Saturday, November 1, 2003

Godol Hador November '03

Saturday, November 01, 2003

New Slifkin Article

[Hat tip Mis-nagid. This is pretty interesting stuff. It compares Slifkin to the Salem Witch Trials. Just right for Halloween! My comments in square parentheses]

SLIFKIN, SALEM, AND THE SENATOR:
A Path to Understanding and Healing


It is now about a year since the “Slifkin Affair” erupted. During that time, many aspects of this unfortunate episode have been debated. The most common area of discussion has been the core topics of Torah vs. Science – the age of the universe and the fallibility of the scientific pronouncements of the Talmud. Others have approached this episode from different angles, such as the halachic extent of rabbinic authority or the viability of book banning.

While all these analyses shed light on the situation, a number of curious aspects still require examination. These include, but are not limited to:

• The insistence that Rabbi Slifkin not just retract his books but also publicly recant his views;
• Some of the most vigorous condemnations of Rabbi Slifkin coming from those who had been formerly sympathetic to his approach;
• The extremely long life of this episode (as compared to, say, the ban on Making Of A Godol or One People, Two Worlds) and its sheer hysteria.

Perhaps these and many other aspects of the Slifkin affair can be understood by making a sociological analysis. In particular, we should study it in light of previous, similar events in history. Such has been the approach of others who have tried to make sense of strange periods:

The reason I think that I moved in that direction [of explaining the situation in terms of a similar situation of three hundreds years earlier] was that it was simply impossible any longer to discuss what was happening to us in contemporary terms. There had to be some distance, given the phenomena.

These words were written by the playwright Arthur Miller in the 1950s, when Senator Joseph McCarthy led a reign of terror in which people were charged with the crime of being Communists. They had to confess and name other people guilty of the crime, or face imprisonment. It is difficult for those who did not live in that era to comprehend the sheer hysteria of those times. Miller, himself charged as a Communist conspirator, finally made sense of the madness by realizing its similarities to the witch-hunt of Salem, and wrote a famous play on this theme entitled The Crucible. In 1692 the Massachusetts village of Salem saw a charge of devilry which initiated the witch hunt that made the term famous. Hundreds of people were accused of witchcraft; they either had to publicly confess and name their co-conspirators, or face execution. Many were imprisoned, and ultimately nineteen men and women were hung. As Miller wrote:

I had known this story since my college years and I’d never understood why it was so attractive to me. Now it suddenly made sense. It seemed to me that the hysteria in Salem had a certain inner procedure or several which we were duplicating once again, and that perhaps by revealing the nature of that procedure some light could be thrown on what we were doing to ourselves.

As we shall see, there can be no doubt that, despite significant differences, there are fundamental similarities between the Slifkin Affair and both the witch-hunts of Salem and the era of Senator McCarthy. Analyzing it in light of both sheds much illumination, and may even help heal some of the scars.

Prelude: Establishing the Differences
Before discussing the similarities between these episodes, it is important to note a fundamental difference. With both Salem and McCarthy, the persecutors enjoyed universal official support. With the Slifkin affair, on the other hand, nothing could have been further from the case.

The ban on Rabbi Slifkin’s books was met with widespread opposition within the Charedi world at many levels. Not just laymen, but many rabbanim strongly disputed both the content and process (or lack thereof). Several of the most prominent Gedolim did not attach their signatures to the ban and implicitly opposed it. And, of course, two of the most important rabbinic authorities in the US had written endorsements for the books and opposed the ban. Some would have predicted that the official organs of the Charedi world would have leapt to endorse the ban. But although the Israeli Yated Ne’eman did so, and began the publicity of the ban, the U.S. newspapers did not do so, and their silence was deafening. Both HaModia and the U.S. Yated Ne’eman – the two major newspapers in the Charedi world – refused to print any condemnations against the books. The Jewish Observer likewise kept silent. The Council of Torah Sages of the Agudas Yisroel of America issued no statement in support of the ban, and the spokespeople of the Agudas Yisroel had no comment. The apologetic journalists and outreach workers that usually leap to defend controversial aspects of the Charedi world did not discuss the matter, and it was obvious that they fervently wished it had never happened. Even secular newspapers that reported the controversy, such as The New York Times, Moment and Ha’aretz, noticed that this was not a dispute between Ultra-Orthodoxy and Modern Orthodoxy, despite the obvious temptation to portray it that way. Rather, they observed that there was a split within the ultra-Orthodox world.

One of the many intriguing aspects of the Slifkin Affair is how supporters of the ban spoke of “the Gedolim,” as though there was some kind of authoritative body of Gedolim that reached a unanimous consensus. The reality was that, as noted earlier, the official body of Gedolim that does exist – the Agudas Yisroel – did not endorse the ban. Many Gedolim opposed the ban. Furthermore, many of those who did sign were virtually unknown figures that were not considered Gedolim until they signed the ban.

It seems that whichever is the most vocal and distinctive group acquires the label of “the Gedolim.” This is especially true when it includes the single scholar currently considered by some (but not Chassidim, Sefardim, the Modern Orthodox, Briskers, and numerous others) to be the undisputed Gadol HaDor. To counteract this disingenuous terminology, we shall refer either to “these Gedolim” or “The Gedolim” with a capital “T.” (The questions of the difference between a talmid chacham and a “Gadol,” and of which areas of knowledge and other aptitudes qualify one as a Gadol, are fascinating and relevant but must be left aside for now.) Thus, the opposition to Rabbi Slifkin’s books cannot be considered to have been a universal or official phenomenon, as was the case with Salem and McCarthy. Nevertheless, the similarities are most significant and are worth studying. In fact, although many people opposed the ban due to their rationalist approach to Torah and science, others who had no position on this issue (or who were even opposed to such an approach) nevertheless opposed the ban precisely because they understood it to be a witch-hunt.

The Empowerment of Zealotry
The persecution in Salem was spearheaded by young girls. They attained the power to name people who were supposedly in league with the Devil – and they exercised it, eagerly naming those who were to be hung. Yet these girls did not begin as fundamentally evil people. One must realize that to be a young girl in seventeenth century Salem was to be on the lowest rung of the social ladder; employed as little more than a slave and being on the receiving end of whippings. When they gained the attention of the most senior people in the state, they found new meaning in life. Christopher Bigsby, a professor of American Studies who wrote the introduction to The Crucible, explains:

Those usually deprived of power… suddenly gain access to an authority as absolute as that which had previously subordinated them. Those ignored by history become its motor force… Those whose opinions and perceptions carried neither personal nor political weight suddenly acquire an authority so absolute that they come to feel they can acknowledge even the representatives of the state.

Richard H. Rovere wrote likewise in his biography of McCarthy:

At the start of 1950, McCarthy was an empty vessel to the general public outside Wisconsin. There he was known as a cheap politician of vulgar, flamboyant ways and a casual approach to the public interest. It is unlikely that one in a hundred Americans knew of his existence. He was a voice making no sound in the wilderness. Then, on February 9, 1950, he made a speech in Wheeling, West Virginia, in the course of which he said that the Department of State was full of Communists and that he and the Secretary of State knew their names… He had been talking through his hat; if there were Communists in the State Department, he did not know who they were. Nevertheless, he had cued himself in. The lights played over him. Eyes were upon him. The show was his.

The same common element can be discerned with many of the zealots involved in attacking Rabbi Slifkin’s books:

• The initiator was a former convicted criminal who shortly afterwards had an
investigation opened against him for another major fraud; [Leib Pinter]
• The chief engineer of the campaign is the grandson of a famous Rosh Yeshivah and Holocaust hero, and the son of a Rosh Yeshivah, yet he himself has failed to acquire any sort of career; [Yaakov Kalmanowitz]
• The hard work of accumulating signatures in the US was done by a young person whose father was an important figure in a prominent yeshivah, but who himself suffers an unpleasant job as a teacher in a low-ranking yeshivah; [Reuby Shmeltzer?]
• Vitriolic written and oral attacks on Rabbi Slifkin, in the name of defending Rabbi Moshe Shapiro, were carried out by an educator in whose circles the ultimate accolade is to be a disciple of Rabbi Shapiro, but who has never earned that title himself. [David Orlofsky]

It seems likely that all these people possess a deep insecurity relating to their failure to accomplish that which was expected of them in life (or which they perceived as being expected of them). But by becoming Guardians of the Faith, Defenders of the Realm, and Knights of The Gedolim, they were able to feel that they had made something of themselves. When someone who has never filled his father’s shoes can announce to the Gedolim in America, “I am a sheliach of Rav Moshe Shapiro, being lochem milchemes Hashem!” there is an empowerment that makes him feel important. [Wow, pretty sharf!]

The Redemption of Zealotry
It was striking that after the ban was publicized, some of Rabbi Slifkin’s most zealous new critics were those who, in one way or another, had previously been in his camp:

• A certain American Rosh Yeshivah spent months trying to prevent and defuse the ban. Yet, after a prolonged visit to Israel, he then dramatically changed his stance and wrote a lengthy justification of the ban. [Aharon Feldman]
• One of the signatories to the ban had previously delivered an assurance to Rabbi Slifkin that he would not sign it, and was known to be sympathetic to those in such predicaments. Not only did he later sign it, but he even condemned Rabbi Slifkin (albeit not by name) at the Siyum HaShas in Madison Square Garden, when he condemned those who disgrace the memory of Holocaust martyrs by seeking “makeshift solutions” to problems in the Talmud rather than unquestioningly accepting it. [Mattisyahu Solomon]
• A rabbi who delivered a vicious and sweeping attack on Rabbi Slifkin’s approach to science had previously dealt with some Ask-the-Rabbi questions in which he had personally recommended Rabbi Slifkin’s books – and these were still hosted on his website while he was delivering his attack! [David Orlofsky]

One can understand, and even commend, somebody changing their mind – but why go to the other extreme so drastically? There are two potential themes at play here. One is that, as Bigsby explains regarding Salem, those who feel guilty for their deeds, words or thoughts can find atonement in condemning others for those very same things: The witch-hunt was not, however, a mere repression. It was also, and as importantly, a long overdue opportunity for everyone so inclined to express publicly his guilt and sins, under the cover of accusations against the victims. But perhaps another dynamic is more relevant; the desire to align oneself with The Gedolim, to eagerly show that one is part of the team. What replaces the sense of natural community…

is a sense of participating in a ritual, of conformity to a ruling orthodoxy and hence a hostility to those who threaten it. The purity of one’s religious principles is confirmed by collaborating, at least by proxy, in the punishment of those who reject them. (Bigsby)


This explains other curious outbursts that took place this year:

• One of the most distinguished rabbinic authorities in Jerusalem penned an extreme letter in which he denounced scientists as evil heretics and belief in an old universe as sacrilege. This occurred after it became publicized, to his dismay, that in a din Torah many years previously he had (albeit reluctantly) permitted a certain Orthodox Jewish scientist to teach a reconciliation of Genesis with science. [Moshe Shternbuch]
• An entire series of lectures denouncing Rabbi Slifkin and his books was delivered by a certain Rosh Yeshivah. This person has for many years been trying to disassociate himself from his Modern Orthodox past, and was, to put it in his own words, “placed in an awkward position” when it became known that his name appeared in the acknowledgments to one of Rabbi Slifkin’s books. [Moshe Meiselman]

In these and other cases, it was very necessary for people to go to extremes in order to prove to others their purity and allegiance to the system.

The Absurdity of Confession
A key feature of the campaign to denounce Rabbi Slifkin’s books was the claim that the haskamot (rabbinic approbations) had been retracted. It is difficult to clarify the precise facts of the situation, but they seem to be as follows: The letter of condemnation stated that the haskamot were retracted. When this was written, none of the eight haskamot had been retracted and most of the rabbinic authorities who endorsed the book had not even heard that there were any objections. After the hysteria erupted, the more senior of them attested that they still stand by their endorsements, but some of the less senior rabbis involved who are disciples of Rabbi Moshe Shapiro and Rabbi Elya Weintraub (two of the most forceful opponents of the books) did issue retractions of their haskamot. But how can an approbation be retracted?

In theory, it could mean that the rabbi had rethought his approach to the topic and decided that his first understanding of it was mistaken. But a haskamah on books as clearly controversial as these is not written on a whim – it is granted after serious thought. Thus, even if the rabbi writing the haskamah subsequently changes his mind, there clearly was a good case for writing a haskamah to the book. And this is all the more true if a book receives numerous haskamot, as Rabbi Slifkin’s books did. To avoid this implication (and/or perhaps for other reasons), Rabbi Shapiro apparently instructed his disciples to write that they had not actually read the books in the first place and were merely relying on the author’s reputation and the undisputed value of his previous works; and that when they were shown what the books actually say, they realized their error. Yet this is clearly fallacious. These books were obviously at least potentially controversial, and the rabbis who wrote haskamot must have known exactly what they were signing to. Even if they did not read every word, it is ludicrous to suggest that they did not know that the books stated that the world is billions of years old and that Chazal’s science can be questioned.

In any case, not only had the rabbis indeed read the books that they endorsed, but their subsequent “retraction” clearly had nothing to do with any real change of mind on their part. The rabbis who wrote haskamot are highly unlikely to have suddenly decided that an approach which they warmly endorsed, and which has been used amongst the secularly educated for decades, is actually absolute and utter heresy. No; there is a much simpler, indeed a blindingly obvious, explanation. They retracted their haskamot out of deference to their rebbe and/or out of fear for their reputation. Arthur Miller, despite having written The Crucible as a protest to McCarthyism, admitted how difficult it was to maintain one’s integrity when summoned before the Committee:

We were all going slightly crazy trying to be honest and trying to see straight and trying to be safe. Sometimes there are conflicts in these three urges.

And Bigsby, describing how witch-hunts still occur today:

…groundless accusations are still granted credence, hysteria still claims its victims, persecution still masquerades as virtue and prejudice as piety… The witch-finder is ever vigilant, and who would not rather direct his attention to others than stand, in the heat of the day, and challenge his authority?

This is all fairly obvious to most people. The idea of the haskamot on these books being retracted is bizarre and further highlights the strangeness of the situation. In The Crucible, John Proctor, who is defending those accused of devilry, tries to make a similar point to Reverend Hale, who has given expert opinion as to their guilt:

PROCTOR: I never knew until tonight that the world is gone daft with this nonsense.
HALE: “Nonsense”?! Mister, I have myself examined Tituba, Sarah Good, and numerous others that have confessed to dealing with the Devil. They have confessed it.
PROCTOR: And why not, if they must hang for denyin’ it? There are them that will swear to anything before they’ll hang; have you never thought of that?


Yet the retractions of the haskamot, despite their obvious transparency, were nonetheless a critical part of the ban on the books. This is related to another theme which we shall now explore: public confession.

The Importance of Public Confession
In his autobiography, Arthur Miller writes about an important aspect that was identical in both the McCarthy hearings and the Salem witch-hunt:

The main point of the hearings precisely as in seventeenth-century Salem, was that the accused make public confession… the same spiritual nugget lay folded within both procedures – an act of contrition done not in solemn privacy but out in the public air.

The very same phenomenon occurred here. According to Rabbi Slifkin, when he was contacted by those that orchestrated the ban, they did not merely demand that he pull his books from the shelves. They firmly insisted that he also publicly recant his views. Now, this clearly shows that their desire was not to suppress heresy. After all, the best way to prevent people from reading the books is to quietly remove them from the market. Instead, there was an importance in confession – of Rabbi Slifkin not merely being condemned, but of personally admitting the error of his ways in public. The same occurred with the rabbis who had endorsed Slifkin’s work. It was vital to the zealots that these scholars publicly admit that they made a mistake. Nobody should be so naïve as to think that the zealots were acting out of concern for the dignity of these scholars. Nor was it to maintain the façade of unity in the Orthodox world. Rather, the zealots wanted to grant themselves dignity, to feel vindicated in their campaign.

Grasping at Straws
In The Crucible, Arthur Miller tells of how in the hunt to convict Proctor’s wife of witchcraft, his servant-girl Mary Warren was found to possess a “poppet” (dolls that could be used for voodoo). Deputy Governor Danforth and Reverend Parris began to smell victory:

DANFORTH: While you worked for Mr. Proctor, did you see poppets in the house?
ABIGAIL: Goody Proctor always kept poppets.
PROCTOR: Your Honor, my wife never kept no poppets. Mary Warren confesses it was her poppet.
CHEEVER: Your Excellency.
DANFORTH: Mr. Cheever.
CHEEVER: When I spoke with Goody Proctor in that house, she said she never kept no poppets. But she said that she did keep poppets when she were a girl.
HATHORNE: But a poppet will keep fifteen years, will it not?
PROCTOR: It will keep if it is kept, but Mary Warren swears she never saw no poppets in my house, nor anyone else.
PARRIS: Why could there not have been poppets hid where no one ever saw them?
PROCTOR, furious: There might also be a dragon with five legs in my house, but no one has ever seen it.
PARRIS: We are here, Your Honor, precisely to discover what no one has ever seen.


In a witch-hunt, nothing is too far-fetched to be used as damning evidence. Nothing is too insignificant. This is because the goal is not to perform a sincere investigation, but to produce the desired verdict. This helps explain some of the strange activity that took place after the ban. Supporters of these Gedolim scoured all Rabbi Slifkin’s writings for anything that would help support the verdict that had already been proclaimed upon his books. Of course, since Rabbi Slifkin is an extremely prolific writer and deals with difficult topics, and has also been involved in Internet discussion groups where all kinds of ideas are tossed out for debate, it was not too difficult to use Google to find material to use against him. Yet since these Gedolim had ruled that Rambam’s approach to Chazal is (nowadays) kefirah, and Rabbi Slifkin freely admitted to using Rambam’s approach, then that is all that need be charged regarding Rabbi Slifkin. However, what we find instead is a desperate attempt to find additional things in Rabbi Slifkin’s writings upon which to hang the charge of heresy. Some even sought to discredit Rabbi Slifkin on a personal level, as though attacking his personality or his reaction to the ban somehow explains why Rambam’s approach to Chazal is kefirah. This seems to reflect a lack of confidence in the position of these Gedolim even on the part of their supporters, and an overwhelming desire to reinforce the verdict using any means possible.

The Siege Mentality

PROCTOR, handing Danforth a paper: Will you read this first, sir? It’s a sort of testament. The people signing it declare their good opinion of Rebecca, and my wife, and Martha Corey…
PARRIS, sweating: These people should be summoned. Danforth looks up at him questioningly. For questioning.
FRANCIS, trembling with anger: Mr. Danforth, I gave them all my word no harm would come to them for signing this.
PARRIS: This is a clear attack upon the court!
HALE, to Parris, trying to contain himself: Is every defense an attack upon the court?


Perhaps the strongest indicator of the madness that took over was in the descriptions that certain people gave of events. Some Jerusalem educators spoke in horrified terms of how Rabbi Slifkin was “attacking” The Gedolim. This was an extraordinary way of perceiving the situation. These Gedolim effectively declared Rabbi Slifkin to be a heretic, banned his books, prohibited him from teaching, and probably permanently ruined his life in the Charedi world. Rabbi Slifkin responded with an extremely mild, respectful and concise defense on his website. Yet this was described as an “attack on the Gedolim”! Some people actually explicitly stated that any refusal to abide by the ruling of The Gedolim is by definition “an attack”! Others went even further. “Torah Community Under Attack Again” was the title of one essay defending these Gedolim [David Orlofsky]. This was perverse in two ways. First, as discussed, it was the so-called Torah community’s side that launched the attack, declaring the beliefs of vast numbers of Orthodox Jews to be heretical. Second, as noted earlier, major segments of the Torah community itself were critical of the ban. (This itself is likely to have contributed to the hysteria of the ban’s supporters; they must have panicked upon discovering that they were not enjoying widespread support.) Such talk of “attacks” belies a deep paranoia, a siege mentality where “we” are constantly under attack by “them.” This is a general feature of Charedi society as a whole, but it came into particularly sharp focus here.

The Power of the Internet

[The Crucible] is a study of a society that believes in its unique virtues and seeks to sustain that dream of perfection by denying all possibility of its imperfection. (Bigsby)

Although Rabbi Slifkin’s response was only a mild defense, its very existence was enough to plunge the supporters of these Gedolim into a panic. For it was something that theoretically was not supposed to exist. Rabbi Slifkin’s refusal to obey the Daas Torah of The Gedolim was an even greater heresy than his questioning the science of Chazal. Those who subscribe to the myth of the infallibility of The Gedolim support themselves with the idea that nobody ever disputes their ruling. Charedi newspapers never print dissenting views. Rabbi Slifkin’s refusal to accept the ban on his writings (along with his own rabbinic advisors, a fact that was conveniently overlooked) became far more problematic by the posting of his defense on his website. With previous persecutions, there had never been any way for the defendant to make his position known. The newspapers certainly would never give voice to his side. But in this instance the Internet made it possible for the defendant’s case to reach thousands of people.

Nor was this defense solely presented by Rabbi Slifkin. This was the year when the word “blog” was the most looked-up word in the dictionary. Dozens of these internet journals discussed the Slifkin Affair at great length, and for at least three it seems to have been their raison d’être.2 Some contained respectful and restrained discussion of the issues, while others delivered sharp criticism, stinging insults and biting satire. [Godol Hador!!!! Finally, I get a mention] The followers of The Gedolim didn’t know what to do with themselves. For the first time there were dissenting voices making themselves heard within their own camp (many Charedi homes have access to the Internet). The European Yated Ne’eman, which printed the condemnation of Rabbi Slifkin and also has a website, suddenly found that thousands of people were becoming aware of its slanderous lies and distortions – there was even a blog entitled Pravda Ne’eman that solely focused on this task. Incredibly, not only did the Yated not ignore it – it produced several editorials attempting to defend its policies from the scathing attacks of the anonymous bloggers. Like Salem, Charedi society believes in its unique virtues and seeks to sustain that dream of perfection by denying all possibility of its imperfection. It cannot cope with the dissemination of criticism enabled by the Internet.

The Impossibility of Resolution
Many messy details about the ban became known shortly after it was issued. Some of the signatories to the condemnation had not actually signed that text at all, but rather a far milder version which they had been told would only be shown to the publisher. Others had been told that Rabbi Slifkin refused to meet The Gedolim – the exact opposite of the truth. Many had been fed a story about students that had dropped out of Judaism after reading Rabbi Slifkin’s books, a story that was subsequently proved to be fictional. In light of these and other revelations, there was an assumption that the ban would be retracted, or at least modified (for example to state that the books were only forbidden for a certain audience). Yet no such retraction happened, and nor is it likely that any such retraction will occur anytime soon. It took three hundred years for the Massachusetts General Court to acknowledge its guilt for all those that had died in the Salem witch hunt. Bigsby explains:

Why should it have taken so long to acknowledge error? …Perhaps because the needs of justice and the necessity for sustaining the authority of the court have not always been coincident and because there will always be those who defend the latter, believing that by doing so they sustain the possibility of the former. Perhaps because there are those who believe that authority is all of a piece and that to challenge it anywhere is to threaten it everywhere.

The ban on Rabbi Slifkin’s books was prompted by the fear that to challenge the authority of the Sages anywhere is to threaten it everywhere. The desperation for defending the ban, even in light of its obvious wrongs in both content and procedure, is due to the belief that to challenge the authority of The Gedolim anywhere is to threaten it everywhere.

The Fundamental Dynamics
Miller explains the fundamental societal dynamics that made the Salem witch-hunt possible:

The Salem tragedy… developed from a paradox. It is a paradox in whose grip we still live, and there is no prospect yet that we will discover its resolution. Simply, it was this: for good purposes, even high purposes, the people of Salem developed a theocracy, a combine of state and religious power whose function was to keep the community together, and to prevent any kind of disunity that might open it to destruction by material or ideological enemies. It was forged for a necessary purpose and accomplished that purpose. But all organization is and must be grounded on the idea of exclusion and prohibition, just as two objects cannot occupy the same space. Evidently the time came in New England when the repressions of order were heavier than seem warranted by the dangers against which the order was organized. The witch-hunt was a perverse manifestation of the panic which set in among all classes when the balance began to turn toward greater personal freedom.

Rabbi Slifkin apparently believed that he was merely collecting some little-known approaches of various Rishonim and Acharonim. He and his defenders seem to have missed the true “heresy” of his books. It is not in his belief of the great age of the universe, or the fallibility of Chazal’s scientific pronouncements; though apparently that was all Rav Elyashiv needed for his verdict. Rather, his “heresy” is in his fundamental approach. Maimonides considered his Guide for the Perplexed to be a life-saver, but it was truly lethal for many Jews in Europe. Hirsch genuinely rated his approach to Chazal and to life as the ideal that all should strive towards, but others were simply not equipped to handle it. Rabbi Slifkin was correct in detecting that there are many people in the Charedi world that need a Maimonidean/ Hirschian approach, but he and his mentors erred in believing that he would get away with it. There is no official room for a rational approach in a society that depends upon irrationalism for its very survival. Rabbi Slifkin’s mistake is understandable; after all, Rambam and Hirsch are venerated in that society. But this is only lip-service; in practice, their approach is considered unacceptable. One of the many ramifications of the Slifkin Affair is that many thousands of people who were ostensibly part of Charedi society – even rabbis – suddenly woke up to the fact that their attitudes and beliefs are not consistent with the vocal leadership of that society. As The New York Times reported:

Rabbi Adlerstein of Loyola said: “I know rabbis, I know teens in yeshivas who were on the verge of quitting” when the letter first came out. “They look at themselves in the mirror and they say, ‘What have I been representing?’ ”

It is not just their beliefs regarding dinosaurs and spontaneous generation that have no place, but even their more general approach to Judaism and society. This does not necessarily mean that they should leave Charedi society, but rather that they should appreciate the trade-off that rests at its core and decide if they are able to live with such a compromise. Charedi society has meticulously and sometimes intentionally rewritten Torah in its image.3 Nachmanides has been recast as a mystic, despite his undoubtedly rational leanings;4 the philosophy of Maimonides has been swept under the carpet; and Hirsch has been excused as only acting for outreach purposes. Inconvenient writings of other Rishonim and Acharonim have been deliberately left unpublished, censored, or denounced as forgeries. The very real disputes within Torah Judaism have been edited out of history, and the façade of a single Daas Torah is presented.5 Historical portrayals of Torah scholars are whitewashed to avoid any indication that they might have possessed ordinary human failings or views that diverged from accepted Charedi positions.6 Newspapers openly admit that their business is not journalistic objectivity, but rather being a mouthpiece for a single Daas Torah. Rationalism is dead; intellectual honesty is feared and despised.

But Charedi society was never supposed to be about intellectually honest and accurate study of Torah. Rather, it is about preserving dedication to Torah study and observance in the face of immense challenges from the outside world, both material and ideological. The Charedi way of life is a survival strategy – and one that has enjoyed considerable success. Outside of it, one would be hard pressed to find comparable commitment to serving God. The Charedi way of life is a reaction to the threats of the secular world. Perhaps it can even be justified as a necessary survival tactic for the simple-minded masses. Nevertheless, it is not ultimately authentic, and it can be just as dangerous in its own way for other types of people. The aphorism of “one man’s meat is another man’s poison” has never been more applicable, and it runs both ways in this case. The obscurantism of the Charedi world is harmful to the intellectually curious, and Rabbi Slifkin’s books saved the faith of such people. But, on the other hand, it was precisely the intellectual honesty and rationality of Rabbi Slifkin’s books which raised a red flag for others.

Perhaps the ban on Rabbi Slifkin’s books is best understood in the same light, as several people have already pointed out. Not as a halachic ruling based on the legitimacy of a particular approach to Torah, subject to debate on its intellectual merits, but rather as a social policy. There is no distortion of Torah in Rabbi Slifkin’s books; his crime was just the opposite. His books avoided the narrow thought-patterns that are critical to preserving a Charedi way of life. Rabbi Slifkin has worked hard to defend his writings as being fully within the parameters of legitimate Torah discussion. But the point is that they are not within the parameters of legitimate Charedi Torah discussion.

Charedi society has made a compromise in order to ensure its survival. The resulting system is, by its very nature, susceptible to the occasional witch-hunt. Such episodes cannot be condemned out of hand without appreciating that they are unfortunate side-effects of a way of life that has much to argue in its favor. Arthur Miller’s verdict on the tragedy of Salem is equally applicable here:

When one rises above the individual villainy displayed, one can only pity them all, just as we shall be pitied someday. It is still impossible for man to organize his social life without repressions, and the balance has yet to be struck between order and freedom.

| posted by XGH @ 10:25 AM

Monday, September 22, 2003

Godol Hador September '03

Monday, September 22, 2003

The Rambam and Spirituality continued

The Three Stages of True Spiritual Life According Maimonides
The first stage of true spirituality is intellectual apprehension of God (Ar., al-'idrak; Heb., ha-hasaga), also known as "love" of God (Ar., al-mahabba; Heb., 'ahava) . In this type of spirituality, one acquires as much knowledge about God as possible. This includes knowledge of God's creation (the laws of nature: physics and astrophysics with the appropriate math, biology, medicine, etc.); knowledge of what things can, and cannot, be said about God (the theory of attributes with the appropriate knowledge of logic and linguistics); and skill in interpreting holy texts so that they conform to one's general knowledge.

With these things, I explain the great general principles of the work of the Master of the universe so that they be, for one who understands, an opening to love God, as the Sages said concering love [of God], "From this [i.e., study], you get to know Him Who spoke and the world was created." ( Mishne Torah, Hilkhot Yesode ha-Torah 2:2)

When a person contemplates these things and gets to know all the created beings -- the angel, the sphere, humanity, and such things -- he or she [16] increases her or his love for the Omnipresent. The soul of such a person will thirst for God, and the flesh will yearn to love the Omnipresent, may He be blessed. Such a person will be in awe and will be afraid of his or her lowliness, poorness [of spirit], and insignifcance when compared with one of the great holy bodies [e.g., the spheres] and, even more so, [when compared with] one of the pure forms which are separate from matter and never had contact with it. [17] Such a person will find herself or himself as a vessel full of shame and embarrassment, empty and lacking. ( Ibid., ibid., 4:12)
The study of creation (nature) leads to love of God. Indeed, the accumulation of knowledge about creation is the love of God. Furthermore, the telos of learning is not knowledge itself. Rather, the purpose of knowledge of the natural world is a series of spiritual emotions -- awe, fear, insignificance, shame, and embarrassment. The goal of study is a thirsting of the soul and a yearning of the body for God. Study is a type of religious experience; the intellectual is part of a larger spiritual realm.

The second stage of true spirituality is intellectual contemplation of God, also known as "intellectual worship " of God (Ar., al-´ibada al-´aqliyya ; Heb., ha-´avoda ha-sikhlit ) and as "passion" for God (Ar., al-´ishq; Heb., hesheq). In this type of spirituality, one concentrates on abstract thinking, on pondering the most abstract and simple of concepts. But, and this is crucial, as one does this, one places oneself in the presence of God. In intellectual contemplation, one ponders the highest metaphysical concepts and one resides in the Divine presence. Intellectual contemplation ("worship," "passion"), thus, comes after the intellectual love of God, though it is rooted in, and grows from, the intellectual love of God. Intellectual contemplation is, thus, a step beyond intellectual love. It is the moment when thought fades into mystical experience. It is the transition from thinking-about-God to being-in-the-presence of God. It is a mystical moment or, more appropriately, a mystical-intellectual way of being in the world.

This kind of worship ought only to be engaged in after intellectual conception (Ar., al-tassawur al-´aqli ) has been achieved. When you have apprehended God and His acts in accordance with what is required by the intellect, you should afterwards engage in totally devoting yourself to Him (Ar., al-'inqita´ 'ilayhi ), endeavor to come close to Him (Ar., wa-tas´i nahwa qurbihi ), and strengthen the bond (Ar., al-wusla) between you and Him -- that is, the intellect ... The Torah has made it clear that this (last) worship to which we have drawn attention in this chapter can only be engaged in after apprehension (Ar., al-'idrak) has been achieved. It says: "to love the Lord your God and to worship Him with all your heart and with all your soul" (Dt. 11:13). Now we have made it clear several times ( Guide 1:39; 3:28; etc.) that that love is proportionate to apprehension (Ar., al-mahabba ´ala qadri al-'idrak ). After love comes this worship (Ar., al-´ibada) to which attention has also been drawn by the Sages, may their memory be a blessing, who said, "This is the worship that is in the heart" ( Talmud Bavli, Berakhot 2a; etc.). In my opinion it consists in setting thought to work on the first intelligible (Ar., 'i´mal al-fikra fi al-ma´qul al-'awwal ) and in dedicating oneself exclusively to this (Ar., wal-'infirad li-dhalika ), as far as this is within one's capacity. Therefore you will find that David commanded his son Solomon and fortified him in these two things, to endeavor to apprehend Him and to endeavor to worship Him after apprehension had been achieved. He said, "And you, Solomon my son, know the God of your father and worship Him" (I Chron. 28:9). (Guide 3:51; Pines 620-21) [18]
This is followed [in Ps. 91] by what is said about divine providence where it gives the reasons for this great protection, saying that the reason for this great providence being effective with regard to the individual in question is this: "Because he has set his passion upon Me (Heb., ki vi hashaq ), therefore I will deliver him; I will set him on high, because he has known My Name (Heb., ki yada´ shemi )" (Ps. 91:14). We have already explained in the preceding chapters that the meaning of "knowledge of the Name" is apprehension of Him (Ar., 'idrakuhu). It is as if [the psalm] said that this individual is protected because he has known Me and then afterwards set his passion upon Me (Ar., lima ´arafani wa-´ashiqani ba´da dhalika ). You know the difference between the terms "one who loves" (Heb., 'ohev) and "one who has set his passion upon" (Heb., hosheq) -- an excess of love such that no thought remains that is directed toward a thing other than the beloved is "passion" (Ar., al-´ishq). ( Guide 3:51; Pines 627)

The text is not difficult to grasp: After the work of thinking and study, a person should ponder the intellectual results. In addition -- and this is important -- one should set oneself in the presence of the intellectual power which is the source of all thought, that is, God. This latter is a form of "contemplation" or, in the words of Maimonides, "passion for God" or "worship of God." The difficult work of thinking, of gathering evidence and weighing its truth, is by contrast called by Maimonides "apprehension" or "love of God." Both of them constitute an integral aspect of the intellectual-spiritual life life of the person who strives for perfection (Ar., al-'insan al-kamil ).[20] Intellectual effort alone is not enough; one must also make a spiritual, experiential effort if one wishes to attain to the telos of humanity.

Most interesting is the fact that Maimonides, who was not deficient in the metaphysical and scientific vocabulary of his age, chose to use a series of non-philosophical words to describe this stage in the spiritual life of the person striving for perfection. It is important to highlight these terms by listing them: total devotion to Him (Ar., al-'inqita´ 'ilayhi ) (twice), exclusive dedication to Him (Ar., al-'infirad), drawing close to Him (Ar., al-qurb minhu ) (twice), being present to Him in the true way (Ar., al-muthul bayna yadayhi ´ala al-jihat al-haqiqa ), standing before Him (Ar., al-maqam ´indahu ), and bliss (Ar., al-ghibta; Heb. parallel, no´am [Guide 2:43]) (five times). [21] Note also: the contact (Ar., al-wusla) that is between you and Him which is the intellect (many times), setting thought to work on the first intelligible (Ar., 'i´mal al-fikra fi al-ma´qul al-'awwal ), and an excess of love such that no thought remains that is directed toward a thing other than the beloved which is "passion" (Ar., al-´ishq) (several times). Note especially Maimonides' use of union of their intellects (Ar., 'ittihad ´uqulihim ) and his use of bliss (Ar., al-ghibta ; Heb., no´am).

All these terms find their source in the world of mysticism, not in the world of physics and metaphysics. It cannot be happenstance that Maimonides uses them; rather, he clearly intends to allude to a spiritual experience and reality which, though rooted in previous intellectual activity, transcends that realm. In order to describe this realm which is beyond rationalism, Maimonides has recourse to these clearly mystical terms. There can be no doubt, then that, for Maimonides, the second phase of the true spiritual life included intellectual contemplation; that is, a pondering of the results of the work of the intellect while, at the same time, doing so within the presence of the living God. Precisely because Maimonides saw himself as, and in fact was, the authoritative teacher of his day, he was obligated to present to the public, even if subtly and with indirection, the experiential reality of philosophic mysticism -- which is the proper term for this form of spiritual life. It was his responsibility to do so and, when philosophic-scientific vocabulary failed him, he used mystical vocabulary.

The third stage of true spirituality is the continuous contemplation of God . It is characterized by the recurrence of the Arabic word da'iman, meaning "continuous, always." In these passages Maimonides describes a condition in which a person is in extended bliss (Ar., ghibta) or pleasure (Ar., lidhdha). In such a state, the bliss or pleasure is not a fleeting moment in human spiritual life but an ongoing state of mystical consciousness, one which attends a person always. Continuous contemplation is clearly an extension of intellectual contemplation which, in turn, is an extension of intellectual love. Each is an intensification of the previous step. Nonetheless, the three states seem clearly differentiable. [22] It is continuous contemplation which is the end, the telos, of the person seeking perfection.

Thus it is clear that, after apprehension (Ar., al-'idrak), total devotion to Him (Ar., al-'inqita´ 'ilayhi ) and the employment of intellectual thought in passion for Him always (Ar., wa-'i´mal al-fikra al-´aqliyya fi ´ishqihi da'iman ) should be be aimed at. ( Guide 3:51; Pines, 621)
There may be a human individual who, through one's apprehension of the true realities and one's bliss in what one has apprehended, achieves a state in which one talks with people and is occupied with one's bodily necessities while one's intellect is wholly turned toward Him (Ar., masruf nahwahu ), may He be exalted, such that, in one's heart one is always in His presence, may He be exalted (Ar., wa-huwa bayna yadayhi ta´ala da'iman bi-qalbihi ), even while outwardly one is with people -- in the sort of way described by the poetical parables that have been invented for these notions: "I sleep, but my heart is awake," "The voice of my beloved knocks," and so on ... This is the rank of Moses, our master ... this is the level of the patriarchs ... Through them is explained the union with God, that is, apprehension and love of Him (Ar., al-'ittihad bi-Allah, 'a´ni 'idrakuhu wa-mahabbatuhu ) and that the providence of God for them and their descendants is mighty (Ar. ´azima) ... Now this is, to my mind, a proof that they performed these actions with their limbs only, while their intellects were constantly in His presence, may He be exalted (Ar., wa-´uquluhum bayna yadayhi ta´ala da'iman ). ( Guide 3:51; Pines, 623-24)
These passages, and others like them, clearly show a state of continuous contemplation, of optimal meditation, and equally clearly indicate that this state is the desired state for the person seeking perfection.

Maimonides extended this state of continuous contemplation into his theory of providence to answer the question of God's protection and of how evil, including death, befalls the righteous:
[As to] the individual who is striving for perfection of the intellect (Ar., al-shakhs al-kamil al-'idrak ), whose intellect never ceases to be occupied with God (Ar., la yabrah ´aqluhu ´an Allah da'iman ), providence will always be over that person (Ar., takun al-´inaya bihi da'iman ). On the other hand, an individual striving for perfection, whose thought sometimes for a certain time is emptied of God, is watched over by providence only during the time when one thinks of God; providence withdraws from such a person during the time when one is occupied with something else ... Hence it seems to me that all prophets and excellent persons seeking perfection (Ar., al-fudala' al-kamilin ) whom one of the evils of the world befell, had this evil happen to them during such a time of distraction or due to the vileness of the matter with which one was occupied ... The providence of God, may He be exalted, is constantly (Ar., takun ´inayat Allah da'iman ) over those who have obtained this overflow, which is permitted to anyone who makes an effort with a view to obtaining it (Ar., li-kull man sa´a fi husulihi ). If a person's thought is free from distraction in apprehending (Ar., 'idrakuhu) God, may He be exalted, in the right way and if there is joy in what one apprehends (Ar., wa-ghibtuhu bima 'adraka ), then that individual can never be afflicted with evil of any kind for, then, one is with God and God is with one (Ar., li-'annahu ma´a Allah wa-Allah ma´ahu ). ( Guide 3:51; Pines 624-25)

It is important to note that, in this passage as in others, Maimonides includes not only the prophets and the patriarchs but also people who lead a philosophic-mystical life (Ar., al-fudala', al-kamilun ); they, too, can attain to the state of continuous contemplation.

The climax of Maimonides' teaching of continuous contemplation is to be found in his views on the ideal death and life-after-death which he describes as an unending form of continuous contemplation:

Yet in the measure in which the faculties of the body are weakened and the fire of the desires is quenched, the intellect is strengthened (Ar., wa-qawiya al-´aql ), its lights achieve wider extension (Ar., wa-'inbasatat 'anwaruhu ), its apprehension is purified, and it is in bliss (Ar., wa-taghbut) in what it apprehends. The result is that, when a person striving for perfection is stricken with years and approaches death, this apprehension increases very powerfully, bliss (Ar., al-ghibta) in this apprehension and passion (Ar., al-´ishq) for the object of apprehension become stronger, until the soul is separated from the body, at that moment, into this state of pleasure (Ar., al-lidhdha). Because of this, the Sages have indicated with reference to the deaths of Moses, Aaron, and Miriam that the three of them died by a kiss ... Their purpose was to indicate that the three of them died in the pleasure of this apprehension (Ar., fi hal lidhdhati dhalika al-'idrak ) due to the intensity of the passion (Ar., min shiddat al-´ishq ) ... the apprehension that is achieved in a state of intense passion for Him (Ar. ´inda shiddati ´ishqihi ta´ala )... As he [Solomon] said, "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth" (Song 1:2), etc. ...The sages mention this kind of death, which is, in true reality, salvation from death, only with regard to Moses, Aaron, and Miriam. The other prophets and excellent persons (Ar., al-fudala') are beneath this degree. However, it holds good for all of them that the apprehension of their intellects becomes stronger at the separation ... After having reached this condition of enduring permanence (Ar. al-baqa' al-da'im ), such an intellect will remain in one and the same state (Ar., fi hal wahida) , the impediment that veiled it having been removed. One's state of permanence will be in that state of intense pleasure (Ar., wa-yakun baqa'uhu fi tilka al-lidhdha al-´azima ) which does not belong to the genus of bodily pleasures. ( Guide 3:51; Pines 627-28) [24]

In these passages on providence, the ideal death, and immortality, one should note yet again that Maimonides uses mystical terms and images. He describes the last moments of the life of the person who strives for perfection as pleasure (Ar., lidhdha) and writes about the strengthening of the intellect and the extension of its lights (Ar., wa-qawiya al-´aql wa-'inbasatat 'anwaruhu ). Most importantly, he introduces verses and images from the Song of Songs to describe the continuous intellectual contemplation of God ("I sleep but my heart wakes," "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth," "My beloved knocks," etc.). [25] All these terms and images flow from mystical insight, not from metaphysical understanding.
In his views on continuous contemplation, continuous providence, the ideal death, and the unending bliss of life-after-death, Maimonides has set forth his true ideal for human existence. The telos of humanity, according to Maimonides, is not philosophy itself. Philosophy is a stage, an instrument, a means to the end. The end is continuous contemplation of God, continuous being-in-the-presence of God, even when one is conducting one's daily business and especially as one approaches death. This is achieved by following the various stages of self-perfection: meticulous observance of the commandments, the hard work of studying and thinking about creation so that it leads to God, the pondering of the intellectual conclusions in the presence of the Divine, and the continuous being before God even in daily activities and especially in death. Permanent pleasure in the Divine is the goal.

An additonal problem with the text of Guide 3:51: The text does not show these layers clearly; rather, the text mixes the stages in what appears to be helter-skelter fashion. It requires work to separate out the levels from the text. There are probably two reasons for this. First, Maimonides is hiding something. As he says in the Introduction to the Guide, some thoughts will be consciously hidden from the reader. What, then, is it that he is trying to conceal, even as he reveals it at the same time? I think it is the teaching that the acquired intellect, not the rational soul, is the part of human consciousness that attains mortality. Maimonides teaches that the rational soul is a natural function of the body, much as the vegetative and animal souls are. The latter clearly die with the human body and, to tell the truth, so does the rational soul. It is, therefore, only the acquired intellect that survives humanity. [26] Since, however, the words for soul in Hebrew, nefesh and neshama, are used in contexts that the rabbis understood to teach immortality and, since the term "acquired intellect" has no clear Hebrew designation, Maimonides did not want to teach openly that the rational soul dies with the body. So he concealed that doctrine, though it is there to see for whoever is bold enough to think that the rational soul dies with the body. This desire to preserve the Hebrew nefesh and neshama as the bearers of immortality is the first reason that led Maimonides to weave a complicated and unsystematic picture in 3:51.

Second, the states Maimonides is trying to describe are elusive; they are post-rational, post-cognitive, post-linguistic. He can only allude to them. Hence, he mixes the metaphors and images with the intellectualist vocabulary, yielding a mixed text.

Having established that, for Maimonides, metaphysics is a stage in self-perfection not an end in itself, it is possible to review other sections of his oeuvre to look for consistency of view. One such case is his theory of attributes. After many chapters dealing with biblical words and images, Maimonides devotes several chapters to the theory of attributes and culminates his exposition with the view that the best one can achieve is the systematic study of various attributes and the realization that they cannot be applied to God. Thus, God cannot be said to be "one" because God does not fall into the category of beings subject to quantity. God cannot even be said to "exist" because that word, too, implies being in time and space, a category that does not apply to God. This is Maimonides' via negativa: God is categorically different from God's creation and, hence, cannot be described. Realizing this as fully as possible is the most humans can achieve. In the end, only silence is left to us.

... that everyone understands that one cannot achieve apprehension, within that which we are capable of apprehending, except by negation ... that apprehension of Him is the inability to fully apprehend Him (Ar., 'idrakuhu huwa al-´ajz ´an nihayat 'idrakihi ). All the philosophers say, "He blinded us with His beauty, and is veiled from us by the intensity of His manifestation" (Ar., 'abharana bi-jamalihi wa-khafiya ´anna li-shiddati zuhurihi )[27] -- as the sun is hidden for those who have sight because they are too weak to perceive it ... The clearest thing of all that has been said in this matter is the word of the psalmist, "Silence is praise for you" (Ps. 65:2); meaning, silence for you is a form of praise ... and his saying, "Speak in your hearts on your beds, and be silent" (Ps. 4:5). ( Guide 1:59; Pines 139-40)

It could be that Maimonides' meaning here is simple: where negation is the only mode of thinking about the truth of God's being, silence is the most befitting option. However, three elements in this short passage allude to more: first, the phrase "apprehension of Him is the inability to fully apprehend Him"; second, the anonymous but seemingly widespread saying of the philosophers "He blinded us with His beauty, and is veiled from us by the intensity of His manifestation"; and third, his two quotations from Psalms recommending silence as the best praise for God. The saying of the philosophers has parallels in Maimonides: "The truth was hidden from them completely, together with the intensity of His manifestation (Ar., wa-khafiya ´anhum al-haqq jumlatan ma´a shiddat zuhurihi) ( Guide Introduction; Pines 8) [28] and "Exalted be He Whose perfection has blinded us" (Ar., fa-subhana man 'abharana kamaluhu ) (Guide 1:72, end; Pines 193). [29] These phrases, yet again, betray a mystical context, not a metaphysical or logical one; they allude to a post-philosophic experience of the Divine which is beyond verbal and conceptual silence.

On the Matter of Maimonides' Sources
I do not know the origin of these terms. There seem to be three possibilities: that they are drawn from the tradition of philosophic mysticism of Ibn Sina, al-Farabi, and others for whom intense religious- intellectual experience was the telos of humanity; that they are of sufi origin, perhaps through the influence of his family and milieu; and that Maimonides himself fused these terms with his own particular meaning as the most mature form of his lifetime of reflection on these matters. Each of these will be examined separately though I rather prefer the last suggestion. In any case, modern scholars will have to change their conception of medieval rationalism to include this spiritual-experiential dimension within the very definition of the purpose of philosophy.

Sarah Stroumsa, [30] Steven Harvey, [31] and Kenneth Seeskin [32] have restated the position of classical Wissenschaft thinking most clearly [33]: Maimonides demythologized the world to come, messianism, resurrection, revelation, prophecy, providence, creation -- indeed, all major rabbinic doctrines -- and constructed a system in which intellect alone is the measure of perfection and, hence, the telos of humanity. True felicity is a function of intellectualization. Lidhdha is the state of permanent, abstract, intellectual bliss which is true worship; normative prayer is merely a training ground for intellectual worship. There are no traces of sufi ecstatic experiences in Maimonides. Harvey has even argued that the Yemenites and other easterners were struck by the presence of the sufi term ´ishq but, since they were cut off from the philosophic traditions of the west, they imbued Maimonides with foreign meaning which was the opposite of the non-ecstatic, rationalist, true reading of the west. [34]

Schwartz[35] has criticized this classical position noting that Maimonides does not have any systematic discussion of the soul, immortality, or happiness, as does Avicenna. Indeed, a reading of the original texts of al-Risala fi al-´Ishq and of al- Risala fi Mahiyyat al-Salat [36] shows that the ideas and the terminology used by Avicenna are not at all present in Maimonides. Thus, chapter one of al- Risala fi Mahiyyat al-Salat is devoted to a long discussion of different types of souls, a subject only adumbrated by Maimonides. It also contains a defintion of the resurrection, a subject avoided by Maimonides. And it states that the goal of prayer is uninterrupted submission to God, a definition not shared by Maimonides. Chapter two discusses the difference between legislated and true prayer, a position not far from Maimonides', but it continues by defining true prayer as irfan Allah, mystical knowledge of God, and yunaji rabbahu, being intimate with God -- both terms conspicuously missing in Maimonides. Chapter three on life after death bears no resemblance in terminology or construct to Maimonides. Thus, too, Avicenna's al- Risala fi al-´Ishq has long sections on the types of souls, a long discussion of ´ishq (passionate love), of shawq (yearning), and even includes the famous passages about the love of beautiful human faces, of the difference between kissing and embracing, the paean to dying a chaste person, and the gazing on the beardless faces of youths as a witness to divine beauty – ideas that could not have been further from Maimonides' worldview. Lobel, too, [37] criticizes the classic Wissenschaft view stating that: "Ultimately, Maimonides' God is not the Prime Mover of Aristotle but the unknowable Plotinian One, who cannot be adequately represented in speech." All speech about God is by tasamuh, a poetic license that allows one to use words loosely. Kellner, too, [38] alludes to religious language that is post-philosophical.

It seems to me, however, that there can be no doubt that Maimonides follows the philosophic, intellectualist tradition in his method of negation which culminates in silence as the only epistemologically sound way to talk about God; in his identification of the divine as paradoxically knowner, known, and knowing; and in his subsequent interpretation in a philosophic way of the doctrines of prophecy, revelation, creation, reward and punishment, practical mitsvot, etc. Even his definition of intellectual worship is in this tradition, granted that he does not teach these topics using the same categories and terms that others use but seems to consciously introduce terms that are sufi in origin to describe the states beyond rational thought.

The argument for sufi influence is particularly tempting. Maimonides' in-law was a known sufi [39]; his wife may have been one too [40]; there were known Jewish sufis in his entourage [41]; his son was under sufi influence [42]; and the school that developed under R. Abraham was certainly under sufi influence. [43] Indeed, in his Mishne Torah in Hilkhot Nezirut 14:15, Maimonides argues just for such pietistic living in spite of its not being a life led according to the golden mean as he requires elsewhere [44]:

But he who vows to God in the way of holiness -- this is pleasing and praiseworthy. Concerning this it was said, "The laurel (Heb., nezer) of his God is upon his head ... he is holy unto the Lord" (Nu. 6:4-5). And Scripture has accounted him as equal to the prophet, as it says, "I shall cause prophets to arise from your children and nazirites from your young men" (Amos 2:11).
Again, in his Mishne Torah in Hilkhot Shemitta ve-Yovel 13:12-13, Maimonides makes an argument for intensely religious living:
Why did [the tribe of] Levi not merit an inheritance in the land of Israel and a share in the spoils of war together with its brothers? Because it was set aside to worship God, to teach His direct ways and His righteous judgements to the public ... Therefore, they were set aside from the ways of the world: they did not wage war like the rest of Israel and they did not inherit the land ... Rather, they are the army of the Lord, as it says ...
The tribe of Levi is not alone [in this]. Rather, every single person of those who live in the world, whose spirit has gratefully welled up, and who has comprehended in his or her mind to be separated and to stand before God, to serve Him, to worship Him, and to know Him; who has walked in the straight path that God has intended for her or him; and who has shed from his or her neck the yoke of the many accountings that humans make [of one another] -- this person has become holy [like] the holy of holies, and God will be her or his portion and inheritance forever and ever. Such a person will have sufficient in this world, as did the priests and levites, as David, may he rest in peace, said, "The Lord is my portion of inheritance and my cup; You sustain my destiny" (Ps. 16:5).

Still, one cannot say that Maimonides was a sufi. His worldview and vocabulary are not the same. Maimonides did not advocate sufi asceticism. There is no antinomianism (or better, transnomianism) in Maimonides. He does not dwell upon the themes of love, passion, desire, etc. He does not advocate the specific ritual practices of sufi influence, even those his son introduced in the next generation. And so on. The most one could say is that he is a philosophic mystic who uses sufi vocabulary, an intellectualist mystic who provided a space within rabbinic, rationalist, halakhic Judaism for persons with intense spiritual practice.

Those who argue for an internal development have usually used the instrumentalist or double-truth approach: that Maimonides had one teaching for the masses and one for the elite. [45] Following this line of interpretation but more subtly, Fox [46] has argued that there is one teaching for the elite and for the masses but one must bear in mind that the elite are not elite all the time and, hence, they need the practice of the masses. Kaplan [47] has argued much the same and Kreisel [48] has argued that the intellectual worship of God is universally obligatory while Jewish ritual worship of God is obligatory only for Jews.

The answer may lie somewhere in between. Lobel [49] has pointed out that Halevi took terms that were in the Islamic environment and transformed those terms by applying them in a rather strict rabbinic framework of thought. Much the same may be true of Maimonides: that he first built an intellectualist, philosophic system rooted largely in Aristotle though drawing on Alfarabi and others; and then, on the basis of his own personal religious experience, he added on top of that a spiritual teaching which used sufi-like terms in their non-technical sense, transforming those terms to serve his own purposes.

Conclusions
In Maimonides' teaching there are three levels of spiritual life after the initial level of observance of the commandments: (1) intellectual apprehension of God also called "love" of God -- this involves long and tedious intellectual work to get to know creation and the rational energy behind it; (2) intellectual contemplation of God, also called "worship" of God and "passion" for God -- this entails pondering the results of intellectual apprehension in the sensed presence of God; and (3) continuous contemplation of God, characterized by such words as "always" and "intense pleasure" -- this comprises sustained being-in-the-presence of God even while one is going about one's daily business and especially when one is about to die. This hierarchy of the spiritual life shows beyond all doubt that, for Maimonides, metaphysics was only the penultimate stage in spiritual development; that rational work was only the bridge to a more spiritual stage of living; and that it was this sustained being-in-the-presence of God after intellectual effort that was the raison d'être of humanity. To make this point, Maimonides uses terms that come from a mystical milieu, images that allude to mystical states, and constructs a reality that leads toward such a state. Put simply: for Maimonides, philosophy was the handmaiden of mysticism.

Finally, while Maimonides' thought is fully rooted in the Islamic rationalist philosophic tradition, in Guide 3:51, he consciously chose to use terms of sufi origin to allude to the post-rational experiential reality which constitutes the core and ultimate end of his religious teaching.

Monday, September 22, 2003

The Rambam and Spirituality continued

The Three Stages of True Spiritual Life According Maimonides
The first stage of true spirituality is intellectual apprehension of God (Ar., al-'idrak; Heb., ha-hasaga), also known as "love" of God (Ar., al-mahabba; Heb., 'ahava) . In this type of spirituality, one acquires as much knowledge about God as possible. This includes knowledge of God's creation (the laws of nature: physics and astrophysics with the appropriate math, biology, medicine, etc.); knowledge of what things can, and cannot, be said about God (the theory of attributes with the appropriate knowledge of logic and linguistics); and skill in interpreting holy texts so that they conform to one's general knowledge.

With these things, I explain the great general principles of the work of the Master of the universe so that they be, for one who understands, an opening to love God, as the Sages said concering love [of God], "From this [i.e., study], you get to know Him Who spoke and the world was created." ( Mishne Torah, Hilkhot Yesode ha-Torah 2:2)

When a person contemplates these things and gets to know all the created beings -- the angel, the sphere, humanity, and such things -- he or she [16] increases her or his love for the Omnipresent. The soul of such a person will thirst for God, and the flesh will yearn to love the Omnipresent, may He be blessed. Such a person will be in awe and will be afraid of his or her lowliness, poorness [of spirit], and insignifcance when compared with one of the great holy bodies [e.g., the spheres] and, even more so, [when compared with] one of the pure forms which are separate from matter and never had contact with it. [17] Such a person will find herself or himself as a vessel full of shame and embarrassment, empty and lacking. ( Ibid., ibid., 4:12)
The study of creation (nature) leads to love of God. Indeed, the accumulation of knowledge about creation is the love of God. Furthermore, the telos of learning is not knowledge itself. Rather, the purpose of knowledge of the natural world is a series of spiritual emotions -- awe, fear, insignificance, shame, and embarrassment. The goal of study is a thirsting of the soul and a yearning of the body for God. Study is a type of religious experience; the intellectual is part of a larger spiritual realm.

The second stage of true spirituality is intellectual contemplation of God, also known as "intellectual worship " of God (Ar., al-´ibada al-´aqliyya ; Heb., ha-´avoda ha-sikhlit ) and as "passion" for God (Ar., al-´ishq; Heb., hesheq). In this type of spirituality, one concentrates on abstract thinking, on pondering the most abstract and simple of concepts. But, and this is crucial, as one does this, one places oneself in the presence of God. In intellectual contemplation, one ponders the highest metaphysical concepts and one resides in the Divine presence. Intellectual contemplation ("worship," "passion"), thus, comes after the intellectual love of God, though it is rooted in, and grows from, the intellectual love of God. Intellectual contemplation is, thus, a step beyond intellectual love. It is the moment when thought fades into mystical experience. It is the transition from thinking-about-God to being-in-the-presence of God. It is a mystical moment or, more appropriately, a mystical-intellectual way of being in the world.

This kind of worship ought only to be engaged in after intellectual conception (Ar., al-tassawur al-´aqli ) has been achieved. When you have apprehended God and His acts in accordance with what is required by the intellect, you should afterwards engage in totally devoting yourself to Him (Ar., al-'inqita´ 'ilayhi ), endeavor to come close to Him (Ar., wa-tas´i nahwa qurbihi ), and strengthen the bond (Ar., al-wusla) between you and Him -- that is, the intellect ... The Torah has made it clear that this (last) worship to which we have drawn attention in this chapter can only be engaged in after apprehension (Ar., al-'idrak) has been achieved. It says: "to love the Lord your God and to worship Him with all your heart and with all your soul" (Dt. 11:13). Now we have made it clear several times ( Guide 1:39; 3:28; etc.) that that love is proportionate to apprehension (Ar., al-mahabba ´ala qadri al-'idrak ). After love comes this worship (Ar., al-´ibada) to which attention has also been drawn by the Sages, may their memory be a blessing, who said, "This is the worship that is in the heart" ( Talmud Bavli, Berakhot 2a; etc.). In my opinion it consists in setting thought to work on the first intelligible (Ar., 'i´mal al-fikra fi al-ma´qul al-'awwal ) and in dedicating oneself exclusively to this (Ar., wal-'infirad li-dhalika ), as far as this is within one's capacity. Therefore you will find that David commanded his son Solomon and fortified him in these two things, to endeavor to apprehend Him and to endeavor to worship Him after apprehension had been achieved. He said, "And you, Solomon my son, know the God of your father and worship Him" (I Chron. 28:9). (Guide 3:51; Pines 620-21) [18]
This is followed [in Ps. 91] by what is said about divine providence where it gives the reasons for this great protection, saying that the reason for this great providence being effective with regard to the individual in question is this: "Because he has set his passion upon Me (Heb., ki vi hashaq ), therefore I will deliver him; I will set him on high, because he has known My Name (Heb., ki yada´ shemi )" (Ps. 91:14). We have already explained in the preceding chapters that the meaning of "knowledge of the Name" is apprehension of Him (Ar., 'idrakuhu). It is as if [the psalm] said that this individual is protected because he has known Me and then afterwards set his passion upon Me (Ar., lima ´arafani wa-´ashiqani ba´da dhalika ). You know the difference between the terms "one who loves" (Heb., 'ohev) and "one who has set his passion upon" (Heb., hosheq) -- an excess of love such that no thought remains that is directed toward a thing other than the beloved is "passion" (Ar., al-´ishq). ( Guide 3:51; Pines 627)

The text is not difficult to grasp: After the work of thinking and study, a person should ponder the intellectual results. In addition -- and this is important -- one should set oneself in the presence of the intellectual power which is the source of all thought, that is, God. This latter is a form of "contemplation" or, in the words of Maimonides, "passion for God" or "worship of God." The difficult work of thinking, of gathering evidence and weighing its truth, is by contrast called by Maimonides "apprehension" or "love of God." Both of them constitute an integral aspect of the intellectual-spiritual life life of the person who strives for perfection (Ar., al-'insan al-kamil ).[20] Intellectual effort alone is not enough; one must also make a spiritual, experiential effort if one wishes to attain to the telos of humanity.

Most interesting is the fact that Maimonides, who was not deficient in the metaphysical and scientific vocabulary of his age, chose to use a series of non-philosophical words to describe this stage in the spiritual life of the person striving for perfection. It is important to highlight these terms by listing them: total devotion to Him (Ar., al-'inqita´ 'ilayhi ) (twice), exclusive dedication to Him (Ar., al-'infirad), drawing close to Him (Ar., al-qurb minhu ) (twice), being present to Him in the true way (Ar., al-muthul bayna yadayhi ´ala al-jihat al-haqiqa ), standing before Him (Ar., al-maqam ´indahu ), and bliss (Ar., al-ghibta; Heb. parallel, no´am [Guide 2:43]) (five times). [21] Note also: the contact (Ar., al-wusla) that is between you and Him which is the intellect (many times), setting thought to work on the first intelligible (Ar., 'i´mal al-fikra fi al-ma´qul al-'awwal ), and an excess of love such that no thought remains that is directed toward a thing other than the beloved which is "passion" (Ar., al-´ishq) (several times). Note especially Maimonides' use of union of their intellects (Ar., 'ittihad ´uqulihim ) and his use of bliss (Ar., al-ghibta ; Heb., no´am).

All these terms find their source in the world of mysticism, not in the world of physics and metaphysics. It cannot be happenstance that Maimonides uses them; rather, he clearly intends to allude to a spiritual experience and reality which, though rooted in previous intellectual activity, transcends that realm. In order to describe this realm which is beyond rationalism, Maimonides has recourse to these clearly mystical terms. There can be no doubt, then that, for Maimonides, the second phase of the true spiritual life included intellectual contemplation; that is, a pondering of the results of the work of the intellect while, at the same time, doing so within the presence of the living God. Precisely because Maimonides saw himself as, and in fact was, the authoritative teacher of his day, he was obligated to present to the public, even if subtly and with indirection, the experiential reality of philosophic mysticism -- which is the proper term for this form of spiritual life. It was his responsibility to do so and, when philosophic-scientific vocabulary failed him, he used mystical vocabulary.

The third stage of true spirituality is the continuous contemplation of God . It is characterized by the recurrence of the Arabic word da'iman, meaning "continuous, always." In these passages Maimonides describes a condition in which a person is in extended bliss (Ar., ghibta) or pleasure (Ar., lidhdha). In such a state, the bliss or pleasure is not a fleeting moment in human spiritual life but an ongoing state of mystical consciousness, one which attends a person always. Continuous contemplation is clearly an extension of intellectual contemplation which, in turn, is an extension of intellectual love. Each is an intensification of the previous step. Nonetheless, the three states seem clearly differentiable. [22] It is continuous contemplation which is the end, the telos, of the person seeking perfection.

Thus it is clear that, after apprehension (Ar., al-'idrak), total devotion to Him (Ar., al-'inqita´ 'ilayhi ) and the employment of intellectual thought in passion for Him always (Ar., wa-'i´mal al-fikra al-´aqliyya fi ´ishqihi da'iman ) should be be aimed at. ( Guide 3:51; Pines, 621)
There may be a human individual who, through one's apprehension of the true realities and one's bliss in what one has apprehended, achieves a state in which one talks with people and is occupied with one's bodily necessities while one's intellect is wholly turned toward Him (Ar., masruf nahwahu ), may He be exalted, such that, in one's heart one is always in His presence, may He be exalted (Ar., wa-huwa bayna yadayhi ta´ala da'iman bi-qalbihi ), even while outwardly one is with people -- in the sort of way described by the poetical parables that have been invented for these notions: "I sleep, but my heart is awake," "The voice of my beloved knocks," and so on ... This is the rank of Moses, our master ... this is the level of the patriarchs ... Through them is explained the union with God, that is, apprehension and love of Him (Ar., al-'ittihad bi-Allah, 'a´ni 'idrakuhu wa-mahabbatuhu ) and that the providence of God for them and their descendants is mighty (Ar. ´azima) ... Now this is, to my mind, a proof that they performed these actions with their limbs only, while their intellects were constantly in His presence, may He be exalted (Ar., wa-´uquluhum bayna yadayhi ta´ala da'iman ). ( Guide 3:51; Pines, 623-24)
These passages, and others like them, clearly show a state of continuous contemplation, of optimal meditation, and equally clearly indicate that this state is the desired state for the person seeking perfection.

Maimonides extended this state of continuous contemplation into his theory of providence to answer the question of God's protection and of how evil, including death, befalls the righteous:
[As to] the individual who is striving for perfection of the intellect (Ar., al-shakhs al-kamil al-'idrak ), whose intellect never ceases to be occupied with God (Ar., la yabrah ´aqluhu ´an Allah da'iman ), providence will always be over that person (Ar., takun al-´inaya bihi da'iman ). On the other hand, an individual striving for perfection, whose thought sometimes for a certain time is emptied of God, is watched over by providence only during the time when one thinks of God; providence withdraws from such a person during the time when one is occupied with something else ... Hence it seems to me that all prophets and excellent persons seeking perfection (Ar., al-fudala' al-kamilin ) whom one of the evils of the world befell, had this evil happen to them during such a time of distraction or due to the vileness of the matter with which one was occupied ... The providence of God, may He be exalted, is constantly (Ar., takun ´inayat Allah da'iman ) over those who have obtained this overflow, which is permitted to anyone who makes an effort with a view to obtaining it (Ar., li-kull man sa´a fi husulihi ). If a person's thought is free from distraction in apprehending (Ar., 'idrakuhu) God, may He be exalted, in the right way and if there is joy in what one apprehends (Ar., wa-ghibtuhu bima 'adraka ), then that individual can never be afflicted with evil of any kind for, then, one is with God and God is with one (Ar., li-'annahu ma´a Allah wa-Allah ma´ahu ). ( Guide 3:51; Pines 624-25)

It is important to note that, in this passage as in others, Maimonides includes not only the prophets and the patriarchs but also people who lead a philosophic-mystical life (Ar., al-fudala', al-kamilun ); they, too, can attain to the state of continuous contemplation.

The climax of Maimonides' teaching of continuous contemplation is to be found in his views on the ideal death and life-after-death which he describes as an unending form of continuous contemplation:

Yet in the measure in which the faculties of the body are weakened and the fire of the desires is quenched, the intellect is strengthened (Ar., wa-qawiya al-´aql ), its lights achieve wider extension (Ar., wa-'inbasatat 'anwaruhu ), its apprehension is purified, and it is in bliss (Ar., wa-taghbut) in what it apprehends. The result is that, when a person striving for perfection is stricken with years and approaches death, this apprehension increases very powerfully, bliss (Ar., al-ghibta) in this apprehension and passion (Ar., al-´ishq) for the object of apprehension become stronger, until the soul is separated from the body, at that moment, into this state of pleasure (Ar., al-lidhdha). Because of this, the Sages have indicated with reference to the deaths of Moses, Aaron, and Miriam that the three of them died by a kiss ... Their purpose was to indicate that the three of them died in the pleasure of this apprehension (Ar., fi hal lidhdhati dhalika al-'idrak ) due to the intensity of the passion (Ar., min shiddat al-´ishq ) ... the apprehension that is achieved in a state of intense passion for Him (Ar. ´inda shiddati ´ishqihi ta´ala )... As he [Solomon] said, "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth" (Song 1:2), etc. ...The sages mention this kind of death, which is, in true reality, salvation from death, only with regard to Moses, Aaron, and Miriam. The other prophets and excellent persons (Ar., al-fudala') are beneath this degree. However, it holds good for all of them that the apprehension of their intellects becomes stronger at the separation ... After having reached this condition of enduring permanence (Ar. al-baqa' al-da'im ), such an intellect will remain in one and the same state (Ar., fi hal wahida) , the impediment that veiled it having been removed. One's state of permanence will be in that state of intense pleasure (Ar., wa-yakun baqa'uhu fi tilka al-lidhdha al-´azima ) which does not belong to the genus of bodily pleasures. ( Guide 3:51; Pines 627-28) [24]

In these passages on providence, the ideal death, and immortality, one should note yet again that Maimonides uses mystical terms and images. He describes the last moments of the life of the person who strives for perfection as pleasure (Ar., lidhdha) and writes about the strengthening of the intellect and the extension of its lights (Ar., wa-qawiya al-´aql wa-'inbasatat 'anwaruhu ). Most importantly, he introduces verses and images from the Song of Songs to describe the continuous intellectual contemplation of God ("I sleep but my heart wakes," "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth," "My beloved knocks," etc.). [25] All these terms and images flow from mystical insight, not from metaphysical understanding.
In his views on continuous contemplation, continuous providence, the ideal death, and the unending bliss of life-after-death, Maimonides has set forth his true ideal for human existence. The telos of humanity, according to Maimonides, is not philosophy itself. Philosophy is a stage, an instrument, a means to the end. The end is continuous contemplation of God, continuous being-in-the-presence of God, even when one is conducting one's daily business and especially as one approaches death. This is achieved by following the various stages of self-perfection: meticulous observance of the commandments, the hard work of studying and thinking about creation so that it leads to God, the pondering of the intellectual conclusions in the presence of the Divine, and the continuous being before God even in daily activities and especially in death. Permanent pleasure in the Divine is the goal.

An additonal problem with the text of Guide 3:51: The text does not show these layers clearly; rather, the text mixes the stages in what appears to be helter-skelter fashion. It requires work to separate out the levels from the text. There are probably two reasons for this. First, Maimonides is hiding something. As he says in the Introduction to the Guide, some thoughts will be consciously hidden from the reader. What, then, is it that he is trying to conceal, even as he reveals it at the same time? I think it is the teaching that the acquired intellect, not the rational soul, is the part of human consciousness that attains mortality. Maimonides teaches that the rational soul is a natural function of the body, much as the vegetative and animal souls are. The latter clearly die with the human body and, to tell the truth, so does the rational soul. It is, therefore, only the acquired intellect that survives humanity. [26] Since, however, the words for soul in Hebrew, nefesh and neshama, are used in contexts that the rabbis understood to teach immortality and, since the term "acquired intellect" has no clear Hebrew designation, Maimonides did not want to teach openly that the rational soul dies with the body. So he concealed that doctrine, though it is there to see for whoever is bold enough to think that the rational soul dies with the body. This desire to preserve the Hebrew nefesh and neshama as the bearers of immortality is the first reason that led Maimonides to weave a complicated and unsystematic picture in 3:51.

Second, the states Maimonides is trying to describe are elusive; they are post-rational, post-cognitive, post-linguistic. He can only allude to them. Hence, he mixes the metaphors and images with the intellectualist vocabulary, yielding a mixed text.

Having established that, for Maimonides, metaphysics is a stage in self-perfection not an end in itself, it is possible to review other sections of his oeuvre to look for consistency of view. One such case is his theory of attributes. After many chapters dealing with biblical words and images, Maimonides devotes several chapters to the theory of attributes and culminates his exposition with the view that the best one can achieve is the systematic study of various attributes and the realization that they cannot be applied to God. Thus, God cannot be said to be "one" because God does not fall into the category of beings subject to quantity. God cannot even be said to "exist" because that word, too, implies being in time and space, a category that does not apply to God. This is Maimonides' via negativa: God is categorically different from God's creation and, hence, cannot be described. Realizing this as fully as possible is the most humans can achieve. In the end, only silence is left to us.

... that everyone understands that one cannot achieve apprehension, within that which we are capable of apprehending, except by negation ... that apprehension of Him is the inability to fully apprehend Him (Ar., 'idrakuhu huwa al-´ajz ´an nihayat 'idrakihi ). All the philosophers say, "He blinded us with His beauty, and is veiled from us by the intensity of His manifestation" (Ar., 'abharana bi-jamalihi wa-khafiya ´anna li-shiddati zuhurihi )[27] -- as the sun is hidden for those who have sight because they are too weak to perceive it ... The clearest thing of all that has been said in this matter is the word of the psalmist, "Silence is praise for you" (Ps. 65:2); meaning, silence for you is a form of praise ... and his saying, "Speak in your hearts on your beds, and be silent" (Ps. 4:5). ( Guide 1:59; Pines 139-40)

It could be that Maimonides' meaning here is simple: where negation is the only mode of thinking about the truth of God's being, silence is the most befitting option. However, three elements in this short passage allude to more: first, the phrase "apprehension of Him is the inability to fully apprehend Him"; second, the anonymous but seemingly widespread saying of the philosophers "He blinded us with His beauty, and is veiled from us by the intensity of His manifestation"; and third, his two quotations from Psalms recommending silence as the best praise for God. The saying of the philosophers has parallels in Maimonides: "The truth was hidden from them completely, together with the intensity of His manifestation (Ar., wa-khafiya ´anhum al-haqq jumlatan ma´a shiddat zuhurihi) ( Guide Introduction; Pines 8) [28] and "Exalted be He Whose perfection has blinded us" (Ar., fa-subhana man 'abharana kamaluhu ) (Guide 1:72, end; Pines 193). [29] These phrases, yet again, betray a mystical context, not a metaphysical or logical one; they allude to a post-philosophic experience of the Divine which is beyond verbal and conceptual silence.

On the Matter of Maimonides' Sources
I do not know the origin of these terms. There seem to be three possibilities: that they are drawn from the tradition of philosophic mysticism of Ibn Sina, al-Farabi, and others for whom intense religious- intellectual experience was the telos of humanity; that they are of sufi origin, perhaps through the influence of his family and milieu; and that Maimonides himself fused these terms with his own particular meaning as the most mature form of his lifetime of reflection on these matters. Each of these will be examined separately though I rather prefer the last suggestion. In any case, modern scholars will have to change their conception of medieval rationalism to include this spiritual-experiential dimension within the very definition of the purpose of philosophy.

Sarah Stroumsa, [30] Steven Harvey, [31] and Kenneth Seeskin [32] have restated the position of classical Wissenschaft thinking most clearly [33]: Maimonides demythologized the world to come, messianism, resurrection, revelation, prophecy, providence, creation -- indeed, all major rabbinic doctrines -- and constructed a system in which intellect alone is the measure of perfection and, hence, the telos of humanity. True felicity is a function of intellectualization. Lidhdha is the state of permanent, abstract, intellectual bliss which is true worship; normative prayer is merely a training ground for intellectual worship. There are no traces of sufi ecstatic experiences in Maimonides. Harvey has even argued that the Yemenites and other easterners were struck by the presence of the sufi term ´ishq but, since they were cut off from the philosophic traditions of the west, they imbued Maimonides with foreign meaning which was the opposite of the non-ecstatic, rationalist, true reading of the west. [34]

Schwartz[35] has criticized this classical position noting that Maimonides does not have any systematic discussion of the soul, immortality, or happiness, as does Avicenna. Indeed, a reading of the original texts of al-Risala fi al-´Ishq and of al- Risala fi Mahiyyat al-Salat [36] shows that the ideas and the terminology used by Avicenna are not at all present in Maimonides. Thus, chapter one of al- Risala fi Mahiyyat al-Salat is devoted to a long discussion of different types of souls, a subject only adumbrated by Maimonides. It also contains a defintion of the resurrection, a subject avoided by Maimonides. And it states that the goal of prayer is uninterrupted submission to God, a definition not shared by Maimonides. Chapter two discusses the difference between legislated and true prayer, a position not far from Maimonides', but it continues by defining true prayer as irfan Allah, mystical knowledge of God, and yunaji rabbahu, being intimate with God -- both terms conspicuously missing in Maimonides. Chapter three on life after death bears no resemblance in terminology or construct to Maimonides. Thus, too, Avicenna's al- Risala fi al-´Ishq has long sections on the types of souls, a long discussion of ´ishq (passionate love), of shawq (yearning), and even includes the famous passages about the love of beautiful human faces, of the difference between kissing and embracing, the paean to dying a chaste person, and the gazing on the beardless faces of youths as a witness to divine beauty – ideas that could not have been further from Maimonides' worldview. Lobel, too, [37] criticizes the classic Wissenschaft view stating that: "Ultimately, Maimonides' God is not the Prime Mover of Aristotle but the unknowable Plotinian One, who cannot be adequately represented in speech." All speech about God is by tasamuh, a poetic license that allows one to use words loosely. Kellner, too, [38] alludes to religious language that is post-philosophical.

It seems to me, however, that there can be no doubt that Maimonides follows the philosophic, intellectualist tradition in his method of negation which culminates in silence as the only epistemologically sound way to talk about God; in his identification of the divine as paradoxically knowner, known, and knowing; and in his subsequent interpretation in a philosophic way of the doctrines of prophecy, revelation, creation, reward and punishment, practical mitsvot, etc. Even his definition of intellectual worship is in this tradition, granted that he does not teach these topics using the same categories and terms that others use but seems to consciously introduce terms that are sufi in origin to describe the states beyond rational thought.

The argument for sufi influence is particularly tempting. Maimonides' in-law was a known sufi [39]; his wife may have been one too [40]; there were known Jewish sufis in his entourage [41]; his son was under sufi influence [42]; and the school that developed under R. Abraham was certainly under sufi influence. [43] Indeed, in his Mishne Torah in Hilkhot Nezirut 14:15, Maimonides argues just for such pietistic living in spite of its not being a life led according to the golden mean as he requires elsewhere [44]:

But he who vows to God in the way of holiness -- this is pleasing and praiseworthy. Concerning this it was said, "The laurel (Heb., nezer) of his God is upon his head ... he is holy unto the Lord" (Nu. 6:4-5). And Scripture has accounted him as equal to the prophet, as it says, "I shall cause prophets to arise from your children and nazirites from your young men" (Amos 2:11).
Again, in his Mishne Torah in Hilkhot Shemitta ve-Yovel 13:12-13, Maimonides makes an argument for intensely religious living:
Why did [the tribe of] Levi not merit an inheritance in the land of Israel and a share in the spoils of war together with its brothers? Because it was set aside to worship God, to teach His direct ways and His righteous judgements to the public ... Therefore, they were set aside from the ways of the world: they did not wage war like the rest of Israel and they did not inherit the land ... Rather, they are the army of the Lord, as it says ...
The tribe of Levi is not alone [in this]. Rather, every single person of those who live in the world, whose spirit has gratefully welled up, and who has comprehended in his or her mind to be separated and to stand before God, to serve Him, to worship Him, and to know Him; who has walked in the straight path that God has intended for her or him; and who has shed from his or her neck the yoke of the many accountings that humans make [of one another] -- this person has become holy [like] the holy of holies, and God will be her or his portion and inheritance forever and ever. Such a person will have sufficient in this world, as did the priests and levites, as David, may he rest in peace, said, "The Lord is my portion of inheritance and my cup; You sustain my destiny" (Ps. 16:5).

Still, one cannot say that Maimonides was a sufi. His worldview and vocabulary are not the same. Maimonides did not advocate sufi asceticism. There is no antinomianism (or better, transnomianism) in Maimonides. He does not dwell upon the themes of love, passion, desire, etc. He does not advocate the specific ritual practices of sufi influence, even those his son introduced in the next generation. And so on. The most one could say is that he is a philosophic mystic who uses sufi vocabulary, an intellectualist mystic who provided a space within rabbinic, rationalist, halakhic Judaism for persons with intense spiritual practice.

Those who argue for an internal development have usually used the instrumentalist or double-truth approach: that Maimonides had one teaching for the masses and one for the elite. [45] Following this line of interpretation but more subtly, Fox [46] has argued that there is one teaching for the elite and for the masses but one must bear in mind that the elite are not elite all the time and, hence, they need the practice of the masses. Kaplan [47] has argued much the same and Kreisel [48] has argued that the intellectual worship of God is universally obligatory while Jewish ritual worship of God is obligatory only for Jews.

The answer may lie somewhere in between. Lobel [49] has pointed out that Halevi took terms that were in the Islamic environment and transformed those terms by applying them in a rather strict rabbinic framework of thought. Much the same may be true of Maimonides: that he first built an intellectualist, philosophic system rooted largely in Aristotle though drawing on Alfarabi and others; and then, on the basis of his own personal religious experience, he added on top of that a spiritual teaching which used sufi-like terms in their non-technical sense, transforming those terms to serve his own purposes.

Conclusions
In Maimonides' teaching there are three levels of spiritual life after the initial level of observance of the commandments: (1) intellectual apprehension of God also called "love" of God -- this involves long and tedious intellectual work to get to know creation and the rational energy behind it; (2) intellectual contemplation of God, also called "worship" of God and "passion" for God -- this entails pondering the results of intellectual apprehension in the sensed presence of God; and (3) continuous contemplation of God, characterized by such words as "always" and "intense pleasure" -- this comprises sustained being-in-the-presence of God even while one is going about one's daily business and especially when one is about to die. This hierarchy of the spiritual life shows beyond all doubt that, for Maimonides, metaphysics was only the penultimate stage in spiritual development; that rational work was only the bridge to a more spiritual stage of living; and that it was this sustained being-in-the-presence of God after intellectual effort that was the raison d'être of humanity. To make this point, Maimonides uses terms that come from a mystical milieu, images that allude to mystical states, and constructs a reality that leads toward such a state. Put simply: for Maimonides, philosophy was the handmaiden of mysticism.

Finally, while Maimonides' thought is fully rooted in the Islamic rationalist philosophic tradition, in Guide 3:51, he consciously chose to use terms of sufi origin to allude to the post-rational experiential reality which constitutes the core and ultimate end of his religious teaching.