Final Lecture (1)

 

 

The Three Approaches

 

     When teaching Jewish philosophy, we are faced with two educational options, which are positive in and of themselves, but must be used with care. At the core of these options lie two central concepts.

 

     The first concept is that of authority: some educators view the basic texts of Jewish philosophy as authoritative texts. The writers of the texts are seen as divinely inspired, every word which leaves their mouths is deemed correct, and we are not permitted to be selective. This is an enlargement of a principle which applies in the field of Jewish Law to the field of Jewish philosophy as well.

 

     It is appropriate to hint in short at the problematic nature of this approach. The early Sages discussed one aspect of it: we can command actions, but how can we command people to hold a belief? However, there is also another side: ought a legal ruling be applied to establish a single path in religious faith?

 

     The second central concept is that of history: this completely opposite view is inspired by the academic approach. The historical approach presents each writer as the product of the intellectual landscape of his environment. This approach has advantages, because it educates us about the philosopher's background. However, sometimes the unpracticed or biased teacher turns this background into a message. In the end, it leads to relativism, which leaves us with no authoritative position, and no answers to our existential questions.

 

     These two approaches are in almost absolute conflict. The historical approach is by nature relativist, and does not obligate the student at all. The way it is generally presented is that the student studies a topic, which contains chapters from the past, and the teacher attempts to interest the student in the topic of discussion. The subject can be made fascinating, a kind of riddle that the student must understand and solve. However ,this is intellectual activity, which leaves the soul outside, indifferent to its deepest existential interests. In contrast to the relativist approach, the authoritative approach is dogmatic, and does not leave the student any intellectual and existential space. It establishes a single response, and ignores the fact that one of the most significant characteristics of Jewish philosophy is that it offers a wide range of opinions on various issues, which remain in constant conflict, without any need for us to choose between them. It is possible and indeed necessary to present the student with the various opinions and the differences between them. I would like to suggest a third possibility.

 

     My approach focuses upon the concept of relevance. In contrast to the historical approach, we must emphasize the relevance of the positions. This approach is not historical, although it does take historical circumstances into account, and occasionally attempts to explain the background of the development of the various approaches. However, it is also not dogmatic. Its starting point is not the answers. It tries first of all to present the student with the problems, and compel him to try and resolve them for himself. Then it shows him that the treasure trove of Jewish philosophy contains such answers, sometimes generally agreed upon, sometimes in disagreement among equals, and sometimes between a majority and a minority. In any case, he is given the opportunity to enter into the heart of the debate and identify with one of the opinions presented. This third approach can perhaps be called the philosophical approach. It is interested in the various problems of Jewish philosophy, of course, on a level appropriate for the student at this stage of his development. This type of discussion often necessitates the artificial reconstruction of the process of the philosophical discovery. In a regular class in philosophy, the student receives the answers without understanding the nature of the questions under discussion. Regarding some of the issues I would like to try and work in the opposite direction: to present the student with the problems and try to present the solutions to these problems in accordance with the understanding of the student, and as they are expressed in Jewish philosophy.

 

     We teachers of Jewish philosophy do not teach history; rather, we try to help each person find his own way in the maze of human existence. On the other hand, though, we must not claim that there is only one way. The portrait we are attempting to create is composed of colors from all the great sages of Israel. The truth is the color white, which is created not from a lack of colors but rather through their unification. There are many shades whose origins are to be found in Rihal, but others are painted with Maimonides' brush, while many others were influenced by other thinkers.

 

     My basic guiding principle is that in philosophy there is room for differences of opinion. The early Sages differ on basic issues, and similarly we are witness to debates between Rihal and Maimonides, between Nachmanides and Rabbi Yosef Albo, etc. This is an ancient debate, and it is completely legitimate.

 

Pluralism in Philosophy

 

     One of the central ideas which guides me in teaching Jewish philosophy is the principle that I must present the student with the various options he has within Jewish philosophy. The spiritual contours of each person's soul are unique. There are some whose heart is open to the philosophies of Rihal and Rabbi Kook. Others feel intuitively closer to the approach of Maimonides, or perhaps Rabbi Soloveitchik; there are those whose natural path is that of Chasidism, particularly that of the Chasidic master Rabbi Nachman of Breslav. Paradoxically, the source of faith is the wellspring of contention as well. Although the book we are studying is, by chance, the Kuzari, it is very possible that the soul of a particular student will not precisely identify with the great soul of Rihal. Therefore, I must present the student with the other alternatives in Jewish philosophy. The wings which give flight to one individual, are a burden to a different type of intellect.

 

     I would like to add a few more remarks. The dogmatic approach can, at its lowest level, become indoctrination. Educationally, this is suspect, but what is more important is that it is dangerous, even from the perspective of the teacher who uses it consciously. Dealing with and responding to these philosophical ideas is not limited to the students of a particular stream, it exists in every classroom and in every place. Every teacher realizes that there are students on both sides of the pole, with regard to every pole. At times the teacher who is teaching a certain topic comes with an absolute commitment to the approach he presents, and presents it as part and parcel of Jewish faith. And it happens that he has a student who, as a result of his own personal and existential search, or because of his biographical or religious or cultural background, cannot agree with this position. Will the teacher take upon himself the responsibility of alienating this student from Judaism?

 

     There is great danger in any dogmatic education. In fact, the history of Jewish philosophy is living proof that even ideas which were generally accepted were occasionally questioned by thinkers who did not agree with the consensus. Legal anarchy was always problematic in Judaism, because it posed a danger of creating separate sects; this was not and is not the case regarding pluralism of ideas.

 

     Until now, we have seen the dangers of the dogmatic position. However, to present the issue fairly, we must also emphasize the other side of the coin. The dogmatic approach presents the student with a teacher who has a clear and defined world-view, which is expressed through his teaching. The student has a person with whom to contend and identify. The educator appears as a whole person attempting to live his life in harmony with the philosophical approach that he teaches. He is not presenting the remnant of an ancient philosophy remote from his own lifestyle; rather, he is presenting himself. In contrast to such a teacher, the teacher who presents the problematic side of philosophy, the differences of opinion and the various approaches, comes across as hesitant and unsure of his own beliefs. He comes across as someone who leaves the student in distress when the lecture is over and the final "truth" regarding the question under discussion has not been reached.

 

     Perhaps there are indeed two sides to the problem. On the one hand, the dogmatic teacher presents a single rigid position. On the other hand, the relativist educator, who presents all the positions without committing to any single approach, does not create a focus of identification for the students. Clearly, each educator must find his own way among these positions. The historical background is necessary but not sufficient on its own to explain the philosophical content. It is necessary so that we are not guilty of historical misrepresentation. We cannot read a text of Jewish philosophy without an awareness that philosophical terms have evolved and changed over the generations, and must be understood within the framework of a given period. The teacher must develop a minimal sensitivity to the various concepts and terms; however, in presenting the problems to students who are not specializing in Jewish philosophy, he must overcome the terminology which is a function of the given period. The philological- historical approach has taught us how to read texts from a different period. This method is indeed necessary for understanding philosophy, but it is not enough. We must take a step further, and try to see the human problem before us in this text, the only problem which interests people who are not specializing in technical philosophical terminology.

 

     Jewish philosophy is an option presented to the students. I try to present them with the treasures of Jewish thought, although at times there may be a conflict between this presentation and the students' opinion. This is no tragedy; the conflict itself is important. We must understand that Judaism had positions about the basic problems of man in the world, and it stands among other approaches as a link in a long chain of people who searched for answers to these questions. Teaching Jewish philosophy does indeed present us with many possibilities, but it also gives us a grave responsibility.

 

     I will illustrate this with a concrete example. Pluralism is particularly apparent when we examine the various responses to Rihal's supernatural approach. Thus, for example, many people are attracted to Maimonides' rationalist approach, or to an existentially meaningful approach. We can easily imagine a person accepting the yoke of Judaism even had the miracles which upon Rihal bases his approach not occurred. As a matter of fact, the demand that one believe in miracles may be an obstacle for a particular person to accept Judaism. Miracles, instead of being a basis for his faith, become an obstacle. Because of them he cannot construct his faith on a rational basis. It appears to him, whether justifiably or not, that miracles create a barrier between the man of science and the man of faith within him. I do not wish take a stand on this issue. But I do wish to point out the existence of legitimate options. Rihal himself emphasized the fact that conceptual theories, at least in part, constitute models [see Kuzari 1:91]. Theological theory is only one of the possibilities for explanation. It need not be a burden. It may serve merely as a model which can explain and help us formulate our position, the position of faith.

 

     Each person's natural gravitation to a particular approach, creates a barrier to other approaches. This is where the importance of presenting the student with all the options comes in. I believe in helping each student find, among the sages of our people, his personal teacher and mentor, so as not to alienate any Jew from his heritage. However, presenting options is not relativism. Perhaps the teacher ought to be committed to a particular opinion, for the student deserves to be presented with an integrated and whole opinion. Nevertheless, the teacher must subsequently present the students with other thinkers who hold other opinions.

 

     Perhaps the Kuzari will be the only Jewish philosophical work which a particular student will study in an organized and serious fashion. This obligates me to widen his horizons and enrich his knowledge, at least regarding the existence of other Jewish philosophers, of other options and alternatives. The student must be aware that there are issues about which there are differences of opinion, and that they can be viewed from various perspectives, which are legitimate within the framework of observant Judaism.

 

     The Kuzari is a book which represents one of the possible approaches in Jewish philosophy. It is no secret that there are sociological and political expressions of these options. The various opinions have parallels in different groups. This is both the source of their popularity and the sources of debate. Those who find the Kuzari easy to digest will oppose any updating or enrichment of the material, while those who disagree with the principles of the Kuzari will experience great distress when attempting to study it. It seems to me that each Jew must be given the right to determine whether the philosophical approach presented in the Kuzari is meaningful and appropriate for him.

 

Eternal and Ephemeral

 

     On the other hand, it is critical that the student be presented with the problems which arise from our classic philosophical works. With all due respect to the divinely inspired content of the book, we must not ignore the serious dilemma which is before us: the problem of the eternal and the transient in the writings of our sages. I am not, of course, speaking of Jewish Law, but of philosophy. We accept the authority of the giants of Jewish philosophy; yet, although we are so much more puny than they, we must admit that their works contains some ephemeral content as well, which is no longer so relevant.

 

     Of course, the option of escape always exists; we could circumvent the problem completely. I cannot accept this type of escape, and in any case it doesn't help. We must recognize that sometimes philosophical structures, which were a support and a proof during a certain period, become a burden during a different period.

 

     I will illustrate this with a simple example. Let us open the first chapters of the "Laws of the Foundations of the Torah" by Maimonides. Let us leaf through the astronomical descriptions included there. We are faced with descriptions based upon an outdated system of astronomy. These selections create a difficult dilemma. Are we obliged to accept these descriptions, because they were stated by a great sage whose authority and divinely inspired writings we do not question, and for his sake lower the flag of logic and deny all that science and the intellect have to teach us? Or, God forbid, because of these sections ought we to close these books and view them as outdated and unworthy of our attention?

 

     I feel that both these options are wrong. The solution must be an attempt to distinguish between the deep theories, to which we are obligated, and the form these theories took at a particular point in history. We find in the Kuzari that often the form of the claim changes and the thesis is destroyed. However, this is a surface thesis. The surface is destroyed by additional information which was not available to Rihal, or because of a change in certain categories of thought. And yet, I believe, the deeper structure has not been disturbed. The central thesis, perhaps worded differently, remains relevant to this very day. I believe this was Rabbi Kook's approach, which we will expand upon later. He briefly states these principles as follows:

 

"I am also aware of the many topics in the books which are dear to us, whose time has past, many of them truly were canceled out because their philosophical basis was obliterated, and a large portion of them ... are worthy to study and be taught, for they are eternal ideas which cannot be canceled for any scientific change in the world." (Letters, I:149)

 

Our mission is, first of all, to uncover the basic thesis, the deeper structure. At times we must be courageous and claim that a certain thesis is under debate, and in the historical stage we are in, which could alter tomorrow, we side with the opinions of sages from a different stream of thought, and not with the opinion stated in the book which generally guides us, the Kuzari.

 

The Historical Background

 

     One of the dangers of studying a medieval text lies in the fact that in order to understand it completely, one must enter into the author's intellectual world. We are faced with an absurd situation. When we teach the philosopher's position, for example, we must remove the student from his own world, propel him to abandon his often correct concepts, and initiate him into an outdated world of ideas. In Rihal's case, unlike that of Maimonides, the situation is even more absurd. I must create this world for my students in order to give Rihal the opportunity of destroying it. Once again we are faced with a paradox. There is nothing more outdated than modernity. Rihal's interpretations of ancient texts and lore are as new and relevant today as the day they were written, while much of what he writes in the name of "modernity" disturbs us today and appears outdated.

 

     This brings up another aspect of the problem. Until now we have spoken about two people: the writer and the reader. However, every philosophical work reflects a third presence: the other approach, against which the writer is arguing. This aspect of the situation is constantly changing. Indeed, the reader is at a crossroads, but it is a crossroads which changes all the time. The book remains the same, the reader changes, and the opposing option changes even more drastically. The reader is a not-so-distant reincarnation of the original reader, and the basic interaction between the writer and the reader continues to exist. However, the third party changes.

 

     The option with which we are arguing has utterly changed its appearance. Our intellectual opponent is not another form of the Aristotelian philosopher, nor an early version of Spinoza. This is not our intellectual opponent today, although no doubt many people would like to revive this ghost. Today we converse with a very different opponent. He is generally a naturalist, in other words he denies whatever strays from nature, an agnostic if not an outright atheist. On the other hand, our opponent is trying to undermine the historical validity of our tradition, and makes it difficult for us to view our historical background simply. The historical situation in which we teach the book is continually changing and evolving, and it would be an injustice if we did not "translate" the claims which need translation into terms relevant to our contemporary debate, and even use ammunition which does not appear in the Kuzari against our current opponent.

 

     The central theses of the book can remain as they are, although they sometimes change their form. However, I feel that if I do not create an awareness of the changes and do not emphasize the important sections while skimming over the sections which today have only historical significance, I will not be fulfilling my role as an educator. I may become a significant and compelling scholar, but I will fail to do justice to Rihal's most basic demand, for he saw the Kuzari as a book fighting the battle over the soul of our people.

 

(Translated by Gila Weinberg)

 

    

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