Dark side of the moon: Overview of the Geonic Period.

The first thousand years of the ‘common era’ in English History tends to be understood a bit like this: The Romans conquered around 2,000 years ago, the Roman Empire fell in around 400 CE, nothing much happened for the next 600 years with the exception of the odd Viking raid and a King Arthur story, then William conquered in 1066. The murky period popularly known as the ‘Dark ages’, which covers around 500 years of history, is similarly mysterious in Jewish circles. We know about the Amoraim (who wrote the Talmud) and the Rishonim (Medieval commentators) and are vaguely familiar with the fact that there were some people known as the Geonim who lived in between but that’s about it. 

Considering that the period of the Amoraim finished in the late 5^th century and the medieval era of the Rishonim didn’t really begin until the end of the 10^th/ beginning of the 11^th, that’s quite a big gap. The equivalent time period would extend back to before the publication of the Shulchan Aruch in 1575. I’ve decided that I will divide my posts into what I consider ‘informative’ historical overviews pertaining to events of a particular period, and ‘opinion’ pieces, which will identify themes and issues and try to understand their enduring contemporary significance. I will try and post one of each per week. This periodic overview probably comes under the first category.

So who were the Geonim and why do we know so little about them?

The title ‘Gaon’ in this instance refers to the heads of the academies of Sura and Pumpeditha in Babylonia, made famous by their founders in the times of the Talmud, Rav and Shmuel. The Gaonate was recognised by the Jews as the highest authority of instruction from the end of the sixth century to the middle of the 11^th. Extending far beyond their localities, the academies became the cultural centres of world Jewry, including the Jews living in the land of Israel. In the 7th and 8th centuries Islamic expansion meant that for the duration of this period over 90% of Jews lived under Islamic rule. This led to a fruitful and fascinating intermingling and to some extent synthesis of cultures. It also created new and hitherto unknown challenges living beside a people that were similarly monotheistic. Exposure to Aristotelian and Platonic strands of philosophy as well as a shared Arabic language and culture presented challenges to a previously unquestioned religious identity. 

In terms of tolerance, although there were occasional persecutions from local authorities, for the most part the Jewish community maintained its integrity; although it suffered from various restrictions and discriminatory taxes, freedom of religion was seldom infringed. 

So what was the function of the Geonic academies?

One of the primary tasks of the Gaonate was to interpret the Halacha/Jewish law in the form received from the Savoraim (based on savora in Talmud Yerushalmi which means a scholar competent to render decisions) who had helped to complete and edit the Talmud, which was the ultimate and universally accepted source of legal authority in the Jewish communities.[1] The academies became a supreme court and source of instruction for all Jewry. Thousands would assemble in the kallah months of Elul and Adar to hear lectures on Halacha and during those months Geonim would answer questions sent to them from the diaspora. I may touch on the topic of how this was structured in later posts. The academies served a largely religious function, with the political representation of the Jewish community being fulfilled by the Exilarch (Rosh Beit Galuta), who had been appointed by local rulers to oversee the needs of the community since Talmudic times. Occasionally there were tensions between the two bodies, as we will see in the time of R. Sa’adia Gaon, but overall the relationship remained relatively stable. The Gaon was usually appointed after rising through a hierarchy of positions until they achieved highest office.  

Part of the reason little is known about the period spanning the 6^th to 8^th centuries is due to a lack of significant source material. We only really know about the Savoraim and the names of the Geonim up until the 9th century from the 15,000 word letter of R. Sherira Gaon in around 987 CE. In addition, most of the written source material from the academies were responsa answering specific halachic questions. Whilst responsa can certainly be used to understand social and economic issues, many of those which have survived have been heavily edited over time, leaving the halachic issue at hand and excluding some of the more peripheral details. With the discovery of the Cairo Geniza, more material has become available which has shed light onto some of the details of Jewish life but the picture remains fairly blurred.

As we mentioned before, the term ‘Gaon’ did not necessarily imply greatness in scholarship but the academies certainly produced many leading scholars such as R. Sherira, Ahai and Hai Gaon. Their works, and in particular those of R. Sa'adia makes it easier to understand a bit more about the late Geonic period. 

Interestingly, these leading Geonim in terms of scholarly output  lived between the late 9th and 11th centuries during a time where the Gaonate had already declined as the cultural religious centre of world Jewry. A sign of its public decline was that from the 9^th century onwards most of the Geonim no longer lived in the cities of the two academies. They lived in Baghdad, the centre of the authorities and the residence of the Exilarch. However, by then the mission statement of spreading the Talmud had lessened in importance with new centres and scholars emerging in other communities. In addition, independent-minded scholars were making legal decisions on their own and had stopped sending questions to the Babylonian academies. According to R. Abraham ibn Daud, the Gaonate ended with the death of R’ Sherira in 1038 after years of gradual decline.

The period is notable for a number of things that will be investigated in upcoming weeks, for example: The Karaites and the fight against Karaism, the influence of Islam and inter-communal interaction, the arrival of secular philosophy and its effect on the Jewish communities. My more personal examination of this period will focus on aspects of the life, writings and challenges of R. Sa’adia Gaon. [2]

[1] In general, secession groups remained on the periphery at the beginning of this period. The Karaite movement didn’t begin until the mid-8^th century, and this will be discussed subsequently.

[2] My sources for this period are: The Encycopedia Judaica (1971ed.) under Geonim, Sa’adia Gaon, Savoraim; Henry Malter’s 1921 Biography of Sa’adia, Robert Brody’s 2012 updated biography on Sa’adia; Brody's book The Geonim of Babylonia and the Shaping of Medieval Jewish Culture  published in 1998. In addition I have found some useful excerpts in the Cambridge book on medieval Jewish philosophical writings as well as plenty of quotes found in the above books. Let's also not forget Wikipedia :-). For those that care, I have spelt Gaon with an 'a'and with an 'e' according to how it sounds phonetically. For those that don't, please ignore above sentence.

Leadership, Mike Brearley + Parking meters.

“Don’t follow leaders watch the parking meters, it doesn’t take a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.” All leaders, politicians and organisations are corrupt and you can only trust yourself. Good old Bob. The Sixties sound like fun, don’t they? Mike Brearley, incidentally, is the England captain widely accredited with masterminding the successful ‘81 Ashes series despite having a test batting average of 22.[1] Brearley has gone down in cricketing legend as a great man manager who despite never quite being able to raise his batting to the next level in the Test arena, was excellent at bringing out the best in his team mates. But more on him later.

 The area of leadership in the Jewish community is one that is extremely close to my heart, having been involved in several youth leadership positions over the past seven years or so. Attitudes towards leadership and leaders are always going to be divisive but it has become the norm to view the concept of leadership with extreme cynicism.  I would argue that although there have always been internal problems within Jewish communities, in the recent years scandals slightly closer to home have further dampened and undermined the respect for those who are in positions of authority.

This post in some ways is the counterweight to my last one as it suggests that great leadership has very little to do with intellectual greatness or complexity. We often associate great Jewish leaders with great Jewish thinkers and teachers. Great scholars are often described as the leaders of the generation by virtue of the fact of their exceptional mental faculties, erudition and knowledge. But does this alone make them great leaders? There is no question that Torah study has always been of supreme importance within the life of the religious Jew beyond mere theoretical scholarship and proficiency in it is regarded as one of an individual’s crowning achievements.[2]

 Yet I have seen recently that what might be dubbed the ‘ivory tower’ approach which focuses on the leader's ability to process, calculate and think lacks a vital ingredient. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that there is a right and wrong in the case of a communal dispute and that scholars are perhaps best disposed towards understanding this objectivity – which is one of the classic arguments posed in favour of this approach - does this actually matter? Surely, decisions concerning groups of people implies a responsibility to that group which is completely subjective? In essence it requires harmonisation rather than decisive argumentation. Because we are human beings. In my mind there is a yawning chasm between theory and practise when it comes to leading groups of people.

This point has struck me when I have attended seminars about Jewish leadership. There, the focus amongst other things has always been on the ability of the individual to seize the initiative, to recognise the issues that need addressing and be proactive in tackling them. What this misses - which I have seen all too clearly in recent years – is a very simple and very human element, the ability to bring out the best in those you are leading. 

The way I have seen it of late is that having the ideas, will, knowledge and drive means little to those under your stead if they are unable to see that you sincerely respect them. I recently read Steven Covey's best-seller ‘Seven Habits of highly effective people’ where he discusses the concept of synergy where a company or group functions above the sum total of its component parts due to the maximising of the creative energies of each of the people within the group itself. In short, in trying to achieve the harmonious collective identity, unity, 'Achdus', the leader must focus far more on making the people around them happy and feel important than trying to impose their own ideas, goals or individual brilliance. Which is where Brearley comes in. Yes, you cannot have a team of Mike Brearleys, they would get bowled out for around 200 every time, but one Brearley-equivalent can take the existing potential and magnify it beyond all recognisable proportions, which is what made him a great leader. Rarely are real-life situations involving people resolved by finding an empirical framework in which theoretical problems can be resolved.

In fact, there is a circular tension here which I think is worth noting: The more 'gifted' an individual, the more they will struggle in this area of leadership. Leaders and bosses are usually the most talented in their particular fields and it is therefore they who struggle with this concept the most. The ability of talented individuals to come up with brilliant paradigms, ideas and concepts can easily lead to the tendency to treat those working for them as pawns in a game – and this is felt. This does not necessarily result from arrogance but from a sense of absolute clarity which overpowers the views of those around them. But this is not leadership. It can certainly be impressive, but it can also lead to the alienation of employees, congregants and members of staff who feel no sense of investment in the proposed scheme. To be a leader is to be a leader of not merely a stand-alone figure. 
I recently saw in the Churchill war museum a great comment from one of his secretaries that even though she often thought that Churchill could be a complete pain-up-the-backside he inspired complete and utter loyalty amongst his staff. It is the feeling of investment in the leader amongst those who are led that creates the leader's greatness.  

A wonderful example of the need for personal experience and empathy in communal decision-making is something I heard about recently regarding the famous secession dispute between R’ Hirsch and R’ Bamburger regarding whether Orthodox communities in Germany should split from their Reform counterparts and form their own communities. This was arguably the most significant social issue within German Orthodoxy in the late 19^th Century. R’ Chaim Ozer Grodzinsky, the Posek of the generation living in Lithuania in the 1920s and 30s, was asked which side was correct, to which he replied that he could not give an answer unless he had lived in the situation himself and could easily justify the theoretical position of either side.[3] It was not a halachic question which could be answered based on available data, but rather an  issue which required an intimate knowledge of the individual communities in question before a decision could be made one way or the other. He had to be there before he could decide on their behalf. 

Why is this such an issue to me? 
My previous 'themed' post was an expression of the individuality that I pride so greatly but this one is an equally potent feeling in my mind of the importance for young and old to truly feel what it means to be part of the collective, of the whole, the klal, of the Jewish people. The purpose of leadership is really to ‘raise us up to more than we can be’ (yes I just did that). To see beyond the mediocrity of daily life and live for Godly ideals, dreams and optimism.  It reminds me of one the reasons (I think the Rambam says this in Hilchot Melachim) we decided to appoint a King of Israel in the end as he was meant to be the embodiment of Godliness and a role-model figure of inspiration. This ability to raise our lives to live in the macro and micro of Jewish existence is a theme that will arise regularly in my posts – the tension that has always existed between thinking big and thinking small and the difficulty in synthesising the two. 

And it is this sense of true leadership that I feel to be lacking amongst the Jewish people today. Perhaps this is because I live in England, away from the main centres of world Jewry. Perhaps it is because I am simply not well informed enough. Yet it is an emotion that has sort of crept up on me in recent years and I know is shared by others around me. In order to lead effectively the leader must have their finger on the collective pulse. An excellent example of this I remember was Tony Blair’s description of Diana as the ‘people’s princess’ at her funeral. Many identified this as the perfect example of being in tune with the mood of the people at the time. It is not a lack of knowledge (perhaps subtlety but that is for another time) that seems lacking, but this sense of isolation comes from a feeling that there are not many out there who really get us as an entire group, are able to think with breadth, depth and empathy to understand the disparate elements of Jewish society and can guide/advise accordingly.

I remember the feeling when Dayan Lopian ZTZL passed away last year that I felt something powerful had left us here in England. Now I had never had any association with him personally but simply from the way he had responded to one episode that my close friend had gone through a few months previously it was self-evident how much he cared about people and how this wonderful affection towards him had been planted in the hearts and minds of so many. The ability to tap in to both the theoretical aspects of knowledge and learning combined with a deep understanding of people and the lives they led as Jews truly made him unique. It is unfortunate that sometimes it feels that we might as well just watch the parking meters. Or give Mike Brearley a call.
 Next week I will start approaching more 'historical' topics by looking at the era of R. Saadia Gaon and the issues and struggles of the time.

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[1] For those of you who are not cricketing fans, this is not very good. A good batsman should average around 40, under 35 should probably not be in any decent Test team as a specialist batsman, under 25 you are considered a bowler who can bat a bit.
[2] I will almost definitely discuss different approaches towards the intrinsic worth of Talmud Torah in subsequent posts – this is not my topic in this post. 

[3] For those doubting the authenticity of the story it is based on a lecture I heard online from Marc Shapiro on torahinmotion on the Secession controversy and I think is quoted in a responsum. 

21st Century Schizoid Man[1]: Do great people need to be complex?

A Level History used to throw up questions like this: Was the main reason for Lenin’s success in 1917 due to his individual personality or due to the economy? The correct answer, invariably, was to list a few pros and cons for each side before concluding happily that both were true. People fascinate me. Their personalities; their complexities; their trials and triumphs. I have always loved biographies and reading about people of the past, and was never satisfied with the idea that everything they did could be reduced to simplistic economic or political determinism. But what makes a great personality? Before I start looking into things that have emerged from my travels in the 9^th century I would like to touch on two themes in the next two posts that will invariably recur in my subsequent rants: individuality and leadership.

For me, the individuals that I consider great are necessarily multi-faceted and ‘complex’. Let me try to explain by going on a ramble: I have noticed an interesting pattern within Jewish leadership in recent years where the following scenario plays itself out on repeat: Person A arises, unquestionably unique in a particular area, and becomes famous for their brilliance. Person A’s students, awestruck, furiously debate Person A's legacy, either posthumously or during Person A's lifetime, and try to determine who exactly they were, often vehemently insisting that they alone understood who person A was really about. Students B-Z try to classify and become person A then get stuck and confused when they realise they can’t.

 A few years ago I began to hear things being said about Rabbi Soloveitchik, for example, which went along the following lines: “He wasn’t a great leader because his legacy is so ambiguous” “My rebbe has testified personally that he changed his mind regarding secular studies at the end of his life” “He must have been confused because his students can’t agree what he stood for, why couldn’t he have been clear about what he actually thought?” I soon realised that “The Rav” wasn’t the only person who attracted such confusion. One of the rabbis in my Yeshiva who is renowned for his deep mind and sharp intellect would attract similarly intensive views and I would regularly hear conversations between students arguing about what this rabbi really thought about a particular matter and how in situation x he was only playing to the crowd but in situation y amongst elites (such as the person talking, naturally) he really spoke his mind. I was reminded of this topic recently when I was reading Eliyahu Stern’s biography of the Vilna Gaon The Genius where he mentions that the Gaon’s legacy remained blurred over a century after his death. One of his students, Chaim of Vilna relates that “even when he heard the Gaon on consecutive days it was as though he was a different person.” Was he the leader who encouraged a return to Zion? Was he the man who befriended and encouraged the Maskilim? The mentor of the founder of the Volozhin Yeshiva? Could he be all of the above? And most famously, The Rambam, the subject of apologetics from every faction, defending, excusing or vindicating the author of the philosophical Moreh Nevuchim or the largely halachic Mishnah Torah as though written by two different people. One thing which links these figures is that in order to be understood, students often had to come up with a one-liner, or at least one approach which could summarise them. To me this is entirely misses the point. To me their greatness is found precisely in their multi-faceted natures and their restless pursuit of knowledge and wisdom which formed the uniqueness of their world-views. This can be seen even in their weaknesses and their struggles.  

It seems to me that the broader idea is this: Humanity constantly needs to classify to make sense of the world. But this goes slightly haywire when applied to human beings, particularly exceptional ones, because we are complicated creatures full of longings, yearnings and impulses that can never be adequately expressed or defined. When we experience great people they can be blinding in their apparent transcendence. We want a piece of this greatness. And since we can’t understand it we simply project our own predispositions onto the people themselves, assuming that they must think along the same lines as us. But realising there is something missing, we look to them to mould rather than to guide us, to solve rather than to advise. We love a ‘correct derech ha limmud’(method of Talmud study) or a ‘clear hashkofo’(religious worldview) which we can sign up to and avoid struggling with the issues themselves. In short, we like it easy and by ignoring the complexities in those we admire, we lose the greatest joy of all exemplified by our heroes themselves – the long and winding road of individuality.

Many fear the consequences of embarking upon this lonely road, with all its pitfalls. So they clone rather than emulate. My response to things often involves applying the imagery found in old-school pop songs. “The long road” is one of my favourites. To be annoying, when I am fed up with something in my life, I will sometimes quote Neil Diamond’s ‘He aint heavy, he’s my brother’ and tell people that “the road is long with many winding turns”. I remember reading the Rambam’s introduction to the Moreh Nevuchim and being struck by the fact that he emphasises that if you ever want to understand anything at all don’t think you’ll just give it a google search (I don’t think he actually mentions google) and then you’ll just get it. A five minute summary of an idea is simply the end of a restless pursuit of truth and understanding. Life has to be played like a Test match, with effort and toil, not a 20/20 (Yep, cricket got in there). 

To me, the great individuals of our history teach us much more about the way we must set about our tasks as Jews living in the 21^st Century rather than the exact tasks themselves. Which is why honesty in understanding them is essential. We strive to understand their profound ideas and wisdom but invariably we will process them through our own world-views and experiences – and that is ok. And this led me to the slightly odd conclusion that the people I admire most in our history are the ones I can't claim to really understand. I heard from R. Rakeffet once that he saw this as one of the great shames of the Lubavicher Rebbe’s legacy. By all accounts he was an unbelievably great man in thought and character, to the extent that many couldn't relate to him as a human being, he had to be something more. Through grappling with the wonderful idiosyncrasies of the leaders of our past I am filled with enormous hope that by tapping in to the spirit of their characters and teachings rather than necessarily every detail that I too can achieve something worthwhile in my life in my own way.

 I love the Dylan song “Ballad of the thin man” where he sneers at the reporter “Something is happening here and you don’t know what it is, do you Mr. Jones?” As soon as Dylan came along with uncannily profound observations about life and society in his songs, everyone jumped on him, demanding he gave them the explanation, to give them the ‘answers’. What Dylan found is that by being made into the prophet of a generation the whole spirit of the individual which opened up the possibility of that pursuit of excellence was replaced by a cult of followers. As soon as the world tried to box and define his creative spirit, Dylan longed to flee and run away. The Mr. Joneses of this world had simply missed the point.

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[1] For those of you who weren't around in 1969 this is the title of a song by Prog-Rock band King Crimson.

Intro to my Jewish History Blog

Why bother blogging? I have wanted to start a blog for a while but then ask myself: what’s the point? Something to put on the CV? Not good enough, really. Laziness generally trumps pragmatism in my battle of wills. Do I particularly enjoy sharing my views with other people? Unless it’s cricket-related, not really. I don’t have that many strong views on contemporary events and I don’t particularly like participating in online discussions because too often it descends into rhetoric or name-calling and very rarely do any discussions have the required subtlety to be meaningful. 

Well, the one area I really do have interest in is Jewish history, from both an academic and a religious perspective. I am a religious Jew and one area of my religious experience which I feel is rarely tapped into or spoken about sufficiently is that of the historical journey of the Jewish people. This incorporates a great number of disciplines and is certainly not a specific area but is one I feel that over the last few years I have gained license to share. Since leaving Yeshiva a whole new world of thought, experience and depth has opened up to me and has illuminated the journey which I embark upon as a Jew. 

From reading the works of figures from Maimonides to R. Hirsch to the historical biographies of figures such as Mendelssohn and Shabbatai Tzvi (who was the subject of my Undergraduate dissertation) I have been moved to share what I consider to be insights about the lives of individuals, societies and conflicts that have been so pivotal to shaping the reality of the Jewish experience. 

It is this that I love so much about history, both as a student as an interested reader – it is complicated. It is subtle. There are rarely black and white answers in explaining motives behind decisions or events major and minor and by examining different periods honestly, powerful and novel insights can be gained into our own lives and identities as Jews. And despite what I was told on my first day in University, there are many lessons to be learned.

In particular, I am interested in great leaders and their insights, the place of the individual within Jewish society, conflicts, the weird and the wonderful. I would like to starting from the era of R. Saadia Gaon in the 9^th century and attempt to comment chronologically on themes that interest me, but will probably get side-tracked. There are certain obvious themes that are of general interest: the tension and harmonisation between Jewish thought and Greek philosophy, the wonderfully complex personalities of figures such as the Rambam; the strictly ‘rationalist’ philosophy of the medieval period, the emergent mysticism and Kabbalah and the tension between the two schools of thought, the struggle of the Jew in the modern era and the engagement with the age of emancipation. 

I am not going to pretend that I will systematically evaluate any of these areas. More likely I will go on long rants. But maybe I will raise questions and insights of interest and perhaps give people a taste of my fascination with exploring our past. I have decided to call this blog: Infinite Museum. This is a pretentious title, mainly chosen due to my Bob Dylan obsession and he will get regular mentions in my posts. Dylan claimed that “inside the museums, infinite goes up on trial”. I feel the opposite. By exploring the museums I really get a taste for the infinite. Hope you enjoy! I will try and publish at least one article a week.