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Sunday, 15 December 2019

255) THE 'LOST RELIGION' OF MAIMONIDES:


How Rambam's 'chasidim' may have sung his teachings:

INTRODUCTION:

Many people - including those who have been religious all their lives and even those in positions of religious leadership - are not always aware of just how radical Rambam’s views on religion were.

Yes, some will claim to be expert in a ‘sanitized’ Rambam (1135-1204) through their familiarity with his legal work, the Mishneh Torah which was compiled (around 1170/80) and was directed at the general population - but his deeper, theological and philosophical works, including the Moreh Nevuchim (Guide of the Perplexed, compiled a decade later around 1190)[1] express his personal vision of a Judaism for, what he describes as “people of understanding.”

It is best to use Rambam’s own words to illustrate this theological and intellectual chasm between what he calls the ‘simple masses of the Torah observant ’and those of ‘us’ with ‘understanding’:[2]


My loose translation from Rambam’s later work, Ma’amar Techiyat haMeitim (compiled in 1191), follows:

“Our desire - and the desire of all those intellectual individuals (is to always first try to seek a rational explanation instead of a mystical one).

This is opposite to the common approach of the masses (who prefer a more mystical and literal approach as their first option).

(It is evident that) the most underlying principle held by the masses of Torah observant people - because of their stupidity - is to regard Torah and human logic as mutually exclusive!

These (Torah observant people) take everything which they cannot understand with their logic and (immediately) categorise it as miraculous.

They flee from (any interpretation) which could explain a phenomenon as natural.”

In this article, we shall explore some of Rambam’s profoundly radical views on a Judaism that will seem almost foreign to many.  And we will see how Rambam failed miserably in terms of getting his ideas to be accepted by the mainstream, or even a tributary thereof.


NOTE: The aim of this article is not to suggest any change in the way we perform Halacha or view the spiritual realms but simply to highlight Rambam’s little-known ideas about a religion we think we know. Some of Rambam’s views may shock and upset the sensitive Reader.

I have drawn from the writing of Professor Menachem Kellner who is widely regarded as a specialist in the thought and philosophy of Maimonides.[3]

‘A NATURALIST RELIGION OF RADICAL RESPONSIBILITIES’:

Menachem Kellner describes Rambam’s vision of Judaism as a “remarkably naturalist religion of radical responsibility.” Rambam tried desperately to divert both myth and mystery - which were becoming more and more popular in his time, even half a century before the publication of the Zohar - away from Judaism. 

In his (unpopular) view, the events in the world essentially followed a natural progression without much interference from G-d, and certainly not from the heavenly spheres. Even the messianic era would follow a normative and less miraculous series of events. [See Mashiach – a Natural or Supernatural Event?].

Together with this extremely ‘naturalistic’ (as opposed to mystical and supernatural) position which Rambam took, came a just as stark understanding of the ‘radical responsibility’ that we ourselves carry. There is no mystical theurgy or magic in Rambam’s system upon which one can call to alleviate the ‘cause and effect’ and the subsequent inevitability of reality. In his system, even the events of history are subject to a certain ‘randomness’.

CHARMS AND SEGULOT:

Kellner writes:

“Many of Maimonides’ opponents, in his day and ours, do indeed accept the efficacy of charms and amulets, and fear the harm of demons and the evil eye...

In such a world instructions from God, and contact with the divine in general, must be mediated by a religious elite who alone can see the true reality masked by nature.

This is the opposite of an empowering religion, since it takes their fate out of the hands of Jews, and, in effect, puts it into the hands of rabbis.”

Rambam wanted no share in such a construct of religion that involved any spiritually elite ‘middle-men’ and their ethereal wares.

Yet, Rambam was also an elitist, but of the intellectual kind:

AN ELITIST AND A UNIVERSALIST:

Ironically, Kellner explains that Rambam was “at one and the same time deeply elitist and profoundly universalist.”

That Rambam was unashamedly an elitist is clear from the many examples of him completely minimizing what he calls the ‘ignorant’ or ‘stupid religious masses.’ Or, to put it more bluntly, according to Kellner, “the Jewish world in his day was...debased and paganized.”

Rambam does not go out of his way to look for synonyms to help him describe the Torah observant community of his day which tried to create a culture of the miraculous and the incredulous. Instead, he tries to create a class of ‘yechidim’ or intellectually and theologically elite thinkers.[4]

That he was a universalist can be seen in the way he downplayed the assumed special uniqueness of a Jew[5] and spoke more about a humankind within a system which had a place for thinking people of all creeds.  [See How Rashi and Rambam Part Ways on the Deepest of Issues.]

THE HOLY TONGUE:

Rabbi Professor Isadore Twersky describes Rambam’s view (controversial to many) that the Hebrew language was not more ‘holy’ than other languages:

“Maimonides’ desacralization of language should be seen as an expression of his consistent
opposition to hypostasized [i.e., to attribute real identity to][6] entities endowed with intrinsic sanctity.”


HOLY ENTITIES:

Again, expressing a surprising view of Rambam with far reaching consequences, Kellner continues:

“Among the entities which Maimonides seeks to ‘de-hypostasize’[i.e., to divest real identity from,][7] are the property of holiness, the Hebrew language, the land of Israel, the people of Israel, the divine glory (kavod ), the divine presence (shekhinah), angels, and sin. 

Consistent with this approach, he seeks to present distinctions fundamental to Judaism, such as holy/profane, ritually pure/ritually impure, permissible/impermissible, and, especially, Jew/Gentile as institutional, sociological, and historical issues, and not as ontological [actual][8] matters.”

In other words, all of these ideas which are usually taken, and taught, as real and actual spiritual truths, are - according to Rambam - not real entities but mere ideas which form, not a spiritual function, but a sociological, historical or institutional function instead.

Many (most) religious people today, understandably, would have a fundamental problem with Rambam’s de-hypostasized and desacralized definition of these concepts.

RELIGIOUS ‘STATUS’:

In more contemporary terms, Kellner gives a common example of where the modern mainstream approach is decidedly anti-Maimonidean: 

Today, newly observant Jews generally (although certainly not exclusively) marry other newly observant Jews. In some Chareidi (so-called ultra-Orthodox) circles it is rare for an established religious person to marry a newly observant person. This is because the newly observant individual was not conceived in ‘purity’. 

In Rambam’s system, however, this would not be an issue as there would be no ontological significance in such cases.

RAMBAM HAS NO HOME TODAY:

People often think that mysticism is synonymous with Chasidism. That is not the case because even the Lithuanian and the non-Chasidic Chareidi world today, have largely adopted the basic ethos of the mystical approach even if they do not profess to be Chasidim or Kabbalists.

Kellner makes the fascinating point that the theological (as opposed to the legal) Rambam has no home, anywhere, within contemporary Judaism:

“...the fact that all contemporary Orthodoxy, hasidic and mitnagdic, is infused with kabbalistic motifs makes it clear beyond the need of demonstration that Maimonides’ ‘de-hypostasization’ [i.e., desanctification] of these notions has few echoes in contemporary Judaism”

And not only is this true of Orthodoxy, but fascinatingly:

“...there seems to be no substantial distinction between Orthodoxy on the one hand, and Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, and New Age Judaism on the other; all have enthusiastically adopted kabbalistic motifs.”

A DISDAIN FOR ‘METAPHYSICAL CLUTTER’:

For Rambam, the greatest theological divide exists between mysticism and rationalism.[9]
When Rambam confronts G-d, he goes silent. G-d is transcendent and truly a pure, single unknowable entity.[10]

On the other hand, when the mystics confront G-d, they wax lyrical with constructs of complicated hierarchies of energies; with sefirot and attributes, with fallen sparks that require uplifting , with the divisions of ‘before’ and ‘after’ the creation and with tzimtzumim (contractions) which co-exist with the notion of the Infinite Ain Sof.

For Rambam the space between man and G-d was clear, clean and uncluttered. There were no angels [See Angels in Rabbinic Literature.] or demons or evil eyes or predestiny[11] [See A Leaf Falls From a Tree], and G-d was indeed incorporeal [See The Notion that G-d has a Body.]

Anthony Julius, put this very aptly when he said that Rambam sought to “depopulate” the heavens.

THE ZOHAR AND THE GUIDE IN THE SAME RELIGION?

While, as mentioned earlier, although Rambam would not have known about the Zohar as it hadn’t yet been published, Kellner writes:

“The world of the Zohar is so unlike that of Maimonides that at times it appears impossible that it and Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed should both be accepted as authoritative in the same religious tradition.”[12]

A ‘TRAGIC FIGURE’:

Moshe Idel, ironically, describes Rambam - known as the Great Eagle and usually regarded as the dominating and powerful giant of the mind - in a rather tragic way: He explains that Rambam crystallized and formulated his rational views, in opposition to the popular and rising mystical trends within the Jewish world during his time.

Yet, ironically, his rationalism unleashed such a wave of opposition and push-back that it caused the very mysticism he sought to undermine, to emerge even more powerfully; and flourish to the extent that it became and remained the mainstream of future Judaism even to this day, eight hundred years later. This appears to have occurred, not despite Rambam, but tragically because of him.

This series of events relegated “Maimonideanism to the status of a largely ignored backwater.”

MORE RADICAL THAN THE HIRSCHIAN MODEL OF TORAH IM DERECH ERETZ:

Rambam raised the value of secular science and physics to the level of Torah study and even to the realm of the metaphysical.

R. Shimshon Refael Hirsch (1808-1888) was the founder of the Modern Orthodox movement which espoused a ‘modern’ philosophy of Torah Im derech Eretz which sought to combine Torah and secular studies. This, as opposed to the ultra-Orthodox movement which was founded in 1865 and which only permitted Torah study and nothing else. [See The Reforms of the Ultra-Orthodox.]

R. Hirsch was regarded as an outlier for his desire to include secular wisdom together with Torah knowledge in the study curriculum, and he was severely criticised for that.

The interesting thing is that Rambam had a far more radical position to that of R. Hirsch:

After considered analysis Kellner explains that according to Rambam:

“...God is ‘author’ of two books—one called cosmos and the other called Torah. For Maimonides (and Gersonides after him), one who wishes to know God must ‘read’ God’s entire oeuvre [library][13]; this can only be done if one combines study of Torah with study of science.”

This is something that Rambam himself clearly writes in his explanation as to why the Torah begins with the creation narrative instead of going straight into the biblical religious laws. He calls religious laws ‘divine science’ and physics ‘natural science’:

“...divine science cannot become actual except after a study of natural science [al-‘ilm al-tiba’i].

This is so since natural science borders on divine science [al-‘ilm al-ilahi], and its study precedes that of divine science...

Hence God... caused His book to open with the “Account of the Beginning,” which, as we have made clear, is natural science.”[14]

Thus, in Rambam’s view, the Torah opens with the creation narrative to teach that the path to G-d must begin with an understanding of the role of physical science (al-‘ilm al-tiba’i) as a precondition to religious study or divine science (al-‘ilm al-ilahi).

THE FIRST COMMANDMENT:

There are different rabbinic models as to how to count the 613 commandments. According to Rambam, the first commandment in the Torah is not to be fruitful and multiply but to know G-d exists. One can only know G-d exists, according to Rambam, by studying his ‘book’ of the cosmos, which, according to Rambam, is science.

This view will hardly resonate practically with anyone within our religious establishments today, other than perhaps a vague attribution to it through lip service.

In Kellner’s words:

“...Maimonides’ position is much more radical than any put forward in modernity. That being the case, it should come as no surprise that it has few, if any adherents today.

Indeed, it is rarely recognized for what it is...”

If I understand Kellner correctly, Rambam’s wrote his Mishneh Torah as a summary of the entire Talmud, to free up time for the student to also get involved with the study of science as part of the Torah study programme.

This is one step even beyond the ‘Torah and Science’ model because now the science and the physics becomes part of the Torah itself.

“Maimonides wrote the Mishneh Torah as part of an attempted curricular reform, one which
would have brought into the Talmudic academy the study of science.

Did he succeed in this reform? I do not believe that there is today or has ever been a single yeshiva or rabbinical seminary in the world operating on these principles.”

It is interesting to note that the Yemenite Maimonidean scholar, R. Yosef Kapach (d. 2000) wanted science to be a part of Limudei Kodesh (religious studies) in modern-day Israel. In fact, according to R. Kapach, the study of science was to be considered a positive commandment of the Torah, because, in his view, it brings one closer to an appreciation of the First Mover. [See R. Yosef Kapach – The Suppression of a Rationalist Tradition?]

HOW MAIMONIDES GETS SANITIZED:

Kellner shows how, in his view, some of the leading rabbis of modern times often do not allow for full expression of Rambam’s worldview.  

A case in point is the esteemed Rabbi Aharon Kotler[15] (1890-1962) who is best known for creating[16], in 1943, the full-time Torah learning system, the Kollel (where married men are paid to study Torah all day) in Lakewood, America.

Rambam writes in (as it happens, the exact mid-point of) his Mishneh Torah that not only was the tribe of Levi consecrated as the priestly tribe and dedicated to the work of the Holy of Holies, but also ‘each and every individual human being’[17] could personally rise to such equivalent levels as well.

The expression ‘each and every individual human being’ (kol ba’ei olam) is always used to refer to all peoples, not just Jews.

This idea played out in the Tannaic debate between the school of Rabbi Akiva, who maintained that the Torah was revealed to the Jews alone; and the school of Rabbi Yishmael, who insisted that the Torah was also given to kol ba’ei olam, ‘each and every individual human being,’ i.e., to non-Jews as well.

Rambam, following along similar lines to R. Yishmael, is expressing his view that not just Jews but any person of noble statue can attain the level of ‘holy of holies.’ This idea fits well with Rambam’s other statements to the effect that worthy non-Jews can attain just as holy levels as worthy Jews.

That being said, R. Aharon Kotler somehow insisted on interpreting the expression ‘each and every individual human being,’ in Rambam’s text above, as referring only to ‘ha benei Torah’ the Torah scholars who only study Torah and nothing else. These exclusive Torah scholars, R. Kotler claimed, are the group Rambam was referring to who were likened to the elevated status of the tribe of Levi!

And, he continued using Rambam as his support text, just like the tribe of Levi did not work but was supported by the nation, now (in 1943) the full-time Kollel students would have to be supported by the charity of other Jews who worked and did not study full-time in the Kollel system.

In insisting on this interpretation, R. Kotler also reworked another well-known (but just as contentious) principle of Rambam that Torah scholars should not be paid by members of the community.[18]

Rambam actually wrote:

“One who makes up his mind to study Torah and not work but live on charity, profanes the name of God, brings the Torah into contempt, extinguishes the light of religion, brings evil upon himself and deprives himself of life hereafter….The end of such a person will be that he will rob his fellow creatures.”[19] 

Yet, despite this, R. Kotler turned Rambam into a modern Chareidi leader who encouraged full-time Kollel students to live off charity.

Kellner sums this up as follows:

“This is stunning; Rabbi Kotler turns Maimonides inside out. The man who...wanted advanced yeshiva students to study science, and the man notorious for his objection
to the practice of paying individuals to study Torah, is transformed into a major prop for an institution, the kollel (an institute for the subsidized study of Talmud by married men), which he [Rambam][20] would have had to oppose!...

Rabbi Kotler has done two things to Maimonides here: turned the referent of our passage from all human beings to some Jews, and found a way to draft Maimonides’ support for the kind of institution which he himself created.”

Kellner makes it clear that he does not believe that R. Aharon Kotler purposely misrepresented Rambam, but even more alarmingly, it shows how:

“Maimonides’ views were not understood, let alone adopted.

The hardwired particularism of Halevi, Kabbalah, Maharal and Hasidism has become so much part of the warp and woof of yeshiva Orthodoxy in the last century that only a rare product of that world can read what Maimonides actually wrote, without seeking to force him into the accepted matrix.”

CONCLUSION:

Rambam’s views are so radical yet little-known and perhaps, intentionally, well-hidden. They turn many of our important mainstream concepts - which most take for granted as being essential elements of Jewish faith - absolutely on their heads. Recognizing this, Kellner observes: 

“If...Maimonides’ overall aim in his writings was...the use of philosophy to purify what he held to be a corrupted and paganized Torah, then he must be adjudged one of great failures in Jewish history.”

Kellner is correct because if Rambam intended to get this message out to the masses, he was an outright failure in this regard. And even if he directed these ideas towards his imagined ‘elite’ group of 'yechidim', then that group was so small and voiceless as to be rendered non-existent to the extent that it was drowned by the floodwaters of mainstream mysticism.

There are so many areas of religious life today that are extremely popular and most people assume these practices have always been part of the uncontested fabric of Judaism. These include the notion of visiting graves, using mezuzot as talismans against tragedy, singing Shalom Aleichem to angels on Friday nights[21], and the professionalization of the rabbinate to mention just a few.

Again, to be absolutely clear, this is not to suggest that these mystical practices, beliefs and protocols should or should not be disbanded, but this does show how Rambam’s view of religion certainly did not take root within popular Judaism.

It is likely that Rambam never intended for his views to become mainstream, but it is unlikely that he imagined his views to vanish almost entirely from Jewish practice, to essentially become a ‘lost religion’.

It is in this sense that one might say that to the delight of the many and the disappointment of the few, Rambam’s model of Judaism turned out to be the grandest practical failure in rabbinic history.




[1] One would also include Rambam’s Iggeret or Ma’amar Techiyat haMeitim, which he wrote in 1191 in response to the Gaon Ali of Baghdad, who had accused Rambam of not believing in the Revival of the Dead. It is a fair assumption that each subsequent work in time expressed Rambam’s deeper and more personalised thoughts.
[2] Ma’amar Techiyat haMeitim 370
[3] Maimonides’ Disputed Legacy, by Menachem Kellner.
[4] It is so interesting to see how modern Chasidim take a very similar approach and have also developed a degree of, not rational but mystical elitism:
When R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi, the first Chabad Rebbe was released from prison, he demanded that Chasidim act humbly as a result of the victory of his release, and not look down or sneer at the opponents of Chasidut.
Generations, later, the Frerdiker Rebbe added; that means even a sneer of Kedusha or holiness, meaning looking down on someone because you are privileged to be following a more sophisticated path in the service of Hashem.
[5] Kellner explains this to mean: “Maimonides can fairly be said to have maintained that the election of Israel was not a fact built into the universe or its history from creation, but, rather, a consequence of the fact that Abraham was the first person to rediscover God.” (See link for more elaboration on this.)
[6] Parenthesis mine.
[7] Parenthesis mine.
[8] Parenthesis mine.
[10] Rambam also maintained that one cannot change G-d’s mind through supplications and prayer. He amended the Talmudic statement which said ‘just like He is merciful so shall you be merciful’ to rather read ‘called merciful’ as he refused to engage in detailed speculation on matters concerning G-d.
[11] In the way in which these ideas are normally expressed.
[12] Not everyone holds this position, as there are also kabbalistic commentaries on the Zohar.
[13] Parenthesis mine.
[14] Guide I, Pines (Chicago 1963), p.9.
[15] See Mishnat Rabbi Aharon (Lakewood 1992), vol. 3, p. 147.
[16] See here.
[17] The full text reads:
“Not only the Tribe of Levi, but each and every individual human being, whose spirit moves him and whose knowledge gives him understanding to set himself apart in order to stand before the Lord, to serve Him, to worship Him, and to know Him, who walks upright as God created him to do, and releases himself from the yoke of the many foolish considerations which trouble people—such an individual is as consecrated as the Holy of Holies, and his portion and inheritance shall be in the Lord forever and ever. The Lord will grant him adequate sustenance in this world, the same as He had granted to the priests and to the Levites.” (Laws of Sabbatical Year and Jubilee, 13:12-13).
[18] See Rambam’s commentary to M. Avot IV.6.  
[19] Laws of Torah Study, 3:1.
[20] Parenthesis mine.
[21] And Machnisei Rachamim at the end of the Selichot service.

Sunday, 8 December 2019

254) TOSAFOT – DIALECTICS OF THE NATIONS?



‘DIALEKTICA SHEL GOYIM’ and ‘LIMMUD SHEL NITZACHON’ – Sefer Chasidim:


INTRODUCTION:

Those who have studied Gemara would know that Tosafot is arguably the most complex and challenging section of Talmudic commentary. There is an intense to and fro of technical questions, answers and compromises to difficult hypotheses – all this in an argumentative style known as dialectics. These legal and theoretical dialectics are almost mathematically precise in their structure.

We know the names of 44 Baalei haTosafot. But we do not actually know how the Tosafist literature printed in our standard Talmudic versions (known as Tosafot shelanu) came to be selected. The determining factor may well have been as random as the price and availability of manuscripts.[1]

This dialectic form of crisp analysis, as practised by the Tosafist rabbis of northern France and Germany, became the hallmark of Tosafist literature. The Tosafist period was spawned by Rashi (1040-1105) and continued for over two hundred years ending with R. Meir of Rothenburg (d. 1293).

Being such an integral component of Talmud study, it comes as a surprise that this very ‘Talmudic’ style of learning appears to have some of its origins in the non-Jewish cultural milieu within the same time period as the Tosafists, and also within the same geographical area. In fact, there is research which shows that the characteristically Tosafist technique of dialectical argumentation may have its stylistic roots in the French cathedral schools of that period!

Contemporaneous rabbinical literature refers to the dialectics of the Tosafists as ‘dialektica shel goyim’- the dialectics of the gentiles.

I have drawn from Rabbi Professor Ephraim Kanarfogel from Yeshiva University who (besides having a passion for trains) is regarded as one of the foremost experts in the field of rabbinic literature and medieval Jewish history, particularly the Tosafist period.[2]

CULTURAL INTERCHANGE:

To be clear from the outset, Kanarfogel writes:

“That Jews learned dialectic in a formal way from the Christians is rather doubtful. Even if there were Talmudists who could read Latin to a significant degree—which does not appear to have been the case—there is scant evidence that mainstream Talmudic scholars were actually familiar with the texts of any Christian works of theology or jurisprudence that employed the dialectical method.”

However, Jewish and Christian scholars did interact on various personal levels and did hold discussions in the vernacular about matters of mutual interest. Rashi’s grandson, Rabbeinu Tam, for example, had open and frank dialogues with the Count of Champagne.[3]

Many scholars hold the view that the Tosafists adopted similar dialectical techniques and argumentative methodologies to those prevailing within the Christian community with whom they engaged in discussion and conversation.[4]

According to Kanarfogel, there was sufficient interaction for a two-way exchange to effectively take place. In the course of direct conversation and without necessarily recourse to each other’s texts, Jews taught Christians a form of biblical study based on an interpretation of the Torah, known as peshat (similar in style to Rashi’s commentary) – while Christians influenced the Tosafists in the area of dialectics. These dialectics would have resonated with the Tosafists who would have already been familiar with a similar but less intense form of Talmudic debate and analysis from the earlier Talmudic period.

Kanarfogel writes:

“Indeed, if a circle with a radius of eighty miles or so is drawn around the leading cathedral schools in northern France during the twelfth century (such as Laon, Chartres, Orleans and Paris), the most important Tosafist study halls in northern France can also be found within the limits of that circle.”

THE ‘SHOULDERS OF GIANTS’ PARABLE:

The Italian Tosafist Yeshaya di Trani (d. 1240) also known as Rid, speaks of a parable which he heard from, what he calls, ‘the philosophers’ about ‘a dwarf standing on the shoulders of giants’. Although the dwarf is shorter than the giant, he can see further than the giant by standing on his shoulders.

He uses this analogy to show that all of the qualified Halachic decisors of his day, including himself, can sometimes rule against the decisions of the earlier rabbis, although the latter were men of far greater stature.[5] This approach was adopted by many other Tosafists as well.[6]

Although obviously, no one has exclusive rights to analogies, it is quite telling that this analogy was first used by Bernard of Chartres[7] (d. 1126) who was a monk and also the chancellor of the cathedral school of Chartres. He used the analogy to show that philosophers in his day could argue with the views of the founding fathers of philosophy and religion.[8]

R. Yeshaya di Trani’s student, Tzidkiya ben Avraham haRofe min haAnavim, writes in his Shibbolei haLeket that this parable originated with non-Jews.[9]

This is one example of a Tosafist acknowledging influence and borrowing from the surrounding culture.

THE MOVE TO DIALECTICS IN THE NON-JEWISH WORLD:

Kanarfogel describes how the shift towards dialectics within the non-Jewish world began within the monastic circles of France and Germany:

“Learned monks assimilated vast amounts of Scripture and its interpretation, as well as Church law and other bodies of knowledge, through their constant and repetitive patterns of reading and review. The monasteries encouraged the study of cannon law as it existed (and even advocated its memorization), without attempting to reconcile seeming contradictions or other textual problems that appeared throughout the corpus. The goal or aim of monastic study was simply to soak up or gather as much material as was to be found, in the broadest possible way.”

Then, at the end of the 10th century, the cathedral schools began to compete with the monasteries for students. A century or so later, the cathedral schools had won their position of dominance within the educational system of the church.

The cathedral schools achieved their victory because of two successful strategies:

Firstly they changed their focus from a traditional to a more contemporary perspective: The earlier monastic schools were situated at traditional and historically evocative locations - whereas the newer cathedral schools appointed charismatic teachers with specific and individualized styles of education. The students were more attracted to the Teacher than to the Location.

Secondly, although still studying the traditional texts, they sought to clarify them and even rectify those that contradicted others. They did this by developing sharp dialectical skills. The student no longer just read or recited the text, but he boldly debated and analysed the text.

This scholastic dialectic became the hallmark of the cathedral schools as evidenced by various works emerging at that time. This ‘revolution’ in teaching was taking place in northern France around the time of the birth of Rashi in Troyes[10] in Champagne, northern France in 1040.

Kanarfogel cites David Knowles who shows that the 11th century Christian canonist, Gratian[11] who authored the Decretum Gratiani “composed an overarching collection...to the dialectical approach...”

I noticed that Gratian’s work is also described as being “presented in the form of a treatise designed to harmonize all the contradictions and inconsistencies existing in the rules accumulated from diverse sources.”[12] 

These could just as easily describe the methodology of Tosafist literature which was beginning to flourish from that same time as well. 

Kanarfogel describes the parallel technique and style of the emerging Tosafist literature as follows:

“Their steady and extensive use of the [dialectical][13]method...as a means of inquiring from and about the texts of the Talmud which then allowed them to suggestively interpret these texts and to issue definitive halakhic conclusions helped the Tosafists to establish their own renaissance, which led to a sea change in the study of Talmud and Jewish law.”

DIALECTICS VS TRADITIONAL STUDY:

The popularity of dialectical study within the cathedral schools was not without controversy which came from the traditionalists who wanted to go back to the old monastic system of textual study as opposed to textual analysis.

One outspoken critic of the new dialectical system was Bishop Stephen of Tournai[14] around the mid-1100s, who wrote:

“Students applaud nothing but novelties, and the masters are more intent on glory than doctrine. Everywhere they draw up new and modern summaries and supporting
commentaries on theology with which they lull and deceive their listeners as if the works of the sacred fathers did not still suffice.”[15]

These new dialectical cathedral schools were thriving with students, who according to one description were:

“...teeming with cavalier students, whose breasts swell with pride in their knowledge, who can dispute, cast doubt, redefine old usage...and have the nerve to contradict and show up their own teachers.”[16]

Interestingly this is also, to some extent, a criticism to this very day levelled against those students of the Tosafist (and pilpul) style who pride themselves predominantly on their dialectical acumen.

In some extreme cases, the Tosafists even suggest that a Talmudic sage (known as an Amora) was mistaken. This has led some to believe that the term Tosafot does not just mean a gloss or commentary on the Talmud, but rather indicates the ability to sometimes expand (Tosafot literally means ‘expansions’) on the Talmud itself.[17]

Bernard of Chartres, being a mystic[18], was very much opposed to the dialectical method of study which was so popular in the cathedral schools and he tried to get students back to the monasteries.  Expressing his disdain for dialectics which he called ‘Babylon,’ he wrote rather tellingly:

“Flee from the midst of this Babylon and save your souls; fly to the cities of refuge [i.e., the monasteries]. You will find much more in the forests than in the books, and the rocks will teach you more than any master.”[19]

THE PARALLEL MOVE TO DIALECTICS IN THE JEWISH WORLD:

The parallels between what had transpired in the Christian world and what was to take place about a century later in the Jewish world are staggering.

Until around the time of the First Crusade (1095-1099) the aim of Torah scholarship was primarily about acquiring as much knowledge of the Talmudic texts as possible. There was little focus on reconciling difficult texts.  This can be seen in the typical Halachic works of the time such as Ma’aseh haGaonim and even with Rashi’s general commentaries on the Torah and Talmud. There was no intense interest in pursuing a dialectical approach to Torah study. This very much corresponded -obviously in style, not in content - to what was taking place in the monastic schools at that time.

FROM NAMES OF PLACES TO NAMES OF TEACHERS:

Following the same pattern as the shift from monastic to cathedral schools, in the past, the Jewish academies of learning were mainly named after their geographical location. With the advent of the Tosafist ‘renaissance’ that all began to change and students started to coalesce around the personality of the teacher, rather than around the ethos of a place of learning. The hallowed halls of study were replaced by hallowed personalities.

The reason for this paradigm shift in approach to learning had to do with the new method of study - namely dialectics. Each teacher had a nuanced style of teaching dialectics and this determined which student would go to which teacher. Of course, this would also have occurred in previous generations as well, but not to the extent that it did during the Tosafist period.

In earlier times (in Ashkenaz – i.e., northern France and Germany), the main Torah academies were situated in Mainz and Worms, which were identified by their location and not by their teachers.

An example of this can be seen in some of the responsa literature[20], where questions were sent to the Yeshiva of Mainz and simply addressed to the unnamed ‘scholars of the city.’ This, despite the fact that great and leading rabbinic figures like Rabbeinu Gershom (960-1040) were being addressed.  The majesty of the locale overshadowed the personalities of its leaders.[21]

However, towards the middle of the 1100s the status quo began to change with the emergence of the Tosafists, and suddenly the teacher became the centre of attraction over the customs and traditions of the venerated location.

Some Spanish scholars were amazed to see how students in Tosafist academies regarded their teachers as peers, and sometimes even emerged victorious over them.[22]

Kanarfogel describes the change of emphasis from locale to teacher as follows:

“In the Tosafist period, a city or town had an important, high-level academy
only when a particular Tosafist or other rabbinic scholar was there. Students
wandered from the study hall of one leading scholar to the study hall of another,
and the rabbinic scholars themselves occasionally changed locales. Thus, for
example, we hear nothing about the academy or study hall in Ramerupt or
Troyes once Rabbenu Tam had departed...

Moreover, the Talmudic comments that were produced in the academies of the Tosafists were referred to as the commentary of Rabbenu Tam or the Tosafot of Ri.”

And, significantly, these changes took place within the Tosafist community a generation or so after they occurred within the cathedral schools, which tend to show some form of stylistic influence.

JEWISH OPPOSITION TO TOSAFIST DIALECTICS:

Just like some of the Christian mystics opposed the shift to more cerebral dialectics, the Jewish mystics of Chasidei Ashkenaz also spoke out with disdain against the dialectical style of the Tosafists.

The Sefer Chassidim of Chasidei Ashkenaz “clearly recognized the dialectical method that was prevalent within Christian learning”.

Sefer Chassidim discouraged the use of pilpul, another form of dialectic study. After the section discouraging students from becoming involved with ‘dialektica shel goyim’, or dialectics of the gentile nations,[23]Sefer Chassidim speaks against any style of learning that involves a one-up-mans-ship or ‘limmud shel nitzachon’, where the study produces a ‘winner.’

The Chasidei Ashkenaz were evidently aware of the emerging influence on the Tosafists, which emanated from a dialectical form of study which was practised in the cathedral schools, where teaching often took the combative form of a disputation.

(On the other hand, there was one aspect of the church that Chassidei Ashkenaz felt worthy of emulation and that was decorum during services which seemed to be lacking from the Jewish prayer services.[24])

NOT ‘AIRTIGHT’ BUT COMPELLING:

Kanarfogel acknowledges that this research is not yet fully ‘airtight’:

“If we had from an earlier period additional explicit texts like the passage in Sefer Hasidim, which clearly points to Jewish awareness of Christian dialectic and its methods, our case would be airtight.”

Nevertheless, the remarkable similarities in dialectical methodology; the coinciding moves from locale to teacher; and the parallel shifts from textual study to textual analysis - all of which were taking place almost simultaneously between the two communities living and interacting in such close proximity - are very compelling.

AN ALTERNATIVE NARRATIVE:

There is, however, an alternative and more ‘traditional’ narrative to Kanarfogel’s model of the emergence of Tosafist dialectical methodology.  

In this account, there is no need to resort to any cultural parallels between Tosafists and cathedral schools:

As a result of Disputation of Paris in 1240, the church burned twenty-four carriage loads containing 12,000 Hebrew manuscripts, in a public square in Paris.[25]

A certain Nicholas Donin, a disenchanted Jewish scholar who had converted to Christianity, translated various controversial Talmudic texts into French and invoked the ire of the church against the Jews. These translations caused Christians to rethink their perceptions of the Jews. The church was now determined to eradicate any vestige of the Talmud forever.

The Tosafists got together and devised a plan to quickly memorise sections of the Talmud. Experts were appointed, each to master a particular section, and thus save the Talmud from being lost to history. Each Tosafist repeated the section of his specialization to his colleague who in turn repeated his section from another volume and the resulting difficulties and contradictions were discussed and debated. This comparison of disputed texts resulted in the dialectics of the Baalei haTosafot as we have them today.

While this is a very moving and fascinating account, the fact remains that this event took place less than fifty years before the end of the Tosafist period which concluded with the passing of R. Meir of Rothenburg in 1293 who apparently witnessed the burning of the books. Considering that the Tosafist period began with Rashi in 1040, this means that there were still about two hundred years of earlier Tosafist activity, before the burning took place.

This narrative, unfortunately, does not account for the earlier very active two hundred-year period during which time the dialectical method of Tosafist study was already clearly well documented and established.

CONCLUSION:

The question as to what extent Jewish movements, in general, are influenced by the environment in which they find themselves will probably never be conclusively and fully resolved. This is because the issues at stake are too high for objective analysis. There will always be those who believe that Jews were consistently living in islands of time and space, never venturing outside of their four cubits, and oblivious of and impervious to the cultural trends surrounding them – and then there will be those who study history who believe that that perception was rarely, if ever, the case.




The Reader may be interested to see two other areas of Jewish thought where the matter of influence is also discussed; See Babylonian Influences on the Babylonian Talmud and Chassidism: a Reaction to – or Product of – Modernity? and Chovot haLevavot – A Sufi Connection?




For more on Chasidei Ashkenaz and the Tosafists, see:


[1] This is why the Tosafot which are printed as separate entities are often longer and more comprehensive than the standard versions in the Gemara. See Dr Ephraim Kanarfogel, The Tosafist Oeuvre and Torah u-Madda.
[2] Ashkenazic Talmudic Interpretation and The Jewish–Christian Encounter, by Ephraim Kanarfogel.
[3] Tosafot ha-Shalem, ed. J. Gellis (Jerusalem MifÊ¿al Tosafot ha-shalem, 1982‒), 1:178, sec. 8.
[4] Eleazar Touitou, Exegesis in Perpetual Motion, and Sara Kamin, Jews; and
Christians Interpret the Bible (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1991), 13‒6; and Michael Signer, “King/Messiah in Rashi’s Exegesis of Psalms 2,” Prooftexts 3 (1983): 273‒278.
[5] Teshuvot ha-Rid le-Rabbenu Yeshayah di-Trani ha-Zaken, responsum 62.
[6] Such as Rabbeinu Yitzchak, the Ri of Dampierre, his student R. Shimshon of Sens, and the brothers of Evreux.
[7] Pronounced ‘Shartr’(if I’m not mistaken)
[8] “We are like dwarfs on the shoulders of giants, so that we can see more than they, and things at a greater distance, not by virtue of any sharpness of sight on our part, or any physical distinction, but because we are carried high and raised up by their giant size.”  (Most of his teachings were recorded by John of Salisbury, see The Metalogicon (1159) bk. 3, ch. 4).
[9] Introduction to Shibbolei haLeket.
[10] Pronounced ‘Tchwa’ (with the ‘ch’ as in ‘chaver,’ if I’m not mistaken).
[11] Although born in Italy, Karnafogel believes Gratian “studied theological dialectic with Abelard in northern France, or was at least familiar with his works.” Peter Abelard (d. 1142) wrote the Sic et Non (Yes and No) and was a master of dialectics.
[12] Encyclopaedia Britannica. See under Gratian.
[13] Parenthesis mine.
[14] Pronounced ‘Toornei.’ Tournai is a city in western Belgium, near the French border.
[15] Chenu, Nature, Man, and Society, 310‒311,
[16] Jaeger, The Envy of Angels, 217,
[17] Dr Ephraim Kanarfogel, The Tosafist Oeuvre and Torah u-Madda.
[18] Although he was also the chancellor of a cathedral school.
[19] J. Le Goff, Intellectuals in the Middle Ages, 21‒22.
[20] That is, the written questions and answers (sheilot uteshuvot) of a Halachik nature.
[21] It’s interesting to note that Rabbeinu Gershom passed away in the same year as Rashi was born – around the time when the shift from locale to teacher was beginning to take place.
[22] Dr Ephraim Kanarfogel, The Tosafist Oeuvre and Torah u-Madda.
[23] Haym Soloveitchik, “Three Themes in the Sefer Ḥasidim.”
[24] Moshe Hallamish, “Siḥat Ḥullin be-Beit ha-Knesset: 226‒227.
[25] The actual burning took place two years later in 1242.