Bob Dylan’s career has gone through many different stages but a
significant development worthy of comment took place in the late '90s after a
creative lull which had lasted around a decade. His songs became darker and
more world-weary, showing the reflections of a man who felt that new insights
had arrived with age. One of the lines which sums up a certain maturity of mind
goes like this: "The world is old, the
world is grey, lessons of life can't be learned in a day." Sounds
sort of depressing, admittedly, but it makes a good point. They can’t.
So when I was thinking about my last post and how it seems to invite an answer or counter-response to the issue of philosophy and Judaism it struck me that I don’t really want to go about my posts by raising every possible theme/problem/issue and give answers in a blog. It seemed sort of trivial. I would rather raise issues and maybe suggest a few approaches that I have explored whilst leaving it fairly open ended. So what I have decided to do instead is to approach it indirectly through the writings of R. Sa'adia.
Geoffrey Boycott, referring to the title, was an English opening Batsman who
saw defence as the best form of attack and would rather spend hours defending
rather than carelessly trying to score runs. He would certainly understand that
big issues can’t be dealt with by playing the big strokes too soon (Feel free
to ignore the cricket references, they are more for peace of mind than anything
else).
One of the most striking elements of Sa’adia’s work
is his elevation of knowledge-acquisition to the status of a religious act. He describes four
branches of understanding and knowledge – the universal ones of inference,
intellect and observation and the additional Jewish element of Divine
revelation. Quoting Mishlei, he writes that the pursuit of knowledge and truth
is an essential component of the religious experience: "For my mouth shall
utter truth, and wickedness is an abomination to my lips. All the words of my
mouth are in righteousness."
Man is endowed with intellectual faculties and he must recognise
these as a gift from God. The fruits of his wisdom and speculation further
God-awareness in the world. The novelty of this understanding is the fact that
it asserts that there exists a rational process, independent of tradition or
revelation which can be used to gain knowledge about God, the world and
morality.
In his introduction to Emunot ve Deot, Sa’adia writes that
the reason he felt the need to embark upon his project was that “I saw in our
time many of the faithful possess mistaken convictions, whilst many of the
deniers boast of their corruption and act haughtily”.
Certainly, Sa’adia acted partly out of a defensive need to bolster the
hearts and minds of the community who he saw to be struggling with the
perceived onslaught of philosophy. The cultural events known as Majalis,
where groups would convene to discuss philosophy, adopted a relativistic and
sceptical attitude towards religious truth. The largely Islamic group known as
the Kalam actively pursued a reconciliation between religion and reason. In his
own words, the confusion faced by his fellow Jews caused Sa'adia's heart to
grieve for mankind.
But in addition to this he saw the rational pursuit of wisdom as
being essential to the human experience. The need to work things out and
grapple with issues, he argues, is a fundamental one. Doubt, he explains, comes
about “Since all human arts consist of stages, the mind is meant to work at
things”. Unlike God, who is perfect, man’s being part of nature requires him to
go through a process in achieving understanding, which requires time and
patience.
Many of the perceived conflicts that exist within the Jewish world, it
can be argued, are simply the result of intimidating categorisation. The word
“rationalism” is associated with a dour, cold and anti-religious intellect. The
word “philosophy” carries with it connotations of heresy and danger. Yet placed
within another context, the power of the mind is an essential tool for
discovering the wisdom of God, both within the realms of the natural world and
within the words of the Torah itself. It is this that made its mark on me when
I started reading Sa’adia’s works. Instead of portraying the world of
philosophy as a dangerous enemy, it transformed it into a powerful tool to
strengthen religious faith itself.
Certainly, he recognised the conflicts which
could also take place, but by embracing the struggle itself as a glorious part
of the religious journey, he left a legacy which helped fortify the minds of
young and old for generations to come. Incidentally, this is reflected in the
fact that one of his projects was a translation of the Torah into Arabic – the spoken
language, which could be understood by all.
Categorisation in general always carries a heavy stigma attached,
particularly when it comes to world-views in the religious world. To be
"Modern-Orthodox" is to some ears an admission of religious laxity,
to others a particular fondness for Netanya beach, to very few the desire to
incorporate all elements of the world experience into service of God.
Similarly, to be "Grey" or (this is a new one to me) "Machmir
modern-Orthodox" implies a sort of progression from the aforementioned
position without quite going the whole way to the promised land. To be
"Chareidi" is to some to be helplessly and irredeemably narrow
minded and to others a ticket to that promised land. To refuse to categorise,
however, is to concede to belonging to that privileged category of
"the confused" and so on and so forth - Fun times!
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