Let us pose a simple challenge to the medieval Jewish philosophers. Why dedicate so much energy working on the difficult questions of divinity, prophecy, the soul, theodicy, revelation, and the afterlife? These are thorny issues which do not lend themselves to easy conclusions. Furthermore, the possibility of heretical error looms. Would it not be better to accept our traditional Jewish understanding on simple faith and devote our study hours to Gemara, Halacha and Tanach?

Ramban offers a powerful response to this challenge in his Sha’ar haGemul (page 281 of Kitvei haRamban Vol. 2), the theological addendum to his great halachic work on the laws on mourning, Torat HaAdam. It is no accident that a work addressing many of the most profound questions about suffering, justice, divine tests, reward and punishment, and the afterlife inspires this question. The fact that we can not fully understand the workings of divine providence and the nature of divine justice make the question even more acute.

And if you ask us: since there is something hidden abut justice and we need to believe in His righteousness because He is the true judge, may He be blessed and exalted, why do you bother us and direct us to learn the arguments which we explained and the secret which we hinted at?

Ramban poses this question but considers it the query of the foolish that reject wisdom. For Ramban, discussing how divine providence works is an essential component of the mizvah to know God and His ways. Authentic religious striving creates the desire to reach a more profound understanding of God and His relationship with the created order. Someone posing such questions is not looking for trouble but rather engaging in an endeavor central to religious excellence. Despite some potential pitfalls, we have to ask the tough and important questions.

Theological study will not only help us achieve deeper understanding; it can also prevent problematic religious conceptions. Rambam’s successful efforts to eradicate the notion of divine corporeality from the Jewish community reflect a case in point. Only serious and ongoing reflection prevented a deep theological error. More subtle mistakes can creep in as well. Someone with a non - reflective approach to providence might come to think of God as a capricious tyrant exhibiting His power based on arbitrary whimsy. Study of the philosophical classics of our tradition and dedicating time to sober analysis helps purify our theological understanding.

It is a commonplace that philosophical study comes with certain dangers. It is less well known but equally true that absence of such study may lead to even greater dangers.

In an earlier blog, I stated that ideas and Biblical interpretations of the philosophic rishonim remain cogent. R. Yosef Albo’s understanding (Sefer haIkarim 3:15) of the Kayin and Hevel story helps both explain two mysterious features of the story and provides a significant philosophical argument. Why does God accept Hevel’s animal offering and not the vegetable sacrifice of Kayin? Are the brother’s professions, shepherd and farmer, crucial to the story? Most commentaries do not focus on their professions (Neziv is one exception) but R. Albo thought them the key to understanding.

R. Albo contends that Kayin’s mistake lay more in the ideological realm than in the practical. Kayin thought that humanity was not superior to the animal kingdom, with the exception of the fact that humans know how to cultivate the land. Therefore, he chose to become a farmer. He also refused to bring an animal offering as that would assert human ability to utilize animals for their own purposes. God faulted Kayin for not bringing the best produce, fruit, rather than the vegetables he brought. More significantly, He faulted Kayin for a philosophical error regarding the place of humanity in the created order.

When God says to Kayin: “If you do well, you shall be accepted” (Bereishit 4:7), He does much more than call Kayin to repentance. He instructs Kayin about this important philosophic idea. Man may start life in a manner reminiscent of the animals. However, people have the ability to make moral and religious choices, something non existent for lions, dogs and armadillos.

Unfortunately, Kayin comprehended a different message. He realized that God liked the animal offering but remained stuck in the conception that animals and humans are basically the same. Therefore, he concluded the permissibility of killing humans seeing as how God allowed the killing of animals and animals equal humanity. Thus, the ideological error concluded in the first act of murder.

When Adam and Hava conceive another child, Shet, Torah tells us that the child was born “in his image” (Bereishit 5:3). For R. Albo, this phrase refers to humanity being fashioned in the divine image. The first child of Adam to fully understand the unique quality of humanity, the one created being made to resemble God, was his third son.

R. Albo’s idea can influence how we think of the relationship between animals and humanity today. On the one hand, halacha certainly recognizes the principle of zaar balei hayyim and there is no justification for a kosher slaughterhouse treating animals with cruelty. Those animal rights activists who stand for minimizing cruelty to animals can reflect authentic Jewish values. On the other hand, we must reject the position that obliterates the distinction between humanity and the animal kingdom. As noted by R. Albo, such a position may lead to worse treatment of humanity rather than better treatment of animals. Furthermore, we should not forget that all the things we value most in life - moral decision making, a relationship with God, profound friendships, and the quest for intellectual illumination - are things we share only with other humans. Eliminating any sense of distinctiveness can distract us from what truly matters.

For further discussion of some of these issues, see my “Dignity and Responsibility: The Unique Moral Message of Zelem Elokim” in the Everett Journal of Jewish Ethics (Winter 2008).

Are the classics of medieval Jewish philosophy still relevant? Many students of Jewish thought assume that these works are too outdated to provide wisdom pertinent to today. This erroneous assumption reflects a partial truth. We no longer think of the world in an Aristotelian framework that includes the concepts of the intelligent spheres or in accordance with the medieval idea of the four humors. On the other hand, I shall argue in favor of two broad areas of ongoing relevance. Even when our conceptual structure has shifted from that of the rishonim , we can still emulate their intellectual character traits. Thus, Rambam’s directive that the deepest metaphysical issues demand serious commitment (see the previous blog) rings as true today as when it was written some eight hundred years ago.

The second area of ongoing relevance relates not only to the ethic of learning but to the conceptual assumptions and positions themselves. We may not identify with an analysis of the active intellect but we can endorse a good deal of medieval writing regarding fundamental beliefs, ethical theory, reasons for the commandments, biblical interpretation and other issues. The claim that human thought has changed so radically that nothing written before modernity directly applies to us is simply false. This blog will utilize examples from the classics of medieval Jewish philosophy to show the falsehood of this claim. One such example follows.

Torah includes many causes of ritual impurity including (among others) a dead body, an animal carcass, a leper, a person who had a seminal discharge and a menstruating woman. What idea lies behind the laws of ritual impurity? Are we to identify tumah with sin, thereby assuming that there is something inherently sinful or negative about a woman who has her period, a husband and wife who have relations, or a person who works for the burial society?

Rambam (Moreh Nevukhim 3:47) notes that the laws of ritual impurity only create prohibitions for things that have keudusha. A tame person can pray, study Torah, eat every kind of mundane foods, and converse with society in the normal fashion. He can not enter the temple, eat from a sacrifice or eat teruma. He explains that Torah gives us the laws of ritual purity to create an atmosphere of reverence for kedusha. If we could eat something sanctified or enter a holy place whenever we wanted to with little thought about doing so correctly, sanctified objects and places would soon seem the same as any other object and place. The restrictions generated by the law of ritual purity create limitations in our exposure to kedusha and help us to maintain the necessary awe.

If the laws of ritual purity are intended to create the right atmosphere regarding sanctity, it may be that there is nothing intrinsically negative about those things that cause tumah. Rambam sharply contrasts our approach with other ancient religions where the menstruating women sat alone bereft of human conversation and everything she walked on was burned. In those religions, nidda and negativity go together. According to Torah, the wife who is a nidda and her husband continue normal domestic life with the exception of the probation on marital relations. A woman who has her period has not been overtaken by the evil forces of the universe. Rather, she becomes a source of ritual impurity as one of the means of promoting the correct attitude to kedusha. This understanding remains fully cogent today.

[For further study, see Rambam at the end of chapter 16 in Hilchot Tumat Ochlim. Also, think about the following question. Is there a connection between tumat nidda and issur nidda?]

This blog will appear twice weekly with the postings primarily emphasizing both medieval Jewish philosophy and another kind of often overlooked Jewish thought texts. Although yeshivot frequently skip the aggadic sections of gemara, we shall focus attention on these windows into the theological and psychological insights of Hazal. When I finished the first draft of my forthcoming book on aggada (based on two years of shiurim for Yeshivat Har Etzion’s VBM), Fresh Fruit and Aged Wine: The Ethics and Wisdom of the Aggada, I incorrectly thought that my aggada productivity was finished. Subsequent study has revealed many aggadic gems that I did not relate to in the book and I look forward to sharing new material with the readers.

In a chapter of Moreh Nevuchim (1:34) that deserves more recognition, Rambam explains why we do not teach the masses all the great metaphysical truths. Let us recall that these truths were quite dear to Rambam. Indeed, the following chapter enumerates which truths must be taught to everyone. Yet Rambam understood the limitations preventing a grand educational endeavor that would spread the totality of wisdom universally. He enumerates five constraining factors.

The concepts themselves are quite difficult. Furthermore, human beings are created with perfection in potential but such perfection is certainly not yet actualized at birth or in youth. Thus, complicated subject matter and student limitations provide the first two obstacles.

Shortcomings of character also get in the way. People full of anger, unable to sit still, or overcome with lust will lack the wherewithal necessary to achieve deep understanding. This problem sheds light on a significant component of Rambam’s thought. While Rambam does place particular emphasis on the intellectual aspect of human flourishing, he also believed that a refined character was a critical prerequisite to cognitive achievement. In Rambam’s view, no authentic human perfection exists lacking sterling moral character.

Mundane needs also consume time and energy, further preventing intellectual progress. This applies to any person with family responsibilities and all the more so to those who chase unnecessary physical delights. The individual out each evening in search of the perfect steak will be distracted from the life of cognitive striving.

I skipped over Rambam’s third cause which may provide the most food for thought. Rambam writes that people do express interest in understanding the cosmos. When given the opportunity to hear more about the heavens, the nature of the soul, and the purpose of creation, a man will yearn to know these answers. However, he would like to satisfy this desire in a word or two, but will obviously not dedicate even a week to this pursuit. In other words, “Sure, teach me about divinity. I have five minutes free.”

This final problem, the limitations of effort and dedication, should hit home profoundly for us in modernity. The world of immediate gratification created by technology, television, and computers has impacted on all groups within the Jewish world. Much of contemporary Jewish education attempts to eliminate the arduous work of learning by translating, collating and abridging all the material taught. Rambam understood quite well that true learning requires hard work and serious commitment.

In starting a blog, I find myself in danger of falling into the trap of reducing ideas to bite sized pieces to be quickly tossed off on a keyboard. Yet even small sections of writing can reflect years of thinking and learning and also inspire readers to dedicate ongoing time for analysis. If so, the blogger can still avoid Rambam’s third pitfall. I hope that this blog will truly be the product of much effort on my part and that the readers will also be stimulated to further reflection and study. I look forward to sharing mahshava ideas (primarily based upon the classics of medieval Jewish philosophy and talmudic aggadot) with you. “The rest is commentary. Go and learn.”