Читать книгу The Essential Agus - Steven T. Katz - Страница 26

LOOKING at the total spectrum of Jewish ethics, one sees that the popular notion, that the Law governs every question in Judaism, is a fallacy. There were indeed times when nearly all creative principles were locked into the rigid categories of an all-embracing law that was presumed to be God-given. But pan-halachism is more characteristic of extremist Orthodoxy in the modern period than of the premodern tradition. In the Talmud the cast-iron logic of legalism was balanced by several factors—the projection of an ethical domain “beyond the law” (lifnim mishurat hadin), the recognition of the validity of the mores and morals of civilized humanity (derech eretz), and by the mystical or philosophical notions that were cultivated in esoteric circles. As late as the sixteenth century, when the Shulhan Aruch was codified, the realm of Perfection beyond the Law was cultivated in pietistic and mystical literature.

Throughout the medieval period, the inner tensions within the Jewish community did not disrupt the façade of unity. There were recurrent struggles in the thirteenth century between those who favored the rationalism of Maimonides and those who insisted on unquestioning faith. Later, the Qabbalah impressed its theosophic and mystery-mongering seal upon the piety of some localities, while other regions rejected it in part, if not entirely. However, prior to the upsurge of Hassidism, the popular mystical movement of the eighteenth century, these disputes did not split the communal organization. After the first two generations, even the Hassidic-rationalist controversy was largely resolved.

The centripetal force that prevented the fragmentation of the scattered community was the authority of the Talmudic law, which remained unchallenged until the nineteenth century. The Qaraite rebellion against the Talmud and against the Gaonic-Exilarchate hierarchy hardly touched the Jews of Christian Europe, and in the Near East it declined steadily. The law of the Talmud was loose-jointed, allowing for considerable flexibility and adjustment to local conditions. In Western and Central Europe, there was no concrete social focus to attract the rebellious, since there was no self-perpetuating hierarchy. And the rabbinate was not so closely allied with political power as to be corrupted by it. In addition, the persistent pressure of a hostile environment served to cement the beleaguered community and to restrain the divisive forces within it.

With the dawn of the emancipation, Jewish people plunged avidly into the streams of secular thought. In a short time, the incisive criticism of modern philosophy and the scientific approach to the study of religions made their impact upon the Jewish community. Today the Reform Jews no longer regard the Law as divinely revealed and eternally valid. They accept the dynamic moral-religious impetus behind the façade of the Law—not the details of its prescriptions. The Conservatives accept some ritual laws and negate others, on the ground that the living community must be the judge as well as the custodian of the heritage from the past. Even those sections of the Law that they accept, the Conservatives regard as divinely inspired in essence, not in detail. The entire tradition bears the contingent marks of its human, historical formulations. For the Conservatives, the legal pattern of rituals is a series of regulations, which the historic “congregation of Israel” accepted, as if it were ordained by God. This pious rhetoric reflects a twofold truth: first, all that is done “for the sake of His Name in love” is “revealed,” or “inspired,” since our love derives from Him and leads to Him; second, the dedicated community of Israel is a vehicle of the Divine Presence (Shechinah), and its authorized spokesmen reflect the unity of God, Israel, and Torah. Rabbinic ordinances and interpretations were therefore considered to be authoritative only when the people accepted them.

For the Orthodox today then, Jewish ethics tends to merge into the accepted code of laws (Shulhan Arukh). However, Orthodoxy too cannot be of one mind, since the Law is part of a more complex tradition. The various parties within Orthodoxy derive their inspiration from the diverse streams within that tradition.

The ultra-Orthodox, led by the Grand Rabbi Joel Taitelbaum, are most uncompromising. They regard the State of Israel as the product of a sinful rebellion against the injunction to wait for the Messiah.¹ Less intransigent but still uncompromising are the pietists of the Agudat Yisroel, who conduct an independent school system in the State of Israel. The Mizrachi in Israel and the “modern Orthodox” in America seek to effect a “synthesis” between the modern realm of ideas and the Talmudic ways of thought. Naturally, they too are in agreement only on basic issues.

In view of the wide divergence of basic beliefs among Jews, the façade of unity that communal organizations present from time to time is utterly misleading. For example, there are basic differences about such issues as the saying of nondenominational prayers in public schools, the question of federal support for Church-related educational institutions, the morality of artificial birth-control methods, etc. The semblance of unity on these social questions is imposed by “interdenominational” councils within the Jewish community; these organizations were, as a rule, set up originally in order to combat anti-Semitism. In regard to the question of nondenominational prayers in public schools, Rabbi Shnaiurson, head of the Liubavich Hassidic dynasty, was more “liberal” than the “nondenominational” public-relations experts, who are frequently Jewish only in a marginal, ethnic sense. He based his position favoring prayer-assemblies in the school upon the ancient principle of the “Seven Noachide Commandments,” which makes the acknowledgement of a Supreme Being mandatory for people of all creeds.

An analysis of the inner dynamics of Jewish ethics does not reveal a monolithic philosophy of life. It is possible to resolve the tension between the Vision and the Way by choosing any one of many positions within the ethical-religious polarity. Tolerance of differences is a marked characteristic of rabbinic discussions—“these and these are the words of the Living God.”² A broad consensus on any one issue may emerge at any one time, but we can hardly dignify any one synthesis as being the Jewish, or the “normative” one.

However, some sort of equilibrium between the Vision and the Way is inescapable; the moment the tension is broken altogether, and moral energy is drained into one of the two polarities, then the characteristic dynamics of Judaism cease to be operative. Thus, the portrayal of Orthodoxy as sheer dry legalism, or as unrestrained mysticism, would be a caricature. There is no law in Judaism, either in the relation of man to man or in the relation of man to God, that is not complemented by the surge of creative love, for man as well as for God. By the same token, there is no constructive and enduring love that is not restrained by the laws that emerge out of the structuring of society, and out of earlier crystallizations of Divine Word. Apart from the context of religious tradition, the moral tension is between empathy, or love, and an objective view of the good society; philosophically, the polarity is between the subjective quest of Utopia and the rational laws of right and wrong; socially, there must be tension at any one time between the existing pattern of the community and the Vision of Perfection. And truth is in the tension, or rather in the process whereby personal and social growth is maintained.