Useless Theological Questions

In a recent post, I commented, "These days I find myself much less interested in the question of why Gd created this world, and much more interested in the question of what we can do with it."

I want to explain this a bit, because it could be read as glib, and even patronizing to those who do wonder about these matters. That's not at all where I was going with it. [I was also not claiming to channel Rav Soloveitchik's distinction between those two questions; that's a discussion for another time.]

I am not suggesting that one question is more worthwhile than the other, or that I have progressed to some point which others have not yet achieved. Just the opposite; I'm not sure that I'm okay with this change in myself. I might prefer to be otherwise.

But to the person I am today, the questions of "Why did Gd do X" and "Would Gd do X" have no practical meaning. I might as well ask whether Gd can make a rock He can't lift – the answers are irrelevant in the real world.

Let's pretend that I asked, "Would Gd, as understood traditionally in Judaism, create someone with a deeply homosexual nature and prohibit him from fulfilling them?" and the answer was "No." What would I do then?

Would I stop believing in the traditional Jewish version of Gd, since there are people who claim to have been created with a deeply homosexual nature? Would I abandon Torah? Of course not.

Would I respond differently to people who say they have been created with a deeply homosexual nature? Very unlikely.

It's like asking, "Why does Gd allow good people to suffer?" There are numerous answers, of course, and they offer varying degrees of satisfaction. But none of them affect what I do, in practice.

If I'm not willing to change my ways due to the answer, the question doesn't matter much to me.

On one level I wonder if this is part of the narrowing that comes to many people with age. Pathways of thought can become more rigid with time, certainly. But I don't think that's what it is; I think it's a function of my shift from rabbinate to rosh kollelate.

Since leaving the pulpit, I have narrowed in certain predictable, often very regrettable ways. One way is that my sphere of interactions is reduced; I don't have many opportunities for deep philosophical discussions, between shiurim and chavrusos and shiur preparation. There is little time, if any, for random conversations. As a result, I don’t spend much time thinking about the Why of suffering, and my interest in them has waned in comparison with my interest in questions about the What Now of suffering.

It's not better or worse, regress or progress. It just is.

Can Torah and Rational Philosophy Co-Exist?

For a class I taught last night on great Jewish forgeries, I prepared material highlighting the contrast between the authentic writings of Rabbeinu Asher (the Rosh) and the Besamim Rosh, Shaul Berlin’s 18th century attempt to ascribe 392 of his own ‘responsa’ to the Rosh.

As part of the class materials, I translated an excerpt from one of the Rosh’s responsa (55:9):

כי חכמת הפילוסופיא וחכמת התורה והמשפטים אינן על דרך אחת. כי חכמת התורה היא קבלה למשה מסיני, והחכם ידרוש בה במדות שנתנה לידרש בהם, ומדמה מילתא למילתא; אע"פ שאין הדברים נמשכים אחר חכמת הטבע, אנו הולכין על פי הקבלה. אבל חכמת הפילוסופיא היא טבעית, וחכמים גדולים היו והעמידו כל דבר על טבעו, ומרוב חכמתם העמיקו שחתו והוצרכו לכפור בתורת משה, לפי שאין כל התורה טבעית, אלא קבלה. ועל זה נאמר: תמים תהיה עם ה' וגו'; כלומר: אפילו יצא לך הדבר חוץ מן הטבע, אל תהרהר על הקבלה, אלא בתמימות התהלך לפניו. לכן אין להביא ראיה מדבריהם, לעשות אות ומופת וגזרות ומשלים על משפטי ה' הישרים. ועל זה אמר החכם: כל באיה לא ישובון, רוצה לומר: כל הבא ונכנס מתחלה בחכמה זו, לא יוכל לצאת ממנה להכנס בלבו חכמת התורה, כי לא יוכל לשוב מחכמה טבעית שהורגל בה, כי לבו תמיד נמשך אחריה. ומחמת זה לא ישיג לעמוד על חכמת התורה, שהיא ארחות חיים, כי יהיה לבו תמיד על חכמת הטבע, ותעלה ברוחו להשוות שתי החכמות יחד, ולהביא ראיה מזו לזו, ומתוך זה יעות המשפט; כי שני הפכים הם, צרות זו לזו, ולא ישכנו במקום אחד.

The wisdom of philosophy and the wisdom of Torah and its laws do not follow the same path. The wisdom of Torah is a tradition received by Moshe from Sinai, and the scholar will analyze it via the methods assigned for its analysis, comparing one matter and another. Even where this approach does not follow intuitive (lit. “natural”) wisdom, we follow the tradition. Philosophical wisdom is intuitive, though, with great scholars who established intuitive arguments, and in their great wisdom they dug deeper and corrupted (Hosheia 9:9) and needed to deny the Torah of Moshe, for the Torah is entirely non-intuitive and revelatory.

Regarding this it is stated, ‘You shall be pure with HaShem your Gd,’ meaning that even if something is counter-intuitive, you should not doubt the received tradition, but walk before Him in purity. Therefore, you should not bring proof from the words of the philosophers, to make a sign or argument or parable against the just laws of Gd.

Regarding this the scholar said (Mishlei 2:19), ‘Those who enter it will not return,’ meaning that one who enters this area of wisdom will not be able to leave it and introduce his heart to the wisdom of Torah, for he will not be able to abandon the intuitive approach to which he has become accustomed. His heart will be continually drawn after it, and he will not be able to establish himself in the wisdom of Torah, which is the path of life, for his heart will be perpetually drawn after intuitive. He will try to equate the two wisdoms, and bring proof from one to the other, and so he will warp justice for these are two opposites and rivals which cannot dwell in the same space.

I also posted this as a Daily Torah Thought last week, and received emails wanting to take the discussion further.

So here are my two questions:

1. Agree or Disagree with the Rosh? Why?

2. If you agree – does that mean that a person who receives an education in the approach of reason-based argument and deduction will not be able to accept the revelatory approach of Torah?

Is Judaism a Cult? Part II

In Part I (here), I suggested that Judaism may have cult-like elements, in that questions on certain topics are deemed to be beyond consideration. I also noted a key difference from a cult, in that the boundaries in Judaism are set not by “This is dangerous to the religion,” but by logical views about what Judaism is meant to address, and what it is not.

The post led to several insightful comments, including this from Fruma:
I think there's another difference with the limits of questioning: Jewish children (and adults) are encouraged to ask questions as they learn. Perhaps it's the way the questions are handled that makes a difference

And this from R’ Joshua Maroof:
Throughout my experience of Jewish education, questioning - even of fundamentals - was encouraged, provided that it was motivated by a sincere desire to understand.
But I would mention that there is a real difference between asking "what is above and what is below", which is moving beyond the limits of the human intellect, and asking whether or not we have reason to believe the Torah is true, which is a legitimate question to raise (even if you may choose to simply accept the truth of Torah as an axiom based on tradition).

These comments, and others I received, have led me to a better understanding of my own question, Is Judaism a Cult?:

My comparison to a cult is not really about whether we may ask questions on certain issues, or not. Rather, it’s about the way we manage/answer those questions.

Certainly, Judaism does encourage questions, even on the thorniest issues. It is legitimate to ask, “If Gd is benevolent and protective, how could Gd allow/enable the Holocaust?” and, “Why are babies born into suffering?”

But we answer those questions in a restrictive manner. They are not true questions; they are subjects for discussion, but the answer must fall within a pre-determined zone.

When it comes to, “How can Gd be omniscient and omnipotent, and yet allow Free Will,” or the abovementioned problems of theodicy, we are confined to either shrugging and accepting R' Maroof's axiomatic principles, or offering the half-answers of a mind that cannot grasp the infinite.

Therefore: For me to answer, “I don’t know,” “Teiku,” “If I understood Gd, I would be Gd,” is considered not only legitimate but admirable. But for me to answer, “This religious system is inconsistent, I reject it,” is off-limits. Judaism does not accept its own rejection as a legitimate answer.

An open philosophy accepts the possibility of its own rejection. A cult rules that rejection is out of bounds. And it seems to me that Judaism, by placing rejection out of bounds, does resemble a cult in that way.

Is Judaism a Cult?

First, in the “O Canada” category: The radio is full of reports today that if we make it through the day without measurable snow, we will have the first snow-free November in Toronto since 1847. A snow-free November is an oddity…! And what really gets me is all the interviews with people who talk about how wonderful this is; don’t they know that most of the world doesn’t have snow in November? If they don’t want snow in November, why don’t they go join the rest of civilization outside the Arctic Circle?

Come to think of it, that actually relates to our topic; hold on to that question, please.

Last week I spent some time with a Christian gentleman who marveled to me that Judaism so encourages religious questioning. He was very impressed with our emphasis on religious literacy and serious continuing education for all, and he was certain that this must catalyze highly challenging debate for our religious leaders.

Judaism does encourage debate, of course, but only in certain areas (note: I speak here of traditional observance.); other areas are quite out of bounds:
• R’ Akiva decrees a ban on ספרים החיצונים, works of heresy (Mishnah Sanhedrin 10:1).
• The mishnah forbids inquiring about “what is above, what is below, what came before and what happens after” (Mishnah Chagigah 2:1).
• Even the Rambam, Maimonides, the heralded advocate of secular study, writes explicitly (Hilchot Yesodei haTorah 4:13) that one may only study the cosmos after “filling his belly” with study of the Talmud, and that one may not study works of idolatrous or heretical thought, lest one be drawn after it (Hilchot Avodat Kochavim 2:2-3).

Certainly, Judaism endorses questioning, but specifically regarding the accepted text of the Torah, the accepted set of commandments, the accepted language of intramural debate:
• “What are we meant to learn from Yaakov and Esav, from Dinah and Shechem, from our ancestors’ slavery in Egypt?”
• “How are Rashi’s comments on the laws of eating a picked fruit on Shabbat resolved with the laws of muktzeh?”
• “What does the Torah say about surrogate pregnancy?”

All of our permitted investigations take as given that the stories of our ancestors are meant to provide ethical instruction, that the principles of Shabbat are internally consistent, that the Torah presents extrapolable guidance on issues far beyond its literal text. We are all required, by law, to begin from an identical starting point of axioms, and only afterward are we able to go for each other’s philosophical throats.

Which leads me to my title question: Is Judaism a Cult?

I define a “Cult” as an ideocentric group which forbids questioning and forbids interaction with those outside its boundaries, lest one be drawn astray.

And based on my principle that certain questions and certain materials are out of bounds, it is possible to argue that Yes, Judaism is a Cult.

I am often bothered by this question, particularly when I see Jews make claims about the special character of our Torah without actually knowing anything about others’ texts and traditions. How could I claim, “There is nothing like our Torah,” if I don’t know anything about any text held sacred by others? How could I say, “That rabbi is so brilliant, he could have been an incredible cosmologist/author/philosopher,” if I know nothing about those fields and their experts? Does that not reinforce the idea that we are, in fact, a closed-minded cult?

It’s like us Torontonians with our snow. People who are not thrilled with a frozen world of November snow, but who would never consider anything else, are cultic as well; it’s the Cult of Canada.

But I do think there is a difference between Judaism’s traditional restrictions on questions, and the cult’s ban on investigation. The result (non-questioning) is the same, but the idea behind it is very different.

I see a difference between a Jewish ideology that says, “This philosophy is designed to address certain issues, but as part of doing so it accepts certain items on faith,” and a cultic ideology that declares, “This philosophy is frightened of being undermined.” Both end up in the same place, but they take quite different routes.

The cult fears being undermined; any question which endangers its security is automatically verboten, not based upon a philosophical argument but based upon the natural danger to its system. That fear is what dictates what is in and out of bounds. One day the high priest could hold forth on a topic – and the next day he could refuse to discuss the same topic, when a question is raised. Rule One of the cult is, “Protect the cult.”

In contrast, Judaism is designed to address certain issues and so deepen and broaden and enrich spiritual life. It is meant to connect human to Gd, to build a healthy and faithful community, to address the way one lives life. It is meant to address peoplehood and individual growth. It is meant to address the place of a person in this world. And those are the areas that are up for discussion and debate within Judaism’s philosophy.

An organic part of that philosophy, though, is the concept of אמונה, of acceptance of certain, non-negotiable givens, elements that are beyond the scope of Judaism’s investigation because of the very nature of human and Deity.

This idea of אמונה, of core belief which is not logical or rational but simply revelatory and accepted, means that topics like “The Origins of Gd,” “Free Will: How do you know?” and “What will happen in the end” are beyond logical discussion. The discussions are off-limits not because they are a threat, but because they have no meaning within this religion and its goals and conversations.

We do end up in the same practical place as the cult – note the Rambam’s language above, “lest one be drawn after it” – but that’s for causes pragmatic rather than philosophical. The core difference remains: A cult’s philosophy is to protect itself. Judaism’s philosophy is to answer great questions and inform lives. And therein lies the difference.

Enough bloviation. Am I wrong? What do you think?

[Note: Part II is here.]