history. 105 According to rabbinical teaching, the Tora has been given in order to purify mankind. When the task of purification is completed, the law will be fulfilled. in that state, to exercise “mercy, justice, and righteousness on earth” will have become the natural desire of the whole man. When, as the result of the sanctifying deed, mankind as a whole will “delight in these things,” the law will no longer be needed. But there are no shortcuts in history. Only through the law will the law be overcome. When that phase is reached, mankind will have fulfilled its destiny, and history will be at an end. 106

Having survived and returned to its homeland, the Jewish nation has proven that it embodies the message of messianic redemption and that God will indeed fulfill it. When the people of Israel complete their mission in their land by means of the Torah and Halakhah, the end of history will arrive, and God will be crowned as king over all humankind, which will behave according to the ethics of the Torah, obviating the need for Halakhah. The only difference between Hirsch and Berkovits on this issue is that according to Hirsch, Judaism need not be actualized by means of national sovereignty in its land, and there is no need for the return to the real Zion to take place during history. Berkovits believes that the return to the Jewish homeland is an established fact, and he has no qualms about establishing sovereignty as a necessary and essential step in the divine plan.107

105 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 156–158. See also Berkovits, Essential Essays (1973), 185–189. 106 On Hirsch’s position regarding the Messianic future, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 89–98. 107 On Hirsch’s attitude towards Christianity, see ibid., vol. 2, 238–276.

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Christianity Hirsch, Weinberg and Berkovits all view Christianity as a real, ideological enemy. According to Hirsch, Jesus was a good Jew who’s calling to introduce monotheism and ethics to the pagan world played a positive role in the context of the divine plan. It was Paul and his followers who abolished the commandments and determined that Jesus was the son of God. They were the ones who declared that only faith in his Messiah-hood could save people who otherwise could not free themselves from the shackles of the physical drives that had been decreed for them due to the Original Sin. The belief in these deterministic realities established a world of corruption and evil, placed death at the center of human existence, and deferred true life to the hereafter. Christianity thus failed to fulfill the mission it had accepted upon itself. Therefore, redemption will only come through Judaism.108 Berkovits expresses himself in a similar fashion, discussing the moral flaw in the dogma of Original Sin: Within the realm of Western thought, one may see in Christianity the extreme opposite of the Socratic teaching. From the Christian point of view, it is futile to expect to teach goodness effectively. As the result of the Fall, man is so constituted that he is incapable of goodness by his own exertion. Man would indeed be lost were it not for God, who, like a true deus ex machina, saves him by the miracle of grace. Christianity too seems to have a theory of “involuntary evil.” Here evil is, of course, not due to ignorance; yet it ought to be known as involuntary, since it is due to a corruptness of human nature itself, which cannot be mastered by natural means. Man can only be saved; he cannot improve.109

History has proven Christianity’s failure: While history provides ample material for a theory of the hopelessness of human nature, it shows no convincing signs of salvation through divine grace. Since the day when such an act of salvation is supposed to have taken place, the criminality of man has not receded, not even in the wide realms of Christendom. Jews especially do not have to wander far afield for proofs. For them it is enough to recall what has befallen them during almost two millennia of exile in the Christian countries. The fate of the 108 On Hirsch’s attitude towards Christianity, see ibid., vol. 2, 238–276. 109 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 96–97.

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Pantheism and materialism Apart from religious opponents, Hirsch and Berkovits shared philosophical opponents, as well. The most avowed of whom is Spinoza, the founder of ­pantheistic philosophy. According to pantheism, nature and the cosmos are identical to God. God is not a free being who created the world and is independent of it; man is not an autonomous individual who can be moral and reach holiness. According to both Hirsch and Berkovits, this approach is deterministic and anti-moral, a perspective that enslaves man to his sensuality and to the forces of nature, just like Christianity. Hirsch and Berkovits also confront Marxist materialistic philosophy, which posits that only matter exists in the universe, and all processes of life are the result of physical processes and chemical reactions, leaving no room for a metaphysical, spiritual component in the world and within man. Nothing exists in the universe aside from blind laws of nature that serve no purpose. Man must adapt himself to these laws and understand that economic factors are the sole decisive considerations in the life of society and the state. Hirsch identifies Christianity, pantheism and materialism as forms of “new paganism.”111 Similarly, Berkovits identifies a strong connection between pantheism and mysticism. Both of these philosophies reject the separation between God and His creation, and therefore negate the possibility of God’s self-limitation, His encounter with man, and His love and caring for His creation, which serve as the foundations of Judaism. This is what Berkovits writes about pantheism: There is a natural affinity between mysticism and pantheism All mysticism tends toward pantheism. Once the mystical union is completed, there is nothing left but the Absolute, in which all is contained. The appropriate worldview of the mystic is pan- theism. It is his justification for devaluing 110 Ibid., 101. See also Rosenak, “Eliezer Berkovits,” 623. 111 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 238–285, 296–297; vol. 2, 256–260.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven individual existence, as well as for attempting to redeem it through return into the All. On the other hand, mysticism is the only available “religion” for the pantheist. His worship of the Absolute demands the denial of his own separateness from it. Thus, we are led to the Spinozistic amor dei; since nothing exists apart from the infinite, man’s love for God “is the very love of God with which God loves himself. “One is inclined to agree with those who see in this the monstrous example of absolute self-love. The truth, of course, is that where there is no separateness, there is no love either. Where there is no encounter, there can be no care or concern. The mystic endeavors to overcome all separateness; the pantheist denies it from the very beginning. Judaism, on the other hand, through its ­concept of the encounter, affirms the reality as well as the worth of individual e­ xistence. Judaism is not only non-mystical, it is also essentially anti-pantheistic.112 The religious experience of the encounter and the idea of creation are diametrically opposed to any form of pantheism. Thus, far from agreeing with Spinoza’s dictum that “the power and efficiency of nature are in themselves the divine power and efficiency,” we can conceive of creation only as an act of divine self-limitation. Nature, as creation, is apart from God; it is outside him, it is “the other” to him. The laws of nature may indeed be called the decrees of the Creator, but they are not, as pantheism understands them, identical with the divine will. The laws of nature are nature’s laws; they are not divine but natural, which is to say created. There is no logical contradiction between such a concept of natural laws and the possibility of divine intervention in them.113

Materialism is also deterministic, leaving no place for good deeds. But it is also overly naive and optimistic, and it ignores man’s inclination and spiritual dimension, relying only on material well-being for all as the path to salvation: Between the Socratic and the Christian traditions we may place, in this context, Marxian and various forms of evolutionary ethics. Dialectical materialism appears to be in one respect even more optimistic in its outlook than Socratic Platonism. According to it, there is hardly any need to 112 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 40. Berkovits does not distinguish between the pantheism of Spinoza and the panentheism of the mystics. 113 Ibid., 154.

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The Dual Truth teach goodness. Nor would it be of much use; ideas in themselves are powerless. The only determining factors are the material conditions of human existence. Organize them so that they serve the well- being of all men, and all will be well with mankind. Now, the optimism of Socrates at least has its logical justification in the light of the Socratic premise. There, the idea of the supreme good is ontological; it is the source of all reality as well as of all goodness. […] However, if one denies the reality of the realm of ideas altogether and considers everything dependent on a strict materialistic determinism, the expectation that any kind of a social order would solve the problems of men is a form of dogmatic optimism for which there is no justification at all, either in theory or in experience. The assumption that material satisfaction leads to noble deeds presupposes a blind confidence in the essential goodness of a human nature which only occasionally becomes perverted by hunger and cold. A dogmatic idealism is implied, ill-befitting a materialistic philosophy.114

Evolution Hirsch discusses the theory of evolution, applying to it his characteristic neo-fundamentalism. He states that even if there is positive proof of evolution, Judaism should not fear its conclusions—the Bible will simply be reinterpreted accordingly. On the contrary, this reinforces the revealed Jewish principle of the unity of the universe according to the single law and the primal force exerted by God in a single act of creation encompassing both heaven and earth, from which the universe evolved into a reality based on the primal potential established by God. Reconstructing the origins of living organisms lies beyond the purview of scientific research. The principle that all the laws of nature and the variety that it contains derive from one primary law and one small creature that evolved, support the Jewish concept of a single God who set creation into motion with a single act.115 Berkovits writes in a similar vein, but focuses on the moment of creatio ex nihilo rather than the moment when life began: Now, whatever evolution may explain, it does not explain the beginning. For the evolutionary principle to be effective, one must assume the existence of some material which is subject to its sway. Natural selection may perhaps bring about the survival of the fittest, but only if there has previously been in 114 Ibid., 97. 115 See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 357–412.

Hirsch’s Influence on Twentieth-Century Halakhic Decisors    Chapter Eleven existence a whole display of variations from among which the fittest may be selected.’ No matter how far back we pursue the rise of the variations over which natural selection exerts its control, we must still start somewhere with something that did not come into being as the result of evolution. Nothing will not evolve into anything. Even in its most radical form, the evolutionary theory must begin with the premise that prior to all evolution, there was something in existence from which, as the result of the evolutionary principle, the rest followed. Once this is granted, however, the concept of creation retains its original significance. That there should be anything capable of evolutionary development requires no less interpretation than that there should be a cosmos, complete in its fullness and glory. Only Nothing is self-explanatory. The existence of Nothing is alone logical; indeed, it ought to be “expected.” Being itself, of any kind, is the real surprise. In this respect, it makes no difference whether what exists is the smallest speck of something, to which the evolutionary theory may reduce the cosmos as its starting point, or the radiance of the innumerable galaxies in the universe. Indeed, the most illogical aspect of all our experience is that there should be anything and not nothing. The leap from Nothing to Something is the mystery of all mysteries. Compared with the crushing of the barrier that separates Nothing from Something, the path from something to all the riches of a cosmos is a mere bagatelle. But it is precisely with the crushing of this barrier that creation deals. To imagine that evolutionary theory could render creation superfluous is about as logical as to say that since the invention of the telescope, man no longer needs eyes. […] Assuming now, for the sake of illustration, the validity of the evolutionary principle, we may say: by positing it as a potentiality, God indeed created the world as a whole; he also created the evolutionary principle, which represents the mechanics of the actualization of the world after its creation. God is thus the creator of the world, including evolution. For the evolutionary principle is one of the causes that, within the scheme of creation, has been allotted the task of transforming elements of potentiality into actuality.116

The Status of Women in Judaism On the issue of the status of women, there is some similarity between the opinions of Hirsch and Berkovits. Generally speaking, Berkovits avoids any type of 116 Berkovits, God, Man, and History, 71–74.

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apologetics in his thought, and this comes to the fore specifically with respect to this issue. Hirsch ignores all expressions of women’s inferiority in the Talmud and midrashim and claims that Judaism considered women equal to or even superior to men since biblical times. Berkovits, however, reviews misogynistic statements in Jewish sources, admits to their existence, and strives to change the attitude toward women in Judaism in the modern era. He is in full a­ greement with Hirsch that the quality of women according to the Torah is superior to the quality of the men. He proves this—as do Hirsch and Weinberg—by drawing examples from the biblical stories of Abraham and Sarah when banishing Ismael, and of Isaac and Rebecca in the story of Jacob’s blessing. He also notes the behavior of the women of Israel during the incident of the Golden Calf and the wisdom shown by the daughters of Zelophehad.117 As noted, this somewhat unusual position mirrors that of Hirsch.118 Still, in contrast with Hirsch’s stand that this was also the opinion of the Sages (who, he believes, never innovated and only transmitted), Berkovits (who believes that Halakhah evolves) argues that the viewpoint of the Sages was negatively impacted by the opinions and societal norms of their time. It is the changes in the societal and cultural realities of the modern world that brought about significant changes in the status of women. Regarding the attitudes of the Sages we must say “With the passing of their rationale, their truth is abrogated,”119 and we must change our attitude towards women. He believes that this is yet another case—like conversion, and the land-laws of the Sabbatical year—that requires creative action by contemporary halakhic decisors. They must adopt meta-halakhic principles based on the primary halakhic system used by their predecessors when it was still in its creative state, rather than simply searching the Shulkhan Aruch for solutions to new problems. For example, Berkovits adopts Weinberg’s ruling regarding the synagogue partition, allowing a lower partition between men and women by applying the halakhic principle of “nature has changed” to the changing sensitivities towards the presence of women in the synagogue.120 This principle was used by the early c­ ommentaries 117 E. Berkovits, “Ma’amad Haisha Bayahadut: Hebet Hilkhati-H  .  evrati” in Hapenina: Haisha Hayehudit Bah  . evra, Bamishpah . a Ubah . innukh, Sefer Zikaron LePenina Rafael ( Jerusalem, 1989), 43–47. See Rosenak, “Eliezer Berkovits,” 638–640. 118 On the superiority of women over men in Hirsch’s thought, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 153–166. 119 Berkovits, “Ma’amad Haisha Bayahadut,” 47–48. 120 Weinberg, Seridei Eish, vol. 1, 8; Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit, 82–89, 283–285. On the status of women according to Weinberg based on his rulings that relied on meta-halakhic principles, see Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 209–220; Cohen, “Bein Olam Hayeshivot,”

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(Rishonim) during the time of the Tosafists to clarify perceived changes in the laws of nature from the time of the Mishna and Talmud. This helps explain the gap between the Sages’ statements regarding phenomena in nature and the reality experienced by the Rishonim. In contrast to other Orthodox rabbis, Weinberg and Berkovits argue that this principle can be applied not only to changing laws of nature, but also to changes in human s­ ociety. Therefore, the woman of biblical and talmudic times, differs significantly—in terms of both intelligence and nature—from a woman of the modern age. Women today are more knowledgeable, dealings with all aspects of life, and proficient in all fields of study. Therefore, nowadays, when men and women routinely participate in society and in the public domain, there is no basis for strict modesty and the exclusion of women (who in the past were considered, due to societal circumstances, to be nothing but a source of sexual temptation). Berkovits therefore believes that we should honor women by allowing the evolution of Halakhah to take place and promote the equality of women in every aspect of Judaism. Specifically, women should be permitted and obligated to study Torah and their testimony should be accepted in Jewish courts. Refusing to accept the testimony of a woman because men are perceived as more reliable is a desecration of God and of Torah.121 This is a position to which Hirsch would never have agreed. Relying on Weinberg, Berkovits also permits co-educational activity in the Bnei Akiva movement, just as his teacher permitted such activity in the Yeshurun youth movement in Paris after World War II. Weinberg based his ruling on the opinions of German rabbis who preceded him who permitted co-educational youth activities before the war. Their efforts were successful,

148–151. According to the quotes brought by Cohen, Weinberg was also concerned about the changes wrought in secular education taking place in the new generation of public schools and their negative influence on the girls; he demanded special attention to girls’ education. Cohen also shows that Weinberg believed that the status of women in Halakhah was in the midst of an evolutionary process, so rulings should be made carefully and not decisively. 121 See Berkovits, “Ma’amad Haisha Bayahadut,” 48–49; Rosenak, “Eliezer Berkovits,” 640. I assume that according to Berkovits, the rabbinic derivation from the verse in Deuteronomy (11:19) “You shall teach them to your sons,” means “your sons and not your daughters” (BT Qiddushin 29b) is the consequence of the culture of that time rather than a divine commandment. For this reason, he felt no need to distinguish between study, which is forbidden to women and rote memorization, which is permitted (see Hirsch’s commentary to this verse and Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 173–175). According to Berkovits, the Bible is written in the masculine form, but its commandments apply to women, as well, as evidenced in the Ten Commandments.

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while Eastern European rabbis failed in this regard because of their rigidity in matters of Halakhah.122 Weinberg is neo-Orthodox in the full sense of the word, whereas Berkovits is ideologically closer to classical Conservative Judaism because of his belief in the principle of the development of Halakhah and his willingness to suggest drastic changes in Jewish law. Nevertheless, he rejects the belief that was becoming more prevalent in the Conservative movement that questioned whether the written Torah is divine. This places him in the liberal wing of the Neo- Orthodoxy. It is true that Weinberg believes, for example, that it is theoretically possible to de facto recognize Reform conversions even if the convert did not undertake to fulfill all the commandments. But unlike Berkovits, who sought compromise, Weinberg believed that such converts should neither be welcomed nor accepted. He believed that only an unremitting battle against the Reform movement could preserve traditional Judaism. Berkovits, on the other hand, believed that according to Halakhah the obligation of a convert to accept all of the commandments may be the ideal, but that the conversion still takes effect even if the convert fails to do so. Furthermore, in a case of serious need or urgency it is also possible to convert without fulfilling this requirement, effectively compromising with the Reform movement. Can anything be considered more urgent and serious, writes Berkovits, than the current situation in the United States when it comes to questions of conversion?123 Regarding the Sabbatical year, Weinberg explains that selling the land to a non-Jew is contemptuous of the Land of Israel and therefore cannot be an acceptable halakhic solution. Berkovits, however, makes a much sharper argument. He believes that the purchase of fruits and vegetables from abroad could undermine the ­economy of the State of Israel, and that selling it to a non-Jew is a humiliation to the State. He, therefore, recommends abolishing the Sabbatical laws that require the land to lay fallow for the year. His rationale is to apply on a national level the meta-halakhic principles that allow an individual to perform forbidden work

122 See Berkovits, “Ma’amad Haisha Bayahadut,” 47–48; Roth, Orthodox Judaism—The Human Dimension, 265–289. It is interesting to note that Berkovits agrees with Weinberg also regarding the question of autopsies in the State of Israel, permitting them under almost ever circumstance because of their potential to save lives. According to Rosenak, “Eliezer Berkovits,” 636–638, Berkovits was even more vehement in this regard than was Weinberg. 123 See Shapiro, Between Yeshiva World, 186, n. 62; Berkovits, Essential Essays (1974), 98–99.

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in cases of extreme need, arguing that these laws endanger the economic wellbeing of society.124 In terms of conceptions of Halakhah, one can see from religious rulings in Modern Orthodoxy in the last third of the nineteenth century and in the twentieth century a slow movement towards the full recognition of the Halakhah’s historical evolution. Concurrently there has been a shift in the Conservative movement toward a loss of faith in the divinity of the written Torah. Hoffmann largely remains a fundamentalist. Although he tries to take the reality and the spirit of the times into consideration, he never subordinates them to halakhic tradition. Weinberg, on the other hand, is much more influenced by the spirit of time (conceptual and social) and the educational needs that the contemporary reality requires. Indeed, scholars and rabbis are divided regarding the degree of influence that the considerations influenced by historical reality have on his ruling in comparison to purely halakhic considerations.125 To Weinberg’s displeasure, Berkovits makes no secret of the fact that he is aware of the ongoing evolution of Halakhah, and he proposes drastic changes in halakhic rulings that he believes are required in a state of Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel. It is possible to say that he was considered modern Orthodox only because of the leftward shift of much of the Conservative movement together with parts of modern Orthodoxy.126

CONCLUSION In the last two chapters I have presented several rabbis, talmudists and halakhic decisors who were, at the same time, thinkers, commentators, and preachers. First and foremost, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, a student of Rabbis Bernais and Ettlinger, followed by Rabbi David Zvi Hoffmann (who 124 See above, n. 90. 125 See Cohen, “Bein Olam Hayeshivot,” 135–138. 126 It seems to me that when discussing whether a rabbi in the second half of the twentieth century is modern Orthodox or Conservative, it is not necessary to discuss his loyalty to Halakhah (which was common to both movements), but rather his belief in the divine origin of the written Torah. In the twenty-first century the situation has changed. The Conservative movement is no longer faithful to Halakhah (for example, the laws of the Sabbath and the status of women), while some in modern Orthodoxy no longer believe that the Torah was divinely received yet remain committed to Halakhah. One exception is the status of women, where there is much pressure for change in their communities, as well. One of the reasons for the shift to the left in religious movements in Judaism is the large increase in the number of students now studying humanities in academic institutions.

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knew Hirsch personally), who headed the Rabbinical Seminary in Berlin after Rabbi Azriel Hildesheimer, Hirsch’s student and colleague. He was followed by Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, who taught at the Rabbinical Seminary in Berlin, and also served as the head of the seminary. Finally, traces of Hirsch’s thought are noticeable in the works of Rabbi Eliezer Berkovits, who was a student of Weinberg in the same seminary. In this chapter, I have tried to show the significant influence of Hirsch’s writings on Weinberg regarding important matters. Weinberg adopted Hirsch’s neo-Orthodox approach, combining tradition and modernity, in contrast to the rigid approach of Eastern European rabbis who failed to educate the younger generation. The rise of the Nazis and the Holocaust diminished this esteem, leading Weinberg to return to the warm embrace of the ultra-Orthodox Lithuanian yeshiva. Berkovits studied with Hirsch’s students for four years in Frankfurt, and with Weinberg in Berlin for six years—during which time Weinberg’s admiration for Hirsch was at its peak. I have shown the marked similarity between the views of Hirsch and Berkovits regarding a number of important principles. However, his study of philosophy, the changing times, the historical events he experienced personally (the rise of the Nazis and his emigration from Europe), together with those experienced by the Jewish people as a whole (the Holocaust and the establishment of the State) and by all of humanity (World War II), also left their mark on him. As a result, he arrived at different conclusions than did Hirsch on a number of important issues, to the point of ideological closeness to Conservative Judaism. These facts have led me to doubt whether Berkovits can be classified as neo-Orthodox, although as a lecturer at the Hebrew Theological College, and as a believer in the written Torah as divine, he considered himself a member of the Orthodox movement. Therefore, perhaps, his position should be classified as liberal neo-Orthodox or as classical Conservative. In the next chapter, I will discuss the influence of Hirsch and his neoOrthodox disciples in Germany on Rav Kook’s philosophy. It seems that prior to his arrival in Israel, Rav Kook was influenced by this philosophy. This influence is strongly expressed in a heretofore shelved essay that has only recently been published.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy on the Young Rav Kook BACKGROUND

A

ll scholars of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hacohen Kook’s (1867–1935)  thought agree that while he was serving as a rabbi in Jaffa and the nearby Jewish agricultural villages, after his immigration to the Land of Israel on May 13, 1904, a deep change took place in his thought and the style of his writing. His thought became kabbalistic-mystical, his language became more poetical, complex, deep, and obscure. At the same time, regarding the content of the change and its causes, scholars’ opinions are divided. Yosef Avivi maintains that after Rav Kook immigrated to Israel, he integrated his new interpretation of Lurianic Kabbalah into his philosophy (which had previously been characterized by the influence of Maimonides and Rabbi Moses Cordovero), and this, in addition to the ethical philosophy of Hermann Cohen which Rav Kook was exposed to in 1904, became an essential part of his philosophy. Binyamin Ish-Shalom strongly emphasizes Rav Kook’s allinclusive philosophical method, which was influenced by modern philosophy and preserved the tension between rationalism and mysticism, while simultaneously attempting to unify them around the idea of freedom. Avinoam Rosenak emphasizes the principle of “the unity of opposites” in Rav Kook’s philosophy, which was influenced by Judah Loew ben Bezalel and by Schelling; Rosenak maintains that Rav Kook experienced prophecy after his immigration to Israel, even basing his halakhic rulings on prophecy according to “the Torah of the Land of Israel.” Shachar Rachmani, basing himself on Rabbi Tsvi Judah

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Kook (son of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hacohen Kook), writes that Rav Kook’s philosophy after his immigration to Israel was written through prophetic inspiration. Yoel Bin-Nun maintains that Rav Kook combines equal amounts of Lurianic and Cordoveran Kabbalah in his philosophy. Instead of “the unity of opposites” he prefers a more expansive principle, the model of “the dual sources of authority” (the revelation of God at Sinai, on the one hand, and human reasoning and the value of the nation, on the other hand), as the central axis in Rav Kook’s philosophy, as well as being a decisive factor in his unique halakhic rulings within the framework of “the Torah of the Land of Israel.” According to Bin-Nun, Rav Kook moved away from the possibility of real prophecy in his era; the visionary experiences that he had after three years in Jaffa were described as the influence of the “holy spirit”—not prophecy.1 I intend to focus on the last large-scale work that Rav Kook wrote before moving to the Land of Israel, which was revealed, edited and published by Shahar Rahmani in 2014. The work is entitled Linevukhei Hador (“For the perplexed of the generation”). As Rahmani maintains, it was written no earlier than 1902 and no later than May, 1904.2 I argue that close analysis of this work reveals that the young Rav Kook was influenced by German Neo-Orthodox thought long before his reading of Hermann Cohen in 1904.3 This analysis indicates that, despite the kabbalistic influence of the Habad school and the scholarly Lithuanian approach in which he was educated, Rav Kook was also influenced by the thought of German rabbis Samson Raphael Hirsch, Azriel Hildesheimer, and their followers in 1 On the essays of the young Rav Kook and the background of their contents, see A. Goldman, “Tsiyonut Hilonit, Teudat Yisrael Vetakhlit Hatorah: Maamarei Harav Kook Be’hapeles,’ Trs”h–Trs”d” in Meh  . qarim Veiyunim Hagut Yehudit Beavar Ubahove, ed. D. Statman and A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1997), 159–182. Goldman emphasizes the influence of Moshe Hess on the young Rav Kook. Regarding the shift in Rav Kook’s thought, see A. Goldman, “Hitgabshut Haskqafotav Hamerkaziot shel Harav Kook: Haketavim Mishnat Trs”v–Trs”t,” in Meh  . qarim Veiyunim Hagut Yehudit Beavar Ubahove, ed. D. Statman and A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1997), 183–216; Y. Ben Shlomo, “Shlemut Vehishtalmut Betorat Haelohut shel Harav Kook,” Iyun 33 (1984): 292 n. 7; Y. Avivi, “Aqdamot Leqabalat Haray’a,” Or Hadash 13 (2011), 16–32; B. Ish Shalom, “Al Mada Veshlemut Haruah  . : Biqoret Hamoderniut Vehapost-Moderniut, HaRi”d Soloveitchik Vehehagut Haneoortodoqsit,” in Emuna Bizmanim Mishtanim, ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1996) 11–26; A. Rosenak, Hahalakhah Hanevuit: Hafilosofia shel Hahalakhah Bemishnat Haray’a ( Jerusalem, 1997), ch. 2; S. Rahmani, “Beshipulei Glimato,” epilogue to Rav Kook, Linevukhei Hador (Tel Aviv, 2014), 269, 294; Y. Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful (Tel Aviv, 2013), 64–72, 76–79, 109–110, 313–314. 2 Rahmani, “Beshipulei Glimato,” 270–279. 3 Hermann Cohen, “Yisud Katedraot Leetica Ufilosophia Datit Bevatei Hamidrash Lerabanim,” Hashiloach 13, 76 (April 1904): 356–367, trans. from German by D. Neumark. See Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 68, n. 218, 244.

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve

the Orthodox educational institutions of Frankfurt and Berlin, whose works found their way into both Lithuanian and Hasidic yeshivot. In these yeshivot, the model of “Torah ‘im Derekh Eretz” was already familiar. It seems that Rav Kook himself did not know German, and it may be assumed that he did not read either Hirsch’s writings or those of his followers, who mainly wrote in German. However, I assume that their views and model were well known in Eastern Europe from their Hebrew writings, Hebrew summaries and abstracts, or by word of mouth. A similar model was known even earlier from the thought of Moses Mendelssohn, Naftali Herz Wessely, and the maskilim of their generation, as well as from their followers. These models were known as Torat Haelohim (Divine Teaching) and Torat Haadam (Science of Man). As I have shown in my book, The Middle Way,4 according to Mendelssohn, these two corpora of knowledge (Torah and Science, Revelation and Reason) are separate, dealing with entirely different subjects; a complete Jew needs both, and there can be no contradiction between them. By contrast, Hirsch and his colleagues believe that the two corpora, when purified, are identical, because the source of the Torah and of human reason was God, and for that reason there could be no separation or real contradiction between them. However, practically speaking these systems are never pure, and therefore, difficulties and contradictions inevitably emerge. In such cases, they believed, revelation should generally be adopted as the criterion for truth, and only when the science is irrefutably proven can the doctrines of revelation be reinterpreted to accommodate them to science, so that the apparent contradiction will disappear. Derekh Eretz (literally, the way of the earth) for them was not merely a profession to earn one’s livelihood and good manners, but everything true, beautiful, and good in European culture, including true philosophy, the exact sciences, proper academic scholarship, music, painting, sculpture, the study of languages, and the like. 4 Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 357–361, 402–422. Rav Kook quotes Kant, showing his familiarity with philosophical works written in German. He was also familiar with the writings of Mendelssohn and Spinoza. It is, therefore, possible that he could read some German, after all. See Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 395, n. 432. Rav Kook’s extremely positive view of Samson Raphael Hirsch was expressed in his writings as well, mainly in his endorsement of the principle of the Orthodox separation from the communities led by the Reform Jews, and his agreement that Hirsch had saved the very existence of Orthodox Judaism in Western Europe. See Maamarei HaRAYHA ( Jerusalem, 1980), 58–59, and Igrot HaRAYHA ( Jerusalem, 1962–1965), Letter 144. Yehuda Mirsky, in his Phd dissertation, tells us that Rav Kook taught Hirsch’s Horeb (translated to Hebrew in 1895 by M. Z. Aharonson) to his students in Boisk. See An Intellectual Biography of Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Ha-Cohen Kook from 1865 to 1904 (Harvard University 2007), 173.

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Here in this chapter, I show that in the young Rav Kook’s model, the relation between these areas was similar to that espoused by Hirsch. However, under the influence of the times, Rav Kook included nationalism as an ideology deriving from human reason.5 After he moved to the Land of Israel, the components of the rational side changed—the universal moral aspect was weakened, and the nationalist component grew stronger and assumed a Zionist-nationalist-messianic character. Efforts to combine the two sources of human knowledge had been made long before Rav Hirsch and Rav Kook by Sa’adia Gaon, Judah Halevi, and Maimonides and each of these philosophers had his own way of doing so. Sa’adia Gaon believed the two areas were entirely identical (the Full Identicality Approach). Judah Halevi believed they were basically identical, but in cases of apparent contradiction, the criterion for truth was the divine revelation in the Torah, because reason was limited (the Restrictive Identicality Approach). Maimonides, for his part, believed that the criterion for truth was human reason, and the difficult statements of the Torah must be interpreted according to it (the Identicality Interpretative Approach). Hirsch generally followed the position of Judah Halevi, but when the contradictory science was proven, he turned to Maimonides’s method, so long as divine Scripture remained inerrant. I have discussed this approach in detail in The Middle Way, chapter 2, based on Shalom Rosenberg’s model, calling it the “Neo-Fundamentalist, Identicality Approach.” More complex, dialectical positions, influenced by Kabbalah also existed. Prominent among these was Judah Bezalel Loew (Maharal of Prague), who noted that when we confront two opposites, they must be combined if we are to overcome the contradiction. After Schelling and Hegel established this dialectical method in secular philosophy as well, they were followed by Krochmal, the older Rav Kook, Rabbi Soloveitchik, and others. Scholars of Rav Kook and Rabbi Soloveitchik’s thought are in doubt as to whether they both succeeded in bringing together the poles of the contradiction to resolve it by some synthesis, or whether they failed to do so and remained with two contradictory positions, both of which were true—the “Dual Truth Approach,” or the unresolved dialectical position, maintained by Elijah Delmedigo in the Middle Ages, the older Samuel David Luzzatto, Leo Strauss, and Abraham Joshua Heschel. Below I shall try to show that the young Rav Kook took the neo-fundamentalist identicality approach, and only after moving to the Land of Israel did he concentrate

5 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 11, 79; ch. 64, 231.

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more on Kabbalah and develop a dialectical position between the two sources of authority, trying to resolve the contradictions.6 The Neo-Orthodox circles in nineteenth-century Germany were mainly romantics who had internalized many of the ideas of the Haskalah movement as well as the idea popular in German philosophy at the time. As romantics, they opposed philosophical interpretation of the Torah and its commandments, and, having internalized the Haskalah, they were opposed to its mystical interpretation. Faithful to certain foundations of the German philosophy of Kant and Hegel, they clung to Judah Halevi’s position, according to which the center of the Jewish world stood on keeping the commandments, and the purpose of the Torah and the commandments was educational and ethical. Man’s purpose was not to elevate himself through intellectual contemplation or mystical awakening to the divinity, but by observing the commandments and through ethical behavior, which lead to closeness with God. The Jewish people received the Torah and its commandments as emissaries of Providence to bring belief in the sole God and supreme morality as embodied in the Torah to all mankind, and thus to bring it sanctity and redemption. Below I will quote from Linevukhei Hador to demonstrate young Rav Kook’s strong identification with these ideas, whereas kabbalistic concepts hardly find expression in that work.7

WRITTEN TORAH AND ORAL TORAH The Neo-Orthodox position is similar to the more conservative, Orthodox, position in terms of one important issue. According to both, Moses received from God on Sinai both the words of the Written Torah, and orally most of the halakhic codex that later would become the written Mishnah, Midrash, and Talmud, receiving its final form in the brief but thorough Shulh. an   ‘Arukh. Rav Kook’s position on this was, of course, identical. Nevertheless, it is possible to find differences between Rav Kook’s position and that of the Neo-Orthodox. Neo-Orthodoxy regarded historical positivism—the view that the halakhic codex is a brilliant and 6 On Rosenberg’s model and the various positions in Jewish thought regarding the relationship between the truths of revelation and those of reason, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 344–363; On Hirsch’s position, see ibid., 392–422 and on that of Luzzatto, see ibid., 478–497. 7 On man’s purpose in the world according to Hirsch, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 423–425. On the position of Judah Halevi, see Kuzari, 1:103; 2:54; 3:5, 7, 11, 17. By contrast, Hirsch (who internalized the universalist ideology of the Haskalah) does not accept Judah Halevi’s position that the Jews have inborn excellence distinguishing them for the better from other people. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 78–81.

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important invention of the Sages, later becoming the view of the Conservative movement—a grave danger and threat to the observance of Halakhah. According to historical positivism the laws of Halakhah were created by the Sages; they are not divine. The perceived danger of this approach is that there is nothing keeping us from going back and changing the laws and nothing stopping us from arguing that they are obsolete and unfit for the modern era. Hirsch takes an extreme approach to combat this danger—he claims that the Oral Torah in its entirety was given to Moses from God; this was the initial act revelation. Moses only received a written Torah scroll afterwards, a short book of codes for remembering and reviewing the laws, as well as a key for deciphering those codes—the thirteen hermeneutical principles. Surprisingly, Rav Kook does not share this claim, and is not worried about observance of Halakhah deteriorating. His claim seems similar to that made by the early Conservative movement: he argues that such views do not necessarily lead to the abolition of Halakhah. The Conservative movement claims that the Sages were superior individuals, and that their evolving literary creation perfectly fitted the needs of the nation and the changing times. This, according to them, is sufficient grounds for keeping most of the Halakhah. Rav Kook deems this position mistaken; in his opinion, Halakhah is entirely Sinaitic. Nevertheless, the obligation to accept the words of the Sages is not based on this fact alone nor is it based on the greatness of the Sages (as opposed to the Conservatives and according to Hirsch), nor on the biblical command to obey the words of the scholars of the generation (as opposed to the opinions of Maimonides and Nahmanides); it is primarily based on the assent of the nation. Even if we accept the (mistaken) claim that the oral Halakhah was developed at the hands of humans and is not divine, this does not provide justification for one who seeks to act lawlessly and abandon the observance of Halakhah entirely—as sought (and done) by the Reform movement and secular Jews. The Sages were indeed the ones who made decisions in the two periods when the nation of Israel enjoyed a strong halakhic center (the periods of the Mishna and the Talmud), sealing and establishing laws. These decisions were then accepted by the national collective, henceforth obligating us. This, not divine authority, is the primary source of the obligation to observe the commandments and it is incumbent upon every individual member of the nation: Should we be astonished about the lofty and exalted path of the intellect, the divine intellect that is present in the prophecy of the master of prophets [and] in the statutes and laws that he commanded as an inheritance to the community of Jacob, which then taught the many details and ways

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve of their performances as well? How can any healthy mind question this, that the additional material and explanations for many details have not been given in the same manner as the rules themselves? However, even according to their claims, we have no room to exempt ourselves. This is because the matter was accepted by the entirety of the nation, which is the foundation of the national [entity]. The Torah handed over every doubt to the court. Is not the authority of the court dependent on the acceptance of the nation? If so, all of the Oral Torah could have been transmitted from Moses after being received in all its details on Sinai, or it could have been enacted over thousands of years according to the decrees and clarifications of courts; acceptance of the nation is the foundation of obligation, and anyone who removes himself from the collective, it is as if he denied God’s existence. From its source, you can learn that the belief that the Almighty transmitted the Oral Torah to our teacher Moses (peace be upon him) is a belief received from our fathers, and it is true in and of itself. However, the observance of the Oral Torah by Israel is not only dependent on that, and we are also obligated in commandments that are certainly rabbinical [derabanan]. Perhaps you will say that [the commandment of] “Do not turn aside” [lo tasur] is biblical [deoraita]. [To this one can answer:] many of our Sages think that it is not [biblical] and that the Sages merely supported [this obligation] on the negative prohibition of “do not turn aside” and since, according to them it is merely a support [asmakhta], from where is the foundation of the obligation? Rather, this idea is a simple one: it is the obligation of a nation, in its entirety, to act in accordance with its elders and scholars, and it is the obligation of individuals in the nation to act in accordance with the simple center of the whole. […] If so, those that attempted to sway hearts and incite strife, saying that the Oral Torah was enacted over time by many Sages and courts, desiring by this to weaken the hearts and hands from observing the Oral Torah, their deception will avail them not. This is because the obligation is only founded upon the acceptance of the entire nation. Even those laws that were received as “laws of Moses from Sinai,” were they to be forgotten we would restore them through exegesis, as happened with three hundred or three thousand laws that were forgotten during the mourning for Moses; they were restored by Otniel ben Kenaz though his expositions. And there is no difference at all in obligation, whether [the laws of the Oral Torah] are known to us by a direct tradition [from Sinai] or if they were passed down to us by courts. Through this we will come to understand that many arrogant-hearted

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The Dual Truth ones were mistaken, thinking that we believe in the greatness of the Sages, based on a principle passed on to us from them: “If the ancients were like angels, we are like humans, etc.”—as if this [principle] is the source of the obligation to observe all the laws of the Talmud and their corollaries. Therefore, brazen souls arose that sought to critique the value of the Sages based on the criterion of humans like them, thinking that thus they would exempt the world from the obligation of treating the words of the Sages with reverence. […] Heaven forbid! Denying the right to disagree with them [the Sages] is not dependent on the greatness of the one speaking. For sometimes a minor recent authority [ah. aron]   will disagree with a major ancient authority [rishon] and the truth will be like the recent one. But because the greats of Israel saw fit every time (at a time when our nation had a fixed center) to seal the teaching of Torah so that debates would not increase, they concluded that a person should not, in practice, disagree with that which was said in the generations of the ancients, and only decide between [different, ancient opinions]. They enacted this for the sake of the nation and its happiness, and it was automatically fixed as an obligation from which one should not stray, and someone who departs from it is separating himself from the ways of the community and removes himself from the collective. Therefore, from the time of the sealing of the Mishnah, the instruction not to dispute the halakhic teachings of the Tannaim and those who preceded them, was fixed. It was only permitted to decide between [their opinions], and they also established rules for deciding according to the best of logic. After that we merited to the center of the Talmud which spread throughout the Jewish people, the nation accepted not to disagree with any of its words, and to only determine [the law themselves] when a dispute had yet to be determined. Therefore, only the acceptance of the people is determinative. A person who is brazen and uproots something from the Talmud and is frivolous with it, he is attacking the national collective. Brazen people like these bring untold evil upon our nation.8

The young Rav Kook maintained that in the current era, Halakhah has been sealed; it must be observed in its entirety in order to enable the distant hoped-for future. Like Hirsch, he asserts that the return of the entire nation to 8 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 6, 46–49. For Hirsch’s position, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 258–264.

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sovereignty in the land of Israel will only happen in the utopian future. He even adds an assertion (one not mentioned by Hirsch) that, in the distant future, when a Jewish spiritual and political center will be renewed around the temple in Jerusalem, innovative exegesis will once again become a legitimate option. At that time, it will be possible to reform laws according to the needs of the time, based on the principles that have been passed down from Sinai. According to Rav Kook, the modern demand for innovation comes from the right place but is premature. Such attitudes are dangerous and actively seeking to achieve a distant dreamed-of future is completely unacceptable: There is no doubt in the world that the basis for the idea of holding the Oral Torah together with the Written Torah is that the Torah will be expounded by the court of each generation. And the instructions, even though they are in their essence accepted, have innumerable details. In the very distant future, there will certainly be room for new derashot, that will be beneficial for those generations and times. The perfect faith is the belief that each court that will stand before the Jewish people and expound the Torah according to the agreement of the collective in every doubtful matter—this is the foundation of the Torah. However, the court needs to be “in the place that God will choose.” Of course, such a center cannot possibly be strong and secure, unless we have the temple, a king, and a secure position against any obstacles in the land of the patriarchs. […] We have no clear traditions regarding which details of the laws are “laws of Moses from Sinai” and which are matters enacted and expounded by the courts throughout the generations. Therefore, it is certain that the High Court [the Sanhedrin] will be entrusted with enacting and innovating the details of the Torah— whatever is necessary. […] When the Jewish people will return and prosper in the land of the patriarchs, then our ancient powers will return to us with greater strength and greater force. The salvation of God will exalt us and the capacity for prophecy, which our nation once possessed, will also return to us. No longer will it be said of our children that they are a court smaller in wisdom and number than the ancient courts. Rather it will be incredibly great and lofty, and knowledge and fear of God with all the clear and true wisdom, understanding, and knowledge of Torah, will return to us to their greatest extent. […] I know, however, that this sublime opinion can harm the simple minded who only want to push the End [of days] and pursue the distant future

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The Dual Truth before its time. These are the damaging foxes, who even though their feeling is lofty and sublime, lack a calm spirit that would be appropriate for any righteous individual who knows what is before him.9

Rav Kook accepts Hirsch’s claim that the Written Torah was sanctified by the Jewish people only by virtue of the Sages establishing it with the Oral Torah, thus affirming his claim against the Reform movement and secular Jews, reinforcing the notion that all of the Sages instructions, which were accepted by the entire people, must be followed. The young Rav Kook, like Hirsch, maintained that someone who is a heretic and does not accept this claim, and even influences others to do likewise, is wicked and dangerous and should be actively persecuted: The true foundation is the Oral Torah, which is based on the acceptance of the nation; this cannot be questioned. There is no need to base this on abstract expositions of verses; one need only ask, “are you with us or with our enemies?” Therefore, even the Written Torah is sanctified with the holiness of the Oral Torah, and this was done in the days of Ahasuerus—“they upheld and they accepted”: A collective acceptance to actively follow the Torah for all generations, via the inner comprehension that is the foundation of our life […]. The heretics are wicked-hearted, however, and even though they know that their heresy has no certain basis, they take pride in being utter heretics, attempting to spread their spirit throughout the world, and for this they deserve to be hated and detested as the abominations they truly are. And through their empowerment, they have inspired wickedness and quarreling, bringing to a halt the peace of righteous men, in practice and in theory; sometimes, necessity forced us to oppose them through active persecution, for they are like mad dogs that bite and harm; we need not confirm if they are guilty or not; we only need see the amount of general damage that has sprouted from them in order to [justify] defending ourselves from them and their hordes.10 9 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, 83–90. In my opinion, this passage provides us at least one explanation for the shelving the work. As opposed to what is stated in this excerpt, activism became one of the primary marks of the messianic religious Zionist philosophy of Rav Kook and his students. See below. 10 Ibid., ch. 45, 215–217. Rahmani comments (ad loc.) that Rav Kook later changed his position: attacking heresy instead of heretics—the latter responsible for building, settling and protecting

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For Rav Kook, it was important to emphasize that none of the challenges to the divine origin of the Torah from biblical criticism have any proof or logical basis; they cannot shake us from our faith: In any case, in terms of the value of the dignity and divinity of the Torah— this matter certainly derives from the revelation at Mount Sinai, […] even if empty words and foolish thoughts will multiply like the sand of the sea, casting doubt upon the time of the Torah’s composition and the order of its passages, this does not shake us even a hair’s breadth from perfect faith, that our Torah is a true Torah, eternal life for us forever.11

The Relation between Science and Scholarship, and the Roots of Torah and the Truth of Religion Like the German Neo-Orthodox, and in contrast to the Haredim, Rav Kook also thought there was no reason to fear rational research and investigation of theological and philosophical matters, insofar as a mortal human can investigate them: such fear is humiliating for religious faith: Therefore, we need to strengthen ourselves to fill our want, to acquire for ourselves holy opinions in their purity, to remove from ourselves the exaggerated fear of all godly study and all logical thought, [a fear] which even the earliest figures already loudly opposed. Everything has a limit. The dare to study things beyond you [bamufla] is certainly harmful—but it is damaging [only] to limited individuals. Laziness and exaggerated terror of every idea and thought lowers the collective and kills the foundation of life. It will blur the form of faith, increasing strife and division of minds, bursting apart every idea into shards according to people’s varied imaginations, in the absence of any unifying and connective force. It distances the heart from the repentance which actually comes after understanding [Binah], and distances the salvation that is guaranteed to come because of it: “and his heart will understand and he will repent and will be healed.”12

the Land of Israel. See in Rahmani’s detailed discussion in “Beshipulei Glimato,” 302–308. Regarding Hirsch’s stance on heretics, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 220–229. 11 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 45, 218. 12 Ibid., ch. 45, 218.

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At the beginning of this work, the young Rav Kook, in accordance with Sa’adia Gaon, Maimonides, and Judah Halevi, states that there can be no contradiction between the Torah and science and true philosophy, and that the correct way to show that the Torah is consistent with science is to delve into it, to interpret its words, and to present them in their purity, with the assistance of true, systematic philosophical-scientific inquiry: The early scholars, like Rabbi Sa’adiah Gaon and Maimonides, when they saw that the books of the heretics abounded in the world, and storms and corrupt opinions had been cast into the hearts [regarding the] roots of the Torah, they exerted great effort to extricate the perplexed from their confusion and to lay a straight path before the people of their generation, to show them that true ideas cannot contradict the roots of Torah, Heaven forbid, not even a single one of its words, even if sometimes we must think with sophistication through the ways of research to reach the depth of the Torah, and it is considered a merit for us to reach the core of truth in our grasp of Torah. […] Therefore, this is the obligation of the true scholars of our generation: to follow our early scholars and to be concerned for the perplexed, to expand their knowledge of the current state of the sciences according to the new ways of research, and to show how all the truths must be reflected according to the Torah. […] There is much work to be done in this, beyond the need to learn new matters in order to influence our generation—particularly the young people who have turned to the sciences—so that they will not stay confused, by informing them of the depths of the roots of Torah in their purity, which is superior to anything that could possibly contradict it or reduce its value. There is also vast work to be done in order to introduce into people’s hearts and to cause them to remember all the words of wisdom regarding settling the truth of religious faith in people’s hearts, as was done before by our early scholars, like Sa’adiah Gaon, Maimonides, Judah Halevi, etc. […] Therefore, we need to bring all manners of teaching that refine the mind and their conformity with that which has been clarified through the research methods of our generation, in a new configuration. In this way, our generation will know how to extricate itself from any perplexity and to be wholly faithful to the perfect Torah of God, while still giving room to all the new ways of the sciences in all their details.13 13 Ibid., ch. 2, 30–31.

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Later in this work, Rav Kook asserts the principle of identicality between secular knowledge, which is acquired by the human intellect, and correct religious knowledge, repeatedly claiming that there can be no contradiction at all between them, as was asserted by Sa’adia Gaon, Judah Halevi, and Maimonides. However, he prefers the Maimonidean approach: that the Torah is to be interpreted according to the achievements of the intellect, which are the criteria for truth, as Maimonides does in interpreting verses in the Bible, which materialize God, as anthropomorphism, in order to adapt them to the denial of divine materiality as determined by philosophy: Those wise and learned in general sciences were fundamentally damaged by [superficial and erroneous understanding of the Torah]. This was the general practice in the past. Before the denial of [the] materiality [of God] with all its scientific consequences spread widely in the nation, this concealment [of that knowledge] was a stumbling block for many who enjoyed the glow of secular studies, as the ancient scholars [rishonim] of blessed memory testified, so that they took pains to explain how the concept that arises from the free wisdom, the wisdom that contemplates according to the nature of the human intellect, in itself is the correct and true religious knowledge. An example of this matter is found in our generation as well, in many particular passages, which we must study and explain, for it is totally impossible for there to be any barrier or wall separating between the clear reason of the manifest truth, and religious understanding, the foundations of the Torah.14

Later in the work Rav Kook also emphasizes that even if it appears to us that there is a contradiction, it is only apparent and derives from the illness of society, but in fact there is no contradiction. On the contrary, the fields of reason and the Torah, along with nationalism and morality, gather together, include one another, and unify, and this unity is important for the correct existence of the Jewish people and especially for all of humanity: Sometimes life teaches us of things that should be brought together in a single whole and elevate each other, for if they seem to be separate and contradictory we should be intelligent enough to know that this comes 14 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 21, 122. See also ch. 33, 170: “Intellectual research which is the basis of intellectual honest and healthy reason, have become the elixir of life to those who put them to their right side, who have developed their intellect to understand the words of the Torah in their truth and purity.”

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The Dual Truth of the illness that is found in the structure of public life. […] Personal morality, love of the nation, intellectual learning, keeping the Torah and the commandments—all these together do not contradict one another in the nature of the Jews, in the reality of the Love of God and keeping the covenant of God, which contains everything. Therefore, we must be on our guard, not to smash this great and mighty structure into fragments, for it is the existence and splendor of the world in general and the maintenance of the might and splendor of our Jewish world in the particulars.15

In another strong statement on the same subject, Rav Kook states again that knowledge gained by prophecy is identical to that which is attained by reason and scientific research on the basis of the modern religious argument (which is based on the medieval philosophers) that the source of reason is also divine: When the matter of prophecy is understood properly and in depth, we will also understand its relation to human reason and to all practical knowledge, and how in truth all details of knowledge, whether intellectual, practical, or prophetic, are altogether, the revelation of the divine light, which seems to be of various colors, but in truth are only the single power of unity, because of which they act upon each other, and are acted upon by each other.16

However, Rav Kook emphasizes that the human intellect, too, must undergo elevation through religious faith before it assists in the correct interpretation of the Torah, to show that it is identical with the true philosophy of the nations, when it is also purified, and to make peace dwell among the monotheistic religions. Then all of humanity will be elevated to peace and perfect morality. That is, as Hirsch thought, the truth of the Torah is the criterion for the purification of philosophy, after which philosophy will become useful for interpretation of the Torah in cases of apparently proven contradiction: Therefore, we must restore our former glory, to clarify the greatness of the concepts and ideas of serving God, [showing] how they fit with all the greatest of the most pure and clear concepts of humanity’s delight, 15 Ibid., ch. 28, 147–148. 16 Ibid., ch. 32, 167.

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve and how they unite with acceptance of the yoke of Heaven, when it is understood correctly in accordance with the level of human understanding; this elevates all logic and raises up every feeling, until it leads man, each individual and the collective to be exalted beyond narrow concepts, cramped in a narrow realm, and guide him to the heights to delight in God, “the portion of Jacob,” a portion without constraints. When the elevation of the mind reaches its proper place, the foundation of beliefs and their value will again become clear, until the heart is no longer troubled at all by the masses of apparent contradictions that appear between the different beliefs, and no longer despairs of having faith at all. On the contrary, the heart will pass safely through the cloud and will know and understand the great work of God, how great his hand is, with kindness, stretched out over all his creatures, and has been most revealed to the human race in our corner of the planet. From this we will learn more general and more sublime conceptions, and we will be elevated to the light of eternity, with courage and trust that fulfill all the needs of righteousness and all holy qualities. 17

Like German Neo-Orthodoxy, the young Rav Kook also believed that the essence of all human wisdom was in action and not in philosophical or mystical theory: Because the purpose of the Torah is not only the present but also the future, and the more distant future, which is also the more exalted and broad future, and all the actions and commandments in the Torah are great chains that connect the present to the future, therefore the actual observance is a great principle. The Kuzari placed the foundation of his book on the proverb, “your intention is desirable, but your actions are not desirable,” and from that branched out the entire consequence that precision in action is a great principle of the Torah.18

Moral traits (honesty and justice) underlie correct action and assure future life, and they must be revealed in every true and good human idea. Therefore, the spiritual leaders of Judaism must teach their followers how to interpret the words of the Torah well and show that the reason for the commandments of the 17 Ibid., ch. 39, 1, 194–195. 18 Ibid., ch. 12, 80.

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Torah accords with the natural, universal demands of the individual (essentially of the nation), and that identicality—not contradiction—prevails between natural, rational morality and the ethics of the Torah. Such an understanding of the commandments of the Torah will enable all the members of the nation to repent and observe the Torah and the commandments, and thus be elevated to achieve pure fear and love of God: In our generation, opinions have become extremely complicated, and philosophy in general has declined from its height for many people, the way to cure perplexed hearts is not only by clarifications of abstract models and high matters of wisdom, but one must do the main thing, that which has existed forever, that which no person with human sentiment could deny, and it is honesty and justice. Honesty and justice are the depth and foundation of wisdom, and only according to them can we enter discussion with any other person, for there is no person who is not obligated to give honesty and justice their right. Therefore, as a gate to enter the observance of the Torah and fear of God, we must clarify all the obligations of the Torah, both the duties of the limbs [that is, the body] and those of the heart, as according with the law that seeks justice and honesty. That clarification will be greatly helped by contemplation of the reasons of the Torah and especially their national aspect. When a person is perfected in observing the Torah according to recognition of the call for natural honesty, he will thereby ascend higher and higher, until he also understands the purity of fear of God and love for Him. However, to leave room for the demand for justice and honesty—by means of which we can enable all the members of our nation to return fully to the Torah of the blessed Name and the perfection of observing God’s covenant with our people—we must remove from the path of natural search, all the obstacles which can be found to the way we bring natural honesty in our mind to agreement with the ways of the Torah. This is to be by our explaining well the concepts that appear to contradict the natural laws of ethics because of incomplete understanding of the Torah, in the same way the Sages of blessed memory endeavored to adapt the study of philosophy to the Torah as much as possible, like matters of materiality of God and His reactions in the law of the exalted Name. Therefore, expansion of the reasons of the Torah and its commandments, and the equalization and expansion of the natural ways of morality according to the way of the Torah are the essence of the work

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve we must do in our generation, in writing books that bring about the reformation of the generation.19

Here the young Rav Kook clearly adopts the interpretative identicality approach: that when a contradiction prevails between the propositions of science and ethics and those of the Torah, we must interpret the Torah and its commandments in a new way in accordance with natural honesty and the conclusions of rationality, especially in the area of ethics. Like Hirsch before him, the young Rav Kook was forced to come to terms with the modern scientific outlook that maintains that the universe and the earth are billions of years old, and over time plants and animals evolved in a deterministic way—a viewpoint that appears to contradict the Torah. Rav Kook had been more daring than Hirsch and suggested (following Maimonides) interpreting the stories in Genesis neither literally nor as a full historical account, but in part as a metaphorical treatment of the development of nature and ancient man over millions of years until his mind and emotions developed, and then he received divine revelation (because the acts of creation cannot be understood by the human mind or described in limited human language). The historical account begins only at the point where man is already outside of the Garden of Eden. However, like Hirsch, the young Rav Kook argues that the Torah does not deal with theories about supernal worlds but only with the world of man, and even in that area it aims solely at moral direction and not at scientific and physical theories or abstract philosophical or mystical concepts. Like Hirsch, first he explains that the Sages already raised the possibility that God created worlds and destroyed them, and that the scientific propositions were theories and conjectures that had yet to be conclusively proven. Similarly, he states, again like Hirsch, that even if they are proven, they are not to be feared, and it is even possible to enlist the new views for the benefit of the fundamental and essential idea of the Torah, according to which the one, omnipotent God determined all the marvelous laws of nature as a potential inherent in the first creation, and from it everything that is before us today developed, as described in Darwin’s theory of evolution. That is, Darwin’s theory of evolution, which maintains that animals and plants evolved from a primary cell into the marvelous system of the unified and perfected universe which we see today, reinforces the faith in the unlimited power of God. Evolution strengthens the claim that God determined a goal and purpose for the world that He created, and the laws that He ordained 19 Ibid., ch. 3, 32–33. See also ch. 11, 77.

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in nature from the start were meant to advance this goal in a deterministic, evolutionary way, both in the material world and in the human spirit, in which the faculty of choice according to the laws of morality is imbued: The great questions of the creation of the world ex nihilo versus its preexistence, and all the theological questions that depend on this have reawakened in our times. The stance of research has taken sides with a path that at first glance seems to oppose the foundations of religious faith. It is understandable, that even if research fails to prove anything at all, and even if these are nothing but theories, they are, nevertheless, enough to snatch faith from the hearts of men—from those who have not adequately prepared themselves with a foundation for acquiring knowledge and faith and being familiar with it. One who truly delves [into these issues] will realize that even according to new theories, there exists nothing which can harm the foundations of belief. To the contrary, it is possible that [through these theories] it will be possible to innovate matters of deep knowledge which will, nevertheless, not truly be new. I therefore, think that explaining this matter may calm the storms in the hearts of many. [. . .] Very gradual evolution, taking place over billions of years—this is what rocks the hearts of the simple minded. They think that evolution will create room to deny the Living God; but they are very mistaken. The knowledge of God is built only on knowledge of unity. When we see the great creation and its arrangement with orderly wisdom, the processes of life in bodies, spirit and mind, the organization of everything within one system—we realize the great spirit present [in the world] which gives life and place to all things. And if the ways of wisdom obligate us [to believe] that this came about through evolution, transpiring over myriads upon myriads of years, we must be further awed at the great grandeur which is the Eternal One, who to Him myriads of years are like nothing; they are but a moment, operating as fast as the blink of an eye to ­produce a certain desired purpose. [. . .] If we count the series of evolutionary [stages] which organic cells have undergone, from their existence as simple elements until reaching the state of a complete human, alive and full of intelligence, who is also righteous, upright and full of might and strength. Behold the period-of-time is immense and the paths proceed slowly, and, when they achieve the correct goal, they attest to the might of God. And behold this is obvious to all those knowledgeable of Torah; the account of creation was barely explained in the Torah; our Sages said in Midrash Rabbah: to speak the power of the actions of creation to flesh

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve and blood is impossible; therefore, the Scripture simply states: “In the ­beginning God created.” And the foundation of this matter is that Torah only spoke about those matters relevant to our Earth; and even this was only by providing information that would be understood in an ethical sense, related to setting straight, with fine detail, the paths of man, in his external manners and his inner emotions. [. . .] Therefore, there is nothing in the new methods of study which contradict the corner-stones of Torah—even Darwin’s view, which is, regardless, but a theory. The basis of the [Torah] is that we should recognize that all the great processes, because they are arranged with wisdom and turn towards kindness and mercy, are created with wisdom and knowledge, and flow from the source of life and perfection. And the divine wisdom—also called the divine matter or the divine nature— forces the gradual process [to unfold.] [. . .] But from lack of knowledge, the perplexed of our generation think that the theory of evolution, as understood by Kant, Laplace and Darwin, and other scholars of the time, will entail the destruction of the Torah—God forbid! The entirety of our holy Torah, with all its historical traditions and trustworthy transmission, will not budge, even a little, when faced with any criticism. And if logic verifies these theories, and all the more so if definitive proofs are formulated, these will only help elaborate the paths of the narrative of the “Works of Creation” appearing in the Torah as it conforms with the intellect. But the historical truth and divine knowledge and with it the obligation to observe the entire Torah, will not be required to change at all by virtue of the impression left by new knowledge and research. Rather these will broaden the heart further, exalting the concept of divine knowledge, love and reverence, as well as the desire to walk the paths of good and justice which are the paths of God with great advantage. [. . .] And the kabbalists have already explained specifically, basing themselves on the words of the midrash, that the Holy One Blessed is He was building worlds and destroying them [that is,] that many periods of creation t­ ranspired until [the world] reached its current state. But the primary principle is but to realize through intellect that justice and uprightness are handed over to man to choose, and that all the forces of existence include the necessary paths for completing this. And the paths of completion of human justice, are the highest purpose of reality, which is gradually constructed according to the orders of life, the manners of history in general, and of Israel specifically.20 20 Ibid., chs. 4–5, 34–44. On Hirsch’s view on this matter—a view remarkably similar to that of the young Rav Kook—see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 412–422. This daring passage

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In other words, only when a scientific theory, which appears to contradict the Torah, is proven beyond a doubt, must we appeal to the interpretative identicality position and propose new interpretations of the Torah and make them fit the new science, and thus to strength our faith thereby. However, so long as scientific propositions are conjectures and hypotheses, we can cling to revealed words according to the Restrictive Identicality Approach, or we can propose a non-binding interpretation for people who are already confused because of the new theory. This is precisely Hirsch’s neo-fundamentalist position. Against the isolationist Haredi position (which Hirsch shared) that claimed that all new national ambitions contradict the Torah and the Halakhah, the young Rav Kook asserted, like Rabbis Hildesheimer and Hoffman, that no such contradiction exists. Quite the opposite, nationalist activity must flow from a Torah source, and the dignity of God and the Torah will be magnified as a result: Therefore, we cannot, God forbid, position the foundation of the Torah and faith as opposing those new ambitions of national revival and self-help that have grown prevalent in our days. On the contrary, we allow these to assist us to elevate God’s name and honor the Torah and its learners, showing clearly the sustaining foundation that aids every national agent, which is found specifically in the sources of the Torah.21

Even mysticism and Kabbalah can be gradually united with philosophical rationalism, though a full unification will only be realized in the end of days: For example, we have to look at the spiritual work that is performed by philosophical research, in all its branches, especially its rationalistic aspect, and in contrast to it, mysticism and esotericism, and every kabbalistic idea and secret of God. When we take each on its own, we know not at all how these dry studies so close to the senses, could enter into the highest ethics of the love and fear of God, the powerful force of devotion and the inner awe that are found on the path of Torah; how could these be integrated together? And on the other hand, when we look at those involved in all types of Kabbalah, and ponder the depths of their studies and their distance from materialism, we do not understand how it is possible for these could provide yet another explanation, in addition to all the reasons given, for the shelving of this work. See below. 21 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 48, 243.

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve lofty ideas to integrate into the routines of practical life. However, each era has done its part, and without conscious recognition, the spirits have acted upon each other, until they are joined together, the loftiness and the strength, the power and the humility, the holiness and the broadness of spirit, nobility of the soul and perception of the senses, until eventually the forces are integrated and now we are already able to receive a harmonious force from the mixture, to clarify and refine the most appropriate parts for our situation in our era, which is most interesting and varied; to learn how to bring closer the ideas that seem distantly removed from one another, based on the understanding embedded in their foundation and the quality of their composition for the rest of the lives of the generations. Then we will understand that even if we find a slight inclination that has grown strong in a given generation, that seems to us like excess, this is only because we look at the generation as an isolated thing; but at its time it had been already affected by the hidden ropes that required integration, which we cannot perceive from afar. And now, this is the advice for complete understanding and enabling practical ability and pleasure from the scholars and scribes of each generation, through our becoming accustomed to broad, all-pervasive, and integrative study. In the future, all the prophets will sing in a single voice. This will be in the perfection of the future yet to come, “when God heals the wounds of his people,” and we are obligated to draw close to this as much as we can.22

Thus, the young Rav Kook sums up the subject of the relation between reason and revelation, between human morality and the ethics of the Torah, according to the words of H  .  ovot Halevavot (“The Duties of the Heart”) by Bahya Ibn Paquda, a summary that Rav Hirsch would have endorsed without hesitation. There is no contradiction between the areas, nor can there be, because in principle they are identical. Reason and the Torah are built upon one another and exalt one another. The biblical story of creation does not contradict scientific discoveries, because its main purpose is to teach us that there is a single Creator, and He is the source of all creation, and from Him flows the idea of the Sabbath, and man must serve Him. We must expand and deepen Torah study and interpretation until all the contradictions disappear: In any case, the fundamental principle for enlivening the heart is to teach and inform that the teaching of the Torah is a prologue to the teaching of 22 Ibid., ch. 49, 244–245.

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The Dual Truth the intellect, and observance that comes from the intellect is loftier. But we are confident that in no way will the teaching of the intellect contradict the teaching of the Torah, just as branches do not prosper by having their roots cut. How foolish are those who think that the claim that strengthening of the enlivening force of the heart, to feel in himself the upright and the good and to be inclined to these based on his inherent ethical nature—that this is a new idea, when the pious author of H.  ovot   Halevavot taught this at great length. […] An obstacle in the matter of broadening knowledge from the perspective of Torah, after thorough clarification of the depth of understanding of the Torah and its ways, cannot be found at all. All ways of critical study cannot hinder any of Torah’s powers, and no scientific wisdom can constrain its steps. In truth, we are not responsible to even compare the “Works of Creation” with empirical studies. Even if we say that prophecy took for its understanding the vision of creation as it was popularly understood in the past as the foundation for a general conception of the relation of the Creator to the creation, so that a person should know his Creator, and in order to establish the Sabbath, according to the then-prevalent conception—certainly even the quality of prevailing conceptions also has a value in the orders of creation and the pathways of human development, that from the divine wisdom they were arranged according to their measures and their changing times—there is no loss in this. All the more so; when we see that it is possible to sustain all of Torah’s words even according to the depth of the conclusions of the latest studies. […] Therefore, we are obligated to attempt to expand the laws of beliefs and opinions, in such a way as to remove confusion and oppression of the imagination from the beliefs that prevail in the nation, and we will no longer bear the shame of saying that the pure beliefs of the Jewish faith contradict the human and national edifice. On the contrary, the activity and beauty of the Torah’s beliefs can be seen across all aspects of life, with the power of life that makes bloom and adds life and strength, lifting with this the forces of the good and raising to the heights the greatest and loftiest ethical peak.23

My conclusion is that Rav Kook was not the first to develop the idea of two paths to the truth—revelation and reason—as one might conclude from Bin-Nun’s book, The Double Source. Rather, he joined a long chain of thinkers beginning with Philo of Alexandria, who believed that the Torah must take precedence over 23 Ibid., ch. 52–53, 254–260. See H  .  ovot Halevavot, section 3, chapter 3.

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philosophy, through Sa’adia Gaon, Judah Halevi, and Maimonides, extending to Mendelssohn, Krochmal, Hirsch, Luzzatto, Hermann Cohen, Rosenzweig, Heschel, Leibowitz, Leo Strauss, Soloveitchik, and others. Indeed, these thinkers have debated with intensity the relation between revelation and reason: Are they the same? Are they separate? Do they contradict one another? Are they the same in principle, while in practice difficulties and lack of understanding arise? Which takes precedence then to determine the criterion for attaining truth? These issues were widely discussed before Rav Kook addressed them. However, Bin-Nun does offer a new interpretation of his writings in these two areas, according to which there is a single source, which is revealed to humanity in two ways. The young Rav Kook appears here firm in his faith and confident that there is no possible contradiction between the best fields of human knowledge and knowledge given to us by revelation in its purity. The source of both is in God, and therefore there has to be identicality between them. However, in reality this is not always clear. Therefore, the two areas assist one another. The Torah raises philosophy to a high spiritual level, and the latter, when purified helps to interpret the Torah correctly. Then the two combine and the identicality is revealed—a position very similar to that expressed by nineteenth-century Neo-Orthodox thinkers in Germany. Rav Kook’s confidence as an older person, from the time of his immigration to the Land of Israel, was shaken. Doubts struck his soul and shook it, as he tended more and more toward mysticism. He was no longer sure that the contradictions could be resolved easily (if at all), and even were he to merit divine inspiration or even prophecy, it could not help calm his stormy soul. He resorted to dialectical theories, according to which two contradictory poles existed, and he tried to overcome them, to combine them, and to unify them on a higher level. In general, he failed, and his mind remained tempestuous and torn.

SECULAR STUDIES AND THE MIDDLE WAY Like the German Neo-Orthodox, the young Rav Kook acknowledged the need, in every generation, to engage in secular studies and to combine them with religious studies and the full observance of the commandments, so as to overcome the challenges that constantly face the nation, and he thought it was obligatory for the Jewish people to deal with both areas, and that both were legitimate: Living according to the Talmud will not, perish the thought, lead us to a crisis, nor will it impede out national development in any way. We shall

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The Dual Truth endeavor to further education in our nation, wisdom and science, strength of body and soul, practical industry, and all crafts, a spirit of courage and self-awareness as is worthy of an enlightened and vigorous nation. We shall acquire all of these, together with the moral restrictions according to the instruction of the Talmud.24

Thus, the young Rav Kook placed himself on the middle way followed by the modern Orthodox in nineteenth-century Europe. The extreme path of the Reform and secular Jews on the left, who acknowledged only the human source of authority of reason, was certainly erroneous, in his opinion. But the Haredim to the right, those who were involved only in the meticulous details of Halakhah and neglected theoretical study of the morality of the commandments as well as the study of science, scholarship, and the philosophy of the ethics of European culture, were also following an erroneous, dangerous, and extreme path: There has never been anything as painful and injurious to our people like the extremism and exaggeration [latent] in every teaching. For example, based on historical and educational events, the desire to study the Talmud increased within our nation in the last centuries. Behold the ethical goods that we received from this and the national powers that we acquired by defining the emotions of religion and faith, and the surplus love for all the feelings of our holiness that came through the increasing and glorifying of Torah must certainly not be denied. However, we have been beset by many spiritual and physical deficiencies: the weak bodies of many who dedicate themselves to Torah, a lack of necessary knowledge of sciences for a person to be a person, and also the ethical deficiency that led to focusing intellectual activity on halakhic nuances alone, paying no attention to the feelings of the heart or general ethical logic. However, all of these deficiencies did not result from dedication to the study of Talmud, or the performance of its norms, but from exaggeration and extremism, leaving no room for the other parts of education: legitimizing wisdoms and sciences, strengthening the body, expanding the mind and the ethical logic that is contained within the Torah, which were loudly supported even by the greats of the nation, but had no one to listen from impatience. The radical tendency always makes every good portion painful—extremism in education and deeds, and likewise ­extremism 24 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, 88. On the importance of secular studies and their independent value for Hirsch see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 425–442.

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve in beliefs. There was a time when our nation understood the value of its separation from the nations, as mentioned in the Torah; this was felt in its heart, as a natural understanding that would include within it any perfection and any practical ability that is outside the realm of the study of Torah. Therefore, many have turned away from all powers and study of the rest of the spirit that comes from the influence of the nations among whom we live.25

Since learning general studies like the sciences of nature and man (“Works of Creation”) and theology and philosophy (“Works of the Chariot”) is honored according to the Torah and the Sages of Israel, there exists a danger: if the rabbis forbid this and permit only the study of Talmud and Halakhah, anyone not inclined toward these disciplines will turn to heresy and not observe the commandments. Therefore, the young Rav Kook asserts that, ideally, anyone interested in Talmud and Halakhah should involve himself in these disciplines and will benefit as a result. However, someone who does not find the fulfillment of his intellectual ambitions in Talmud study, should spend his time studying the abstract parts of the Torah and Jewish philosophy; someone who desires natural science or general philosophy, ethics, or psychology, should spend his time studying these disciplines—as long as all people sets fixed times for learning Torah and continue to observe the Torah and the commandments so that all of the Jewish people will be able to fulfill its duty: Keeping people from viewing a broader sphere than the study of Talmud and Halakhah is a great danger leading to heresy. For it is typical to think that there is no greater or more important wisdom in the world than the study of Halakhah, and this idea has been expanded to include all the discussions and nuances of the Torah. Therefore, when we find someone who has looked into the broad studies of the disciplines of the world, including the spiritual disciplines, theology etc., they have strayed from the Torah completely. We must therefore show that according to the Torah as well, we must think that the great ideas of intellectual study like the lofty topics of “Works of Creation” and “Works of the Chariot”—which according to Maimonides are physics and metaphysics, and according to the more true opinion of the kabbalists are all the spiritual and physical wisdoms, to the point where they include ­psychology and 25 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, 91–92. Regarding the middle trend in European Jewry in the ­nineteenth century, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 13–24. Regarding Hirsch’s relations with Reform Jewry, see Kook, Linevukhei Hador, 220–229. Regarding Hirsch’s critique of the devout to his right, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 413–414.

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The Dual Truth ethics—are ultimately intended as the purpose of study and a dignified pursuit for human beings. […] Therefore, we must learn that this view [the rejection of pursuits besides Talmud study] is not one of the Torah’s principles at all. Even though the opposite is also not clear—since there is really a great and wondrously holy value in the knowledge of Halakhah, and people who find themselves capable of immersing themselves in Torah for its own sake in the realm of Halakhah and its logic, how fortunate are they. They do much good for the house of Israel with their great service of God. However, even someone whose heart moves him to conclude like Maimonides—that the wisdom of the Torah is its inner secrets and philosophy and that studying Torah is inherently great because it leads to action—they too have not erred. And if he could not calm his spirit by immersing himself in Halakhah alone, he should instead engage in the spiritual disciplines of the Torah. Such a person is also involved in Torah study. And even if he spends time studying other wisdoms he must still set fixed times for Torah. In any case he is not free from the observance of the commandments of the Torah in accordance with the study of Halakhah, in brief and at length, which is the practical study that shows us the path of God. 26

For the young Rav Kook it was important to warn his readers and to persuade them that even now, when nationalist ambitions and devotion of the community of Israel to settling the land are beginning to be realized, we should not abandon our eternal spirituality. We must learn from the other nations and their spiritual giants, who despite having a strong nationalistic bent, did not abandon their philosophy or their spiritual worlds, including aesthetics, poetry, music, visual art, and sculpture. Certainly, we, who are connected to God and to the divine truth, are obligated to integrate nationalism with spirituality and Torah study: Then we will be filled with the spirit of God to work for the good of our nation in our land, with everything that enables us to achieve this sublime and generous intention, with which is found all of the beauty and all of the splendor of intellect and emotions. However, we must not denigrate or crush this lofty point, which is the storehouse of light for a full world, that is, the love of the community of Israel by cutting its plants [sheneqatses netioteha]—to think that there is no more purpose in elevating the idea of an eternal spiritual world, which is the most central idea among the chosen of humanity in all nations and in all generations. Even classical human philosophy—which strives 26 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 18, 114–116. See also ch. 24, sections 4–5, 132, and ch. 26, 140.

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve to reach these lofty matters and to clarify them, and even to publicize them to the masses—was also strongly linked to their own circumstances of nationalism, and came to the world with all of the best, most beautiful claims, coming from the perspective of the beautiful thought, that specifically with success and rest found within a nation, could the beauty of wisdom, poetry and song, visual arts and sculpture be aroused to their fullest extent, as will be clear from the state of philosophy and the experiences of those who are active in it, and their relationship with nationalism. What more can we say about the nation of God and his inheritance, his true seed, that the pure concepts of the truth that are founded on the divine truth of familiarity with the Master of all deeds and the rejection of idolatry, intensified in them in such a lofty and divine fashion.27

However, the activity of Reform and secular Jews, who entirely gave up on the Torah and the commandments, is not included in the category of legitimate pursuits. Like Hirsch, the young Rav Kook assets that the gulf between a Reform or secular Jew and a Jew who observes the commandments is much greater than the gulf between one who willfully abandons observance and his non-Jewish neighbor: The distinction between us and the nations, the source of the national hatred against us, is also the result of the differences in character between our lives, the source of which is religion. Indeed, how different is the character of life between one who observes the commandments and one who throws them off. It is impossible for there to be such a great difference between one who throws off the practical commandments and any nonJews from the lands in which we are living. We must understand that this distinction in character will cause hatred between brothers, which is much harsher than the national hatred prevailing between identical nations.28

Rav Kook sums up the subject of secular and religious studies as follows: General and practical studies are certainly necessary possessions of every person and every nation, and there is no need to explain their general obligatory nature for the whole nation. However, we must always know 27 Ibid., ch. 37. 186–187. Clearly, Kook is here already relating positively to “visual art and sculpture,” and future attempts to “improve” his writings and rewrite this statement as “the literature, its image and contours,” are incorrect. See Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 59–60. 28 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 13, 91. For an identical statement by Hirsch regarding these differences, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 227.

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The Dual Truth that the foundation of education is the gathering of considerable knowledge in some profession. Therefore, it is proper for us to take a chief part in our education, which is knowledge of our Torah in all its aspects, and the expansion of its practical and theoretical parts.29

ETHICS It is common knowledge that the German philosopher, Immanuel Kant, initiated a Copernican revolution in philosophy by offering a new explanation for the conscious action of human reason. The human being, composed of body and mind, receives impression from outer the reality and processes them in his or her mind according to a set of rational categories of space and time, thus determining the reality for him- or herself. Pure reason is incapable of knowing things in themselves, and, therefore, it certainly can say nothing about God, communicate with Him, or know Him. Only the practical reason can actually function autonomously and institute ethical laws, which the individual and the public will accept as obligatory (the categorical imperative), to make existence possible and attain sanctity. Thus, the nineteenth century became a century of ethics. Hirsch used Kant’s principles for his own purposes. He argued that, since reason cannot say anything about God and what He desires from man, we must choose revelation as the primary source of knowledge of God and of heteronomous ethical guidance, because the practical reason also dwells in a body bound to the sensuality of flesh, and there is no way to guarantee legislation against egotism and corruption. I have demonstrated above the centrality of ethics in German NeoOrthodox thought and the central importance that the young Rav Kook saw in the need to show everyone that the Torah and its commandments were consistent with morality. Rahmani shows that Rav Kook mentions morality in Linevukhei Hador more than three hundred times, and that this is the axis of his explanation of the commandments of the Torah and its view of reality in this work. In Rahmani’s opinion, as early as 1910, Rav Kook changed his mind and decided that morality is no longer suitable to serve as the main basis of the position of eternal ideals.30 Bin-Nun also shows that Rav Kook was opposed to the conception that Hirsch mainly developed, according to which the commandments are merely mnemonics to create awareness and 29 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 52, 258. 30 Rahmani, “Beshipulei Glimato,” 308.

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educate, and instead he saw them as a source of energy for the elevation of the Jews and the whole world toward redemption.31 Rosenak also emphasizes that Rav Kook’s attitude to the commandments is not goal-oriented and functional, like that of Maimonides, Sefer Hah  . nukh, and Luzzatto. Rather, he saw them as maintaining a connection with divine ideas.32 In my opinion, Rahmani failed to identify the source of the young Rav Kook’s position in Neo-Orthodox thought; Bin-Nun did not notice that Rav Kook had a different position on this matter before his immigration to the Land of Israel; and Rosenak did not know of the existence of Linevukhei Hador as an entire work but rather as the plan for a book, with only some early drafts.33 Indeed, the motif of ethics is highly emphasized in Linevukhei Hador, and it is evident that it was written under the Neo-Orthodox influence of German Jewry. However, even in his youth, Rav Kook emphasized that he opposed the Reform and secular interpretation, which attributed only symbolic importance to the commandments, so that the meticulous observance of Jewish law was not obligatory: “Once we have acknowledged that the commandments are not empty symbols that can be filled with any remembrance or indication that a person might imagine in his heart and spirit, but rather the ways of actual laws, which fulfill the great goal of bringing humanity at least to the desired future.”34 Like Hirsch, the young Rav Kook also argues that natural, rational morality is consistent with that of the Torah, but were it not for the revelation to the Jewish people, rational morality would have remained on a low and superficial level. The divine light is important; it illuminates the lives of Jews and humanity and changes life from a simply tolerated state of being to one desired and full of mercy, uniting all of existence: In order to restore life’s former glory, its natural divine glow, so that it will not be borne simply by virtue of its necessary existence, but will rather be loved, favored and desired, worth pursuing to achieve and to create, even if it had never been. To reach such a level of recognition, that “the world will be built by grace,”—natural morality is not sufficient at all, as it derives only from the appearances of sorrows and bitter, from crippling events in life. For this purpose, we need to ascend to the source of the s­ pirituality within life, to 31 Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 148. 32 Rosenak, Hahalakhah Hanevuit, 342–348. 33 Idem, Harav Kook, 25. 34 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 12, 82.

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The Dual Truth the glow of recognition of the general unity, the grace and divine love, that fills life and surrounds it in all its states and in all its visions. To [achieve] this, humanity must separate itself from dependence on each particular conception of particular states of life, which because of their particularity cannot possibly contain the eternal beauty and glow that make life so dignified and desirable to the point of appreciating the depth of the good that is in it. For this, it was necessary that the [nation of] Israel exist in the world: [to be] an entire nation that can prepare itself initially to hear from the Almighty “I am [the Lord your God]” and “Do not have [any other gods beside me],” to raise, with pride and courage, the flag of God is one, and “you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might,” to be a pillar of light for itself and for all of humanity, to bring the blessing of unity of life and existence to the world.35

The Jewish people are the only exalted nation, in that it is the source for the ways of morality embodied in its Torah. Hence, the path to redemption is acknowledgment of the need for a Jewish spiritual center to guide the nations toward their moral goal, the meaning of which is partial deference of the nations before the Jewish people: It is clear that, except for the Jews, no single nation in the world has an absolute advantage over its fellow, with respect to its spiritual accomplishments of morality and divine religion. Therefore, only thereby will they have partial deference, in that they will be constrained to acknowledge that only this center is worthy of living in the world, and that advice and guidance in the ways of morality should be taken from the first source in its completeness. […] For in the end, every moral improvement will cause the possibility of the bringing near the most sublime and exalted general ethical goal.36

The meticulous and general observance of the commandments has two ethical purposes. The first is spiritual elevation and acknowledgment of the glory of God and the second is purification of people’s moral qualities and opinions to bring about improvement and benefit in body and soul to the individual and society: Meticulous observance of the commandments has, generally speaking, two foundations. The first: one of the main results of a person observing 35 Ibid., ch. 29, 153. 36 Ibid., ch. 8, 56–57.

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve the Torah and the commandments is that he ascends to a great spiritual height, because his actions were done as service to God; they act upon him, impressing upon him the recognition of the glory of God. This ethical trait will be established with all its perfection only by extremely careful and exacting observance of the divine word. […] Indeed, in addition to meticulous observance based on the greatness of the upper glory, one can find that every rule that results from a particular nuance should conform to the general spirit of the Torah, acting as a good guide for purifying beliefs and character traits, also benefiting societal life, as well as benefiting the health of the body and the powers of the mind, throughout the nation and its members.37

The Torah guides people on the path of moral life, with regard both to people and to animals, but because people have not yet been prepared to attain the requisite moral level, they must not be burdened with duties they cannot yet fulfill. When people succeed in raising themselves to what is expected of them, and they come to know God with a knowledge whose meaning is ethical, they will be able to sustain all duties. For the purpose of progress toward this perfection, people must keep the commandments that impose restrictions on them, to improve ethically. Like Hirsch before him, the young Rav Kook states that this is the main purpose of the Torah and this is what it seeks to teach us: [This is] also [the case], so long as moral consciousness is not in its clear situation, so long as we have not attained the level we have been promised, “and I will place my Torah (in their heart) [within them] and write it on the table of their heart” ( Jer. 31:32), that is, that morality will be felt in all its splendor in the hearts of human beings, “and they shall teach no more every man his neighbor, and every man his brother, saying: ‘Know the Lord’; for they shall all know Me, from the least of them unto the ­greatest of them, says the Lord; and no one will teach his fellow or a person, his brother, to say, know God, because all of them will know me from the smallest to the greatest.” ( Jer. 31:33) And we have already learned what God’s will is from the prophet: “But let him that glories glory in this, that he understands, and knows Me, that I am the Lord who exercises mercy, justice, and righteousness, in the earth; for in these things I delight, says the Lord” ( Jer. 9:23). Indeed, natural morality in its broad sense is the true will of God. And as long a person needs teachers from outside regarding 37 Ibid., ch. 9, 61.

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The Dual Truth the duty of morality and human honesty, he will also need many protections and restrictions, so that his behavior will not deteriorate, and also so that he will be capable of receiving proper and desirable guidance. [. . .] And this is the foundation of the story of creation in the Torah, that, in truth, the Torah came only to teach us ways of life, how to behave in the straight way, to bring man to the high level of perfection.38

The proponents of rational ethics according to Kant were wrong in believing that the ethics of the Torah were imperfect, because their interpretation of the Torah’s commandments was not consistent with the principles that Kant laid down for autonomous morality. Consequently, the followers of the Torah erred in arguing that there were flaws in natural morality, so that the former, the Reform, threw off the yoke of Torah and the commandments and forced the Torah loyalists to concentrate on study of the minutest details of the law. This was very useful, because their meticulous study anchored their view of Torah laws as the source of natural morality and laid the basis for expanding those laws in the guise of rational ethical principles: The depth of precision will make the divine aspect take root strongly in one’s heart, the value and greatness inherent in actions inspired by the Torah. This will prepare the power of thought to consider and study the bases of morality upon which the laws are built, in a marvelous, divine light, until their view expands and brings the extreme poles closer, explaining the erroneous element of destruction, and this brings knowledge of the great value of moral law particularly as the source of life for natural morality, of perpetual justice.39

THE MISSION TO MANKIND FOR ITS REDEMPTION AND THE ATTITUDE TOWARD CHRISTIANITY The idea of mission or calling as another explanation for the exile of the Jewish people already appears during the Middle Ages in the thought of Judah Halevi and Maimonides. This idea gained strength in modern times, when it seemed that humanity was increasingly adopting ethical monotheism, and progress was taking place. The Jews who had gained emancipation could say that now 38 Ibid., ch. 10, 66–68. See also ch. 15, 108; ch. 22, 125. 39 Ibid., 126.

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the divine plan was gradually being fulfilled in history (part of which was the appearance of Christianity and Islam), and the Jews and their Torah would continue to lead mankind to redemption. This was the belief of all the religious trends in nineteenth-century German Judaism: the Reform, the historical positivists, and the Neo-Orthodox.40 The idea spread throughout Europe, including Eastern Europe, and had a deep influence on the young Rav Kook. Thus, in Linevukhei Hador he wrote about the Jewish mission for all mankind, which was connected to the Torah they had received and required them to continue to observe all its commandments in practice: Only to the Jews was their mission clarified, because they had already been given the duty to engage in their task to be a light unto the nations, according to the laws of history, even before the advent of the happy time. Therefore, the nationality of the Jews is necessarily connected to the Torah of God that is with us. Since study of the Torah and the work of all the generations is the basis for spreading the wisdom of the Torah for the time when the earth will be filled with knowledge of God, therefore becoming accustomed to keeping the Torah and education to cherish religion and all the commandments as a whole in practice—so that the uniqueness that is within us will be realized, to be capable of the greatest spiritual worship for all of the nations—is part of our required national needs and in the nature of our existence.41

The new academic fields of archaeology and history have discovered that truths and ethical practices similar to those of the Torah were common in the ancient Near East before it. According to Rav Kook, this only adds dignity to the Jewish faith, for we see that the achievements of reason—God’s gift to man—were already similar to those of the divine Torah, before it was given. It seems that humanity lost these achievements—the order established by reason crumbled—and the Israelite nation was entrusted with building these principles anew for the sake of all of humanity, by way of the providence revealed to the nation at Sinai and gave the Torah to it. The ability of the nation to succeed in its mission is rooted in the ethical and theological messages that it bears since

40 On the concept of mission in medieval thought and in Hirsch’s philosophy see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 5–7, 82–89. 41 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 7, 52.

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that revelation. This will only be realized in the future when the beauty of the nation will reach its final stage, and their mission will be completed: Israel was chosen by God in divine revelation through open signs and wonders, so that they would be prepared for the most lofty closeness of God, which is the highest principle and the purpose of the human species, and that from their overflowing morality together with the divine power that is already crystallized and the clear history of the nation and in the holy land, when their greatness and beauty will be actualized, as is fitting for the nation that bears the highest and most inclusive foundation for all of humanity in its hand, which is the foundation of the spirituality of expanding the knowledge of God in human life—then the action will automatically be actualized to all the world with great beauty and honor. We find that the Jews are praised as builders and workers working for good—that this power does not lose any value if they were not the first to invent it. On the contrary, the power of truth, which is the true inheritance of Israel, intensifies and rises when it is clear that it was, originally, the inheritance of all who were created in the image of God, for God made man righteous—and afterward when circumstances deteriorated, then they became a cause to build and erect the world and its final purpose. […] Therefore, the power of research in our time—which finds many examples of the matters of the Torah from the most ancient times—will serve us for glory and beauty and to strengthen faith and the fear of God, just like we sometimes strengthen the rationales of the Torah with intellectual concepts, because we know that the light of the intellect is a spark from the divine light.42

The young Rav Kook was aware that Judah Halevi and Maimonides had regarded Christianity and Islam as branches of Judaism among the nations, a stage in the divine plan, even though the followers of their founders made severe errors that must be corrected. Hirsch had a positive attitude toward Jesus for bringing Jewish morality to the pagans. Rav Kook went even further. In his opinion, both Jesus and Muhammad may have been privileged with a certain degree of prophecy and the ability to perform miracles, and they turned mankind away from idol worship to monotheism on a certain ethical level. Therefore, these religions and their believers are to be respected, because they

42 Ibid., ch. 32, 168. See also ibid., ch. 34, 173, and ch. 36, 179–180.

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bring mankind closer to an exalted, spiritual moral goal, to which the Jewish people and their Torah will lead the remaining nations in the future: Behold, the religions that branch out in and of themselves, should not be judged negatively. It is possible that the founders were divinely inspired to try and perfect a significant section of humanity as befitted it. To this end, it is possible that some tangible miracles would be prepared in case [the people] needed to be encouraged, since the matter pertains to the development of humanity, which is under God’s hand from the beginning of existence until its end […]. And the belief, rooted in the literature of the Christian and Muslim religions—that the value of the Jews has already been annulled, heaven forbid—must be annulled, so that humanity will be able to reach its eternal goal and purpose. However, their inner ethical state, which every religion can understand and improve, should be respected, and every healthy-minded person should understand that those acting in accordance with their tradition are serving God in their opinion; in the end all ethical benefit allow for the possibility of drawing closer the loftiest general ethical purpose. Whatever form of divine inspiration it may be, whether accompanied by a vision from the imagination, or only a mighty spirit, since it helps complete the purpose of the perfection for the human species, it is proper that it should be maintained by those who have gathered together around it based on their history for whatever reason. You should also understand from this the value of converting to another religion. […] When a person replaces his national religion that is far from the general perfection, with the religion of another nation that is closer to it, his sin should be discussed. For while he temporarily harms part of his nation, he ultimately draws closer the purpose of humanity. This is justified among the pagans that exchange their religions for the religions of the Christians and Muslims, which in any case are closer to human perfection, because the recognition of the oneness of God will in any case bring blessing to the entire world when the time of humanity’s education is complete. […] The Torah of Israel is an exception to this rule, because its only goal is to reach the peak of human perfection, and it is primed for this in all its functions, whether ethical, practical, or mystical. […] A nation that merits to remain a nation at the time of the harmonious rectification of humanity will certainly draw from the source of Israel its ethical principles and the ways of knowledge and fear of God. […] When you understand this idea, you will find that the primary foundation of the greatness of miracles and the revelation of the divine presence was only

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The Dual Truth necessary for our holy Torah to reach the heights of its humanity-wide purpose, so that it will be fitting for respect by universal agreement.43

In this book, the young Rav Kook repeated the Neo-Orthodox motto regarding the mission of the Jewish people for the nations—to bring them pure morality. This mission will succeed only when the best of world philosophy is linked to the pure religious foundation of Judaism and its ethical commandments. All religions will gain thereby, for their founders were ethical and educated men, and perhaps they received the holy spirit. Only their followers erred and declined, and now, under the influence of Judaism, they will once again be purified, so that there would be no essential internal difference between these religions—only external ones: Afterwards, as our strength builds, the particular truths will be automatically revealed to all, until our words will automatically become a light to the peoples, to calm many nations; when the most elevated thought of all of human philosophy will connect to the beauty of the life of the nation, which is the religious foundation of the world, and its dignity and value will grow so greatly that the ways of life that flow from the essence of the knowledge of God in its purity will be a source of life for many people, and the words of the prophets in their connection to the words of the Torah and to the practical clear force in the world in relation to the reign of justice and the pure ethic—only then will all these things strike waves in the life of humanity. “The voice of your watchmen, they raise their voice to sing together, for they will see eye to eye when God returns to Zion.” All of the theologies in the world will gain from the light of God, ascending and purifying, for most religious leaders are men of knowledge and upright of heart, and many, perhaps all, of them merited the holy spirit based on their actions, for everything is according to a person’s action, so the holy spirit can descend upon him like the words of Tanna Dvei Eliyahu, and even a non-Jew who is involved in Torah is like a High Priest, but because of the mass descents, their conceptions descended level after level, until they became an obstacle and a great disgrace in many parts of the life of the spirit and ethics and in many matters that damage societal life. However, through the light of God the master of all deeds— 43 Ibid., ch. 8, 56–60. See also ibid., ch. 14, 100–104; ibid., ch. 36, 197. Perhaps also this positive view of Jesus and Christianity and of Muhammad and Islam was, according to the later line of thought of the older Rav Kook a reason to refrain from publishing the book and shelve it. Regarding the positions of medieval Jewish philosophers and Hirsch on Christianity, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 5–7, 206–209, 238–273.

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve which [is] through the light of Israel, who makes it known that He engenders everything, and He directs it from the beginning until the end,—the spirits will rise up and recognize that even if the external raiment of their religions were helpful until now, since at this point it is possible to live in a more cultured light, it is necessary to purify the concepts and establish the designs of the religions on their inner, purer, conceptions. They will thus ascend from their pagan impurity, to be daughters of a great spiritual foundation, the spirit of God that rests upon the Jews, to recognize the power of God, his faithfulness and his strength, to serve him with love, and the distinction between all religions will be nullified at its root. Even though there will be distinction in customs and practical issues—based on changing tastes of beauty and ethical style of each nation in accordance with its nature, its history, and everything that has befallen it—nevertheless all will recognize that there is no inherent difference, and that everything goes to one place: to honor the name of the one God, and the desires for godly knowledge, which is grace and justice and charity in the land.44

THE MESSIANIC FUTURE The young Rav Kook, unlike the Neo-Orthodox community of Frankfurt in the nineteenth century, was already filled with the nationalist fervor prevailing in Europe at the end of the century—an idea that was already working behind the scenes of the Neo-Orthodox community of Berlin where the nationalist and Zionist idea was popular. He maintained that we must link together the three main Jewish aspirations—individual rights (of the liberals), national and territorial rights (of the nationalists), and a spiritual center (of the halakhically observant), and asserted that the nation’s factions must unite in order to achieve all of these goals, instead of quarrelling over which of these rights should be chosen. Therefore, the Jewish people must find a geographic location—any location—in order to create an autonomous, sovereign, authority wherein the nation of Israel can recuperate and develop its nationalistic capacities and ambitions according to the Torah. From here we see that Rav Kook did not invalidate the suggestion to create local Jewish autonomy or to establish a Jewish state in Uganda. Simultaneously, he thought that we should create a spiritual Torah center in the Land of Israel that would shine light to those in the Diaspora or in the autonomous Jewish area. However, like Hirsch and his 44 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 46, 233–234.

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fellows, he left the ambition for complete Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel to the distant future, and thought that it was not possible in his time. His messianic religious-nationalist Zionism began to manifest itself in Rav Kook’s thought only after he moved to the Land of Israel, and from that point forward he directed all his energy and practical and intellectual projects to that end. This is what he writes before his immigration: This will indeed lead to the second idea—to strive, with this, to acquire for ourselves a portion of land as a lone nation, allowing us to properly awake and rise up. However, it will come to be, there is a limit to nationalist demands in exile when it comes to international law, even though there is almost no limit on the individual demand when it comes to human rights. But this thought does not say enough. For we do not have the Land of Israel, where we can properly find our true value, to proudly lift our flag high, if we do not return to the source of our life, to Zion, to the beloved land where we saw the hand of God [rest] upon us, separating us from all other nations on the face of the earth. Therefore, even though it is impossible for us to delay at all the process of gathering the nation boldly to be master of a settled land with strong internal control, in whatever place will be found for us, since the Land of Israel is not yet ready for us, we must, nevertheless, greatly [increase] our connection to the Holy Land via the establishment of a supreme spiritual center, in a manner where the small settlement that is in the land of Israel will include within it the three mindsets at once, and will influence the collective mission, whether in the scattered exile or in the [autonomous power or state] accommodating [us], which in the future will be lit up with the light of Zion. Just as the actions and agents of the three need to be combined into one thing, so too the branches need to be gathered into one place, and must refrain from fighting and quarrelling, joining together in unity and peace.45

The young Rav Kook explains that one of the reasons to continue observing Halakhah in its entirety is so that in time we will be able to change the Halakhah through scriptural exegesis. This will only occur when the High Court will be set up next to the temple in Jerusalem in a sovereign Jewish state that will be established in the Land of Israel at the end of days. Until then, we must strive for an 45 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 44, 212. See also ibid., ch. 46, 231. Kook wrote in a similar vein when he served as the rabbi of Jaffa. See Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 221–229.

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agreed-upon, autonomous, religious center, and be careful to observe all of the commandments within it, even those that seem unsuited to the modern era (for we have lost the understanding of the rationales of certain commandments). We must do so in order to preserve our potential until a hoped-for time of prosperity and happiness. At that time, we will renew the kingdom of Israel, a state where the nation will possess prophetic abilities and its scholars will master lofty wisdom, reaching halakhic decisions devoid of errors and mistakes. Until then, we should not force this end with any active, rebellious attempts, and we should explain to our young that the redemption will come gradually: If any matters [of the laws] are found, for which we cannot provide positive rationales according to the concepts of our generation—besides the fact that according to the highest form of ethics one can say that it is possible that such trends will be discovered [in the future], their value as of yet unknown, and upon which will many laws, which we must faithfully keep, are built—even more easily we can calm the spirit of whoever asks by stating that we must preserve the national center, but we do not have the full national strength necessary to reach an agreed-upon and mighty center in such a national form. Therefore, we must distance ourselves from every change and innovation that entails a breach of the walls of the Talmud, which is the storehouse of the Oral Torah; all of our future enactments and our complete mission are built upon it. It is worthwhile for us to suffer some burdens for the sake of this purpose, until such time as all our virtues will return to us, and then our judges will guide us, seated in the place that God will choose, in the path that is righteous and guided by the light of the living Torah, the broadest study and exegesis in accordance with our good standing that will come at that time, by the grace of God. […] Our complete hopes will be fulfilled only then, when all our natural strengths return to us as in days of old, on the day that God bandages the wounds of his nation. Then, when new and fresh life awaken within us, there will be among us the study of God and the most lofty things; our children will be uplifted by God to be scholars, to the point where the general rule will no longer be based upon the pressures of exile, where each day is more accursed than the last, causing the hearts to continuously degenerate, for if the ancient ones were like angels, then we are but humans. However, when Israel will return and blossom and bloom in the land of the Patriarchs, then our initial strengths will return to us with greater force and courage, and the salvation of God will exalt us, for also the capacity for prophecy, which once belonged to our nation,

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The Dual Truth will return to us, and it will no longer be said among us that [our] court is smaller in wisdom and in number in comparison to the ancients. Rather, it will be elevated and exalted to the greatest heights, and knowledge and fear of God, with all the wisdom and understanding and knowledge of the Torah in all its truth and clarity, will return to us in their highest forms. For from great scholars like these, when the court will again reign over Israel, there will be no concern whatsoever; [there will be no worry] about sinful mistakes in instruction, for their ways will be directed towards God, and [there will be no worry] about religion and faith interfering with the way of life. For the Torah of God is pure and it always gives strength to Israel and defense to those who walk innocently. However, I have known, that this great belief can be harmful to the simple minded who wish to force the end and pursue the distant future before its time. These are the harmful foxes, and even though their feeling is exalted and sublime, their spirit is not the calm spirit appropriate for every upright man who knows what is in front of him. […] We are obligated to teach understanding to these youths and educate them with pleasantness and love. We must not turn our heads from their ambitions and dismiss them with the breath of our mouths, but clarify for them the requirements that we need to pass through gradually on our way to the happy ultimate purpose.46

Despite this, it was important to Rav Kook to emphasize that in the end of days, when the full influence of the Jewish people will be felt upon the other nations, reforming and enlightening them, it will be important for the Jewish people to continue to exist separately in its land, when the covenant of God will lead them to the highest ethical purpose, as foretold in Jewish sources. Certainly, already in the present stage, the superiority of the Jewish people (the bearers of the Torah, which has bestowed upon them the divine holiness throughout the generations when they studied it and observed its c­ ommandments) over other nations is clear. The Jewish people influence the nations and improves their ethics and thought gradually, but despite what they have achieved, the non-Jewish nations remain far from the level of the Jewish people. Regarding the end of days, I have shown above that, in chapter 46 Rav Kook writes that there will be no essential, internal, difference between the religions, only external differences of style. However, from the quote from chapter 36 it seems that 46 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 13, 88–90. Regarding Hirsch’s opposition to active immigration to the land of Israel, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 2, 47–74.

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he vacillated on this point. Hirsch provides no argument justifying the need for Jewish sovereignty in the messianic future. Here Rav Kook asserts that despite the elevated spiritual-ethical state of humanity in the end of days, the Jewish people will still be on an even higher spiritual level. However, it will still be important to appreciate their advantages as well and to avoid denigrating them: Even though the circumstances of many nations will be rectified, enlightened, and filled with light, and they will cling to God in their individual and national ethics, “and they will be to me a people,” nevertheless, there will be positive value to the uniqueness of Israel and their goal will be known so that it can be actualized in the place designated for the revival of the nation, “and God will grant Judah his portion in the holy land and once again choose Jerusalem.” […] And since there is no other nation in the world that will be like us, not in terms of inheriting true unity from its true source, and certainly not in carrying the power of this truth, which has led a large portion of the human species to improve their actions and purify their thoughts upon tasting just a part of it, within its history, within its joys and agonies, in its pride in the past and its hope for the future. If so, when we evaluate this great wealth in contrast to the rest of the national properties of which nations take pride, we find that all of them and their storehouses stand before us in negative state, even after all the education and the culture and all of the desirable things that are to be found in their storehouses. Ultimately, we do not cast an evil glance at their advantage, which is fitting for them according to their value, and we are happy with the gift of our fate and our flag is love above us. Out of our love and their average education, we come to re-evaluate the advantage, for which we can give neither limit nor boundary— the advantage of divine holiness that we possess since his name is primarily applied to us, even though he is the Lord of the entire world. This is the loftiest and most essential advantage, already manifest in all its might in every purehearted person of the holy seed of the nation of God, even without philosophizing. Regarding this it says, “Open the gates, and the righteous nation that keeps the faith will come.”47

Unlike Hirsch, who maintained that the End of Days would mean complete equality between the Jewish people and the nations, and who gave no explanation for why the Jewish people needs to maintain sovereign independence 47 Kook, Linevukhei Hador, ch. 36, 180–182.

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as foretold by the prophets, Rav Kook maintains that the superiority of the Jewish people will persist. The young Rav Kook did not give this priority an essentialist-kabbalistic explanation; he did not maintain that the Jewish people have an inherent, holiness and superiority as maintained by Judah Halevi and Nahmanides. The Jews’ superiority derives from their strong historical and spiritual connection with their God and his Torah—the view of Maimonides and Hirsch following him. However, unlike Hirsch, Rav Kook maintained that this superiority would persist during the End of Days. Famously, Rav Kook changed his mind on this topic after he immigrated to the land of Israel, adopting a kabbalistic-mystical approach wherein the Jewish people have superior, innate characteristics, which will certainly endure forever.

WHY WAS LINEVUKHEI HADOR SHELVED? Rav Kook never published Linevukhei Hador, nor did his son, Rav Zvi Yehuda HaCohen Kook, or Harav Hanazir (David Cohen), or their students do so (as noted, Shahar Rahmani published it in 2014). The Rav Zvi Yehuda HaCohen’s Institute published a censored version of the book after it was disseminated on the Internet in unedited form. It was circulated on the Internet in 2009, and the publication by the institute was included in Pinqesei Haray’a, Part 2, in a different edition, under another name, and heavily censored.48 Rahmani himself discusses the reasons why the work was kept from public view and offers several conjectures: A. A lack of means to publish the work. B. Time pressures as he was immigrating to the Land of Israel. C. A change in writing style after he immigrated to the Land of Israel. From that point forward, his writing was prophetically inspired, and his previous writings were, therefore, deemed marginal. D. A change in Rav Kook’s stance toward the heretics. In this work, he distinguishes between young people who have made mistakes and can be engaged with and educated to observe the commandments, and the wicked heretics who have taught them and who must be persecuted. After meeting with the pioneers in the land of Israel, he fell in love with them; he believed that God was guiding their nationalistic awakening in order to advance the return of the Jewish people to their land, and at that point he turned his abstract critique only towards heresy. This work was therefore no longer relevant. 48 Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 20.

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E. T  he change in Rav Kook’s relationship to the centrality of ethics in Judaism and its replacement with all-inclusive spiritual-mysticalnational-religious elevation. His previous position was considered unworthy of publication. F. The change in the Jewish stance toward other religions, particularly Christianity, following World War I. In this work, Rav Kook expresses his appreciation and fondness towards Jesus and Muhammad as founders of the monotheistic faiths who, because of their ethical natures, merited the divine spirit. He also displayed a tolerant, even moderately pluralistic, relation to the original and future Christianity and toward Islam, in the spirit of the German Neo-Orthodoxy. Even in Jaffa, in 1909, Rav Kook still expressed these ideas in his essay “The Path to Revival” (Hanir, Literary Collection, ed. Alexander Ziskin Rabinovich, Jerusalem 1909), which drew fierce reactions. However, the break out of World War I in 1914 led to new insights about the barbarism capable of the nations of Christian Europe, and from then on Rav Kook attacked Christianity with a ferocity, viewing Christians as not simply mistaken but wicked. The attitude towards Islam in “Merkaz Harav” circles does not require further elaboration. The passages describing other religions in Linevukhei Hador were therefore deemed unfit for publication according to both the rabbi and his students.49 Bin-Nun responded to Rahmani’s conjectures and those of others who offered similar ones and rejected most of them. According to him, Rav Kook continued to hold the same opinions after his immigration to the Land of Israel with small differences that can easily be explained. In his opinion, the work was shelved because of Rav Kook’s poor organizational abilities and his inability to cooperate with his editors in order to publish most of his works by himself during his lifetime. His desire for full ideological freedom contributed to this, as well as the failure of his initiatives: the Degel Yisrael Movement, the Yeshiva in Jaffa, the Chief Rabbinate as a basis for the Sanhedrin, and the high school in Jaffa, which did not accept his control. In Bin-Nun’s opinion, all of these problems derived

49 Rahmani, “Beshipulei Glimato,” 293–309; B. Ish-Shalom, Harav Kook: Bein Ratsionalizm Lemistiqa (Tel Aviv, 1990). 149, 156; Rosenak, Hahalakhah Hanevuit, 104, and note 328 there; Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 248, and note 300 there.

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from a single central cause (which was mentioned briefly among Rahmani’s conjectures, par. C above), which Bin-Nun regards as the main reason.50 As he says: Therefore, most important of all is the huge change in Rav Kook’s inner world, not immediately after his immigration to the Land of Israel, but after three years in Jaffa, 1906–1908, when he underwent the great enlightenment of the Torah of the Land of Israel, which had a deep effect on his soul. Below in the chapter on prophecy and the holy spirit, we will see that Rav Kook himself called this enlightenment the holy spirit [and not prophecy].51

In my opinion, Bin-Nun was correct in attributing great importance to the change that took place in Rav Kook after his immigration to the Land of Israel, whether he was inspired by the holy spirit or whether he simply thought that he was. Living in the Land of Israel and the meetings with the pioneers and settlers, the vision of redemption that was taking shape before his eyes, and the need for a great religious change, exerted a powerful spiritual influence on him. All of this increasingly pushed him toward mysticism and Kabbalah, and, following that, to a change in his outlook. All of this did not take place at once, but gradually, but the mature Rav Kook, at the end of this process, was, in my opinion, completely different from the young Rav Kook of Linevukhei Hador. Nevertheless, Bin-Nun is correct in saying that soaring in the upper worlds and in visions did not enable Rav Kook to deal with organizational matters properly, and he failed (as Bin-Nun certainly shows) in most of the practical tasks that he assumed. Aside from the changes in outlook listed by Rahmani—the attitude toward those who deny the God of Israel and His Torah, the attitude toward morality, and the attitude to other religions in Linevukhei Hador—which no longer found a place in Rav Kook’s thought as he grew older, nor, certainly, in the views of his son and his extremist disciples—in my opinion there are other positions, in the spirit of German Neo-Orthodoxy, for which there was now no place: 50 Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 21–22. Bin-Nun does not take note of the fact that Rahmani already suggested this reason among the other reasons he listed. However, Bin-Nun presents the revolutions in Rav Kook’s thought in the transition from Europe to the Land of Israel. See ibid., 205–221. On p. 218 he points out one of these revolutions: “The existence of the nation is no longer dependent on observing the Torah, but the eternal nature of the Torah is the certain outcome of the eternal nature of the nation, which is truly part of the laws of creation.” The view that was replaced is none other than Hirsch’s opinion, according to which the Torah is eternal and true, like a phenomenon of nature, and the land and the nation depend on maintaining the Torah. 51 Ibid., 71. On the entire process, see ibid., 18–72.

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1. His favorable, even enthusiastic, attitude toward the best of European culture and scholarship in general, purified philosophy, painting, sculpture, music and literature, natural sciences, and secular studies in general, of which the young Rav Kook usually wrote with great fondness. In his opinion, occupation with them, alongside religious studies of the Talmud and Jewish thought, was obligatory for advancing Jewish nationalism, and preparing the Jewish people to fulfill their universal mission in the autonomy it would establish or, in the distant future, in sovereignty in its land. All of these traits later changed to a tolerant but reserved attitude, and a more nuanced and dialectical position, according to which religious studies were the main and most influential element, and other studies were superficial. This attitude turned into indifference on the part of his son and hostility on the part of his followers.52 2. The young Rav Kook constantly writes of the mission of the Jewish people, to proclaim the name of God in the world, and to endow humanity with the morality of the divine Torah by keeping the commandments, so as to erase the inner differences between Jews and the nations in the future. This message was blurred in time and became more dialectical, emphasizing the particularity and uniqueness of the Jewish people, in the spirit of Judah Halevi, arguing that only the success and consolidation of that particularity will enable the nations to progress and improve.53 3. The metaphorical, ahistorical interpretation of the story of creation, until the banishment from the Garden of Eden (Linevukhei Hador, Ch. 5) is extremely daring. Agreeing that the universe was billions of years old and that it developed, and that mankind is millions of years old and evolved (as claimed by the theory of evolution) is also extremely daring. These positions rely on the argument that the purpose of the Torah is ethical and educational and not philosophical, scientific, historical, or mystical, and these are far more specific than the later, abstract position regarding building of the palace of the Torah in dialectical fashion, above the contradictions with science. 52 On the attitude of (the mature) Rav Kook to secular studies, see Rosenak, Hahalakhah Hanevuit, 373–379. On the influence upon him of the medieval rabbis and several thinkers of Eastern Europe see ibid., nn. 68, 69, 71, and on the attitude of Zvi Yehuda Kook, ibid., n. 105. 53 On the radical relation between the Jews and the nations and between particularism and universalism in the thought of (the mature) Rav Kook, see ibid., 58–88.

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4. The positive attitude toward the Uganda Program and opposition to activism as forcing the redemption are opposed to the messianic religious Zionist position that Rav Kook developed after his immigration to the Land of Israel, and it was radicalized into nationalism by his son and his followers. 5. The young Rav Kook’s expressed optimistic confidence that the whole could include the (ostensibly) unified opposites, and that it was possible to unify the (apparently) contradictory areas between science and the accomplishments of human reason with the revelation of the Torah and even with the esoteric doctrines, with a reasonable effort of interpretation of the Torah and of bringing the religious dimension into science and philosophy; this confidence was gradually replaced by the understanding that these are truly opposite extremes. Their general unification required a dialectical sublated process and presenting a way to attain synthesis—an aspiration in which it was necessary to persist, though it was unlikely to be fulfilled. This perturbed Rav Kook greatly and ­without cease, causing a rift in his soul and constantly repeated failures in his efforts to unify the poles of the contradiction.54 I will now present some gradual expressions regarding the two sources of authority appearing in Rav Kook’s writings, after his immigration to the Land of Israel. I will show that when he initially settled in Jaffa his approach was still optimistic. However, at the same time, he began to admit that the realms of science and Torah are separate—not identical. The great turn in his thought began in his second period in Jaffa, beginning in 1909; this intellectual shift was completed at the end of World War I while he was living in London. It was at that point that his optimism evaporated completely. Rav Kook reached the conclusion that the realms of Torah and science are indeed contradictory, and the contradiction prevailing between them is so great that, practically speaking, man, due to his

54 On (the mature) Rav Kook’s thesis of the “unification of opposites” see ibid., 44–57. Study of quotations from the writings of the mature Rav Kook presented in Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, suggests that Rav Kook was perturbed by the question of whether it was possible to bring the opposite poles together. See Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 79, 146 (the young Rav Kook), 153, 172–173, 200–202, 272. See also below. On the wholeness that contains the unity of the opposites see Rav Kook, “Pinqas Ah . aron Beboysk,” in Qevatsim Mikitvei Yad Qodsho ( Jerusalem, 2007) 17–73 (especially 28). He also repeats it in Jaffa, in Pinqas ‘81 pisqaot, ibid., Par. 1, and par. 3. See Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 253, n. 316.

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limitations, cannot find a synthesis and unite the poles. Man is doomed to have his soul torn between two worlds, and this is exactly what he feels: A.  In the first notebooks that Rav Kook wrote in Jaffa, the optimism that unification is possible still reigns. He believes that we must bring ourselves to a state wherein the three forces (Torah—the spirit of the holy; nationalism—the spirit of the nation; liberalism—the spirit of man), represented by the different political parties in the land, will reign together in harmony. Rav Kook assumed that it is possible to achieve this harmony but does not explain how and what should be done when difficulties and oppositions become apparent: It makes sense that in a healthy state there is a need for the three forces together. We constantly need to strive to reach this healthy state, in a manner where these three forces together will reign within us with all their fullness and goodness, in a rectified, harmonious state, which is neither lacking nor excessive, and then they will join together in the noble and practical love, the holy, the nation and man, and together the individuals and the parties will meet, when each finds their most unique abilities in line with one of these three factions, with proper amiability, and with each recognizing the positive role of the other.55

B.  In Rav Kook’s words in the notebook “Harishon Leyafo”56 it is possible to see the beginning of the change from his optimistic stance. He numbers four false claims of heresy and responds to them. To the third claim— that the statements of science differ from the statements of revelation—Rav Kook responds that prophecy throughout the Hebrew Bible has nothing to do with the sciences which are the purview of human reason. The scientific information that seems to be contained by the Torah is meant only to deliver its message, and was written in line with the common scientific perceptions from the time of the Torah’s giving, the goal being to improve humanity’s ethics and to serve as a study-text for divine theological matters. This is the compartmental approach of Mendelssohn, the young Samuel David Luzzatto, and Leibowitz. In other words, according to Rav Kook, science and Torah—even when cleansed of misunderstandings, mistakes, and perceived contradictions—do not represent identical disciplines, even on a

55 Shemona Qevatsim, vol. 3, 1–2, written in Jaffa, printed in Orot Haqodesh (Bet El, 2004), 71–72. See Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 224. 56 Written in Jaffa, printed in the notebook “Rishon Leyafo,” in Qevatsim Mikhtav Qodsho, 91.

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theoretical level. Rather, each discipline deals with entirely different subject matters, and therefore, a priori, they cannot contradict each other: To the third claim—one must know the true form of prophecy. We know that it has no dealings whatsoever with the sciences that can be studied throughout the ages with the human mind; everything that is found in the Torah is only to make the ear understand, based on what was believed then, in order to improve their ethics. Beneath the simple words [the simple meaning of the text] are hidden broad paths to divine investigations which are the foundation and agenda of the Torah—and we are capable of traveling in all paths of study [without harming the Torah].57

C.  It is clear that already in 1908 Rav Kook had his doubts, worrying that perhaps there is a true contradiction between the results of scientific research and the statements of the Torah. If this is indeed the case, then a dialectical solution is the answer, and Rav Kook was optimistic about the possibility of achieving it. In a letter penned to Moshe Seidel—who had asked him about the ostensible contradiction between the Theory of Evolution and the account of creation appearing in the Torah—Rav Kook begins by providing an answer based on the compartmental approach: the Torah is not teaching facts about physics or history; it is teaching ethics and its goal is to prevent mankind from undertaking a corrupt path. This is the content of the Genesis narrative. However, later in the letter, he already mentions the possibility of a real contradiction: In general, I find myself obligated to remark to your pure spirit, regarding the opinions arrived at through the new studies, most of which ­contradict the simple meaning of the Torah. My opinion on this matter is the following: anyone with upright opinions should know that although all these new [scientific statements] have no proven truth to them, nevertheless, we are not obligated to explicitly reject them and oppose them. This is because, the principal [part] of the Torah is not to teach simple facts and events that took place. The principal [part] is the inner [element]—the inner teaching within the matters. And this will rise up even stronger in those places where there is a contradicting force, which we are encouraged to overcome through it. We must only know, that it is entirely possible for any person—even if he elevated himself so high as to be worthy of all honor 57 Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 36; ibid., note 267.

The Influence of German Neo-Orthodoxy    Chapter Twelve and pleasure—to corrupt his path, losing all that is his and sometimes causing himself, as well as many generations of his descendants, great harm. We learn this from Adam’s life in the Garden of Eden, and from his sin and exile, [. . .] and included in this is a great principle in the battle of opinions—that [when confronted by an] opinion which seeks to refute something from the Torah, we must not begin by refuting it, but rather build the palace of Torah on top of it. Thus, we rise up through it, and in this ascent, the opinions are revealed. And then, when we are no longer oppressed by anything, we can, with hearts full of certainty, fight for it as well.58

D.  Indeed, in 1910 one may already find a clear admission from Rav Kook that the contradiction exists and that humans cannot overcome it completely. Yosef Haim Brenner in his article “Derekh Hateh.  iya” (“the path of rebirth”), 1909, denied Rav Kook’s idea of uniting sanctity with the nation, arguing that it was impossible to unify what was not unified, and that such an idea could emerge only because of inner confusion and contradiction, and a soul torn in two. Rav Kook responded that Brenner was right, but that he would not be deterred from continuing to endeavor, to seek, and to approach this unification in a dialectical process: He who says of me that my soul is torn spoke well. Certainly, it is torn. It is impossible for us to imagine a person whose soul is not torn. Only the inanimate is whole. But a person has opposing aspirations, and there is always a war within him. All a person’s effort is to unite the opposites in his soul by the general idea which, in its greatness and exaltedness contains everything, and it achieves absolute harmony. Of course, this is only an ideal, to which we aspire, but to reach this is impossible to anyone born of woman. However, in our endeavor we can draw closer and closer, and this is what the kabbalists call yih. udim   [unifications].59

That is to say, a person has contradictory aspirations, and a man’s work is to try to unify the opposites in his soul as much as possible with the help of the general, exalted dialectical idea, which is meant to bring harmony and synthesis. However, this is an ideal to which we can only aspire. We cannot attain unity. 58 Igrot Haray’a A, 164. 59 The response was reported by Alexander Ziskind Rabinovitz (AZ”aR) and printed in Sefer Hamah . ashava Hayisraelit, Leqet Divrei Harav Kook, ed. A. Kalmanson ( Jerusalem, 1920), 13. See Rosenak, Hahalakhah Hanevuit, 52; Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 253–254 and ibid., n. 315.

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At best, we can only advance and come very close to the goal. In other words, it is impossible to completely unify the contradictory opposites. E.  In a collection of essays written in London at the end of the First World War, the mature Rav Kook already presented his new position, that the world of holiness and that of secularism contradict each other, in its full formulation. There is a contradiction; however, this contradiction is subjective, existing only in the human realm. With his limited conceptual ability, a person is unable to find a compromise between the holy and the profane, nor can he resolve their contradictions. His efforts in this direction will be fruitless, and the contradictions can be resolved only in the highest realm, the holy of holies. This approach is similar to that of the “dual truth” set out by Elijah Delmedigo, Samuel David Luzzatto, Leo Strauss, and Abraham Joshua Heschel. However, for them, life is tranquil, despite the duality, whereas for Rav Kook, as he said, the tempest and inner rift were a constant perturbation. According to Rav Kook’s account, in this world of humanity, contradictions and rifts are inherent, and there is no possibility for unification, which can only be accomplished in the world of God, in the holy of holies, where no man can enter: There is a world of the profane and a world of the sacred, and worlds of secularity and worlds of holiness. These worlds contradict each other, but, of course, this contradiction is subjective. With his limited intellect, a person cannot effect a compromise between the holy and the profane, and he cannot reconcile their contradictions, though they are reconciled in the higher world, in the Holy of Holies.60

CONCLUSION In my opinion, not only visions of the holy spirit led to the shelving of Linevukhei Hador. Many of the young Rav Kook’s opinions that were expressed in it were influenced by German Neo-Orthodoxy, and these changed or gradually faded after his immigration to the Land of Israel. Although some of the views mentioned above continued to appear occasionally in works written soon after his immigration, it became necessary in his opinion and in that of his son and disciples to shelve this collection of opinions, written in clear and fluent language, since they had become unacceptable. In their place, the mystical side of his 60 Shemona Qevatsim, Qovets, 8–73. Written in London at the end of World War I, printed in Orot Haqodesh, vol. 2 ( Jerusalem, 1994), 311. See Bin-Nun, Hamaqor Hakaful, 227.

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thought grew in strength and a powerful mystical and national religious Zionist view took over, giving rise to dialectical positions, to the Torah of the Land of Israel, and to a position tending far more to particularism. My analysis here appears to lead to the conclusion that, of the two influences upon him, the young Rav Kook tended more toward universalism, Lithuanian scholarly rationalism, and Maimonides, and less to Judah Halevi, to particularism, to romanticism, and to Hasidic and Kabbalistic mysticism. Therefore, he was pleased to accept the ideas that were spread in Europe by German Neo-Orthodoxy. The picture changed after his immigration to the Land of Israel, under the influence of the atmosphere of the Land of Israel, after he experienced the beginning of Redemption and his visions. The mystical and romantic influence grew much stronger, and the rationalism was weakened. His optimism, that the contradictions between revelation and reason were imaginary and susceptible of solution was replaced by a complex mystical dialectic and by a constant rift in his soul because of his inability to unify the extremes, which resisted unification. Until now, I have discussed Hirsch’s influence on twentieth-century Jewish thought. I will now turn to examining the influence of Samuel David Luzzatto on twentieth-century thinkers. It seems that Luzzatto had no devout followers, no advocates of the difficult-to-digest “dual truth.” His ethical theory is largely similar to that of many liberal religious thinkers in Europe and America, and his philosophy gained no close followers. In contrast, his critical, plain-sense, interpretation of Scripture, which was influenced by his “dual truth” approach, was followed closely by Umberto Cassuto. In the next chapter, I will show how Luzzatto’s method of biblical interpretation influenced the philosophy and biblical interpretation of the twentieth-century Cassuto, who as a rabbi and an educated halakhically observant Jew, took an additional step in studying the written Torah—disconnecting it from Sinai.

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Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method of Biblical Interpretation INTRODUCTION

U

mberto (Moshe David) Cassuto (1883–1951) was a rabbi, historian, and an academic biblical interpreter famous for his commentaries on Genesis and Exodus, which were based on all the philological, historical, and scientific knowledge of Bible scholarship in his time. Cassuto was familiar with the work of biblical scholars from Spinoza, through Wellhausen and up to Gunkel and Zvi Peretz Chajes. He was an Orthodox rabbi and the head of the rabbinical seminary in Florence. Although he also held professorships in the universities of Florence and Rome, and later, after immigrating to Israel, a professorship in Biblical studies in the Hebrew University, he struggled to fully accept the conclusions of the Documentary Hypothesis. Bible critics and their theories deny unity of the Torah, and, as Cassuto described it, they seek to outdo each other in slicing up the Bible into smaller and smaller pieces. Cassuto sought to use critical tools and disciplines (such as archeology, Assyriology, epigraphy, and the study of ancient Near Eastern texts) to refute the main thesis of the Documentary Hypothesis as understood by Bible scholars in his day—that the Torah is the work of a later redactor from the Second Temple period (perhaps Ezra). This redactor, the theory goes, took various earlier documents—written in different times, by different authors, subscribing to different ideologies— and sewed them together into an artificial composite.1 The advocates of the 1 Bible critics commonly refer to the following sources: the E source, which uses the name Elohim; the J source, which uses the name YHWH; the P source that developed in priestly

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen

Documentary Hypothesis based their theory on variations between different biblical passages: changes in God’s name, variations in style and language, different ideas and information, and recurring parallel passages characterized by inconsistencies or contradictions.2 Cassuto sought to refute these arguments one by one. Based on this description, we can describe Cassuto’s self-appointed task as traditional in nature, according with the worldviews of the Italian maskil, philologist, and Bible interpreter—Samuel David Luzzatto. Luzzatto came neither from the rabbinate nor from academia. His knowledge was the product of his own inconsistent, personal study. His research was private, conducted on the basis of the information available to researchers in his time—and he was not even acquainted with all the information available. Nevertheless, like Cassuto, Luzzatto frequently interprets statements of Scripture by comparing them to what he understood to be the norms of the ancient Near East. His achievements were far more meager and superficial than those of Cassuto. In Luzzatto’s time, ancient Near Eastern studies were still in their infancy, and, compared to the information available to Cassuto in the twentieth century, his information was limited; therefore, his theories lacked a real basis, and many of them were nothing but speculation. Nevertheless, his studies quickly drove him to accept what he deemed the most reasonable conclusion: that the Torah was written by Moses as dictated by God. According to his research, scholars should privilege the Torah’s own self-testimony about itself; he saw no persuasive reason to reject this account or to impugn its credibility. With a pen-stroke, he brushed off the Documentary Hypothesis, deeming the unity and divine origins of the Torah indisputable principles, which he had succeeded in proving linguistically, interpretively and thematically.3 But the solution proposed by Cassuto to refute the difficulties and contradictions noted by Bible critics, does not accord with Luzzatto’s views. Cassuto maintained that the Torah was written by one author, almost certainly living at the end of King David’s reign. This author did not forge together existing, circles; and the D source which forms the core of the book of Deuteronomy. These were redacted by R who sewed the texts together with rudimentary seams. The editor or editors treated the ancient documents as sacrosanct sources and refrained from changing their style and wording as much as possible. See M. D. Cassuto, Torat Hate’udot Vesiduram Shel Sifrei Hatorah ( Jerusalem, 1959), 12. 2 See, for example, ibid., 19–70. 3 See S. Vargon, “Habiqoret Hagvohah Latorah Be’Einei Shadal,” Shenaton Leh  . eker Hamiqra Vehamizrah  .  Haqadum 13 (2002), 271–304.

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written documents, but rather composed his book on the basis of the oral traditions then circulating among the nation. These traditions were diverse; they consisted of prose and poetry, folktales and wisdom literature, particularistic themes and universal ones. The author ingeniously sifted through these traditions and sewed them together into a great tapestry, a single masterpiece preserving the best of these diverse traditions.4 This solution is a far cry from belief in a divine Torah written in Moses’s time, the traditional view-point advocated by Luzzatto. Despite these differences between Luzzatto and Cassuto, the former exerted a strong influence on the latter. This can be explained, I believe, by the shared goals of these two non-fundamentalists5: understanding the simple meaning of the text, dedication to an untiring search for the scientific truth, regardless of consequences, and a lack of fear of deviating from tradition and disagreeing with the exegesis of the Sages. In this chapter, I intend to present the nature of this influence in all its detail. The Israeli academe’s attitude to the two great researchers of Italian Jewry in the modern era is summed up by Benzion Dinur in a single sentence: “There is no doubt that Professor Moshe David Cassuto was the greatest most careful scholar to rise from Italian Jewry since the time of Luzzatto.” Robert Bonfil confirms this statement, also comparing Cassuto to Luzzatto, describing them as two scholars who labored with a deep historical consciousness. But Bonfil also notes the contrast between them: Luzzatto came to the Rabbinic Seminary in Padua from outside of the rabbinate; Cassuto came to the academic world from the Rabbinic Seminary of Florence. These two paths represent the uniqueness of Italian Jewry which deftly bound together Jewish and gentile culture, creating a harmony between them. In the modern era as well, Italian Jewry maintained an organic connection between traditional religious life and modern, cultural, and national identity. This combination was taught in the rabbinic seminaries in Italy in the spirit of Luzzatto, as opposed to the approach in other communities, where culture and nationalism supplanted religion. My friend Angelo Piattelli told me that in 1928 Cassuto published a eulogy for his 4 See Cassuto, Torat Hateu’dot, 83–86, and later in this chapter. 5 In my opinion, which I presented in detail in my book The Middle Way in the chapter on biblical criticism (vol. 1, 144–154), Luzzatto was not a fundamentalist but a traditional romantic. I base this on James Barr’s model in his book Fundamentalism. If we employ the modern categories used to classify biblical scholars’ relationships to Scripture as historical truth, Luzzatto and Cassuto would, in my opinion, be fall into the maximalist camp—not the fundamentalist one.

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teacher Z. P. Chajes, which he delivered in the Rabbinic Seminary in Florence. Describing how Chajes taught his students about Bible criticism, Cassuto writes that Luzzatto was not mentioned among the scholars they discussed because he was not free enough from the traditional restrictions.6 Conversely, another friend of mine, Reuven Campagnano, Cassuto’s grandson, recounts that his late mother Chulda (Cassuto’s youngest daughter) recalls that according to her father the greatest compliment he ever received was that he was following in the footsteps of Luzzatto. I intend to demonstrate the truth of this compliment in detail.

THE ORIGIN AND TIME PERIOD OF THE TORAH In his essay “Introduzione Critica ed Ermeneutica” (Introduction to Bible criticism and commentary),7 written in Italian in 1829 for his students in the ­rabbinical seminary of Padua, Luzzatto explains his views about Scripture, describing its provenance, time, language and methods of interpretation. Already at the beginning of the essay, Luzzatto dubs the views of certain Oriental scholars in the Protestant theological intellectual environment in Germany as “disgusting” and “perverted.” As Luzzatto understands it, Bible criticism assumes that the Hebrew language could not possibly have been preserved faithfully for the almost thousand years during which the Hebrew Bible was ostensibly composed—from the time of Moses to the time of Nehemiah. Therefore, “they conclude, with great audacity, that the only possibility is that the Torah was written some hundreds of years after the time of Moses—for example, in the time of David, or even later.”8 Luzzatto describes in detail how the circumstances of the Nation of Israel during those one thousand years allowed the preservation of this ancient language. He writes in summary: “Thus truth will prevail and be regarded as unassailable, that the entire Torah belongs

6 R. Bonfil, “Harav Moshe David Cassuto: Historiyon Shel Hayehudim Befirentse Bitqufat Harenesans,” Italia, supplement series 3, Moshe David Cassuto, ed. R. Bonfil (2007): 10–13, and note 1 there. Cassuto, Hirsch Perez Chajes, La Rassegna Mensile di Israel 3, 5 (Florence, 1928): 218–232. See p. 221 there. 7 S. D. Luzzatto, Ketavim, vol. 2, 97–134. The original Italian essay became the introduction to the first edition of Luzzatto’s commentary on the Torah, published in Padua, 1871. Gad Tsarfati translated the second part of the essay into Hebrew, and it was printed as an introduction to the second edition of Luzzatto’s commentary on the Torah which was prepared for publication by Pinchas Schlesinger, in Tel Aviv, 1966. 8 Ibid., 101.

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to the Lord of Prophets, our teacher Moses, as all the ancients believed. . .”9 Luzzatto rejects the claim, made by Bible critics, that Ezra the Scribe wrote the Torah, altering ancient manuscripts in the process. Ezra was a man of books not an author, Luzzatto argues, and he certainly would never dare to change anything in the Torah. Luzzatto concludes: We need not fear to state as an unshakeable principle that our Holy Scriptures did not suffer at all with the fall of the kingdom of our ancestors; that Ezra did not correct nor did he change our Holy Torah in any way; that he did not copy books, and that the Bible in our possession should not at all be called the Torah of Ezra, as some critics groundlessly wish, but the Torah of Moses and the Torah of God.10

Luzzatto would never change his mind on the origins of the Torah or its time of composition. When he was only 18 (1818), he wrote a pamphlet entitled Sefer Torah Nidreshet (“the book of interpreted Torah”)11 which he dedicated to studying the veracity of the Torah’s purported Mosaic authorship. In this book, he sought to demonstrate that the Torah contains nothing at odds with empirical knowledge, and also contains no internal contradictions; all those verses mustered by bible critics to post-date the text to after Moses’s time, can be explained according to a traditional approach; and the miracles recorded in the Torah (like any other metaphysical matters) are beyond the senses and therefore beyond the purview of scientific research. A year later, Luzzatto penned two letters to Isaac Samuel Reggio,12 formulating naive proofs for the Torah’s divinity and antiquity, all relying on the Torah’s own self account13: public miracles, Moses’s reliability, a detailed and precise chronology, the fact that no earlier work contradicts it, and the fact that even the Muslims and Christians believe in its divinity. Luzzatto concludes that we must rely on the words of the Torah and accept its own account of its origins and time. Similarly, he argues for the existence of an unbroken chain of tradition, stretching from the time

9 Ibid., 102. 10 Ibid., 106. 11 Published in installments in “Kokhvei Yitsh . ak,” 16–26 (1852–1861), and eventually printed a second time in Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, section 1, 49–109. 12 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 31–40; Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, section 2, 5–14. 13 See S. Vargon, “Havikuah . Bein Shadal Leyashar B’davar Zeman Ketivatah Shel Hatorah,” Beit Mikra 52, 1 (2007): 169–184.

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of Moses to our own day.14 Luzzatto is thus convinced that his view about the Torah’s time and provenance are born of research and investigation—they are not the result of a fanatical adherence to religious dogma. He would return to the issue of Mosaic authorship, with more intensity, as Bible criticism and the Reform movement grew stronger in Western Europe. Luzzatto wrote a letter to the editor of Hamagid (year 1, vol. 50, Kislev 5618 [1857]), explaining the Mekhilta’s account (end of Parashat Bo) of the evil son, as quoted in the Passover Haggada (“and because he has removed himself from the collective he has denied God”). The meaning of this passage, he explains, is not that the evil son had denied God’s existence but rather that he has denied the divinity of the Torah: That is to say, belief that the Torah in our possession did not emerge from the heart of Moses or of any other man, but that it was a commandment of God revealed to Moses, who was commanded to make it known, with the commandments written in it, that it is the will of the Blessed One that we should observe these commandments. [. . .] And therefore, I learn that the essence Judaism depends on is none other than belief that the Torah is from heaven and the acceptance of the yoke of the commandments; but belief in the existence of God is not included in that essence, because if there is no God, there is no divine Torah.15

In another letter, published in Hamagid the next month (year 2, vol. 2, Tevet 5618 [1858]), Luzzatto addresses Avraham Geiger’s statements about the Torah in his book Urschrift und Übersetzungen der Bibel: “That the Sages and Judges of Israel during the Second Temple period laid their hands upon the Holy Books to correct and emend them according to what they deemed good and useful for the needs of their times.” Luzzatto claims that the Sages were careful never 14 See Luzzatto, “Vikuah . Al Torat Hakabbalah,” in Meh . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, section 1, 115–116. 15 Printed a second time in Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, section 2, 18–19. Luzzatto reiterated his claims about the antiquity of the Torah in additional places. See, for example, S. D. Luzzatto, Igrot Qadmiel Veh  . aqarniel (Krakow, 1889), 79; idem, “Shiurim Beteologiah Dogmatit,” in Ketavim, vol. 1, 94–98; idem, Exodus 16:35. In his commentary on the passage of the Hebrew slave in Exodus 21:2–6, Luzzatto explains that when the “Jubilee” was first presented in Leviticus 25, this constituted a modification of previously mentioned laws of the Hebrew slave in Exodus. This new law introduced the Jubilee as a factor in establishing the period of slavery. According to this, God changed his mind about this law before dictating Parashat Behar to Moses in Leviticus!

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to edit anything and Geiger’s statements and proofs are nothing more than “a dream, a false vision, sorcery and lies.” It is important for Luzzatto to emphasize that “the faith I hold and whose wars I fight are not without inquiry; rather they are the fruit of free investigation, which was within me from the beginning of my childhood before I knew of the existence of rationalists and before I saw the books of Spinoza and his students.”16 As mentioned, Luzzatto expends much effort to prove the Torah’s antiquity, using the text itself to this end, something he does frequently in his commentary on the Torah.17 Cassuto also maintains that the Torah is an ancient and unified work and this is his primary argument against the Documentary Hypothesis. However, unlike Luzzatto, he does not believe that the Torah should be antedated to the time of Moses, nor does he believe that it represents the “the fiat of God, revealed to Moses, whom he commanded to teach us the commandments inscribed therein.” He explains the process of writing the Torah as follows: A whole world of traditions was known to the Israelites in olden times, traditions that apparently differed in their origin, nature and characteristics. Some of them preserved memories of ancient events, and some belonged to the category of folk lore; some were the product of the Israelite spirit and some contained elements that emanated from pagan culture; a 16 The two letters from 1858 were printed a second time in Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, section 2, 17–24, together with additional letters entitled “Haemunah Betorat Moshe” (Faith in the Mosaic Torah) (the quotes are from ibid., 22, 24). On Luzzatto’s conflict with Geiger over the question of the Sages editing Scripture, see Luzzatto’s letter to his nephew, Samuel Hayim Loli, dated January 1848, printed in Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, section 2, 121. Luzzatto claims there that the Sages believed in the divinity of the Torah, as he does, and therefore they would not have so brazenly edited the text to fit with their enactments, even when these enactments do not conform to the simple meaning of the text. For additional professions of not being a “fanatic” but a free researcher, see Luzzatto’s comment from 1852 about his work “Torah Nidreshet,” in Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, section 1, 88; and his essay “Al Haketav Haivri,” in section 2, 127–131. See also Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 633. Luzzatto discusses this issue at length, seeking to refute the claims of Galician rabbis like Rabbi Nahman Krochmal, Rabbi Tsvi Hirsch Chajes, and others, who accused him of religious zealotry without knowing him or looking into the issue in depth. Luzzatto’s words here contradict the opinions of several researchers who have claimed that Luzzatto was a naïve believer, a religious radical, or a researcher who did not take up the historicist implications required by modern research methodologies. See, for example, P. Mendes-Flohr, ed. H  .  okhmat Yisrael ( Jerusalem, 1980), 19; idem, Qidmah Venaftulehah (Tel Aviv, 2010), 95; Feiner, “Shadal Vehahaskhalah Shekeneged.” See also Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 474, note 183. 17 See, for example, Gen. 34:15; 39:20; 49:1; Ex. 20:1; Lev. 6:19.

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen number of them were handed down by the general populace and others were subjected to the close study of the exponents of the Wisdom literature; there were stories that were given a poetic and consequently more fixed form, and other that were narrated in prose that was liable to suffer changes in the course of time; there were simple tales and complex, succinct and detailed, lucid and obscure, unpretentious and most sublime. From all this treasure, the Torah selected those traditions that appeared suited to its aims, and then proceeded to purify and refine them, to arrange and integrate them, to recast their style and phrasing, and generally to give them new aspects of its own design, until they were welded into a unified whole.18

When, then, was the Torah written, according to Cassuto? In his later commentaries, he only alludes to his view on the issue. For example, in his commentary on Ex. 16, discussing textual difficulties in the accounts of the manna and the quail, he writes: Verse 35 (“And the children of Israel ate manna for forty years, till they came to an inhabited [or a habitable] land,” etc.) shows that the chapter in its present form was written after the Israelites had entered a settled country. At that time there undoubtedly existed numerous stories about the ventures of the generation of the wilderness; some of these were incorporated in the Book of Exodus, some were included in other books of the Pentateuch and some were never recorded at all. Out of the store of these traditions the Torah chose what it desired for the achievement of its purpose.19 18 Cassuto, Torat Hateudot, 84 (translation taken from U. Cassuto, The Documentary Hypothesis and the Composition of the Pentateuch: Eight Lectures, trans I. Abrahams [ Jerusalem, 1960], 102). See also M. D. Cassuto, Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu trans. M. Hartom ( Jerusalem, 1990), 393–398. In Alexander Rofe’s book (Mavo Lesifrut Hamiqra [ Jerusalem, 2006]), he summarizes the development of the Documentary Hypothesis (33–82); the critiques of it (83–88, 101–112); an additional approach—the development of traditions (88–95); Cassuto’s approach and the critiques of it (95–100). Finally, he suggests an updated approach to the composition of the Torah in light of these critiques (113–117). Rofe does not accept any position as is but takes the best from each approach in order to understand the composition of the Torah in a manner that answers the most questions. 19 M. D. Cassuto, Perush Al Sefer Shemot ( Jerusalem, 1952), 129 (translation taken from U. Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Exodus, trans. I Abrahams [ Jerusalem, 1967], 187). Cf. Luzzatto on Ex. 16:35. Additional allusions are scattered throughout his writings. For example, see Luzzatto, “Bemada,” 10; M. D. Cassuto, “Yerushalayim Besifrei Hatorah,”

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In a book written in Italy and published in Italian in 1934, Cassuto was more specific. In the body of the book and its conclusion he writes that in his opinion Genesis (and the other books of the Pentateuch) was written no earlier than the end of King David’s reign. In this era, the Nation of Israel finally dwelt in peace; this was a necessary condition for the Torah’s brilliant, anonymous author to craft his amazing work out of the traditions then prevalent among the people. The author had two goals: (1) To provide the people with a unified and stable national-religious identity. (2) To demonstrate that the conquest of the Land, and Israel’s military and political ascendancy and consolidation of control, are part of a foretold divine plan.20 Cassuto himself expressed reservations about this stance, softening his words, and taking another small step in the direction of Luzzatto’s more traditionalist views. In a note at the bottom of his Italian book he writes: “Everything said refers to the final redaction [this is as opposed to the] nucleus which can raise us up to Moses. It is difficult to assume that Moses, while engaged in molding the consciousness of his people, did not present before them a general picture of the early traditions about mankind’s beginnings and the beginnings of the Nation of Israel.”21 However, it is important to note that this footnote remained in manuscript; Cassuto never published it in his lifetime—perhaps fearing it was not sufficiently academic. Moreover, his book, written in Italian, was only fully translated into Hebrew after his death. It seems that Cassuto was not eager to share his views about the time of the Torah’s composition and the identity of its author with the wider public, lest he perturb the dominant Orthodoxy. He did not wish to enrage conservatives or academic researchers. That being said, it seems that he was set on disagreeing with them, taking a middle path between them, without any compromises—just like Luzzatto who also saw himself as a man of the middle, situated between sanctimonious fundamentalists and Reform Bible critics. Cassuto writes explicitly: “I would ask both these schools of thought [traditional readers and Bible critics] not to be hasty and pass judgment on my book before they have read it completely and have examined what it states in detail.”22 Nevertheless, there in Sifrut Miqra’it Vesifrut Kenaanit ( Jerusalem, 1972), vol. 1, 91–97; idem, “Hoshea Hanavi Vesifrei Hatorah,” in Sifrut Miqra’it Vesifrut Kenaanit, vol. 1, 134. 20 Cassuto, Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu, 252, 314, 329–333; M. Yitsh  . aki, “Yih  . udo She Hamiqra Be’einav Shel Cassuto,” Beit Mikra 15, 3, 42 (1970): 342. 21 Cassuto, Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu, 374, and in the note on p. 331. 22 M. D. Cassuto, Meadam ad Noah .  ( Jerusalem, 1953), 11, in the introduction (translation taken from U. Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Genesis: Part I from Adam to Noah, trans. I. Abrahams [ Jerusalem, 1961], 4).

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen

is no doubt in my mind that Cassuto rejected the notion of biblical documents predating the era of King David; it is only in this respect that his system constitutes an antithesis to the Documentary Hypothesis.23 He is vague even when describing in minute detail his great discovery: the remnants of ancient Israelite epic poetry, lost, but embedded in the apocrypha, the Midrash, and, in a sanitized form, in the Bible.24 He never explicitly mentions if these were 23 See Cassuto, Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu, 329. There he writes explicitly about “the long oral transmission.” In his essay “Reshit Hahistoriographiah Beyisrael,” in Sifrut Miqra’it Vesifrut Kenaanit, vol. 1, 15, 18, he deals with the subject of oral tradition. Alexander Rofe recounts that at the beginning of the school term in 1951 (right before Cassuto’s death) in a course on the book of Numbers “Cassuto voiced his opinion that the process of the formation of the written Torah was similar to that of the Oral Torah. Laws and traditions were orally transmitted separately, and only after a long process of transmission were set down in writing.” See A. Rofe, “Cassuto H .  oker Hamiqra: Tokhnito Beshnat T”sh [1939] Bemabat Mishenat Tshs”b [2002],” Italia, supplement series 3, Moshe David Cassuto, ed. R. Bonfil (2007): 66. For similar explicit statements, see M. D. Cassuto, “Semikhut Haparshiyot Vesiduran Besifrei Hamiqra,” in Sifrut Miqra’it Vesifrut Kenaanit, vol. 1, 201. He writes there that the written Torah came into being in the same way as the Oral Torah: different passages were juxtaposed based on associations between expressions and wording. Kaufmann described Cassuto as a harmonizer and a traditionalist and conservative, diligently espousing the unity of the biblical text, but in practice speaking as a critical reader opposing tradition by assuming the existence of sources prior to the Torah. Kaufmann also explains that according to Cassuto these prior sources were traditions and not fully-formed documents. Kaufmann sharply criticizes Cassuto, arguing that the Hebrew Bible was preceded by fully-formed documents and is not a composition as much as a compilation—though Kaufmann did not endorse the extreme, surgical approach of source critics. Interestingly, Kaufmann was not aware that in his Italian book, Cassuto revealed his opinion that the Torah was written at the end of David’s reign by a genius human author. This allows Kaufmann to claim that Cassuto does not reveal his opinion about who wrote the Torah, sufficing with generics terms such as “the Torah chose,” “the Torah laid out,” and so on. See Y. Kaufmann, “Me’adam Ad Noah . ,” in Mikivshunah Shel HaYetsirah Hamiqra’it: Qovets Ma’amarim (Tel Aviv, 1966), 217–219. On Cassuto being an opponent of both the right and the left of biblical studies, and his choice of a middle way between them, see M. Yitsh . aki, “Hagishah Haretsuyah Vehametsuyah Leh . eker Hamiqra Be’einav Shel M. D. Cassuto,” Beit Mikra 15, 3, 42 (1970): 328, 332, 335–336. 24 See Cassuto, Sefer Shemot, 108–109, 123–125; M. D. Cassuto, “Shirat Ha’alilah Beyisrael,” in Sifrut Miqra’it Vesifrut Kenaanit, vol. 1, 62–90. On page 85 he discusses Hebrew epic poetry that was committed to writing (unclear if before or after the writing of the Torah). This poetry was lost after the time of Ezra and Nehemiah, but knowledge of their contents remained, being embedded in the words of the Sages in a less refined way, for there was no longer any fear of idolatry. On page 87 he struggles with the question of the oldest epic composition, from which the Israelites knew about concepts such as the cherubs and the spinning sword at the entrance of the Garden of Eden. He returns to this in his commentary on Parashat Bereshit. See Cassuto, Meadam Ad Noah  . , 46.

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written compositions predating the Bible or if they were committed to writing only later; whether they were lost before the Bible’s composition or afterwards, or if they were poems with a fixed reading, but transmitted only orally. Cassuto may have believed that a small number of documents of ancient epic poetry, in addition to oral traditions, existed before the Torah was committed to writing. Nevertheless, the biblical author distilled all of these, integrating into his work only those motifs which fit his purposes. Moreover, it is obvious, according to Cassuto, that the author did not integrate them as written, as claimed by the advocates of the Documentary Hypothesis. Cassuto explains that two epic poems were composed in the era of the Judges. The poem Haazinu was composed in his opinion a short time before the war of Deborah, and it originated in circles which sought to inspire young men to take part in the war. After that, it was sung periodically during festival gatherings; many learned it by heart. By the time it was committed to writing (and Cassuto does not tell us when this happened), the nation as a whole had committed it to memory. The blessing Vezot Habracha was also composed, in Cassuto’s opinion, in the era of the Judges, when different tribes were embroiled in conflict with the local inhabitants, seeking to establish themselves and fortify their positions. In this case also, Cassuto does not mention when, in his opinion, this blessing was committed to writing.25 It is notable that Cassuto, like Luzzatto, claims that he is open-minded in his research, always reconciling himself with the truth, be it as it may. According to Cassuto: When I began my scientific research on the Book of Genesis eighteen years ago, I approached my task without any bias, and I was prepared, from the start, to accept all the results of my investigation, be they what they may. [. . .] It was not my object to defend any particular viewpoint or any particular exegetical method, but only to arrive at a thorough understanding of the Torah’s meaning, whatever that might be.26 25 See Cassuto, “Hoshea,” 133; idem, “Shirat Moshe,” in Sifrut Miqra’it Vesifrut Kenaanit, vol. 2, 6; idem, “Devarim 33 Veh  . ag Rosh Hashanah Biymei Qedem,” in Sifrut Miqra’it Vesifrut Kenaanit, vol. 2, 31. 26 Cassuto, Meadam ad Noah  . , 11 (translation taken from Cassuto, Commentary on Genesis, 3–4). See Yitsh  . aki, “Hagishah Haretsuyah,” 332. Kaufmann challenged Cassuto, claiming that the goal of Cassuto’s works was to attack the Documentary Hypothesis and create a basis for a harmonistic approach—not an objective search for truth. See Kaufmann, “Meadam ad Noah  . ,” 216–217. Some made similar claims about Luzzatto, arguing that he used his research to defend the authenticity of prophecy and the Torah’s divinity, first among them

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen

True to his word, Cassuto stands as a powerful bulwark against academic Bible scholars who subscribed to the Documentary Hypothesis as well as against rabbinic scholars who believed in a literal written Torah from Sinai; it is one of Cassuto’s greatest qualities. Like Luzzatto before him, he shied away from no one, neither from the right or the left, strongly clinging to his own truth. 27 However, the two interpreters had their differences. Cassuto was situated to Luzzatto’s left. Luzzatto had concluded, based on his own research, that the Torah was indeed transmitted to Moses from God, at Sinai and that it was Moses who committed it to writing. In a sense, Luzzatto’s ire was directed against a stance identical to that held by Cassuto. Luzzatto regarded such views about the Torah’s origins and time as heresy. They both agree, however, about the Torah’s unity and both reject the Documentary Hypothesis.

being Krochmal. I think that, at least consciously, both Luzzatto and Cassuto considered themselves objective researchers. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 106–108, 121–124, and note 94. 27 Regarding Luzzatto’s position on the middle way between his opponents on the right and the left, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 22. Walking the middle way together with Luzzatto were other thinkers some leaning more to the right others more to the left. To his right were Neo-Orthodox thinkers like Rav Hirsch and maskilim with Neo-Orthodox characteristics like Z. H. Chajes and others who wanted to integrate modernity and tradition without giving up on Halakhah. To his left were members of the positive-historical school like Zacharias Frankel and Heinrich Graetz. To the right of all these were the Orthodox thinkers in the circle of the H .  atam Sofer, originator of the phrase, “innovation is biblically prohibited,” and to the left the Reform movement and academic biblical critics. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 6–23. The use of the terminology “left and right” was used by these thinkers themselves, as I show in my book there. In a recently published collection of letters in Italian, exchanged in 1943 between Cassuto and Adv. Alfonso Pacifici, a strong critic of Cassuto, the latter asked Cassuto if he believes that God dictated the Pentateuch to Moses, as he himself believes. Cassuto responded that God had many ways to transmit his Torah. How God actually went about doing this he does not know. This is a question for the theologians and philosophers to deal with; he, as a man of science, is researching the text as is, after it was received through the experience of Moses and his successors, and transmitted in human language. In any case, the Torah to him is definitely divine. This position, says Cassuto, cannot be understood by people like Pacifici, or by the Bible critics. Cassuto declares that he has he purposefully avoided speaking or writing about the genius author of the Pentateuch since he came to Israel. This genius may be Moses. Cassuto did not respond to Pacifici’s question about the genius author from king David’s period whom he mentioned in his Italian book. See Angelo M. Piattelli, “Umberto Cassuto: dalla formazione al Collegio Rabbinico Italiano alla polemica con Alfonso Pacifici,” La Rassegna Mensile di Israel 82, 2-3, vol. 1 (MayDecember 2016): 27–89.

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THE DOCUMENTARY HYPOTHESIS Luzzatto lacked the scientific tools and philological knowledge to properly contend with the Documentary Hypothesis. He rejects it out of hand as blasphemy—even excluding the possibility that existing materials were collected by Moses himself. He rejects the method of distinguishing between documents based on variations in God’s name with a simple argument: there are passages in Scripture which use both the names YHWH and Elohim: In the story of Noah we find the names of the Godhead and the Tetragrammaton intermingled in a manner that decisively refutes the words of those who say that Moses found various ancient scrolls, and the passages where the name of the Godhead appears were written in one generation by certain people, and those with the Tetragrammaton were written in a different generation by different people, and those with the Tetragrammaton and the Godhead together were also written in a different generation by different people. Recent scholars have puzzled over such investigations, and nothing has come of them.28

The possibility that one story or even one verse could be comprised of multiple sources (a possibility which Cassuto criticizes at length) never even crossed his mind.29 Luzzatto has no qualms about expressing his views about the falsehood and danger of the Documentary Hypothesis. In a letter to Rapoport from 1831, Luzzatto declares his disdain for Isaac Mordecai Jost. In this letter, he attacks the latter’s views with sharp invectives; he says that Jost committed his ideas to writing with the malicious purpose of destroying the nation’s faith and unity; by doing so he made himself an enemy of mankind and the nation of Israel. Luzzatto also criticizes Jost’s historical work, which ostensibly deals only with a period stretching from the Hasmoneans to the present day. Luzzatto wonders why then he chose to dedicate twelve pages, to proving that the Torah is a compendium and amalgam of various scrolls of various writings that sometimes contradict one another? For whose benefit and honor did he write those pages, if not for his own honor, to 28 Luzzatto, commentary on Gen. 6:9. See also on Gen. 2:4. 29 See Cassuto, Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu, 36–40, 283–290; idem, Me’adam ad Noah  . , 24–26; idem, Torat Hate’udot, 34.

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen show to the nations that he is no less lacking in faith than De Wette and his comrades? And for whose benefit did he write about Samuel the Prophet (pt. 1, 43)? Who required him to reveal the depths of his heart on these matters, that are completely irrelevant to his book, since he documents only from the Hasmoneans onward? This is nothing but malice and love of honoring himself by shaming the nation and its faith.30

In a personal letter from the same year to Samuel Leib Goldenberg of Tarnopol, Luzzatto rebukes the latter for trying to justify Jost; Goldenberg had sought to adduce proof of Jost’s position by citing the opinion in the Talmud that the Torah “was given scroll by scroll.” Luzzatto responded: “Am I such a fool in your eyes, that I should accept the false testimony that you give about the Sages of the Talmud, saying that among them, too, someone thought that the Torah was assembled by scroll after scroll written by different writers, as if that was what they meant by saying the Torah was given scroll by scroll?”31 Cassuto knew the intricacies of the Documentary Hypothesis, and was familiar with all the scholarship published on the subject up until the twentieth century. Nevertheless, his comprehensive studies led him to the conclusion that the arguments and proofs marshaled in favor of the Documentary Hypothesis lacked any solid basis, and that the theory was mistaken. As a believing, observant Jew, he preferred, like Luzzatto, arguments in favor of the Torah’s unity and privileged theories which maintained that the book was written by one author. Luzzatto had argued in his time that the arguments formulated by Bible scholars regarding the human origins of the Torah—like other claims made by philosophers and men of science—are constantly shifting and changing; one should, therefore, not be alarmed by the baseless discoveries of science, which ostensibly contradict Jewish belief. Cassuto also notes that science develops, changes, and innovates. Prejudices are refuted; and the scholar must carefully examine hypotheses; if these prove to be false he must offer new theories.32 Cassuto seeks to undermine the primary arguments of the Documentary Hypothesis as follows: 1. The use of God’s different names is not a consequence of diverse written sources; the single author uses different names depending on the 30 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 178. 31 Ibid., 190. Regarding Luzzatto’s unique approach to the topic of the Biblical text, see S. Vargon, “Shadal Keh  .  okrei Hamiqra Hayehudim: Al Gishato Leba’ayot Benusah  . aluts H  .  Hamiqra,” Iyunei Miqra Veparshanut (Ramat Gan, 2003), vol. 6, 85–91. 32 See Luzzatto on Deut. 6:5; Luzzatto, Meh  . qerei Hayahadut, vol. 1, section 2, 244; Cassuto, Meadam ad Noah  . , 11; idem, Torat Hate’udot, 11–14.

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character, content, and genre of the passage. He uses YHWH (the personal, particularistic name of the God of Israel) when dealing with the nation of Israel, with his intimate relationship with the members of the nation, with Israelite morality and divine attributes, and in passages discussing ecstatic prophecy and the naive beliefs of the nation’s members. By contrast, the author uses the name Elohim (a generic noun for the deity) when discussing God as transcendent and abstract, as the creator of the physical world, the controller of nature, and the creator of life—as well as in the context of pan-national subjects (such as Wisdom Literature).33 Cassuto uses this rationale to explain the variation in names within the flood story,34 and in the account of the creation of man and woman.35 Luzzatto already noted the difference between Elohim and YHWH, and I think it is quite likely that Cassuto learned this method from him. Luzzatto writes as follows: “God is called Elohim, because he is the master of nature and the possessor of all powers; he is named the Tetragrammaton because he is worshiped by people, there was therefore no reason to mention this name before man’s creation.”36 Nevertheless, Cassuto points to many inconsistencies between the two creation accounts and therefore concluded that each account represents a different tradition: The first he considered a short narrative poem of a general character, stemming from the circle of Wisdom Literature, while the second was a detailed folk poem in which man is situated at the center of creation. 33 Ibid., 32. Cassuto’s Torat Hate’udot is a concise and improved version of his book La Questione della Genesi, where Cassuto constructed the foundations of this critique of the Documentary Hypothesis in great detail. Cassuto published his book, Torat Hate’udot, which was based on several Hebrew lectures on the topic, summarizing for the Israeli reader his La Questione della Genesi, which he had previous published only in Italian. The translation of the entire book into Hebrew (Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu) was completed only after his death. Cassuto (Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu, 16) cites Rabbi Judah Halevi as a primary source for his views on this topic, Kuzari, essay 4, 1–3. 34 Cassuto, Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu, 33–35; idem, Torat Hate’udot, 34–35; idem, Me’adam ad Noah  . , 24. 35 Cassuto, Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu, 36–40; idem, Torat Hate’udot, 32–34; idem, Me’adam ad Noah  . , 54–56. Kaufmann critiqued Cassuto’s principles about the use of names of God in the Hebrew Bible. According to him, these principles are artificial and are so flexible that almost any claim could be based on them to justify the use of a specific name after the fact. See Kaufmann, “Meadam ad Noah  . ,” 227. 36 Luzzatto, Gen. 2: 4; See also 1:1.

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen

Cassuto claims that bringing these two accounts one after another was an accepted practice in ancient Near Eastern literature. Luzzatto, however, in his commentary on Genesis 1:27 is content with citing the traditional explanation: the second account is merely a more detailed description of the first. Cassuto summarizes his opinion about the two creation accounts as follows: “We, therefore, do not need to see in the first chapter of Genesis the work of a redactor who shoddily melded together inherently different passages. Rather, we can see in this the organic work of an original scribe with superior talent, who knew how to harmoniously unite those contradictory traditions which were known by his kinsmen by heart. In this manner, he knew how to create these beautiful pages, which had such a huge influence on the soul of mankind for thousands of years.”37 2. The arguments about language and style variations between different documents do not stand up to Cassuto’s meticulous criticisms which he bases on the rules of Hebrew grammar. 3. Cassuto explains the differing opinions in the sources as deriving from changing character and content of the different passages; different passages refer to God from a single author’s multiple perspectives, which were, in turn, based on the traditions available to him. 4. Cassuto attributes discrepancies between duplicate passages to different traditions preserved by the nation prior to the Torah’s writing. These included Israelite tradition, ancient Near Eastern traditions, wisdom literature traditions and folk traditions—in poetry and in prose. “It was but natural that the Torah should take up an attitude towards them; that it should teach us how to extract their kernel and to throw away the husk, how to interpret them and how to distil from them whatever is good and true, how to purify them so that they should conform to the religious conscience of the Israelites, and how to profit by them for generations to come.”38 5. Cassuto resolves discrepancies within passages using exegetical tools. 6. The parallel and recurring passages in the accounts of the forefathers Cassuto explains as an intentional literary act: it was meant to teach 37 Cassuto, Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu, 234. 38 Cassuto, Torat Hate’udot, 62 (translation taken from Cassuto, Documentary Hypothesis, 72). In his critique of Cassuto’s position—that the Torah rejects the mythology of the ancient Near East—Kaufmann claims that the Israelites were unfamiliar with this mythology during the formation of the biblical faith. See Kaufmann, “Meadam Ad Noah . ,” 230– 231, 238–239.

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that the ventures of the forefathers—similar events recurring in the lives of each patriarch—are an indication of what is to happen to their descendants when they later conquer the land. Nahmanides developed this idea in the Middle Ages from the rabbinic dictum “the actions of the fathers are a sign to their children.” Obviously, Luzzatto would not have been able to accept Cassuto’s “Traditions Theory.” While it presents the Torah as unified book, the work of one author, that author is nevertheless a human, living in the era of King David. Luzzatto maintained that the author was God who directed Moses to produce a complex and wondrous book. One can only say about such a work: “if there truly is disarray in the stories of our holy Torah, it could not have been redacted by reliable scribes with divine inspiration, who must have been wise. One must say that this disarray is only apparent, and that God himself wished for it to seem so; and therefore, it is possible that Moses himself wrote the stories along with the legal sections and the commandments; and certainly this is how it was.” 39 It is interesting to note that Cassuto’s claim (paragraph 4 above), that the Torah sifts through the norms of the ancient Near East to purify them, already appears in Luzzatto’s works as an explanation for certain commandments. For example, in the case of the blood redeemer, Luzzatto explains that in ancient times, before the establishment of orderly leadership, every family of a murdered victim would avenge their relative’s blood by killing the murderer themselves. The Torah however, handed over judgment of a murderer to a court appointed by the congregation. But in the case of manslaughter, in which the perpetrator could not be executed by a court, the family of the deceased would remain unmollified, continuing to seek blood vengeance: And this view could not be uprooted all at once. [. . .] Therefore, what did the Torah do? It awarded the blood redeemer the right to avenge the death of his relative, but established a place whence the murderer could flee, where the redeemer could not come and kill him. And behold it is well known that the ancient nations treated sanctuaries and altars as places 39 Luzzatto, “Mavo Lebiqoret Uleparshanut Hamiqra,” Ketavim, vol. 2, 100. This claim anticipates the “aspects approach” formulated by Rabbi Mordekhai Breuer. See M. Breuer, “Emunah Vemada Beparshanut Hamiqra,” De’ot 11 (1960): 18–25; 12 (1960): 12–27; idem, Pirqei Bereshit (Alon Shevut, 1999), 82–122.

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen of refuge for transgressors; the Torah annulled this practice and said (Ex. 21:14) “from upon my altar you shall take him to die.” [. . .] It only left refuge for those who killed inadvertently.40

Cassuto bases himself on Luzzatto’s idea, using different words.41 In other places, Luzzatto addresses the norms of the ancient world, arguing that the Torah seeks to annul these practices or at least improve them.42 He even mentions the poetic traditions of the Amorites, which Moses was commanded to include in the Torah—in his opinion evidence that Moses wrote the Torah and not a later author from the time of King David or later.43 Luzzatto states as a principle: “At the very least we must admit that the divine Torah chose food from waste and of all the laws practiced in the world at that time, it maintained only those which the Supreme Wisdom regarded as straight and just and useful, and it canceled the bad laws or made a change in them from bad to good.”44 The influence of this idea on Cassuto is clear, the only difference being that Cassuto replaced a supreme, divine wisdom with the genius of a human author living in the era of King David. Cassuto in his introduction to the Torah portion Mishpatim also addresses the Torah’s commandments, contrasting them to the codex of ancient secular law, stating as a rule like Luzzatto: “Religious and ethical instructions in judicial matters” is the correct definition of the legal passages of the Torah. These instructions are of three kinds. (a) Those that introduce amendments in the existing legal tradition; (b) those that oppose or invalidate particular aspects of this tradition; (c) those that confirm, in the name of religion, other aspects that are deemed worthy of express corroboration even in the name of the religion of Israel.45 40 Luzzatto on Num. 35: 12. 41 Cassuto, Sefer Shemot, 188. 42 For example, see Luzzatto on Ex. 21: 3; 30:11; Leviticus 1:2; 2:13; 12:2; Deut. 22:17. It is interesting that Barukh Halevi Epstein of Pinsk (1860–1942) wrote in a very similar vein. See B. Epstein, Tosefet Berakhah (Vilna, 1902), on Deut. 21: 17. Even though he believed in the divinity of the Oral Torah, Epstein did not claim that the written Torah is referencing an Oral Torah which was relayed in detail to Moses, but rather to an ancient legal code. 43 Luzzatto, Hamishtadel, 43. 44 Luzzatto on Deut. 4:6. 45 Cassuto, Sefer Shemot, 180–183 (translation taken from U. Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Exodus, trans. I. Abrahams [ Jerusalem, 1967], 262).

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That being said, Luzzatto contrasts the Torah to the codices of other nations whereas Cassuto contrasts it to a secular codex belonging to the Israelites themselves—composed before the Torah was written and continuing to exist parallel to it.

INTERPRETING THE PESHAT IN CONTRADISTINCTION TO THE MIDRASH OF THE SAGES Luzzatto continues describing his views on Scripture in his “Introduzione Critica ed Ermeneutica.” When discussing his method of interpreting the peshat, and his non-compliance with the interpretations of the Sages—in both narrative (aggada) and legal (Midrash Halakhah) sections—he writes: However, when we accept tradition as the first foundation of interpreting Holy Scripture, this should not be construed to mean that when elucidating the books of God, one should follow, with a religious awe, nothing but the meaning attributed to it by the honored Sages of the Mishnah and Talmud; for such a thing will often distance us from the pure truth. This is well-known in regard to those places in Scripture which discuss historical episodes; this has been discussed in many places by the most accepted interpreters among us—Nahmanides, Rashi and Radaq. But this is no less true for those places which discuss the commandments—obligations and prohibitions—and even dogma and faith. [. . .] We, therefore, should rely on that which our theologians unanimously accepted: that our ancient Sages often used the scriptural text to support laws and principles which they received from the infallible tradition of their predecessors; their intention was not to say that this was the text’s precise meaning, but only to fix these traditions in the memories of their pupils, or to accord them the importance they deserved, an importance the people may have denied had they not felt that they derived from the Sacred Text. And in this sense, the talmudists themselves frequently conclude that this is “merely an asmakhta.”46

Luzzatto writes similarly and even more emphatically in his introduction to Hamishtadel, the first version of his commentary on the Torah:

46 Luzzatto, “Mavo Lebiqoret,” 122–123.

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen In my interpretation of biblical verses all my effort was directed at understanding for myself and others what was the intention of the speaker and writer, and far be it from me to distort the texts in order to make them agree with the Halakha. What Rabbi Moses ben Menachem Mendelssohn wrote in the introduction to Or Lenetiva, and these are his words: “But if the way that appears to us to be the simple meaning of the Bible contradicts and opposes the accepted way of derash, taken from the Sages, so that is impossible for both of them to be right, because contradiction must be avoided, then it is our obligation to go in the path of derash, to translate the Bible accordingly, because we have only the tradition of the Sages, and in their light we shall see light.” Perhaps he wrote that for the need of the hour, but Rashi and Rashbam have already instructed us, and before them the Sages of the Talmud, that a biblical verse must not be removed from its peshat, and in several places they said, “however, this is from the rabbis [miderabanan], and the verse is merely a reference [asmakhta]47

Accordingly, Luzzatto maintains that the biblical ger generally refers to a gentile foreigner—he lives among the Israelites but has not converted; the poor man’s tithe is an institution of the Sages; lex talionis (an eye for an eye) is literal; there is no distinction between a paid custodian and an unpaid custodian, only between a custodian of articles and a custodian of living things; one may not exact interest from a poor gentile but one may from a Jewish merchant; the prohibition of boiling a kid in its mother’s milk is meant to combat an ancient idolatrous practice to sanctify firstborn sheep and their mother’s milk to gods—such practices lead to violent qualities, inimical to the trait of compassion,—and so on. Cassuto interprets many of these commandments as Luzzatto does (see below). Luzzatto thus situates himself at odds with the Orthodox stance that the laws of the Oral Torah were transmitted at Sinai alongside the written Torah and that the interpretations of the Sages represent the authoritative meaning of Scripture. Luzzatto is one of the precursors of the historical-positivist school which maintained that the majority of the Oral Torah is a codex of impressive

47 Luzzatto, Hamishtadel, introduction. See three essays of Shmuel Vargon: S. Vargon, “’Derekh Hapeshat’ Bepeirusho shel Shadal Latorah,” Talpiyot 11 (Tel Aviv, 1999–2000): 59–73; idem, “Yah  .  azal shelo Bith . um Hahalakhah,” . aso Habiqorti shel Shadal klapei Peirushei H  Meh  . qarim Betalmud Uvemidrash ( Jerusalem, 2005), 135–158; idem, “Yah . aso Habiqorti shel Shadal Klapei Parshanut Hahalakhah shel H  .  azal Hanogedet et Peshuto shel Miqra,” JSIJ 2 (Ramat Gan, 2003): 97–122.

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decrees made by the Sages, who were brilliant people worthy of making enactments to suit the needs of their generation. As a rule, Luzzatto (who considered himself an untiring seeker of truth, always ready to learn from every source)48 aspired to understand the simple meaning of Scripture and to interpret it accordingly. Luzzatto’s commentary on the Bible is dedicated, first and foremost, to establishing the peshat. He complains about later commentators who demoted the knowledge of peshat from its once lofty status, as if the secrets of the Torah could only be illuminated through allusions, derivations, and esotericism; as if the laws were riddles and parable, and the peshat, the primary concern of our Sages (who taught that a verse never departs from its simple meaning) was simply the pursuit of laypeople. The reason for this is the following: Pride, love of honor and flattery, these alone drove away the hearts of most learners from the way of the simple meaning. The simple meaning is one, because the truth is one, and its place is very narrow, and there is no way of turning to the right or to the left, and he who aims at the single hair will find it, and he who turns from the point, this way and that, goes astray.49

In a letter written to Joshua Heschel Schorr, his friend from Brody, Luzzatto writes as follows: My dear young man, you should know that in deep understanding of the simple meaning of Bible verses, there is no room for seventy faces, because the truth alone is the truth, and there is no alien god beside it. Therefore, someone who sets about interpreting a verse from the Bible, especially the words of the prophets, must be very precise in investigating the meaning of every single word and every single letter, and one must examine it with very steady and moderate contemplation: the main intention of the prophecy in general, about whom and about what it was stated, and what is the nature of every rhetorical device, and in whose mouth does the prophet place his words, and what is his state of mind at the time of speaking, and who is the written prophet, and what is the quality of his language and his rhetoric and the rest of his prophecies, and above all one must be

48 For example, see Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 272. 49 S. D. Luzzatto, Beit Ha’otsar, vol. 2 (Parazmishel, 1888), 93.

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen practiced and expert in the ways of using the language and feel profoundly the finest differences in meaning.50

However, Luzzatto emphasizes that the simple meaning was not necessarily that which appeared at first glance to be the intention of the verse: For indeed, the simple meaning in the words of the fathers of the world is sometimes very deep, and far from what appears from the text on first thought; but let it not move from being the simple meaning, so long as its concerns are all included in the meaning of the written words and the letters, according to the rules of the language, and it is connected without being forced to what is before and after on the matter, so that every listener and observer will say: the author of the book meant that.51

Cassuto, in his commentary, is an excellent example of an interpreter who followed Luzzatto’s detailed instructions of exegesis. In Cassuto’s opinion as well, context is an important consideration for the interpreter. He, like Luzzatto, argues that generally speaking there are no parables in the Torah (with the exception of the account of the Garden of Eden). Cassuto writes similarly about pursuing the peshat in the introduction (“To the Reader”) of his book From Adam to Noah: The aim of this commentary is to explain, with the help of an ­historico-philological method of interpretation, the simple meaning of the Biblical text, and to arrive, as nearly as possible, at the sense that the words of the Torah were intended to have for the reader at the time when they were written. Although the homiletic method is, without doubt, of great importance, in as much as it interprets the Bible in every generation according to the spirit and needs of the age, nevertheless, every verse has its primary significance, and the Scripture merits our effort to fathom its original intent.

50 Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 230. 51 Luzzatto, Ha’otsar, vol. 2, 9. Without realizing it, Luzzatto here defines the concept of peshat the same way that Rosenberg does (and, in my opinion, correctly): Peshat—“the intention of the writer, the author,” which is hard to identify, as opposed to the derash which is “the intention of the interpreter” of the written text (see S. Rosenberg, “Bein Peshat Liderash: Peraqim Al Parshanut Veidiologyah,” De’ot 5 (1969): 91–99.

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He expresses similar ideas in his introduction to his commentary on Exodus, the end of his introduction to Misphatim, and his opening address at Hebrew University in 1940.52 These passages contain two claims. The first is that the Torah does not expect the nation of Israel to ascend to a sublime level in order to understand it and in order to be worthy of it at some future time; the Torah was written on the simple level of its ancient recipients, to educate them in order to achieve its goals and in order to advance them. He writes this explicitly in his introduction to the Torah portion Terumah which includes detailed instructions for constructing the Tabernacle. He proves that the terms used by the Torah to describe the Tabernacle and its vessels are similar to those used by the nations of Canaan. Even the idea that God showed Moses some of Tabernacle’s dimensions in a prophetic vision of a heavenly temple appears in documents from the ancient Near East. He adds: “Since the Torah uses human terminology and addresses itself to human beings, it is not surprising that it prescribed for the generation of the wilderness things that were consonant with the concepts and thought-modes of that period, making only such changes as were required by the spirit of the Israelite faith. When we examine the literature of the time and region, we find a similar picture, apart from the aforementioned modifications, to that described here in the Bible.”53 Likewise, he proves that the argument stating that the Torah contains anachronisms lacks any validity; had a group of priests written the Torah during the Second Temple Era, they would have had no way of knowing what earlier generations had thought about these matters. Luzzatto also believes that the Torah is ancient, written according to the simple worldview of its recipients, in accordance with their ancient cosmology and their difficulty in abstract thinking. He uses this principle in many places to explain why the Torah contradicts what we know today from accepted science and theology. For example, the Torah describes God’s response to Noah’s attempt to placate God with a sacrifice with the words: “And the Lord smelled a sweet savor” (Gen. 8:21). Luzzatto does not gloss over the possibility that man 52 Cassuto, Meadam ad Noah . , 9 (translation from Cassuto, Commentary on Genesis: From Adam to Noah, 1); idem, Sefer Shemot, 8; idem, “Tafqidenu BeMada Hamiqra,” in Sifrut Miqra’it Vesifrut Kenaanit ( Jerusalem, 1972), vol. 1, 10. On the parables, see Cassuto, Meadam ad Noah  . , 4, 94; Yitsh  . aki, “Yih  . udo shel Hamiqra,” 343–344. Regarding the importance of context, see Cassuto, Meadam ad Noah  . , 123; idem, Minoah  . Ad Avraham ( Jerusalem, 1959), 114; Yitsh  . aki, “Hagishah Haretsuya,” 337–338. For Luzzatto’s understanding of the Genesis narratives see Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 247. 53 Cassuto, Sefer Shemot, 223 (translation from Cassuto, Commentary on Exodus, 322). See Yitsh  . aki, “Yih  . udo shel Hamiqra,” 330; idem, “Hagishah Haretsuya,” 343.

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen

might influence the wrath of God and the attribution of a human response to the deity. Rather, he explains: A sacrifice can soften the anger of God. This rhetorical device is familiar and only appears this way, because the Torah speaks in human language, according to the state of intelligence of the generation in which the prophet stands. [. . .] Now, this matter is as clear as day, that it could not be that the Torah was written in the days of the kings or after Samuel, because the Torah spoke in human language, and their intellect was on a very much lower level than the state of the Israelites in the days of the kings.54

A similar example: In his commentary to the verse: “and God distinguished between light and darkness” (Gen. 1: 4), Luzzatto states that although today we know that darkness is merely the absence of light, rendering this verse superfluous, the Torah adapted itself to the mistaken theory of the ancients in order to oppose their theology: Because in the opinion of the ancients darkness was not merely the absence of light, but it was something palpable, as in ‘Who makes light and creates darkness’ (Isaiah 45:7), and ‘Where is the way where light dwells? And as for darkness, where is its place?’ ( Job 38:19), therefore the ancients set one god over light and another over darkness; and the Holy One blessed be He wished to proclaim to His people that He, may he be blessed, is the lord of light and darkness, and from Him alone is their law.

In interpreting “Let there be a firmament in the water” (Gen. 1:6), Luzzatto explains that the belief that a transparent sheet separated the upper water from the lower water was common in antiquity—apparently, they only knew about the water-cycle in Isaiah’s time (Isaiah 55:10). The intention of the Torah was to proclaim that God is responsible for water in the world, and for this purpose, it used the ancient theory, even though it was incorrect: Since the word “firmament” is used based on belief in the upper water, the water above the sky (Ps. 148:4), that the firmament supports, and this belief became outdated and was forgotten, the word “firmament” was also forgotten. [. . .] And the Torah spoke in human language, saying “Let there 54 Luzzatto on Gen. 8:21.

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The Torah’s discussions of issues such as darkness, the firmament and the sweet smell of sacrifices were suited to the cosmological conceptions of its recipients. This is despite the fact that God, the creator of nature and giver of the Torah, is fully aware of the true essence of darkness, the workings of the water-cycle, and certainly smells no fragrances. Luzzatto uses the same principle in his commentary on the verse “What did you do to us, to bring us out of Egypt?” There, he poses the following question: But with their own eyes had they not seen the plagues, with which the Lord smote Egypt, and they saw that Moses had not done all that? [. . .] In my opinion, the truth is that according to the opinion of the people of that generation, the priests of God and everyone privy to His secret could perform supernatural acts with divine power, even without the command of God himself, because in their opinion God made a covenant with His priests, who knew His ways and actions, and He was persuaded by them to do their will. [. . .] And therefore, it was possible for the Israelites in that generation to believe that the plagues of Egypt were supernatural signs and wonders, but that, nevertheless, the exodus from Egypt was not from divine will but from Moses’s will.56

Cassuto’s second claim is that the laws of the Sages do not represent an Oral Torah transmitted to Moses at Sinai but were rather invented by the Sages using their own intellect and for the needs of their generation. Cassuto accepts the stance of the positivist-historical school (in his days Conservative Judaism) on this point; as shown above, Luzzatto was one of its precursors. For Luzzatto this was a significant break with fundamentalist Orthodoxy. But for Cassuto—who did not even believe in a divine Torah, written by Moses or given at Sinai—this stance was not significantly innovative, and, in this 55 Ibid., 1:6. 56 Luzzatto on Ex. 14:11. Luzzatto and Cassuto’s position is the opposite of Hirsch’s view. Hirsch emphasizes that the Torah is the peak toward which the Jewish people must strive throughout history, and not the reverse (as done by the Reform movement when they bring the Torah down to their level). See, for example, Hirsch on Ex. 19:10–15; 24:1–2; Num. 17:25. See also Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 87–99.

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen

regard, his view was similar to that of the Reform movement. That being said, and unlike the Reform movement, Cassuto does not reach the conclusion that the accounts of the Torah are nothing but legends with no obligatory value, and that the commandments can (and should!) be reformed. According to the Orthoprax57 Cassuto, the Torah contains a true historical core. He completely respected the commandments and halakhic tradition of the Sages—in his scholarship as well as his personal life.

THE TORAH IS A GUIDE OF MORAL EDUCATION, NOT A SOURCE OF SCIENTIFIC INFORMATION At the beginning of his commentary on Genesis, Luzzatto explains his principled rejection of philosophical or kabbalistic interpretations of the Torah. He maintains that the Torah is directed at the entirety of the nation—not an elite, and its purpose is ethical education—not to provide any form of information, whether scientific or philosophical, physical or metaphysical. He writes as follows: Let the intellectuals understand that the intention of the Torah is not to proclaim natural sciences, and the Torah was only given to set people straight on the path of righteousness and justice, and to maintain in their heart belief in unity and providence, because the Torah was not given just to scholars, but to the entire nation; and just as the matter of providence and reward was not explained (and it was not proper for it to be explained) philosophically in the Torah, as the Sages said (Midrash Hagadol on Gen. 6:6 and many similar passages): to tell the power of the act of creation to flesh and blood is impossible. Thus it is not proper for a man of the Torah to remove verses from their meaning to make them agree with natural sciences, nor is it proper for a scholar to deny Torah from heaven, if he finds things in its stories that do not agree with natural research; but 57 “Orthoprax” refers to someone who keeps the practices of the Torah and the commandments without believing in the Orthodox dogmas about the divinity of the written and Oral Torahs. Such an attitude is at odds with Hirsch’s stance, who was one of the founders of the Neo-Orthodox movement, and maintained that the laws of the Oral Torah were also given to Moses by God. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 258–264. Regarding Luzzatto’s stance that the laws of the Oral Torah were creations of the Sages, and that therefore we should not always understand the Torah in accordance with their interpretations, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 314–326.

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The unity of the world and the unity of the human race—basic principles entailed by the belief in a single God who controls the world—lead to the idea of divine providence, the basis for educating man to be righteous and just, the purpose of the Torah. Cassuto writes a very similar idea in his introduction to the Torah’s statements about the offspring of Noah. He rejects the arguments of Bible critics that the passage is a “scientific” attempt to trace the ancestry of the nations of the world, and to provide the reader with an ethnographic system of all mankind. Rather: But if we endeavor to understand the text properly, we shall see that this is not its purpose. This chapter does not come to teach us ethnology, just as the first section of Genesis does not purport to instruct us in geology, or paleontology, or any other science. We must be careful not to introduce some of our own thoughts into the passage and imagine that our chapter is founded on concepts similar to those of our own period, such as racial propinquity, linguistic relationship, geographical position, historical associations and the like. It is true the Torah used, as will be explained later, the knowledge of the international “Sages,” who gathered reports about varied and distant peoples from the tales of travelers and merchants, but it had no speculative aim in mind, and it did not seek to convey to its readers 58 Luzzatto on Gen. 1:1.

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen information for its own sake. The Bible culled from that material what was necessary to the implementation of its general program, and the notices about the people are not its central purpose, but only a means to attain it. Its real purpose is different. When our chapter seeks to explain how the whole earth became peopled through the three sons of Noah, it had a threefold aim: (a) To show that Divine Providence is reflected in the distribution of the nations over the face of the earth not less than in other acts of the world’s creation and administration; (b) To determine the relationship between the people of Israel and other peoples; (c) To teach the unity of post-diluvian humanity, which, like antediluvian mankind, was wholly descended from one pair of human beings. [. . .] This concept serves as the foundation of the prophetic promise for the end of days that nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more—a promise that is quoted already by Isaiah and Micah as an ancient tradition of Israel. 59

In his general introduction to the Torah’s accounts of Abraham, Cassuto is even closer in his approach to Luzzatto, constantly reiterating the antiquity of the Bible’s accounts and their purpose of educating the nation as a whole. Cassuto rejects opinions which greatly post-date the accounts of the forefathers and argues that the accounts accord with a number of recently discovered ancient Mesopotamian documents. However, Cassuto adds, the primary purpose of the Torah is to educate the entire people: “The Torah does not narrate its stories for the purpose of teaching us antiquities. Its aim is not to record history for its own sake, in the scientific sense of the term, or to chronicle the exact manner in which certain events happened. Its goal is more exalted, namely, the religious and national education of the people of Israel, and to this end it employs traditional material.”60 The Torah selected from the stories of Abraham the most 59 Cassuto, MiNoah  .  ad Avraham, 119–123 (translation from U. Cassuto, Commentary on Genesis: From Noah to Abraham, trans. I. Abrahams [ Jerusalem, 1964], 174–181). See Yitsh  . aki, “Yih  . udo shel Hamiqra,” 343. On the question of the purpose of the Torah—to impart information or to educate, Luzzatto and Cassuto’s stances are similar to that of Hirsch. See Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 100–102, 423–424. 60 Cassuto, MiNoah .  ad Avraham, 204–205. Additionally, see Cassuto, Sefer Shemot, on Exodus 1:8, 3; 16:1, 129, as well as 222. See Yitsh . aki, “Yih . udo shel Hamiqra,” 339–343. Kaufmann did not accept Cassuto’s position, claiming that the Torah also wishes to recount a historical story, but the fully-formed and sealed sources that the editor had in front of him did not allow for historical or chronological harmony. See Kaufmann, “Meadam Ad Noah . ,” 221–222.

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fitting to teach its lessons, including (a) How God established a covenant with Abraham “so that he might establish a new religious society that would transcend the level of idolatry prevailing in his days, and that he might guide his children and children’s children to keep the way of the Lord and do righteousness and justice.”61 (b) The promise of prosperity to the great nation which would inherit the Land of Canaan. (c) Understanding the divine plan based on the principle of “the actions of the fathers are a sign to the children”—those things which befell the descendants during the conquest of the land are similar to things that befell their forefathers. It is interesting that Luzzatto, like Cassuto, warns his readers, friends and students not to interpret Scripture—or any ancient text for that matter— anachronistically. As Luzzatto puts it: The fifth principle [of interpreting Scripture] is to leave behind our time and place, and to bring ourselves to the time and place of the writers. This certainly cannot be accomplished completely. But it is, certainly, possible to accomplish in part. And on all matters, the interpreter must have no intentions of pleasing the men of his generation, to acquire for himself praise and glory, and to find many buyers for his books; for this will lead him (even if he is not aware, even if he never ceases in loving truth) to distort the words of the ancients, and to draw them closer to the practices of later generations.62 61 Cassuto, MiNoah  .  ad Avraham, 105 (translation from U. Cassuto, Commentary on Genesis: From Noah to Abraham, 299). 62 S. D. Luzzatto, Perush Al Sefer Yeshayahu ( Jerusalem, 1966), introduction, 4. Additionally, see Luzzatto, Ha’otsar, vol. 2, 72, also published in Bikkurei Ha’itim, 7, 191–193. For an example of this fundamental principal in his commentary, see Luzzatto’s explanation to the Israelites deceitfully borrowing of vessels from the Egyptians in the story of the Exodus. See Luzzatto, Yesodei Hatorah, section 27. According to him, this ethical question has to be raised in context of the Israelites’ faith that this was a command from the God of providence, who dealt with the Egyptians according to their wickedness, and which came from his emissary, Moses, just as everyone at that time believed in the providence of heavenly forces. Luzzatto therefore disqualifies as anachronistic the ingenious explanations of a French Jew, named S. Kohen (Luzzatto calls him a denier of providence and reward and punishment), justifying the Israelites taking advantage of the Egyptians, borrowing their vessels deceitfully with no intention of returning them. Kohen (to avoid anachronism) explains that the oppressed nation naturally thought itself permitted to deceive the Egyptians, and we should not judge them according to our ethical standards. Luzzatto mocks Kohen because he does not read the text in the context of believers: “how could you judge the ancients according to your own thoughts, and not according to their thoughts, […]

Luzzatto’s Influence on Umberto Cassuto’s Method    Chapter Thirteen

It follows that already in the second half of the nineteenth century, researchers knew that to understand a text correctly, one must become familiar with the context of the writer, with the worldview of his time and place, and must be aware of the mental difficulties in accomplishing this. Because the purpose of the Torah is ethical education, both interpreters deem it important to respond to the claims that the Torah contains certain stories which display improper ethics—for example, Abraham’s behavior towards Sarah during trying times; Jacob’s deceptions; the instruction to take advantage of the Egyptians; the annihilation of women and children by the Children of Israel and more. Luzzatto seeks to defend Scripture as a whole and argues that every account reflects pure morality. Cassuto criticizes the Documentary Hypothesis and its focus on parallel accounts of the same event: according to the Documentary Hypothesis, these are different written documents with completely different conceptions of morality. Cassuto argues that this is not the case. In his opinion, both versions of the story maintain the same stance, whether the story reflects proper morality or presents a sin deserving punishment. Both Luzzatto and Cassuto share the view that the Torah seeks to inculcate higher morality. When an ethical wrongdoing is committed, the Torah describes it as it occurred, showing how the sin was punished measure for measure.63

ARE THE ACCOUNTS IN THE TORAH HISTORICAL TRUTH? The earlier a date is assigned to the Torah’s composition, the more likely it will be treated as a historical truth. As I have shown, Luzzatto had no doubt in his mind that the stories in the Torah are, generally speaking, historically true: a truth dictated by God to Moses—even though its purpose is not to teach history. The historical veracity of a story should only be impugned if it opposes empirical experience or basic logic; in such a case, we can explain that the Torah recounted the event as if it truly happened in order to teach us to be better people; this task is more important than historical or philosophical truth. Thus, for example, the accounts of creation never transpired and are only an educational parable (and not an allegory for the principles of speculative

how could you judge the ancients according to the thoughts of those more recent? What a fool! What an idiot!” Cf. Luzzatto, Ex. 3:22. 63 Luzzatto, Yesodei Hatorah, sections 25–30; Cassuto, Sefer Bereshit Umivnehu, 180–209.

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­philosophy).64 The same is true for the speaking of Balaam’s ass,65 which, at first glance, did not occur as recounted. Cassuto also does not treat everything in the Torah as historical truth. Thus, the Torah’s self-testimony—that it was written in its entirety in the time of Moses, and that it was stored in its entirety in the Ark of the Covenant in the Tabernacle, before the Children of Israel entered the land—cannot be correct. According to Cassuto’s view, there were almost no written biblical documents before the era of King David, with the exception of certain epic poems composed in the era of the Judges. The very fact that the same story is retold in two parallel but different, even contradictory, accounts, proves that the Torah is not historical truth. That being said, Cassuto explicitly rejects the views of minimalist and nihilist Bible researchers, who post-date the accounts of the forefathers, or claim that they are nothing but mythology and folk-tales. In his introduction to the Torah’s accounts of Abraham, Cassuto explains in detail how documents from ancient Mesopotamia (dated to the second half of the second millennium BCE) teach us about the norms and conditions of Mesopotamian society. These norms are very similar to the biblical descriptions of the era of the forefathers, and even shed light on the Torah’s accounts, which evidently contain material that the later generations could neither have known nor described.66 Even someone casually reading Cassuto’s writings on Scripture cannot but be impressed by his certainty that at the core of a given account lies a significant amount of historical truth—or at the very least, historical accuracy. Cassuto, like Luzzatto, never misses an opportunity to note the lack of anachronisms in the Torah, criticizing the Documentary Hypothesis on this point. Scripture’s description of the forefather’s surroundings in Mesopotamia, Egypt, and Canaan completely suit the ancient world of their time and not the conditions which prevailed in later eras. Luzzatto argues that the Torah contains many descriptions which would be irrelevant to later generations. The very fact these are mentioned proves their antiquity. He also goes to great interpretive lengths to prove that verses which seem to include an editor’s addition are not late redactions. Cassuto claims (as I have shown) that the settings of biblical accounts are descriptions which only we today know to be accurate. This is only due to our modern historical, archaeological, and scientific research—completely unknown to those living in the first and second temple 64 See Luzzatto, Igrot Shadal, 247. 65 Luzzatto on Num. 22:2. 66 Cassuto, MiNoah  .  ad Avraham, 203–204.

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eras. Similarly, the worlds of ancient desert nomads—described in great detail in the accounts of the Children of Israel’s wanderings in the wilderness—could only have been known by people living at the beginning of the first temple era or earlier. Cassuto argues that camels had already been domesticated in the time of Abraham. Cassuto wishes to establish the historical authenticity of the biblical stories in Genesis by demonstrating that the inclusions of domesticated camels is not an anachronism, as claimed by scholars.67 Even from Cassuto’s important handwritten note in his Italian book (which, as mentioned, was never published) it is evident that he naively believed that the core of the Torah was already known orally in the time of Moses. Moses was assigned the task of presenting the Torah to the nascent nation—providing an overarching picture of ancient traditions, recounting mankind’s beginnings and the beginnings of the Children of Israel. Cassuto thus tries to reconstruct trust in the Torah’s testimonies, at least in part. From this note, it is clear that he was certain that the person Moses and the nation of Israel were historical. This note explains another statement of his, which otherwise might be interpreted as apologetics—an effort on his part to appease both academics as well as his own conscience as an observant rabbi and his close Orthodox surroundings. I am referring to a short sentence in his book The Documentary Hypothesis in which he portrays himself as a Jewish figure, loyal to the theological and ethical messages and principles of the Torah, treating them as divine revelation: We must be prepared, from the outset, to accept the outcome of our enquiry, be it what it may, and feel no anxiety in regard to the honor and 67 Ibid., 242–243. Scholars of the Bible, the ancient Near East, and archaeology famously debate when exactly camels were domesticated. William Albright was the first to write in 1932 (W. F. Albright, The Archaeology of Palestine (Harmondsworth and Middlesex, 1951, 207) that camels were only domesticated in the second millennium BCE, long after the period of the Patriarchs. The following researchers have concurred: Avraham Malamat (Yisrael Betqufat Hamiqra [ Jerusalem, 1983], 13–14); Nadav Ne’eman (“Parashat Kibush Ha’arets Besefer Yehoshua Ubametsiut Hahistorit,” Minavadut Lemelukhah, edd. N. Ne’eman and Y. Finkelstein [ Jerusalem, 1999], 287–289); Yisrael Finkelstein (Ha’arkheologiah Shel Tequfat Hahitnah  . alut Vehashoftim [ Jerusalem, 1986], 304; Yisrael Knohl (Me’ayin Banu [Or Yehuda, 2008], 31, 52), as well as others. Against these, there are those who (like Cassuto) think that already at the end of the third millennium and the beginning of the second millennium BCE camels were domesticated—at least by the rich. See, for example, Yaakov Klein (Olam Hatanakh [Tel Aviv, 1993], on Gen. 12:16, 95); Shimon Bodenheimer (“Hah  . ai,” Historiah Shel Am Yisrael, first series; Hazeman He’atiq, vol. 1; Beshah  . ar Hatsivilizatsiah, ed. A. Spiro, 39–40); Yitschak Meitlis (Lah  . por Et Hatanakh [ Jerusalem, 2008], 125–126) and others.

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From all of the above, it seems clear that not only Cassuto but Luzzatto as well were biblical maximalists but not fundamentalists—although Luzzatto’s maximalism was certainly more radical.

IDENTICAL INTERPRETATIONS Despite the great differences between the two interpreters, many of Cassuto’s interpretations of the peshat side with Luzzatto against the Sages, and sometimes even against classical interpreters. Below are several examples:69 1. In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. (Gen. 1:1). This is a stand-alone, title verse unrelated to the verses which follow it—as opposed to the interpretations of Rashi, Ibn Ezra and others. However, the two interpreters dispute the precise meaning of the words. 2.  Let there be a firmament [raqia] in the midst of the waters. (Gen. 1:6). The Torah is speaking in the language of its recipients, using the cosmology of the time: the sky is a solid, transparent dome which separates the uppers waters (the source of rain) from the lower waters on the earth’s surface. This is unlike Radaq and Ibn Ezra who interpret raqia as referring to the air in the heavens. 3.  the two great lights. . . and the stars (Gen. 1:16). That is, lights which to human eyes appear as big. Classic interpreters did not know that the stars were the same size as the sun. 68 Cassuto, Torat Hate’udot, 17 (translation from Cassuto, The Documentary Hypothesis, 12–13). These words take us back to the unorthodox position of Krochmal, one of the first trailblazers of the positive-historical school. See Krochmal, Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, 199–200, as well as above, chapter 8. The Reform movement’s thinkers also expressed similar opinions, but they did not attribute divinity or holiness to the Torah and were not afraid of changing its commandments or even getting rid of most of them. In another essay, Cassuto calls the Torah “the books of our holiness and our glory,” see Cassuto, “Tafqidenu BeMada Hamiqra,” 4. See also Yitshaki, “Hagishah Haretsuya” 333. 69 I note the sources in Luzzatto and Cassuto’s commentaries only when they do not appear as comments ad locum.

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4.  On the seventh day, God finished (vayekhal) His work (Gen. 2:2). The word vayekhal is a past perfect verb—an action already completed; God had finished his work, and therefore, he rested. Other interpreters—troubled by the implication that God completed his work on the seventh day, when he actually finished on the sixth day—give a variety of explanations to interpret this verse. 5.  This [zot] is now [hapa’am] bone of my bones. (Gen. 2:23). This woman is, this time, suited to me. Other interpreters connect the word zot with hapa’am reading the verse as “this time.” 6.  and shall cleave unto his wife, and they shall be one flesh. (Gen. 2:24). This does not just refer to a sexual relationship but rather, and primarily, to a spiritual bond of love. Rashi, Radaq, and Ibn Ezra understand the verse as referring only to a sexual relationship.  7.  And Enoch walked with God, and he was not; for God took him (Gen. 5:24). Enoch was an exceptionally moral person. Therefore, God removed him from evil society, before his time, saving him from the doom designated for sinners.  8.  For the imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth (Gen. 8:21). God is saying to himself: I will not punish man again as a response to his evil inclination. It is inconceivable to bring a deluge in every generation.  9.  And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father and told his two brothers outside (Gen. 9:22). Ham’s sin was seeing his father, not covering him, and then speaking about his father mockingly to his brothers (and not castrating or raping him as maintained by midrashim). Ham’s behavior was an affront to their father’s honor, an attempt to honor himself at his father’s expense, and a violation of ethical modesty (Cassuto, Menoah.  ad Avraham, 104) 10.  Cursed be Canaan (Gen. 9:25). The Torah is referring to the Canaanite nation as a whole (and not Noah’s grandson). The point of this is to separate Israel from the company of morally corrupt people (Luzzatto, Gen. 9:27; Cassuto, Menoah.   ad Avraham, 105). This is why Ham was not cursed: the corrupt Canaanites did not bear his name. 11.  Now these are the generations of the sons of Noah (Gen. 10:1). The Torah’s purpose is to reject the ancient belief that after the flood a new humanity was created from the Earth by the gods. (Cassuto, Menoah.  ad Avraham, 117–118).

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12.  From your country, and from your kindred, and from your father’s house (Gen. 12:1). Your country—the land in which you grew up and were educated; your kindred—your extended family; your father’s house—your nuclear family. 13.  and called upon the name of the LORD (Gen. 12:8). Abraham’s declaration of belief in God or his unity to the inhabitants of the land is a better explanation of this verse than understanding it as a reference to prayer. 14.  Say, please, that you are my sister (Gen. 12:13). The purpose of this was to buy time. Prospective suitors would negotiate with Abraham who would stall for time until the famine has passed. Cassuto mentions explicitly Luzzatto, Abarbanel, and Rabbenu Nissim in one place and certain medieval commentators in another place, who interpreted along these lines. It appears that he saw this mentioned in Luzzatto who mentions Abarbanel, Rabbenu Nissim, and Seforno (Cassuto, Menoah.  ad Avraham, 239). 15. that it may be well with me for your sake, and that my soul may live because of you (ibid.). Abraham did not seek gifts in exchange for abandoning his wife, but rather sought to save himself using trickery. This is a repetition or explanation of the preceding phrase. 16.  And Melchizedek king of Salem brought forth bread and wine and he was priest of El Elyon—Salem is probably Jerusalem, and El Elyon the name of the chief God of the Canaanites. 17.  that He made them houses. (Ex. 1:21). God blessed the midwives with large families with many children. 18.  And Pharaoh charged all his people (Ex. 1:22). From private to public. 19. I am not a man of words. . . for I am slow of speech, and of a slow tongue (Ex. 4:10). Moses did not murmur or stutter; he just lacked the rhetorical skills to speak persuasively and convincingly. 20. but I will harden his heart, and he will not let the people go (Ex. 4:21). In ancient times, it was customary to directly attribute every event to God, his will being the first cause, especially if something is strange or inexplicable, without taking account of intermediary causes (Luzzatto, Ex. 7:3; 21:13). 21.  And the staff of Aaron swallowed their staffs (Ex. 7:12). Magic occupied an important place in ancient religions. According to this conception, a skilled person could influence divinity to act a­ ccording

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to his needs and will. The Torah seeks to oppose this idea and to uproot it (Luzzatto, Ex. 14:11) 22.  And they turned into blood (Ex. 7:17). Not real blood. Rather the color of blood, red fungi or red insects. The other plagues also do not represent a deviation from the natural order: they are natural disasters occurring at the right time and with greater intensity and scale than normal (Luzzatto, Ex. 7:20; 7:27; 9:3) 23.  Mistolel (Ex. 9:17). To be proud of oneself; to be arrogant. 24.  And there was a cloud and the darkness and it illuminated the night (Ex. 14:20). The cloud behind Israel darkened the Egyptian camp, and the fire lit the way at the head of the Israelite camp. 25. And He turned the ocean to dry land (Ex. 14:21). Splitting the sea was not a supernatural occurrence. It was a natural phenomenon which occurred precisely when needed and on an exceptionally large scale. It was a miracle comprised of natural occurrences. 26.  The temple of God established by your hand (Ex. 15:17). This refers to the temple of God; Moses already planned, at this point to build a temple to God in the Land of Israel. This is not proof that the song at the sea was written after the Temple was built as claimed by some scholars (Luzzatto, Ex. 15:1). 27.  There He made for them a statute and an ordinance, and there He proved them (Ex. 15:25). This is referring to the general statement made there: if the nation faithfully keeps God’s instructions and laws, God will protect them from every misfortune. 28.  the quails came up (Ex. 16:13). And when the layer of dew was gone up (Ex. 16:14). Both occurrences are common natural phenomena which, in this case, transpired in a supernatural manner. 29.  then you shall be My own treasure from among all peoples; for all the earth is Mine. (Ex. 19:5). I am the God of all nations, and if you accept me I will choose you for an exalted spiritual task to perform in their midst. 30. The difference between the text of the Ten Commandments in Exodus to that in Deuteronomy: in Exodus, the text reflects how the commandments were spoken at the time of the event. In Deuteronomy, however, Moses is recounting what happened forty years ago, and therefore, he does not speak the text word for word (Luzzatto, Ex. 20:1; Cassuto, Sefer Shemot, 173)

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31. The laws of custodians (Ex. 22:6–15). The Torah distinguishes between the custodian of objects and the custodian of animals, unlike the interpretation of the Sages that the basis of the distinction is between a paid custodian and an unpaid custodian. Both Luzzatto and Cassuto explain that the interpretation of the Sages is close to the simple meaning of the text: someone guarding an animal will likely expect wages for his efforts. However, Luzzatto expresses greater reservations emphasizing that the simple meaning need not follow the interpretation of the Sages; it is certainly plausible for someone to watch his friend’s animals without receiving wages. 32. And a stranger [ger] you shall not wrong (Ex. 22:20). This is referring to a non-Israelite who lives among the nation, unlike the interpretation of the Sages that a ger refers to a convert (Luzzatto, Ex. 12:48) 33.  You shall not cook a kid in its mother’s milk (Ex. 23:19). This was the practice of idol worshipers who would bring their gods a dish of a kid cooked in its mother’s milk. Luzzatto bases this on conjecture, while Cassuto brings evidence from an Ugaritic tablet.

SUMMARY Luzzatto’s influence on Cassuto’s bible commentary is clear and comprehensive and it is the result of their shared views on a number of different issues. Following Luzzatto, Cassuto maintains the unity of the Pentateuch (opposing the views of Bible critics and advocates of the Documentary Hypothesis); he maintains the plausible authenticity of a significant portion of biblical accounts; the simple, non-midrashic meaning of the text along with scientific, historical and philological findings; he agrees that the worldview expressed by the Torah was suited to the simple level of its recipients. It was meant to elevate them through ethical and national education, raising them to a much higher level than their neighbors. Cassuto disagreed with Luzzatto in terms of everything related to the authorship, time, and divine origins of the Torah which we possess today. But like Luzzatto, Cassuto does not hesitate to advocate views at odds with accepted critical research, as well as views at odds with Orthodox dogma. Like Luzzatto, Cassuto picks what the former referred to as a “middle way” between the right and the left. Nevertheless, Cassuto was more tolerant than Luzzatto, and sought to never perturb either party.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Tolerance, Pluralism, and Postmodernism—A Dialectic of Opposites in Jewish Thought in the Modern Era

T

o conclude this book, I wish to dedicate a chapter to a general overview of Jewish thought in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, exploring the perspectives of various thinkers (some of them covered in this book). Specifically, I wish to focus on their attitudes towards the changes in Western philosophy—rationalism giving way to Romanticism, and modernism to postmodernism. These changes in Western philosophy led to the development of a dialectical approach to religious truth as well. With the coming of the sixteenth century, the beginning of the early modern era, Jewish thinkers were confronted with a new reality. Medieval perceptions of the relationship between the world, man, and God began to crumble. Scientific discoveries, rationalist philosophy, and the first blossoming of a universalist culture radically altered the worldview of the Jewish philosopher. It was no longer possible to disdain and reject anything besides Torah, and it became necessary to establish a new foundation for a particularistic existence within a universalistic context. From the sixteenth century through the twenty-first, an outlook that could accept multifariousness as a religious possibility developed gradually. Another significant turning point during this time period was the French Revolution at the end of the eighteenth century. This revolution catalyzed processes that would lead to the abolition of slavery, women’s liberation, the national political independence of peoples around the world, and the emancipation of Jews and other minorities. In the mid-twentieth century, postmodernism provided further impetus for pluralism and multiculturalism.

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TOLERANCE Since the seventeenth century, many thinkers have contended with the issue of tolerance. Among the most prominent are John Locke in A Letter Concerning Toleration (1689–1692), Benedict (Baruch) De Spinoza in his TheologicoPolitical Treatise (1670), Jean-Jacques Rousseau in The Social Contract (1762), John Stuart Mill in On Liberty (1859), and a host of others. Following the first flowering of tolerance towards Jews initiated by enlightened European leaders (such as laws enabling Jew to gain citizenship in England and her colonies in 1740, Joseph II’s Edict of Toleration in 1782, and legislation concerning Jewish affairs in France beginning in 1791), Jewish thinkers followed suit, developing an ideology of tolerance for other perspectives and religions, and emphasizing tolerance as a value. The first signs of this development within Judaism are already apparent in Rabbi Judah Loew’s (Maharal) Be’er ha-Golah,1 which contains a brief discussion of freedom of speech. In 1783, Moses Mendelssohn published his book Jerusalem. The book’s first chapter contains an explicit polemic against religiously motivated punishment or coercion on the part of church or state. Per this tolerant position, the side convinced of its own rightness must be prepared to tolerate other perspectives (despite knowing they are erroneous or lacking in value), even if it possesses the power to force its opinion on others. Moreover, it must be prepared to fight for its opponent’s right to express its beliefs—the practical application of the ideology of tolerance. Only under these conditions can proper debate take place. Rabbi Judah Loew, who was a kabbalist, viewed this interaction as a dialectic: even an opposing viewpoint, one that initially appears incorrect, ultimately comes from God and exists for an important purpose. In the world of God, opposites will complete one another and become one (the unity of opposites); only in man’s world do they appear to contradict each other.2 Man can only unite these opposites through the theoretical Torah study of disputes in their totality.3 That being said, it seems that the Rabbi Loew’s dialectic looks only inward, addressing only internal Jewish conflicts; he was certainly unwilling to accept that non-Jewish perspectives were worthy of a similar dialectical treatment.

1 Judah Loew, Be’er Hagola (Kiryat-Joel, 2007), be’er h  . amishi, 91–92; be’er shevi’i, 165–166. 2 See Judah Loew, Gevurot Hashem (Krakow, 1582), chapter 5. 3 See Judah Loew, Derekh H  .  aim al Massekhet Avot (Warsaw, 1833), 258–259. See also Sagi, Elu Vaelu, 127–131; Rosenak, Hahalakhah Hanevuit: Hafilosofia shel Hahalakhah Bemishnat Haray’a ( Jerusalem, 2007), 51.

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PLURALISM Romantic modernism arose in Europe at the beginning of the nineteenth century and flourished until the first half of the twentieth. As a result, pluralism gradually gained greater prominence, at the expense of the approach of tolerance. Tolerance no longer sufficed from an ethical perspective and was rejected. Belief in the ability of pure reason to reveal truth also diminished in the wake of Kant (who deemed practical reason sufficient) and the Romantics (who followed him, and preferred past experience and reliance on tradition and the historical past to reason). According to moderate pluralism, even if I am convinced that my truth is the one and only truth, I must nevertheless take into consideration other opinions. I must respect them as having value, and understand that they present a challenge and an opportunity to refine my own position. But this position is still not sufficiently advanced, because it presents me with a problem: while I am certainly confident in my beliefs, I cannot prove that the truth lies specifically with my worldview. The superior conception of pluralism offers an improved position from an ethical perspective, according to which I am not confident that I know the truth. Though I may believe something because of my tradition and cling to it, I nevertheless lack decisive, irrefutable proof of its validity. Therefore, even though I believe that the truth lies with me, I do not discount the possibility that it lies instead with my opponent, and I, therefore, humbly and modestly look at him or her as an equal. In the nineteenth century, we can discern the first echoes of the moderate outlook within Judaism—at least as applied towards other monotheistic religions. Since then, Jewish thinkers began promoting universalism and equal rights for all human beings, whatever their beliefs, which, they assert, is a view Judaism first brought to the world. Despite this attitude, they believed that Judaism was the correct religion, and struggled to admit that they had no real proof of its supremacy beyond the revelation they believed in and their own tradition. This was the view of Rabbi Tsvi Hirsch Chajes,4 Samson Raphael Hirsch,5 Samuel David Luzzatto,6 Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin,7 and others. In the twentieth century, both moderate and superior conceptions of pluralism became more widespread within Judaism, and thinkers (with the exception of dogmatists within Orthodox Judaism) respected and valued other Jewish denominations,

4 5 6 7

See Chajes, “Sefer ‘Ateret Tsvi,” 489–491 (1840). See Hirsch, Writings, 1:76 (1856), 7: 266 (1873), Genesis 11:4. See Luzzatto, “Yesodei Hatorah,” 33–36 (1840). See Naftali Zvi Judah Berlin, Haameq Davar, Exodus 11:4 (1870).

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and even Christianity and Islam (for example, Eliezer Berkovits, who was an elevated pluralist).8

POSTMODERNISM Since the mid-twentieth century, we have been experiencing the postmodern era. Now the superior conception of pluralism, too, has proved insufficient. Postmodernist thinkers argue that there is no one higher truth, and every people, every group, and every community holds to its own narrative, based on its own traditions. Thus, it is impossible to believe that the truth lies with me or with another; no such truth exists. Equality is, therefore, ontological, yet also ethical. One must believe, as postmodernism proclaims, that there are multiple (two or more) truths, and not one narrative of a higher truth. Of course, there are positions that are not included even in this definition—such as those that are destructive, domineering, racist, or violent, acknowledged only by the most radical postmodernist pluralists. Religious Jewish thinkers and rabbis (as with thinkers in other religions) struggled to come to terms with a reality in which their religion could no longer be accepted as the exclusive truth. Most rejected the post-modernist position entirely, preferring a position of monistic tolerance, or at best a modernist position—moderate or superior concept of pluralism that acknowledges a single higher truth. A small number of thinkers (Eliezer Goldman and David Hartman, for example) accepted the postmodern pluralist position in principle (whether consciously or unconsciously). Others (such as Yeshayahu Leibowitz) accepted parts of it, while yet others (including Rabbi Soloveitchik, several followers of Rabbi Kook, and those influenced by Kabbalah and Hasidism, particularly Habad Hasidism), qualify their acceptance by agreeing that various truths and narratives exist within the complex framework of man’s life in this world. But all these oppositions unite when man clings to the divine, in which there are no contradictions, and from which everything flows. The postmodernist position maintains that even this dialectical position is but one narrative among many; it is impossible to accept any grand-narrative whatsoever, including those based on the existence of God. The problem that confronted adherents to postmodernism was their claim of 8 Cf. Avi Sagi, “Hadat Hayehudit: Sovlanut Veefsharut Hapluralizm,” Iyun 44 (Nissan, 1995): 175–200; Sagi, Elu Vaelu, 190–197; Ravitzky, Herut al Haluh  . ot, 114–138. The term Sagi uses, “strong pluralism,” I call the postmodernist position. See Roth, Ortodoqsia Humanit, 200–203, and his descriptions of Sagi’s and Fish’s positions there. For more on Berkovits’s position, see Chapter Eleven.

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their own outlook’s supremacy. They would remain unable to accept that their outlook, also, was one narrative among many—for doing so would mean the collapse of their entire position.9

CONCLUSION—THE DIALECTICAL APPROACH IN JUDAISM As stated above, pluralism of all types is an expression of a dialectical position, one which I wish to examine in greater detail. Shalom Rosenberg includes the dialectical position alongside those positions held by thinkers of the modern era, responding to their discussions regarding the relationship between statements of revelation and statements of science.10 According to the dialectical position since Rabbi Judah Loew, the dichotomous state between the Good Inclination and the Evil Inclination, nature and God, revelation and reason, religion and science, Israel and the nations, particularism and universalism, exile and redemption, impurity and purity, prohibition and permission, the sefirot and the Ein Sof, light and darkness, commandment and transgression— is a positive state. It reflects a tension between two poles, in which, instead of adhering to one and negating the other, one should utilize and synthesize both. With a proper synthesis, both poles will produce a grand solution greater than the sum of its parts. It appears that the roots of this position in Judaism are to be found in mystical Jewish teachings in its various forms. Kabbalah discusses the multi-layered nature of the Godhead and the sefirot that comprise God, among which there are entities standing in opposition to one another, such as H.  okhma   (wisdom) and Bina (understanding), Gevura (might) and H    esed (kindness), . 9 For more on pluralism and postmodernism in general philosophy and Jewish religious thought, see Gili Zivan’s book Dat Lelo Ashlaya ( Jerusalem and Ramat Gan, 2006) especially pages 56–58. In this context, she discusses the positions taken by Goldman and Hartman. For more on Berkovits’s position, see Berkovits, Essential Essays on Judaism (1974), 90–91, and in Chapter Eleven of this book. Rabbi Dr. Michael Avraham has an opinion different from my own; he maintains that a tolerant position is morally superior to a pluralist one. So he argues in his essay “Meh  . ira shel Hasovlanut,” published in De’ot 60 (2013), 5–12. In my opinion, this position stems from what I call neo-fundamentalism (Hirsch’s approach), the position which believes in the divine origin of the Torah and in God’s constant supervision of nature and history. Such a delusional Orthodox rabbinic perspective cannot, on the one hand, accept that our world contains different truths, even if they are contradictory, and on the other, it is convinced that it is the most moral. Hence tolerance is preferable to pluralism, and all that remains is to reinforce this position with philosophical proofs (see above, Chapter Two, note 33). I feel that Gili Zivan, Avi Sagi, Menachem Fisch, and Meir Roth would agree with me on this point. 10 See Rosenberg, Torah Umadda, 42 and onwards.

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Malkhut (sovereignty) and Tiferet (glory), Arikh Anpin (long visage) and Zeeir Anpin (small visage), Ein Sof and sefirot; left and right, good and evil. All these are separate from the single supreme source, from which they draw the sustenance necessary for their existence, and all strive to return to and become one with it. This is a dialectical “back and forth, ‫ ”רצוא ושוב‬in which every constituent part strives both to preserve its distinctness and to reunite with its source. This is discussed at length in the Zohar and the kabbalistic works that followed it.11 This approach proved useful to Rabbi Judah Loew and to Hasidism, especially Habad Hasidism. Hasidism opened the esoteric mysteries of the Kabbalah to the masses, and used the dialectical concept of “back and forth” to allow the simple Jew to connect the physical world (the world of “being, ‫ )”יש‬to the spiritual world (the world of “nothing, ‫)”אין‬, to feel as if he could approach and even cling to the divine through the mediation of the tsadik, and to believe that by observing the commandments, and through reading the letters of the Torah, which embodied the various sefirot, he could cling to the sefirot and effect their unification.12 The dialectical position within Judaism underwent a surprising turnabout at the outset of the nineteenth century with the ascent of ideal Romanticism in world philosophy, expressed in the work of Johann Gottlieb Fichte, the historian-philosopher Friedrich Hegel, and his students (particularly Schelling). In describing the process of history, its significance and its direction, Hegel coined (under the influence of Fichte) terms such as thesis, antithesis, and synthesis, dialectic, subject, object, subjective spirit and absolute spirit.13 For religiously observant Jewish thinkers (even those who opposed the Kabbalah), Hegel’s philosophy arrived just in time. For them, the modern era, the achievements of science, and European culture posed a challenge: how could one accept the general culture without abandoning tradition? The mechanism proposed by Hegel (dynamic multistage dialectic) and Schelling (dialectic of momentarily uniting in a static reality) allowed them to 11 See Tishbi, Mishnat Hazohar, vol. 1, 133, 158–161, 221–231, 285–301. 12 The dialectic of “back and forth” within the Godhead, between God and the world— between being and nothing, within man and between him and Heaven, was employed by, for example, the Baal Shem Tov, Shneur Zalman of Liadi, and Menachem Mendel Schneersohn in his Liqutei Sih  . ot. See R. Elior, Torat Ah  . dut Hahafakhim: Hateosofia Hamistit shel H  .  abad ( Jerusalem, 1993); idem, Torat Haelohut Bador Hasheni shel H  .  assidut H  .  abad ( Jerusalem, 1982); and idem, Yisrael Baal Shem Tov Uvnei Doro ( Jerusalem, 2014), chapter 1, 27–28, 280, 432–441; I. Etkes, Baal Hatanya: Rabbi Shneur Zalman Miladi Vereshita shel H  .  assidut H  .  abad ( Jerusalem, 2012), 213–214. 13 See Y. Yovel, Spinoza Vekofrim Ah  . erim (Tel Aviv, 1988), 286–297.

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view tradition and modernity, the content of revelation and the dicta of philosophy and science, as two poles of thesis and antithesis constituting portions of one great truth (the synthesis) arrived at upon elevating them (Aufhebung) to a higher level and uniting them. Hegel declared that the refined Christianity of the German people and state, which were the apex of the absolute spirit’s development and realization, was the final synthesis to which history leads through this dynamic process. Jewish thinkers, conversely, held that the absolute spirit (God) was to be found in the Israelites, to which He revealed Himself, in the ethical monotheism He handed down to them in the divine Torah, and in due course, all humanity would be unified and redeemed by it. Following Hegel, there appeared a number of Jewish thinkers, such as Rabbi Nachman Krochmal, Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, and Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, who fully or partially integrated the dialectic of Hegel and his students into Judaism. Rav Kook further applied this dialectic to Kabbalah, Habad Hadisidim, and the philosophy of his cultural hero—Rabbi Judah Loew. There was no uniform position regarding the content of the dialectical solution, or whether it was even possible to realize such a solution in this world. Rabbi Nachman Krochmal held, like Hegel, that the dialectical solution was possible, and it would come to pass when philosophy and Torah were more profoundly understood and purified, and when a middle way was found between fundamentalist fanaticism on the one hand and destructive, subversive criticism on the other. Despite this, Krochmal asserted that the absolute spirit does not develop and reach realization; rather, God is static, divine law is derived from the Godly power at work in the minds of the sages, and the people Israel bears the absolute spirit within itself, and it must, through a dialectical process, unite its traditions with the philosophy of the other nations,—the bearers of the subjective spirit.14 Rav Kook held that unity may be possible, and if it were, it would be realized through Torat Erets Yisrael, the Torah of the Land of Israel, by those who could unite Jewish law with prophecy, and construct the edifice of the Torah above it, by way of a synthesis of the poles. Nevertheless, he was constantly beset by this tension, and his desired unification refused to come easily, leaving him full of roiling doubts and misgivings.15 Rabbi Soloveitchik’s 14 See Nachman Krochmal, Moreh Nevukhei Hazman, 10–17, 215–216, 290. For Hegel’s influence on Krochmal, see Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 197–202. 15 See Rav Kook, Igrot Haray’a, 1:164, 184; idem, Orot Haqodesh, chapter 1, Sections 9–13 (13–18); idem, Orot Hateshvua, chapter 16, *1. Cf. Schweid, Toldot Hehagut Hayehudit, 370–373; B. Ish Shalom, “Al Mada Ushlemut Haruah  . : Biqoret Hamoderniut Vehapost Moderniut, Hari”d Soloveitchik Vehehagut Haortodoqsit,” in Emuna Bzmanim Mishtnaim,

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thought is marked by inconsistencies, and scholars are divided over whether he believed there was a solution, to be found hidden within the Halakhic Man of the Brisk tradition, or whether he thought that in the world of man, there was no way to mend the cosmic rift running through reality. Rabbi Soloveitchik, too, contended with dramatic internal tension and fierce doubts, vacillating between these poles.16 Samuel David Luzzatto developed a unique dialectical position different from both the method of Kabbalah and Hasidism and the method of Hegel and his Jewish followers. According to these other dialectical positions, each pole represents part of a greater truth, and thus a dialectical effort must be undertaken to unite them. In my opinion, Luzzatto in his later thought adopted an ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1996), 362–366. See also Avinoam Rosenak’s excellent survey of the similarities and differences between Rav Kook and those who influenced him, and his doctrine of the unity of opposites, in his book Hahalakhah Hanevuit, 44–57, 147–213. See also Chapter Eleven of this book. 16 See Schweid, Toledot Hehagut Hayehudit, 373–380; Ish Shalom, “Al Mada,” 366–375. According to Schweid (ibid., 378), the dialectical tension between the “majestic man” and the “halakhic man” is irresolvable in this world. According to Ish Shalom, also (Ibid., 370), Soloveitchik maintains that “the Jewish dialectic, in contradistinction to that of Hegel, resists being settled and unified, and so it persists and endures […] God alone knows how to implement and complete it.” In other words, there is truth in the two contradictory poles, and both have independent value, despite criticism of the behavior of those who hold to the pole of reason. Aviezer Ravitzky also argues that Soloveitchik’s dialectic is irresolvable (Ravitsky, H  .  erut al Haluh . ot, 178–185, and 326 fn. 12). In his view, the philosopher of the Song of Songs cannot achieve synthesis, but the philosopher of Halakhah surely can, as in Soloveitchik’s remark: “A reward in accordance to the suffering, and a mend in accordance to the tear,” and the Halakhah—and only the Halakhah—obtains the status of a higher principle. Dov Schwartz argues that the “halakhic man” who achieves a state of union is a figure from the world of Soloveitchik’s Brisker forbearers, whom he admired but did not identify with, whereas his own world was that of the “man of faith,” who holds firm to the irresolvable tangle of oppositions. See D. Schwartz, Haguto Hafilosofit shel Harav Soloveitchik (AlonShevut, 2004), 398–401. Contra Schwartz, Avi Sagi believes that Soloveitchik’s prevailing attitude was the rejection of the extreme of reason as bereft of inherent value, and stricken by an absence of pluralism. See A. Sagi, “Harav Soloveitchik: Hagut Yehudit Lenokhah  .  Hamoderna,” in Emuna ed. A. Sagi ( Jerusalem, 1996), 490–494. Here I disagree with Sagi. It is impossible to simultaneously speak of a dialectical process and two contradictory poles and the rejection of one of them. If one pole is rejected, then only the remaining pole is true, and the contradiction vanishes. Criticism, even strong criticism, of the behavior of those who hold to the pole of reason and modern culture, is incapable of rejecting and invalidating its inherent value, and the contradiction persists between the two unadulterated poles of truth. In time, Sagi would elegantly retract this interpretation of Soloveitchik’s position, precisely for the reason I have just mentioned. See A. Sagi, “David Hartman: Hagut Yehudit Modernistit—Pirqei Mavo,” in Meh  . uyavut Yehudit Mith . adeshet, ed. A. Sagi and Z. Zohar (Tel Aviv, 2002), 490.

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intermediate method known as the “dual truth.” According to this position, a philosophy and science purified of errors, and a revelation purified of fundamentalism, are each a complete truth in and of themselves, and in the world of man, they contradict one another and cannot be unified. This is, by definition, an irresolvable dialectical position. We must reconcile ourselves with the coexistence of these two truths, and know that despite contradiction, neither can be rejected; and we must acknowledge that it is only in the divine world (which practically speaking is irrelevant to us) that they can be unified into a single truth.17 Thus, Luzzatto both reinforces pluralism in Judaism and even anticipates, to an extent, postmodernism. There is not one, but two truths in the world of man; but in the divine world, they are unified. This position is bolder than those of a number of contemporary religious thinkers, who accept parts of the postmodernist position, but only on the condition that this position accords with the idea that adherence to God is what unifies these multiple truths, as detailed above. Leo Strauss takes a similar position to that of Luzzatto concerning two contradictory truths that cannot be reconciled (Athens and Jerusalem),18 as do younger contemporary thinkers (in different variations), such as Micah Goodman (favoring doubt and contradiction), Avinoam Rosenak (The Law of Opposites), Moshe Meir (Secular Religiosity), and others.19

17 See Luzzatto, Perush, Gen. 1:1, Deut. 6:5. See also Chamiel, The Middle Way, vol. 1, 482–497. 18 See H. A. Rechnitzer, Nevua Vehasder Hamedini Hamushlam: Hateologia Hamedinit shel Leo Strauss ( Jerusalem, 2013), 172–192. 19 See Rosenak, Hahalakhah Hanevuit; Goodman, Sodotav shel Hamoreh Nevukhim; M. Meir, Shnayim Yah  . dav ( Jerusalem, 2012).

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Index of Subjects A

Absolute Spirit 225, 237, 238, 542, 543 Account of Creation; Account of Chariot 192, 466, 496; 473 activating potential, see potential aesthetic, see beauty Aggada 7, 20, 133, 147, 148, 156, 195, 213, 220, 222, 239, 240–244, 338, 343, 344, 357, 518 allegory; parable; metaphor 8, 68, 136, 137, 155, 195, 212, 223, 234, 241, 244, 363, 529; 343, 520, 529 anachronism 528, 531 apologetics xi, 7, 8, 25, 26, 40, 42, 44, 47–49, 53, 74, 75, 161, 260, 444, 531 Aristotelianism 152, 195, 411 Army 281 ascetic; ascetism 10, 178, 186, 207, 430 asmakhta; textual support 108, 125, 127, 210, 242, 341, 342, 455, 518, 519 assimilation, see intermarriage astrology; astronomy 136, 138 atheism 48, 79, 158 atonement; forgiveness 65, 154, 306 autonomy 1, 265, 269, 273, 292, 296, 306, 330, 423, 424, 486, 493

B

beauty; aesthetics 3, 9, 42, 296, 342, 358–360, 392, 396, 397, 402, 470, 474, 475, 478, 482, 484, 485 Berlin School 374, 377 Bible Criticism 1, 3, 12, 15, 18, 26, 41, 73, 171, 220, 227, 232, 325, 336, 338, 342, 360, 426, 503, 505 calling, see mission categorical imperative 262–265, 269, 284, 295, 432, 476 censor; censorship 29, 34, 95, 334 chain of tradition; chain of reception xii, 12, 17, 108, 116, 192, 219, 233, 504 chosenness (of the Jewish People) 53, 55, 56, 72, 92, 170, 171, 174, 303, 309

C

Christianity 12, 45, 80, 199, 225, 244, 262, 271, 274, 278, 280, 285, 301, 303, 304, 309, 310, 313, 314, 318, 320, 393, 405, 406, 429, 438–440, 480–484, 491, 540, 543 clinging to God; cleaving to God 393 commandments; norms; laws xiii, xiv, 5, 6, 8, 11, 13–15, 33–40, 48, 55, 59, 60, 65–67, 70, 71, 81, 86, 87, 92, 93, 96, 106, 109, 111, 121, 125, 133, 137, 146, 150, 152, 163, 166–169, 170–174, 177–181, 185, 186, 189, 195, 256–261, 265, 266, 269–275, 277–283, 286, 288, 293, 296– 298, 312, 315, 323, 325–327, 331, 333, 339–346, 350, 351, 354, 358, 360, 362, 365, 370–372, 374, 390–395, 405, 406, 417, 419–423, 427, 429, 430, 432, 435, 436, 439, 445, 446, 453–455, 462–465, 471–481, 484, 487, 488, 491, 493, 505, 506, 516–519, 525, 532, 535, 542 Compartmental Approach xii, 81, 85, 88, 93, 95, 98, 99, 103, 258, 389, 410, 414, 495, 496 compassion, see mercy Complete Identicality 288, 383, 384 compromise 2, 5, 28, 29, 33, 36, 46, 52, 72, 74, 167, 221, 222, 285, 357, 372, 374, 378, 381, 387, 389, 421, 426, 446, 498 Conservative Judaism; positive-historical school 425, 511, 532 contamination, see purity contradiction xii, 7, 12, 21, 26, 36, 40, 45, 48, 52, 59, 60, 74, 75, 93, 97, 98, 101–105, 128, 143, 147, 158, 159, 221, 224, 254, 258, 273, 288, 301, 328, 330, 340, 379, 383, 441, 451, 452, 460–465, 468–471, 494, 496–498, 519, 544, 545 conversion 58, 224, 424, 426–428, 444, 446 corporeality; physicality 157, 158, 167, 195 court 19, 113–116, 130, 131, 141, 154, 336, 342, 367, 455, 457, 486, 488, 516

560

Index of Subjects Creation xiv, 8, 12–16, 22, 25, 29, 31, 47, 48, 76–79, 85, 88, 94, 96, 98–101, 107, 112, 122, 128, 129, 141, 163, 164, 168, 170, 172, 178, 182, 192, 193, 198, 199, 205, 218, 220, 238, 243–245, 256, 268, 269, 277, 279, 287, 289, 290, 292, 294, 307, 309, 315, 316–319, 325, 328, 329, 332, 353, 355–357, 362, 364, 366, 373, 392, 410, 411, 420, 438, 440, 441–443, 454, 465, 466–470, 473, 480, 492, 493, 496, 514, 515, 525, 526–529

D

death 14, 19, 84, 142, 152, 163, 171, 176, 195, 197, 209, 211, 215, 218, 221, 248, 250, 270, 276, 302, 305, 336, 337, 346, 364, 375, 391, 399, 405, 439, 508, 509, 514, 516 demons 175 derash, see interpretation desecration of God’s name 284, 351, 352, 432, 445 determinism 75, 98, 100, 303, 442 development of Halakhah 17, 18, 105, 106, 118, 185, 293, 374, 446 devout 46, 100, 107, 112, 113, 115, 117, 124, 130, 153, 156, 159, 185, 186, 191, 220, 223, 224, 227, 253, 328, 333, 335, 375–378, 386, 387, 474, 499 dialectics; dialectical x–xii, 4, 31, 36, 39, 42, 51, 55, 56, 76, 88, 93, 95, 102, 103, 221, 223, 225, 231, 238, 239, 267 Diaspora, see exile Dichotomy 48, 258, 275, 288, 410 dispute xiii, 5, 12, 16, 19, 20, 39, 53, 74, 103, 106, 108, 110, 123, 145, 152, 153, 155, 162, 164–166, 184, 187, 193, 194, 197, 199–202, 210, 214, 234, 236, 291, 335, 337, 342, 374, 378, 380, 456, 532 divine inspiration, see Holy Spirit Divine Providence 69, 73, 75–76, 83, 84, 91–94, 96, 101, 102, 151, 157, 168–170, 174, 176, 180, 185, 194, 225, 226, 245, 248, 252, 274, 280, 435, 526, 527 divine teaching, see Science of Man divinity of the Torah 1, 128, 137, 151, 232, 274, 459, 505, 506 Documentary Hypothesis 120, 500, 501, 506, 507, 509, 510–515, 529–532, 536 Dual Truth, Dual Truth approach ix, xi– xiv,72, 256, 329, 330, 408, 409, 452, 498, 499, 545

duality 12, 15, 60, 67, 70, 73, 75, 100, 275, 348, 388, 498

E

ecstasy 10, 33, 190, 255, 278, 405 egoism 40, 77, 360 emanation 190, 197, 199, 215, 218 emancipation 25, 55, 288, 320, 401,403, 408, 433, 436, 480, 537 emotion 8–11, 78, 86, 87, 90, 94, 149, 160, 172, 252, 278, 304, 315, 372, 373, 378, 396, 403, 405, 406, 411 encounter (with the divine) 319, 331, 410, 412–414, 417, 418, 435, 438, 440, 441 End of Days 26, 54, 60, 62–64, 68, 173, 204, 279, 281, 311, 441, 468, 486, 488–490, 527 epic poetry (Israelite) 509, 510, 530 equality 3, 15, 53, 58, 82, 286, 287, 445, 489, 540 essence of creator vs. created vessels (Kabbalah) 193, 198 eternity; eternal 61, 100, 130, 151, 156, 159, 167, 313, 314, 319, 323–325, 402, 463 ethics, see morality European culture x, 28, 43, 44, 271, 287, 296, 333, 373, 375, 382, 384–386, 390, 408, 409, 451, 472, 493, 542 evil eye 92, 174, 175 evolution, theory of 16, 22, 23, 31, 46, 48, 75, 104, 120, 358, 442, 465, 467, 493, 496 exile; Diaspora xiii, 4, 25, 30, 40, 54, 61–69, 84, 85, 131, 201, 222, 228, 281, 299, 300, 320, 322–324, 365, 371, 418, 423, 424, 435, 439, 480, 486, 487, 497, 541 existentialism 291 experience 8, 11, 21, 38, 55, 63, 77, 82, 99, 149, 225, 240, 286, 295, 308, 309, 314–316, 325, 329, 405, 409, 411–414, 417, 430, 441–443, 511, 529, 539

F

faith 6, 23, 24, 28, 31, 33, 46, 54, 62, 66, 68, 71, 79, 82, 83, 85, 86, 89, 94, 98–102, 116, 117, 129, 130, 134, 136, 138, 139, 144, 145, 148, 152, 154, 156–158, 163, 167, 174, 178, 185, 186, 191–196, 208, 212, 217, 221, 223, 226, 232, 240, 245, 246, 248, 262, 264, 265, 267, 270, 271, 275, 288, 289, 293, 301, 309, 310, 328–332, 339, 352, 354, 356, 360, 370, 372–377, 393, 394, 401, 403, 411, 416, 417, 425, 427–429, 435–439, 447, 457, 459,

Index of Subjects 460–472, 481, 482, 488, 489, 506, 512, 513, 515, 518, 522, 528, 544 familial ties 417 finite, infinite 25, 47, 93, 100, 193, 198, 199, 237, 252, 296, 298, 410, 414, 441, 483 forcing the redemption 322, 494 forgiveness, see atonement Frankfurt School 374 free will 11, 75–79, 83, 88, 90, 93, 96–102, 168, 172, 173, 240, 262, 263, 292, 297, 302, 303, 317, 346, 360 freedom 3, 77, 97, 114, 262, 265–270, 273–275, 287, 288, 293, 297, 298, 300, 302–304, 306, 307, 310, 315, 318, 319, 322, 330, 346–348, 405, 419, 420, 438, 449, 491, 538 fundamentalism xi, 12–15, 21, 26, 40, 48, 49, 53, 70, 103, 224, 256, 257, 295, 309, 332, 357, 358, 383, 442, 502, 541, 545

G

Garden of Eden 56, 172, 301, 310, 465, 493, 497, 509, 521 good and evil 83, 172, 364, 419, 542 Greek wisdom 101, 116, 130

H

Halakhah, see Oral Torah halakhic ruling 16, 20, 107, 113, 122, 144, 152 Haredim xiii, 35, 51, 54, 400, 459, 472 Hasidut; Hasidism 10, 28, 33, 103, 186, 540, 542, 544 Haskalah 1, 3, 4, 10, 15, 25, 29, 53, 55, 72, 74, 132, 134, 151, 182, 185, 186, 204, 209, 222, 239, 251, 314, 363, 409, 433, 453 Haskalah movement, see Wissenschaft des Judentums Hebrew ix, 4, 10, 14, 34–37, 42, 49, 50, 59, 71, 73, 75, 83, 89, 97, 107, 117–119, 126, 131, 132, 145, 182, 195, 201, 204, 208, 213, 226, 251, 254, 260, 276, 291, 293, 303, 308, 321, 326, 328, 337–339, 350, 356, 377, 384, 401–404, 407, 414, 451, 495, 503, 505, 508, 509, 514, 515, 522 heresy 30, 32, 45, 85, 100, 192, 224, 230, 242, 258, 330, 337, 458, 473, 490, 495, 511 hermeneutical principles (thirteen, seven, or thirty two) xiii, 13, 16–19, 106, 120–122, 125, 126, 181, 235, 340, 454 hermeneutics, see interpretation heteronomous (morality) 8, 9, 11, 15, 20, 25, 52, 55, 57, 60, 61, 77, 80, 81, 86–88, 118,

119, 133, 158, 170, 215, 224, 240, 262, 269, 284, 290, 311, 315, 423, 476 historical-philological criticism 17, 359 historical-positive school, see Conservative Judaism history 12, 21, 25, 26, 29, 35, 36, 41, 44, 49, 54, 57, 59–75, 96, 117, 119, 132, 133, 150, 161, 186, 204, 219, 220, 225–231, 236–239, 247, 256–258, 267, 272–281, 285, 287, 292–297, 300, 301–304, 309– 311, 313, 318, 320, 322–328, 335, 367, 410–414, 418, 420, 430, 431, 434–436, 438–441, 443, 481, 485, 489, 524, 542 holiness, see sanctity Holocaust; Nazism 257, 369, 382, 384, 386, 448 Holy Land, see Land of Israel Holy Spirit; divine inspiration 200, 203, 232, 236, 252, 345, 450, 484, 492, 498; 339, 354, 471, 483, 516 humanism; humaneness 3, 27, 38, 272, 287, 288, 384 humanity, see mankind

I

idealism 102, 261, 291, 295, 442 Identicality approach xii, 1, 21, 31, 36, 40–43, 46, 53, 72, 88, 93, 258, 329, 357, 377, 452, 465, 468 idol worship; paganism 33, 163, 173, 206, 222, 278–280, 304, 310, 320, 326, 405, 440, 482 image of God 57, 94, 287, 288, 307, 373, 482 impurity, see purity individualism 260 inerrancy (Biblical) 21, 26, 48, 357 infinite, see finite intellect, see reason intelligibles 228, 229, 245–247 intermarriage; assimilation 85, 287, 323, 325, 382, 384, 386, 400 interpretation; hermeneutics; simple meaning; derash xi, 17–22, 27–39, 49, 51, 54, 55, 58, 59, 72, 81, 83, 92, 98, 99, 105–112, 115–119, 122, 125, 127, 131–133, 137–140, 142–148, 150, 151, 155, 156, 160–165, 172, 173–176, 183, 185–188, 200, 207, 210, 211, 220–222, 233–244, 253, 255–261, 267, 269, 276, 290, 298, 306, 309, 339–344, 348, 349, 355, 357–359, 362–365, 367, 379, 381–384, 388, 389, 410, 420, 428, 443,

561

562

Index of Subjects 449, 453, 462, 468, 469, 471, 477, 480, 492, 494, 499, 500, 503, 519, 521, 536, 544; peshat-derash: 340, 518–521, 532 Interpretative Identicality Approach 88, 357, 365, 468 Irresolvable Dialectical Approach xii, 103, 545

J

Jewish people; the nation; nationhood xiv, 7, 13, 15, 25, 26, 33, 54–57, 61–65, 68–71, 92, 117, 122, 130, 256, 269, 276, 279, 281, 286, 296, 309, 312, 315, 318, 322, 323, 354, 361, 370, 373, 382, 397–401,408, 413, 415, 416, 418, 425–427, 432, 433, 435, 436, 437, 448, 453, 456–458, 460, 471, 473, 477, 478, 480, 483–485, 488–490, 493, 524 The nation: 279, 281, 299, 311, 313, 320, 321–326, 347, 349, 350, 352, 354, 360, 361, 367, 387, 389, 394, 397, 398, 427, 431, 433–437, 450, 454–458, 461, 462, 464, 470–472, 475, 479, 481–487, 489, 492, 495, 497, 502, 503, 508, 510, 512–515, 522, 525, 527, 531, 535, 536 Nationhood: 323 Jewish state; State of Israel xi, xiv, 58, 61, 62, 67, 274, 280, 281, 299, 321, 387, 391, 398, 418, 485, 486 State of Israel: 257, 280, 282, 289, 369, 382, 386, 415, 418, 426, 435, 436, 446 Jewish studies, see Wissenschaft des Judentums

K

Kabbalah; mysticism xi, 10–12, 28, 34, 73, 112, 132, 133, 137, 156, 185–218, 272, 280, 369, 415, 449–453, 468, 492, 540, 541–544; mysticism: 255, 274, 278, 279, 285, 292, 315, 316, 369, 410, 413, 417, 431, 440, 441, 459, 468, 471, 492, 499 Kantianism 8, 21, 80, 149, 238, 290, 292 Karaites, see Sadducees

L

Land of Israel; Holy Land 1, 13, 25, 54, 55, 59–64, 67–72, 81, 114, 202, 204, 213, 268, 279, 281, 299, 320, 324, 325, 361, 399, 407, 415, 423–426, 431, 435, 436, 446–452, 457, 459, 471, 477, 485, 486, 488, 490–494, 498, 499, 535, 543

Holy Land: 323, 324, 436, 482, 486, 489 laws, see commandments left and right 18, 221, 511, 542 leprosy 91, 175–177 liberalism xi, 27, 38, 254, 295, 371, 495 life ix, x, 1, 4, 5, 9–11, 21, 24, 25, 29, 32, 35, 36, 40, 42, 47, 49–51, 54, 57, 61, 63, 66, 69, 70, 75, 76, 84, 87, 90, 92, 97, 101, 102, 106, 152, 157, 166, 173, 186, 196, 219, 221, 223, 225–229, 248, 260, 262, 264, 267, 268, 270–275, 280, 281–288, 292, 296, 297, 300, 301–307, 313, 314, 320–327, 329, 331, 349–351, 354, 358, 363, 364, 366, 369–373, 375, 377, 379, 381, 382, 386, 387, 390–393, 398, 401–408, 416–419, 423–426, 429, 430, 433–437, 439–442, 445, 458–463, 466–470, 475, 477–482, 484, 486–488, 497, 498, 502, 514, 525, 540 love 9, 38, 58, 62, 69, 71, 77, 83, 94, 116, 117, 124, 129, 138, 140, 145–148, 163, 164, 173, 179, 180, 182, 184, 187, 190, 191, 215, 217, 221, 222, 232, 250, 264–266, 287, 304–307, 314–320, 323, 326, 327, 331, 355, 359, 360, 372, 373, 379, 393, 402, 420, 425–427, 440, 441, 462, 464, 467, 468, 472, 474, 478, 485, 488–490, 495, 513, 520, 533

M

maggid 207, 208 magic 11, 84, 136, 157, 175, 191, 193, 241, 278, 294, 371, 534 mankind; Nations of the World; nations 3, 4, 9, 15, 23–25, 33, 38, 41, 42, 47, 51, 55–57, 61–71, 91–93, 95, 96, 138, 152, 170–174, 179, 200, 225, 226–228, 232, 238, 258, 262–264, 269, 271, 272, 279, 284, 286, 287, 292–304, 310, 313, 315– 319, 325, 327, 330, 333, 344, 345, 348, 352–354, 358–361, 393, 395, 397–399, 405, 410, 433–442, 453, 480–483, 493, 496, 512, 515, 526, 527; Nations of the World: 311, 313, 352, 435, 526; Nations: 256, 262, 272, 288, 295, 300, 309, 311, 313, 314, 321, 322, 326, 349, 352, 377, 389, 396–400, 406, 418, 433–435, 437, 462, 473–475, 478, 481, 483, 484, 486, 488–493, 513, 516, 518, 522, 526, 527, 535, 541, 543 Masoretic text; Masoretes 201, 202, 211, 213, 340

Index of Subjects Materialism 33, 48, 267, 272, 295, 299, 300, 316, 322, 323, 347, 360, 400, 440, 441, 468 mercy; compassion 10, 66, 69, 80, 85, 86, 87, 89, 92, 95, 135, 157, 158, 164, 169, 215, 226, 243, 254, 305–307, 399, 421, 438, 467, 477, 479; compassion: 265, 267, 304, 307, 372, 373, 519 messianism 54, 61, 62, 274, 278, 279, 282, 333, 432, 436 meta-halakha 397, 444, 446 metaphor, see allegory metaphysics 1, 80, 271, 292, 293, 411, 414, 420, 473 Middle Way ix, 1, 2, 8, 21, 37, 48, 49, 59, 88, 92, 95, 98, 100, 103, 105, 106, 117, 119, 120, 129, 134, 143–147, 149, 153–155, 159, 181, 182, 184, 186, 207, 217, 218, 221, 225, 230, 234, 239, 240, 253, 255, 256, 271, 275, 279, 282, 286, 287, 316, 322, 329, 330, 334, 342–346, 348, 350, 352–359, 361–363, 369, 377–380, 389, 391, 394, 397, 399, 401, 404, 405, 411, 419, 429, 432, 433, 438, 440, 442, 444, 445, 451–453, 456, 459, 467, 471–475, 481, 484, 488, 502, 506, 509, 511, 524, 525, 527, 536, 543, 545 midrash halakhah, see Oral Torah minimalism; maximalism (Biblical) 532 miracle 59, 60, 64, 96, 151, 156, 168, 176, 191, 205, 241, 245, 248, 439, 535 Mishnah, see Oral Torah mission; calling 6, 9, 55, 56, 61–68, 70, 71, 262, 265–267, 271, 282, 286, 297, 299, 312, 320, 322, 323, 344, 345, 349, 350, 353, 354, 358, 361, 370, 376, 391, 393, 397–399, 432–439, 480–487, 493; calling: 282, 301, 480 modernity; religious modernism ix, x, 3, 15, 42, 72, 255, 258, 292, 333, 374, 381, 382, 448, 511, 543 monotheism 218, 256, 270, 290, 292, 301, 321, 393, 415, 439, 480, 482, 543 morality; ethics 3, 8, 9, 11, 15, 20, 25, 45, 52, 55–57, 60, 61, 77, 80, 81, 86–88, 118, 119, 132, 133, 158, 168, 170, 189, 215, 224, 240, 256, 258, 261–265, 269–272, 281, 284, 287–299, 301–306, 311, 315, 317, 318–320, 325–333, 344, 345, 349, 354, 358, 372, 393, 395–400, 419, 422, 429, 433, 437, 453, 461–466, 469, 472, 476–480, 482, 484, 492, 493, 514, 529; ethics: 256, 258, 261, 271, 274, 290–298, 304, 325, 329, 331, 365, 370, 385, 394,

395, 405, 418–421, 438, 439, 441, 464, 465, 468, 469, 472–477, 480, 484, 487, 488–491, 495, 496, 529 myth; mythology 18, 190, 218, 294, 295, 301, 306, 515, 530

N

narrative xiv, 7, 95, 100, 102, 256–258, 297, 467, 496, 514, 518, 540, 541 nation, see Jewish People nationhood, see Jewish people Nations of the World, see mankind nations, see mankind nature 6, 8, 9, 15, 21–23, 37, 38, 41, 43, 44, 48, 49, 52, 55, 62, 65, 77, 80, 82, 83, 86, 92, 94, 96, 98–101, 111, 119, 129, 143, 147, 149, 150, 166, 168, 172, 177, 178, 183, 187, 199, 220, 237, 239, 242, 244– 248, 253, 256, 262–280, 283, 285, 290, 292, 295, 299, 316, 323, 328–330, 344, 346, 347, 349, 351, 356, 357, 360, 366, 369–371, 392–397, 405, 412, 421, 429, 430, 439–442, 445, 461, 462, 465–467, 470, 473, 475, 481, 485, 492, 501, 502, 506, 514, 520, 524, 526, 541 Nazism, see Holocaust neo-fundamentalism xii, 1, 12, 26, 40, 48, 49, 256, 357, 358, 383, 442, 541 Neo-Fundamentalist Identicality Approach 1, 452 neo-Kantianism 261, 290, 308 Neo-Orthodoxy ix, 2, 39, 255, 296, 373, 377, 378, 423, 446, 449, 453, 459, 463, 481, 485, 491, 492, 498, 499, 511, 525 neo-romanticism 1, 8 neutralization; neutralize 68, 279, 325 norms, see commandments

O

offerings, see sacrifices Oral Torah (Halakhah, Midrash; Mishnah; tannaim; amoraim; Talmud) x, xiii, xiv, 3, 12–16, 21, 26, 104–113, 117, 120, 123, 130, 147, 152, 181, 192, 202, 207, 210, 213, 219, 221, 224, 230–237, 242, 255, 274–277, 309, 336–342, 374, 394, 423, 425, 453–458, 487, 509, 517, 519, 524, 525 Halakhah: x, xiii, xiv, 7, 12–20, 33, 58, 61, 104–106, 109–131, 133, 135, 137, 139, 141, 144, 147, 148, 150–152, 155, 156, 165, 175, 181–185, 206, 220, 223, 224,

563

564

Index of Subjects 233, 235, 238–244, 251, 260, 263, 271–277, 283, 284–288, 290, 293, 295–297, 309, 322, 326, 335, 336, 338, 340, 341–344, 369, 371, 374, 376, 404, 418, 422, 423–427, 437, 444–447, 454, 456, 468, 472–474, 486, 511, 518, 544 Midrash: 17, 18–24, 51, 63, 101, 105, 106, 112, 119, 121–128, 131, 133, 139, 140, 143, 145–148, 156, 182, 183, 200, 201, 203, 218, 220, 232–234, 239–242, 244, 336, 338, 341, 343, 344, 356, 357, 359, 376, 453, 466, 467, 509, 518, 525 Mishnah: 7, 104–115, 119–123, 126–133, 151, 152, 155, 156, 181, 182, 187, 192–194, 202, 203, 208, 216, 220, 233, 239, 243; 338, 339, 342, 423–425, 453, 456, 518 Tannaim: 13, 110–114, 120–130, 151, 152, 160, 182, 187, 189, 200, 204; 337, 342, 456 Amoraim: 13, 110–115, 121, 123, 125–127, 129, 152, 154, 182, 187, 200, 204, 243; 337 Talmud: 2, 6, 7, 12, 17, 19, 20, 35, 45, 49, 61, 69, 104–113, 116–122, 125, 127–133, 138, 140, 145, 147, 152, 155–158, 175, 181–184, 187–189, 192–194, 200–203, 210, 211, 214, 216–224, 227, 231, 233, 239–244, 251, 326, 333, 335–339, 342, 344, 369, 371, 376, 379, 394, 401, 404, 423–425, 444, 445, 453–456, 471–474, 487, 493, 513, 518, 519 Original Sin 278, 303, 304, 310, 439 Orthodoxy ix, 2, 3, 7, 12, 26, 28, 32, 36, 38, 39, 150, 224, 297, 309, 325, 326, 333, 336, 363, 368, 369, 374, 375–378, 381, 384, 423–426, 446, 447, 508, 524 Orthopraxy 296

P

paganism, see idol worship panentheism 33, 198, 267, 278, 441 pantheism 33, 198, 217, 267, 292, 299, 320, 440, 441 parable, see allegory particularism 28, 53, 288, 295, 303, 410, 415, 493, 499, 541 peace xii, 9, 42, 46, 53, 68, 69, 88, 102, 103, 110, 157, 161, 168, 199, 216, 240, 303, 344, 399, 404, 455, 458, 462, 486, 508

peshat, see interpretation philosophy ix, xi, xii, 2–5, 8–11, 21, 22, 27–32, 35, 36, 42, 43, 49, 52, 60, 62, 70, 72, 73–75, 80–83, 86–88, 90–95, 98–104, 113, 116, 117, 129, 132, 133, 136–139, 145, 148–151, 155–163, 171, 184, 189, 192–197, 199, 212, 214–218, 220, 221, 236, 239, 246, 248, 253, 255– 258, 263, 267, 274, 278, 289–291, 294, 297–301, 308, 309, 314–318, 320, 322, 328, 329–335, 368, 369, 372, 383, 384, 389, 390, 402, 407–412, 414, 417, 426, 440, 442, 448, 449–453, 458, 460–464, 471–476, 481, 484, 493, 494, 499, 530, 537, 541–545 physicality, see corporeality pleasure; enjoyment 77, 82, 84, 88, 89, 97, 99, 103, 124, 177, 182, 284, 302, 305, 347, 430, 469, 497 pluralism 427, 428, 537–541, 544, 545 polemics over Maimonides 214, 224, 226 post-modernity; post-modernism 257, 258 postulate 267, 288, 290 potential; activating potential xiii, 21, 22, 33, 55, 95, 174, 195, 215, 234, 236–239, 332, 358, 364, 442, 446, 465, 487 prayer 10, 11, 69, 87, 90, 94, 172, 179, 187, 192, 194, 195, 198, 200, 202, 207, 229, 306, 321, 327, 534 progress 1, 23, 43, 44, 48, 58, 66, 67, 93, 145, 146, 207, 237, 238, 326, 367, 377, 389, 401, 416, 479, 480, 493 prophecy; prophets 55, 85, 134, 151, 156, 158, 174, 232, 240, 244–248, 253, 267, 323, 345, 358, 413, 449, 450, 454, 457, 462, 470, 471, 482, 487, 492, 495, 496, 510, 514, 520, 543; prophets: 287, 290, 294, 295, 299, 329, 339, 399, 410, 413, 433, 454, 469, 484, 490, 504, 520 prudent plan of Providence; the 174 purity; impurity; contamination 6, 136, 175–177, 228, 281, 294, 310, 311, 346, 347, 349, 359, 360, 396, 402, 459, 460, 461, 464, 471, 484, 541; impurity: 270, 346, 347, 350, 351, 485, 541; contamination: 346

R

rabbinic seminary 107, 368, 502, 503 racism 287, 288, 415 rationales of the commandments 38, 109, 121, 133, 166, 169, 172, 173, 176, 177, 208, 256, 482, 487

Index of Subjects rationalism 1, 27, 28, 36, 55, 73, 77, 87, 104, 133, 149–151, 244, 255, 260, 261, 306, 330, 369, 408, 415, 449, 468, 499, 537 reason; intellect; wisdom xii, xiv, 3, 5, 8–11, 15, 17, 20, 21, 24, 27, 30, 38, 40, 41, 43, 46, 47, 52–55, 57, 72, 75, 76, 80, 82, 88, 90, 109, 110, 117, 122, 136, 149, 150, 176, 184, 191, 201, 219, 221–223, 236, 239, 242, 244, 247, 248, 253, 254, 256, 258, 261–272, 274, 278, 281, 284, 290–299, 301–306, 315, 316, 317, 319, 324–333, 341–343, 354–359, 363, 364, 367, 370, 375, 382–385, 388, 392, 409–414, 417, 419, 425, 429, 432, 435, 437, 444, 445, 451–454, 457, 459–464, 466, 467, 469–476, 481–484, 487, 488, 492–495, 498, 499, 501, 502, 507, 514, 515, 517, 520, 523, 524, 526, 539, 541, 544 redemption; salvation 9, 25, 59–64, 67, 69, 97, 238, 256, 258, 262, 263, 269, 270–274, 278–282, 294, 297, 299, 301, 303, 304, 308, 310, 313–320, 323–327, 332, 333, 360, 361, 365, 370, 389, 393, 398, 400, 401, 405, 406, 432, 435–439, 453, 477, 478, 480, 481, 487, 492, 494, 499, 541 Reform Judaism xiv, 10, 182, 255, 270–274, 285, 286, 290, 292, 293, 298, 306, 325, 326, 333, 336, 337, 351, 352, 360, 372, 374, 377, 391, 393, 401, 424, 426–428, 446, 451, 454, 458, 472–475, 477, 480, 481, 505, 508, 511, 524, 525, 532 religion and science, see Torah im Derekh Erets religion, religiosity ix–xii, 3, 7, 18, 26, 36, 41–45, 48, 49, 54, 59, 71, 80, 87–94, 136, 169, 170, 172, 185, 190, 192, 212, 215, 217, 223, 225, 240, 242, 248, 256, 258, 259, 261, 262, 268, 272, 274–286, 288–299, 301–306, 310–313, 320, 327, 328–331, 345, 360, 370, 371, 375–378, 385, 387, 391–397, 405, 406, 408, 410–414, 417, 437, 441, 459, 472, 475, 478, 481, 483 488, 502, 517, 539, 540, 541, 545 religious modernism, see modernity repentance 94, 154, 162, 241, 303–306, 310, 318, 459 research, see scholarship Resolvable Dialectical Approach xii, 103 restorers; restoration (of Halakhah) 10, 16, 69 Restrictive Identicality Approach 21, 22, 357, 452, 468

resurrection of the dead 152, 154, 158, 185, 224 Return to Zion 25, 26, 28, 53, 54, 59, 60, 67, 70, 84, 279, 352, 437 revelation xi–xiv, 3, 8, 11–13, 18, 20–23, 26, 30, 37, 38, 40–46, 52–56, 65, 71, 72, 73, 75, 76, 79, 82, 86–90, 93, 96, 98, 99, 102–104, 112, 149, 150, 158, 184, 207, 219–225, 235, 236–239, 244, 246, 248, 251–254, 255, 256, 258, 262, 269, 290, 292, 293, 294, 296, 308, 309, 315, 317–318, 328, 330–333, 353, 357, 359, 360, 369, 371, 372, 383, 385, 409–414, 417, 423, 432, 435, 451, 452–454, 459, 462, 465, 469–471, 476, 477, 482, 483, 494, 495, 499, 531, 539, 541, 543, 545 revelation at Sinai; theophany at Sinai xiii, 11, 12, 244, 253, 255, 293, 413, 423, 450 reward and punishment 75, 76, 78, 81, 83, 86–93, 98, 102, 151, 157, 166–172, 176, 240, 245, 248, 256, 269, 274, 528 ritual 87, 164, 167, 172, 290, 350, 421 Romanticism 1, 8–10, 26, 73, 80, 149, 244, 260, 333, 369, 370, 372, 499, 537, 542

S

Sabbath 13, 65, 140, 142, 163, 207, 226, 268, 327, 352, 402, 404, 447, 469, 470 Sabbatical Year 174, 426, 444, 446 sacredness, see sanctity sacrifices; offerings; Temple 6, 54, 65, 68, 69, 81, 93, 101, 119, 125, 175–180; 199, 201, 207, 227, 231, 349, 354, 355, 524; Temple: 270, 279, 284, 300, 322, 342, 353, 415, 457 Sadducees; Karaites 118, 121; 15, 118, 139, 201, 202, 213, 424, 425 Sages, the xii–xiv, 6–8, 12, 13, 16–20, 22, 24, 38, 49–53, 58, 59, 61, 62, 70, 77, 79, 83, 89, 101, 105–110, 113–131, 133, 135, 137, 140, 144–148, 152, 156, 157, 163, 168, 176, 181–183, 188, 189, 191–195, 201–210, 213, 215, 216, 220–223, 227, 232–243, 247, 249, 275, 277, 307, 311, 336, 337, 340–344, 347, 354–359, 362, 363, 393, 419, 423, 425, 444, 445, 454– 458, 464–466, 473, 502, 505–507, 509, 513, 518–520, 524–526, 532, 536, 543 salvation, see redemption sanctity; holiness; sacredness 6, 8, 9, 15, 25, 55, 60, 230; 262, 255, 266, 268, 270, 272, 275, 277, 278, 279, 281–283, 284, 287, 288, 297, 298, 303, 318, 324, 326, 333, 339, 344–354, 361, 365, 392–396, 402,

565

566

Index of Subjects 419, 429–432, 440, 453, 458, 469, 472, 476, 488–490, 497, 498, 532 scholarship; research x, xv, 17–20, 74, 99, 105, 106, 132, 136, 219, 229, 232; ix, xi, 12, 15–17, 28, 29, 35, 36–41, 52–54, 59, 72–74, 80, 89, 99, 101, 103–105, 112, 119, 120, 124, 126–128, 161, 166, 184, 190, 196, 204, 209, 212–214, 221, 231, 232, 237, 238, 249, 250, 253, 257, 263, 267, 268, 277, 290, 328, 329, 336, 341, 358–360, 371, 374–80, 383, 390, 396, 411, 415, 417, 442, 451, 459, 460–462, 466–468, 472, 482, 493, 496, 500, 501–506, 510, 511, 513, 525, 530, 536 science xi, xii, xiv, 3, 12, 15, 16, 21–23, 26, 29–32, 35–52, 68, 72, 77–80, 88, 92, 93, 97–101, 103, 128, 158, 159, 164, 184, 185, 222, 227, 254, 267, 268, 274, 275, 299, 327–333, 336, 353–355, 359, 360, 370, 376, 377, 379, 382–385, 390, 392, 393, 410, 412, 415, 451, 452, 459, 460, 465, 468, 472, 473, 493–495, 511, 513, 522, 526, 541, 542–545 Science of Man; divine teaching 3, 15, 344, 451 Scribes 118–126, 182, 200, 210, 233, 234, 252, 469, 516 secrets of the Torah 109–112, 118, 121–123, 126, 192, 216, 520 secular studies x, 1–5, 28, 30, 32, 33, 35, 37, 39, 41, 50–53, 254, 334, 336, 358, 360, 373–375, 378, 382, 385–388, 407, 415, 416, 461, 471, 472, 493 secularism 27, 36, 272, 498 sefirot (Kabbalah) 187, 193, 194, 196–199, 209, 215, 216, 218, 280, 541, 542 sensuality; sensualism 6, 9, 30, 40, 52, 256, 262, 264, 274, 278, 284, 293, 303, 310, 326, 346, 348, 369, 383, 393, 395, 396, 405, 410, 419, 429, 440, 476 separate realms, see Compartmental Approach separatism; separation 39, 197, 280, 285, 329–331, 374, 378, 391, 440, 451, 473 simple meaning, see interpretation sin; transgression 49, 62–65, 79, 81, 91, 154, 170, 176, 179, 189, 206, 214, 243, 252, 271, 292, 304, 305, 307, 310, 313, 342, 362, 363, 366, 371, 419, 483, 497, 529, 533 soul 8, 9, 78, 90, 102, 136, 145, 186, 187, 195–197, 206, 208, 214–216, 218, 223, 240, 268, 273, 285, 287, 291, 296, 302, 311,

317, 348, 350, 354, 359, 370–372, 375, 376, 384, 392, 395, 396, 399, 402, 403, 406, 409, 422, 429, 430, 469, 471, 472, 478, 492, 494, 495, 497, 499, 515, 534 status of women 1, 5, 7, 26, 362, 376, 401, 404, 405, 406, 443–447 sublation 383 synthesis 31, 32, 93, 221, 372, 377, 381, 383–387, 390, 409, 452, 494, 495, 497, 541–544

T

Talmud, see Oral Torah tannaim and amoraim, see Oral Torah Temple, see sacrifices textual support, see asmakhta theology 93, 113, 140, 256, 271, 316, 318, 330, 332, 473, 522, 523 theophany at Sinai, see revelation at Sinai theosophy 10, 190, 218 theurgy 10, 12, 33, 190 thing in itself 21, 261, 262, 264 Three Oaths 25, 54, 61, 279, 320, 399 Tolerance 80, 428, 537, 538–542 Torah x–xiv, 1–4, 6–9, 12–16, 18–22, 25–42, 44–47, 49, 51–59, 61–70, 255, 256, 261, 263–266, 270, 272, 273–287, 296, 299, 309–315, 318, 320, 322, 325–329, 331, 332, 335–346, 348–358, 360, 362–365, 369, 372–384, 386–405, 408, 411, 413, 415, 417, 418, 419–426, 429, 433, 435–438, 444–448, 450–499, 500–538, 541–543 Torah im Derekh Erets; Torah and philosophy; religion and science x, 2, 3, 27–35, 42, 49, 53, 72, 92, 94, 184; xii, 26, 45, 48, 80, 258, 275, 328, 330, 331, 377, 411, 541 Torat Erets Yisrael 543 totality 283–285, 295, 304, 391, 392, 424, 538 tradition; traditions x–xiv, 1, 3–8, 11–18, 25, 33, 36, 42, 48, 52–55, 70, 77, 83, 90, 107–111, 116, 135, 137, 144, 147, 148, 156, 189–194, 201, 210–212, 216, 218– 221, 224, 230, 232, 233, 240, 252, 255, 270, 272, 275, 276, 290–295, 314, 318, 320, 325, 331, 333, 338–343, 352, 360, 363, 376, 392–394, 402, 404, 409–413, 417, 437, 441, 447, 448, 455, 457, 467, 483, 502, 504, 506–511, 514–519, 525, 527, 531, 539–544

Index of Subjects transcendentalism 267, 292, 306 transgression, see sin truth; truths ix, xii, xiv, 2–4, 6, 8, 12, 15, 19–24, 27–33, 38, 40, 42–46, 51–56, 62, 64, 66, 72–80, 87–104, 109, 129, 130, 134, 146– 148, 150, 152, 153, 157, 161, 165–167, 170–172, 176, 179, 180, 184–187, 190, 196, 198, 209–212, 217, 229, 232, 236, 243, 248, 252, 253, 256, 266, 269, 270, 291, 296, 299, 306, 314, 326, 328–332, 337, 339, 342, 356–359, 363, 369, 383, 385, 387, 388, 390, 393, 408, 409, 413, 416, 417, 421, 428, 436, 437, 441, 444, 451–453, 456, 459, 460–462, 467, 470, 471, 474, 475, 480–484, 488, 489, 496, 498, 499, 502, 503, 510, 511, 518, 520, 524, 526, 528–530, 537, 539–545 tsimsum 199 typology 18

W

U

Y

Übermensch 298 Unity of Opposites 449, 450 538, 544 universalism 1, 3, 15, 28, 38, 53, 59, 68, 70, 254, 286–288, 398, 415, 432–434, 493, 499, 539, 541 utopia 25, 26, 54, 60, 62, 68, 70, 279, 282, 301, 320, 457

V

vowels and accents 187, 188, 200–203, 210–213

wisdom, see reason Wissenschaft des Judentums; Jewish studies; Haskalah; the Haskalah movement, maskilim 16, 132, 229, 232, 254, 290, 331, 336, 358, 359, 375, 377, 378, 415; 5, 34, 218, 261, 290, 291, 359, 368, 375, 404, 415; 1–4, 10, 15, 25, 29, 53, 55, 72, 74, 134, 151, 182, 185, 186, 204, 209, 222, 239, 251, 314, 363, 409, 433, 453; maskilim: 451, 511 World to Come 78, 81, 82, 152, 185, 196, 205, 240, 286, 301, 303 written Torah xiii, xiv, 3, 7, 13–15, 93, 106, 107–111, 116, 121, 125, 150, 181, 220, 230, 231, 234–236, 239, 240–242, 251, 255, 275–277, 309, 338–343, 393, 424, 426, 446–448, 453, 454, 457, 458, 499, 509, 511, 517, 519 yeshiva 29, 32, 221, 243, 335, 363, 368–370, 373–391, 400–408, 427, 437, 444, 446, 448, 491

Z

Zionism x, 25, 28, 39, 54, 59, 61, 62, 67, 70, 257, 280, 297, 323, 334, 361, 399, 401, 486 Zionist pioneers 400, 490, 492 Zohar, the 12, 156, 187–200, 202–209, 212–214, 217, 218, 415, 542, 544

567

Index of Names A

Abarbanel, Isaac 155, 195, 286, 354, 355, 534 Abbahu (Rabbi) 17 Abraham (Bible) 56, 64, 65, 71, 95, 96, 134, 135, 173, 261, 312, 348, 364, 365, 372, 373, 397, 403, 444, 527–531, 534 Abulafia, Abraham 209, 212 Abulafia, Meir ben Todros 151 Adler, Nathan 337 Akiva (Rabbi) 16–20, 215, 407 Albo, Joseph xiii, 200, 205, 236, 330 Albright, William 531 Alfakhar, Judah 151 Almanzi, Joseph 209 Amir, Yehoyada 27, 35, 36, 222, 248, 259, 291–299, 305, 306, 309, 314, 316, 319, 320, 323, 326, 327, 331, 332, 389 Amsterdam, Naftali 368 Antonius 196 Aristotle 7, 31, 144, 151, 152, 159, 160, 164, 205, 224, 240 Asher ben Jehiel 192 Ashi (Rabbi) 113 Auerbach, Moshe 380 Augustine 410, 412 Averroes 95, 216 Aviezer, Nathan 48, 389, 544 Avivi, Yosef 449, 450 Avraham, Michael 541

B

Bahya ben Asher 194, 200, 201, 330 Bamberger, Isaac Dov 45, 53, 336 Barr, James 12, 21, 48, 49 Barth, Jakob 377 Barzilay, Isaac 155 Basilea, Aviad Sar Shalom 136, 207 Basilius 199 Bassi, Yonatan 87, 189, 192, 193, 196–209 Bayle, Pierre 79 Beit Halevi, Yisrael David 221 Ben Labrat, Dunash 145 Ben Shalom, Yisrael 18, 20 Ben Shammai, Haggai 15

Ben Shlomo, Yosef 292, 295, 299, 301, 303, 306, 450 Benamozegh, Elijah 190, 204 Benayahu, Meir 232 Bergman, Hugo 103, 291, 296 Berkovits, Eliezer x, 334, 335, 365, 406, 407–448, 540, 541 Berlin, Naftali Tzvi Yehuda 539 Bernais, Isaac 55, 447 Besht (Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov) 542 Besso, Giuseppe 96, 97 Bin-Nun, Yoel 450, 451, 471, 475–477, 486, 490–498 Blazer, Isaac (Itzele) 368 Blumenfeld, Ignaz (Isaac) 76, 77, 83 Blumenfeld, Issachar 84, 148, 166 Boaz 9 Bodek, Jacob 153, 161, 165, 220, 221, 225 Bodenheimer, Shimon 531 Bonfil, Robert 74, 502, 503, 509 Bonfils, Joseph Ben Samuel 229 Brecher, Gedalia 158 Brecher, Gideon 215–217 Brenner, Yosef Haim 497 Breuer, Isaac 7, 27, 28, 31–33, 54, 61, 67, 68, 269, 279, 285, 374, 382–384 Breuer, Mordechai 22, 36, 37, 42, 44, 48, 53, 57, 59, 516

C

Cantoni, Hillel 212 Cassutto, Umberto 74 Chamiel, Ephraim ix, 8, 21, 49, 59, 88, 92, 95, 103, 105, 106, 117, 119, 120, 129, 134, 143–147, 154, 155, 159, 181–186, 207, 217, 230, 234, 239, 244, 254, 256, 271, 275, 279, 282, 286, 287, 316, 322, 329, 330, 334, 342–346, 348, 350, 352–355, 358, 361–363, 369, 378, 380, 389, 391, 394, 397, 399, 401, 404, 405, 411, 419, 429, 432, 433, 438, 440, 442, 444, 445, 451, 453, 456, 459, 467, 472, 473, 475, 481, 484, 488, 506, 511, 524, 525, 527, 541, 545

Index of Names Chertok, Shlomo 8, 27, 37, 39, 58, 183 Clark, Samuel 98 Cohen, David (Harav Hanazir) 490 Cohen, Hermann x, xiv, 257, 259, 260, 271, 272, 282–284, 289–297, 299, 304, 306, 308, 325, 329, 333, 384, 395, 410, 449, 450, 471 Copernicus, Nicolaus 48 Cordovero, Moses 194, 198, 207, 208, 449 Creizenach, Michael 214, 215 Crescas, Hasdai 76, 77, 100

D

Daniel (Bible) 85, 142, 203 Darwin, Charles 467 David (Bible) 309, 503, 509, 516, 517, 530 David (father of Abraham ben David) 193 Dawkins, Richard 48 de Condillac, Étienne Bonnot 80 De la Torre, Lelio (Hillel) 214 De Leon, Moshe 203, 204, 209, 212, 213, 217 de Rossi, Azariah 229 Delmedigo, Eliyahu xii, 94, 95, 103, 194, 452, 498 Delmedigo, Solomon of Candia 48, 194 Dinur, Benzion 196, 209, 502 Duke of Pressburg 250

E

Efodi 155, 244 Ehlberg, Simcha 391 Eichenbaum, Jacob 160 Eichhorn, Johann Gottfried 120 Einstein, Albert ix Elazar of Worms, (Rokeah) 194 Elhanan (Graziadio) Ascoli 189 Elior, Rachel 422, 542 Ellenson, David 37 Emden, Jacob 198, 203, 226 Epstein, Mordechai 368 Etkes, Immanuel 29, 369, 542 Ettinger, Shmuel 380 Ettlinger, Jacob x, 2, 447 Ezra (Bible) 82, 118–120, 125, 200–203, 210, 233, 500, 504, 509

F

Feiner, Shmuel 74, 99, 151, 222, 239, 506 Fichte, Johann Gottlieb 80, 542 Finkel, Eliezer Judah 407 Finkel, Natan Tsvi 368 Finkelstein, Yisrael 531 Fisch, Menachem 541 Fishman, Nahman Isaac 153

Frankel, Zecharias 16–18, 119, 126, 128, 219, 250, 333 Friedlander, David 224, 251 Fürst, Natan Joseh (Alzari) 250

G

Gafni, Hanan 74, 105, 106, 110, 112, 115, 124, 128 Ganz, David 48 Geiger, Abraham 39, 70, 113–115, 122, 124, 126–128, 152, 182, 232, 251, 292, 325, 326, 364, 505, 506 Gerondi, Mordechai Samuel 209 Gerondi, Nissim (Ran) xiii, 250 Gershom, Rabbenu 367 Gersonides 76, 78, 91, 143 Gertner, Haim 229, 230 Gesenius, Friedrich Wilhelm 134, 147, 148, 165, 166 Gilat, Isaac Dov 18, 20, 126 Ginsberg, Harold Lewis 426 Glasner, Akiva 407 Glasner, Moses Samuel 407, 426 Glicksberg, Shlomo 269 Goldenberg, Samuel Leib 85, 134, 153–159, 166, 513 Goldman, Eliezer 427, 540, 541 Goodman, Micah 169, 174, 244, 545 Graetz, Heinrich 16–19, 126–128, 204, 219, 295, 337, 425, 511 Grodzinski, Chaim Ozer 378 Gunkel, Hermann 500 Guttman, Julius 237, 239, 291

H

Hacohen, Moshe 145 Hacohen, Perets 194 Hakohen, Nahman 250, 251 Halberstam, H.Z. 102, 272, Hanshke, David 48 Harav Hanazir, see Cohen, David Harris, J. Michael 13, 106, 236, 237, 275 Hartman, David 540, 541, 544 Hartom, Menahem 507 Harvey, Zeev 261, 278 Hayat, Judah 194 Hayyuj, Judah 200 Hazony, David 409, 411, 422, 430, 431 Hegel, Friedrich xii, 103, 149, 236, 237–239, 452, 453, 542–544 Heidegger, Martin 308 Heine, Heinrich 61 Heineman, Isaac 28, 389

569

570

Index of Names Herder, Johann Gottfried 238 Herod 121, 122 Hershkovitz, Meir 159, 231, 232, 236, 249, 250, 253 Herzfeld, Levi 251 Herzl, Theodor 67, 361, 401 Heschel, Abraham Joshua 18, 452, 471, 498 Hess, Moshe 251, 450 Hezekiah ben Manoah (Hizkuni) 200 Hildesheimer, Esriel 42, 335–338, 358–361, 368, 374, 376–381, 386, 389, 400, 406, 407, 415, 417, 448, 450, 468 Hillel (Rabbi) 16–19, 108, 110 Hisda, (Rabbi) 7 Hoffmann, David Tsvi 123, 334–367, 376–380, 447 Holdheim, Samuel 251 Horin, Aharon 251 Horowits, Joshua Halevi (Shla) 194 Horowitz, Rivka 25, 74, 326 Hume, David 80, 407 Huna, Rav 17

I

Ibn Ezra, Abraham ix, 73, 78, 108, 131–148, 154–161, 166, 192–195, 200–202, 211–215, 236, 532, 533 Ibn Gabirol, Solomon 158 Ibn Janach, Jonah 138, 145 Ibn Paquda, Bahya 201, 469 Idel, Moshe 12, 190, 196, 209, 217, 218, 239 Ilgen, Karl David 120 Isaac (Bible) 64, 65, 289, 364, 403, 444 Isaac of Acre 203 Isaiah (Bible) 7, 63, 68, 85, 133, 134, 147, 154, 166, 231, 232, 523, 527 Ishmael (Bible) 444 Ishmael (Rabbi) 233 Ish-Shalom, Binyamin 42, 449, 491 Israel Baal Shem Tov, see Besht

J

Jacob (Bible) 64, 65, 68, 85, 217, 444, 454, 463, 529 Jacobson, Israel 251 Jellinek, Adolf 190, 204, 209 Jeremiah (Bible) 69, 420 Jerome 201 Jesus 271, 278, 285, 303, 309, 313, 391, 393, 405, 439, 482, 484, 491 Jose (Rabbi) 241 Joseph II 538

Joshua (Bible) 67 Jost, Isaac Mordechai (Marcus) 88, 119, 120, 158, 161, 171, 214, 229, 232, 250, 512, 513 Judah Halevi xii, xiii, 2, 21, 25, 36, 40, 54, 55, 57, 60, 67, 76, 78, 108, 138, 140, 150, 174, 184, 193, 200, 215, 216, 236, 258, 268, 269, 279, 286, 287, 309, 316, 325, 345, 355, 359, 393, 394, 397, 409–414, 429, 431, 432, 452, 453, 460, 461, 471, 480, 482, 490, 493, 499, 514 Judah Hanasi (Rabbi) 113, 115, 122, 128, 131, 151, 152, 183, 196

K

Kahle, Paul 368 Kajon, Irene 80 Kant, Immanuel 8, 21, 80, 149, 238, 259–269, 272, 278, 284–295, 297, 298, 301, 304, 308, 332, 410, 422, 429, 432, 451, 453, 467, 476, 480, 539 Kaplan, Abraham Elijah 376 Kaplan, Lawrence 28, 48, 99 Kaplan, Mordecai 426 Kepler, Johannes 48 Karo, Joseph 207, 208, 216, 217, 427 Kasher, Channa 274, 275, 280, 282 Kasher, Naami 264, 265, 272 Kasirer, Shlomo 269 Katz, Jacob 28 Kaufmann, Yehezqel 509, 510, 514, 515, 527 Kellner, Menachem 415 Kierkegaard, Søren 308 Kimhi, David (Radak) 139, 195, 200 Klausner, Joseph 73, 74, 80, 103, 155, 186, 187, 236, 237 Klein, Yaakov 531 Klugman, Eliyah Meir 28, 29–32 Knohl, Israel 531 Komay, Elijah Baruch 368 Kook, Abraham Isaac Hakohen x–xiv, 8, 48, 103, 288, 372, 400, 409, 426, 448, 449–499, 540, 543, 544 Kook, Tsvi Yehuda Hakohen 261, 449, 490 Kramer, Sheftel 400 Krochmal, Avraham 115 Krochmal, Naḥman xii, xiii, 20, 103, 115, 134, 139, 140, 153–160, 165, 190, 214, 218, 219–225, 229–233, 236–239, 243, 249–253, 313, 410, 425, 452, 471, 506, 511, 508, 532, 543

Index of Names L

Lachower, Fischel 231 Landau, Baruch 251 Landau, Maximillian 381, 382 Landauer, Meir Heinrich 190, 209 Laplace, Pierre-Simon 467 Lau, Binyamin 18, 20 Lazarus, Moritz 293 Leib, Leopold 158 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm 83 Leibowitz, Nehama, 257, 328 Leibowitz, Yeshayahu x, xiv, 15, 257–298, 308, 314, 323, 327–329, 333, 389, 391, 393, 394, 427, 471, 495, 540 Leibus, Meir (Malbim) 336, 343 Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim 238, 410 Levi, Zeev 70, 74 Levin, Joshua Heschel 229 Levinger, Jacob 183 Levita, Elijah 200–202 Liberles, Robert 28 Lieberman, Eliezer 251 Liebes, Yehuda 12, 190, 217, 218 Locke, John 80, 538 Loew, Judah Bezalel (Maharal) 7, 8, 103, 431, 449, 452, 538, 541–543 Loli, Samuel Haim 75–78, 81, 83, 188–190, 506 Löw, Leopold 120, 132 Lowe, Joel 205 Luria, Isaac (Ari) 12, 156, 203 Luz, Ehud 239

M

Maimonides xii, xiii, 8, 21, 28, 34, 36, 37, 40, 45, 48, 55, 56, 60, 66, 73, 76, 78, 90–97, 106– 108, 113, 115–117, 122, 130, 134, 135, 139, 140, 143, 144, 148–185, 259–261, 278, 279, 286–289, 330, 341, 342, 345, 354–356, 369, 372, 397, 410, 411, 415, 423, 432, 433, 449, 452, 454, 460, 461, 465, 471, 473, 474, 477, 480, 482, 490, 499 Malamat, Avraham 531 Mantel, Yisroel 27 Manzoni, Alessandro 80 Marx, Alexander 338, 361, 363 Mecklenburg, Jacob Tsvi (HaKetav Vehaqabbalah) 336, 343 Meir, Michael 28 Meir, Moshe 545 Meitlis, Yitschak 531

Menahem Azaria da Fano 194, 198 Mendelssohn, Moses xii, 3, 8, 21, 37, 42, 60, 67, 74, 79, 83, 142, 143, 146, 191, 192, 200, 203, 205, 210, 218, 239, 246, 248–253, 256, 258, 260, 269, 271, 285, 289, 293, 301, 331, 332, 384, 388, 389, 397, 404, 432, 451, 471, 495, 519, 538 Mendes-Flohr, Paul 99, 323, 326, 332, 506 Micah (Bible) 68, 85, 527 Mill, John Stuart 264, 538 Mirsky, Yehudah 451 Montesquieu, Charles-Louis 80 Morais, Sabato x Morpurgo, David 87 Moses (Bible) xiii, 3, 13, 15, 17–20, 67, 79, 85, 106, 107, 110, 111, 116, 118, 128, 131, 134, 135, 137, 138, 143, 150, 164, 169, 181, 210, 223, 230–234, 237, 240–248, 252, 275, 294–296, 309, 312, 336, 338, 339, 341–344, 349, 397, 399, 400, 412, 453, 454, 455, 457, 501–508, 511, 512, 516, 517, 522, 524, 525, 528–531, 534, 535 Muhammad 203, 482, 484, 491 Munk, Salomon 190

N

Nahman of Breslov 103 Nahmanides 107, 221, 397, 454, 490, 516, 518 Narboni, Moshe 151 Ne’eman, Nadav 531 Nehemiah (Bible) 503, 509 Newton, Isaac 136 Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm 308,

O

Oko, Sini 293, 295, 297, 299, 304, 306 Onkelos 143, 201, 203, 210, 214, 247, 249 Orenstein, Jacob 246 Orlean, Judah Leib 28, 33, 35

P

Pelli, Moshe 160, 214 Philipson, David 251 Philo of Alexandria 470 Pineles, Hirsch Mendel 112 Pines, Shlomo 260, 261 Plato 78, 388, 389, 429 Porto, Abraham (Ḥavot Yair) 194

571

572

Index of Names R

Rabad (Rabbi Abraham ben David) 155, 157, 175 Rabbi Eliezer 16, 19, 45, 123, 124, 182 Rabinovich, Alexander Ziskin 491 Radak, see Kimhi, David Rahmani, Shahar 48, 450, 458, 476, 477, 490, 491, 492 Ran, see Gerondi, Nissim Randegger, Abraham 71 Rapoport, Solomon Judah 108, 120, 133, 134, 137, 139, 144, 145, 147, 153–161, 165, 1667, 182, 184, 194, 211, 212–214, 217, 222, 232, 249–251, 337, 512 Rashbam, see Shmuel ben Meir Rashi, see Yitshaki, Shlomo Ravitzky, Aviezer 42, 60, 61, 151, 158, 167, 258, 259, 261, 264, 265, 273, 274, 277, 280, 282, 283, 288, 389, 540, 544 Rawidowicz, Simon 153, 220–222, 236, 239, 249–252 Rebecca (Bible) 7, 444 Recanati, Menahem 194 Rechnitzer, Haim Otto, 261, 545 Reggio, Isaac Samuel 76, 78, 106, 113, 115, 120, 122, 130, 134, 135, 137, 139, 144, 145, 150–155, 159, 188, 189, 214, 232, 250, 504 Reines, Jacob ix Rofe, Alexander 507, 509 Rosenak, Avinoam 273, 274, 288, 422, 426, 427, 440, 444–446, 449, 450, 477, 491, 493, 497, 538, 545 Rosenberg, Shalom xii, 20, 21, 27, 37, 39, 54–58, 88, 92, 95, 106, 236, 274, 521, 541 Rosenblit, Pinhas 25, 27, 37, 39, 59, 60, 67, 70 Rosenbloom, Noah 27, 35–37, 48, 74 Rosenheim, Jacob 28, 32, 33 Rosenmüller, Ernst Friedrich Karl 134, 147, 148, 166 Rosenzweig, Franz x, xiv, 61, 70, 257, 260, 289, 290–292, 308, 309, 313–319, 323–333, 384, 471 Ross, Jacob 7, 94 262, 264, 265, 269, 290 Rossman, Moshe 255 Rostovsky-Halprin, Sara 92, 134 Rotenberg, Meir 221, 243, 253 Rotenstreich, Nathan 27, 35, 36, 81, 239, 290–296, 298, 303–306 Roth, Meir 407, 408, 414, 422, 425–428, 444, 446, 540, 541

Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 80, 538 Rubin, Solomon 151 Rubinstein, Baruch 182 Ruth (Bible) 9

S

Saadya Gaon 15, 55, 118, 138, 143, 145, 193, 215 Sachs, Shneuer 90, 120, 200 Sagi, Avi 15, 40, 106, 236, 258, 259–267, 271, 272, 274, 275, 277, 278, 283, 285, 289, 342, 450, 538, 540, 541, 544 Salanter, Israel 29, 368–373, 406 Samuel (Bible) 367, 513, 523 Samuel Ben Meir (Rashbam) 124, 135, 139, 140, 142, 143, 147, 195, 200, 211, 519 Sarah (Bible) 7, 364, 403, 444, 529 Schachter, Jacob Schachter 251 Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm 103, 320, 449, 452, 542 Schleiermacher, Friedrich 10 Schlesinger, Pinchas 107, 503 Schmidt, Hans 368 Schnaber, Mordechai Gumpel 120 Schneersohn, Menachem Mendel 542 Scholem, Gershom 190, 204, 209 Schopenhauer, Arthur 308 Schorr, Joshua Heschel 112, 115, 123, 124, 129, 130, 134, 137, 140, 151, 154–159, 166, 520 Schorsch, Ismar 27, 35, 36 Schwab, Shimon 378 Schwartz, Dov 56, 544 Schwartz, Michael 165, 185, 308, 309, 314, 316, 320, 323, 327, 331 Schweid, Eliezer 27, 37, 38, 42, 57, 217, 238, 239, 259, 262, 264, 278, 287, 291, 292, 295, 296, 299, 304, 306, 309, 314, 316, 318, 325, 327, 389, 543, 544 Seforno, Obadia 143, 200, 534 Seidel, Moshe 496 Seidler, Moshe 39 Shammai (Rabbi) 16, 19, 20, 108, 110, 111 Shapiro, Marc B. 32, 358, 363, 369, 370, 372–385, 388, 389, 392, 394, 400, 401, 403, 405, 427, 444, 446 Shereira Gaon 231 Shimon bar Yohai (Rabbi) 11, 203 Shinan, Avigdor 20 Shmuel Hanagid 344 Shneur Zalman of Liadi 542 Silman, Yohanan 20, 261

Index of Names Simon, Ernst 389 Slymovics, Peter 74 Soave, Franceso 80 Solomon (Bible) 83, 109, 309 Soloveitchik, Joseph B. x, xii, 40, 103, 271, 409, 426, 450, 452, 471, 540, 543, 544 Sorasky, Aharon 369 Sorkin, David 239 Spicehandler, Ezra 129, 155 Spinoza, Benedict (Baruch) 8, 61, 73, 77, 80, 100, 101, 119, 151, 198, 214, 217, 221, 225, 278, 299, 440, 441, 451, 500, 506, 538, 540 Steinschneider, Moritz 214 Stern, Eliezer 28, 285 Stern, Yisrael 275 Strauss, Leo 260, 261, 409, 452, 471, 498, 545

von Aster, Ernst 368

T

Yehoshua (Rabbi) 16, 17, 19 Yerushalmi, Yosef Hayim 225 Yitshaki, Moshe 508–510, 522, 527, 532 Yitshaki, Solomon (Rashi) 59, 131, 133–143, 145, 146, 148, 165, 192, 195, 200, 203, 210, 211, 518, 519, 532, 533 Yohanan ben Zakkai (Rabbi) 16 Yom Tov Ishbili (Ritba) xiii Yovel, Yirmiyahu 61, 542

Tam, Rabbenu (Rabbi Jacob ben Meir) 203 Tanh  . um ben R. Hanilai (Rabbi) 17 Tanh  . uma (Rabbi) 17 Tishby, Isaiah 12, 190, 194, 196, 199, 204, 209, 217 Tov, Shulamit 239 Tsarfati, Gad 107, 503

U

Urbach, Ephraim 18, 20

V

Vargon, Shmuel 85, 102, 134, 144, 154, 183, 501, 504, 513, 519 Vital, Haim 198, 199, 226

W

Wahrmann, Judah 153–157, 161 Wasserman, Elhanan 378 Wein, Berel 257 Weinberg, Yehiel Yaakov x, xiv, 28, 31, 32, 257, 334, 335, 363, 368–409, 415, 416, 422, 423, 426, 433, 439, 444–448 Weiner, Max 61 Weiss, Isaac Hirsch 126 Wellhausen, Julius 338, 500 Wessely, Naftali Hirz 2, 3, 191, 200, 205, 227, 451 Wolfson, Harry Austryn 95

Y

Z

Zacut(o), Abraham 203, 229 Zelophehad, daughters of (Bible) 444 Zilberman, Eliezer Lipmann 126, 151 Zivan, Gili 258, 541 Zunz, Leopold 120, 158, 231, 236, 250

573