Kellner Must A Jew Believe Anything ?

Must a Jew Believe

Anything?
◆

MENACHEM KELLNER

Second Edition
The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization

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ForJolene
now and forever
I WOULD never have written this work were it not for the encourage-
ment and example of Ken Seeskin. Ken is the model of the academically
dispassionate scholar of Jewish topics who is also deeply concerned
about the state of the Jewish community and convinced that retreating
to the ivory towers of academe is irresponsible. In a world in which
rabbis are more and more social workers and less and less scholars (and
this is no criticism of rabbis), academics have to be active within the
Jewish community if our ancient tradition of intellectual engagement
with and scholarly approach to the texts and traditions of classical Juda-
ism is to be maintained. Ken's marvellous Maimonides: A Guide for
Today)s Perplexed, written in a lively and engaging style and directly
addressed to the reader, deals with complex, serious, and important
topics in an accessible fashion, without either condescending to the
reader or making unnecessarily difficult demands. It is the model I have
sought to emulate here.
It is a pleasant duty to thank the many individuals who have helped me
in various ways in the writing of this book. My wife, Jolene, has read every
line several times and argued with me about most of them. In a very
serious sense this book is as much hers as mine. For this, and for much,
much else, I am grateful. Kenneth Seeskin and Jonathan Berg have been
generous with their comments, criticisms, and encouragement. Mena-
chem Hirshman read and criticized the first three chapters; I am grateful
for his assistance. David R. Blumenthal read an earlier draft of the text
and made many discerning suggestions. The book has been vastly im-
proved by his perceptive critique. Marc Shapiro and Shmuel Morell gave
me the benefit of detailed criticism of the entire text. Shmuel in particular
forced me to rethink many of my arguments and to be more self-
conscious about what I was trying to do. I am profoundly grateful to him
for his exemplary collegiality. I have (electronically) discussed aspects of
the book with Michael Broyde, Eitan Fiorino, and Eli Clark. I thank
them for their assistance. I worked out many of the ideas here in lectures
given under the warm and hospitable aegis of the Foundation for Jewish
Studies in Washington, DC, and in a seminar which I had the privilege of
teaching at the Ecole Pratique des Hautes Etudes in Paris; I am grateful
to Rabbi Joshua Haberman and Ms Ruth Frank in Washington and to
viii Acknowledgements
Professor Charles Touati in Paris for their intellectual stimulation and
wonderful hospitality.
My thanks to Professor David R. Blumenthal and to E. J. Brill, pub-
lishers, for permission to reprint Blumenthal's fine translation of Maim-
onides' Thirteen Principles from his The Commentary of R. Ifoter hen
Shelomo to the Thirteen Principles ofMaimonides.
I would also like to thank Connie Webber, Janet Moth, and Gillian
Bromley of the Littman Library for their many important contributions
to this book. Each of these talented individuals contributed unstintingly
of her skill and intelligence; whatever the book's faults, many of its
strengths can be traced to them. My special thanks go to Ludo Craddock,
Littman's chief executive officer, for his efficient and good-humoured
shepherding of this book all the way to the hands ofits readers.
Introduction
1 Two Types of Paith II
Faith, Belief, and Trust 12
Emunah in the Torah 14

Theology and the Torah 16
Classical Judaism and the Absence of Dogma 24
2 Rabbinic Thought 26
Testing for 'Required Beliefs' 26
An Objection: Mishnah Sanhedrin x. l 33
A Defence of Dogma 38
Heretics and Sectarians 40
A 'Theology' ofAction 43
3 Why Judaism Acquired a Systematic Theology 44

Behaviour and Belief 44
Extrinsic Reasons for the Lack of Systematic Theology in Judaism 46
Why Systematic Theology Developed among the Jews 49
The Importation ofTheology 50
4 Maimonides: Dogma without Dogmatism 52

Maimonides' Dogmas 52
Maimonides on Inadvertent Heresy 56
Maimonides on Conversion and the Nature ofFaith 58
Maimonides on Leaving Judaism 60
Maimonides' 'Non-dogmatic' Dogmas: Science and
Religious Faith
Maimonides on Truth
The Logic of Righteousness: Reason and Faith
x Contents
5 Maimonides: Impact, Implications, Challenges 66
The Impact 66
The Implications 71
Challenges to Maimonides 77
Was Maimonides Inconsistent? The Karaites 82
6 Heresy-hunting 87
Orthodoxy and Heresy 87
Theology and Halakhah: A Category Mistake 90
Three Contemporary Orthodox Statements 92
Freedom of Enquiry 93
The Illegitimacy of the Non-Orthodox 95
Inclusivism 97
The Three Statements: A Critique 99
Why has Maimonides' Position become Dominant? I04
The Maimonidean Bind I08
7 How to Live with Other Jews no

Asking the Right Question no
So Who or What is a Jew Anyway? n2
Non-Orthodox Jews and J udaisms n4
Maimonides and the Objectivity ofTruth n9
J\fterword 127
APPEND Ix l Maimonides on Reward and Punishment 149
APPENDIX 2 The Thirteen Principles 164
APPENDIX 3 Yigdaland Ani ma)amin 175
Note on Transliteration 177
Note on Citation ofClassical Sources 178
Glosstiry 179
Biographical Notes on Jewish Thinkers 182
Bibliography 185
Index 197
I HA VE written this book because I have something to say to my fellow
Jews about the nature of our religion and how we may best relate to one
another. Additionally, the book presents further evidence for a claim that
I have been defending in my scholarly writings over the past twenty
years, namely that Maimonides' theological formulations and halakhic
decisions are conditioned by his philosophical positions. In this study,
furthermore, I draw together ideas and insights scattered among some
two dozen books and articles of mine, forming them into a consistent
and, I hope, useful whole.
There is a sense in which this is two books. In the first six chapters I
present, analyse, and defend a particular understanding of what re-
ligious faith means in classical Judaism. These chapters will, I hope, be of
interest to anyone, Jew or non-Jew, seeking insights into what might
bombastically be called the 'nature of Judaism'. The seventh and last
chapter is addressed to Orthodox Jews in particular. In that chapter I
build upon the conclusions of the first six chapters in order to argue for a
new way of looking at and relating to non-Orthodox Jews and in-
stitutions. The first six chapters are thus primarily analytical, the last
primarily polemical and apologetic (in the sense of defending a particular
religious stance).
I wrote this book because of my concern that there is a crisis looming
over Jews and Judaism. The crucial question we face, I think, is not
whether we will have Jewish grandchildren, but how many different
sorts of mutually exclusive and mutually intolerant Judaisms our grand-
children will face. Orthodoxy insists that God revealed the (one, uniquely
true, immutable) Torah to Moses at Sinai. This bedrock commitment
seems to rule out a pluralist approach (accepting that different valid
and legitimate approaches to the Torah may coexist in mutual respect).
Orthodoxy in today's world is less and less amenable to respectful dia-
logue with a non-Orthodoxy-a range of non-Orthodoxies-which it
sees as growing ever more radical, ever more willing to jettison traditional
values, beliefs, and practices. It sees itself not as pushing away the non-
Orthodox, but as reacting and responding to their excesses. More and
more, Orthodoxy seems willing to 'cut its losses', give up on the rest of
the Jewish people, and concentrate on a 'saving remnant' as the only hope
2 Introduction
for a Jewish future. This book is an expression of my unwillingness to
accept this approach.
Conservative, Reform, and Reconstructionist Jews, on the other hand,
feel that every one of their overtures to Orthodoxy has been rebuffed,
that ' there is no one to talk to there'. They see Orthodoxy as growing
ever more fundamentalist, ever more intransigent, and ever more tri-
umphalist. They see themselves not as pushing away the Orthodox, but
as reacting and responding to their excesses.
As an 'Orthodox' Jew, I am more concerned with what Orthodoxy can
and should do to lessen these tensions than with pointing the finger of
blame at non-Orthodox streams. I put the term 'Orthodox' in quotation
marks here because, while I am a believing, Torah-observant Jew and as
such would ordinarily be called Orthodox, I prefer not to use the term in
this sense. 'Orthodoxy' in the strict sense, not as a way oflife but as a way
of structuring our thinking about other Jews, makes sense only in the
context of the Maimonidean Judaism which is precisely what I am argu-
ing against in this book. My argument in what follows is that Orthodoxy
has backed itself into a corner by making a virtue out of what was orig-
inally a term of opprobrium, namely 'orthodoxy' in the strict sense of
the term. If Judaism is defined in terms of dogmatic orthodoxy, non-
Orthodox Jews automatically become heretics, and the halakhic tra-
dition (at least from the time of Maimonides) is very clear on how to treat
heretics: working with them, and not against them, to create a Jewish
future for all of us simply is not an option.
It is the burden of this book to argue that traditionalist Judaism in the
modern world did not have to adopt this approach, and that it still can,
and certainly ought to, frame the argument in other terms altogether.
These other terms are not pluralist-I do not think that the belief that
the Torah was given by God to Moses on Sinai which underlies the
Jewish tradition can coexist with the sort of pluralism demanded by non-
Orthodoxy today-but they do allow for mutual respect and tolerance
and, even more important, allow all Jews to work together towards a less
polarized Jewish future.
This book is also my response to two different sorts of challenge. One
of its germs was the suggestion of Rabbi A. Mark Levin that I adapt my
book Dogma in Medieval Jewish Thought to a more general audience (he
also urged me to write a book on the most important theological jokes in
Judaism, but that is a different story). A second impetus was a review of
another book of mine, Maimonides on Judaism and the Jewish People, in
which I had sought to prove that Maimonides rejected the idea that Jews
Introduction 3
are defined by some inherent characteristic which makes them essentially

unlike non-Jews. 1 This idea has a long history in the Jewish tradition: it
is central, for example, to the vision of Judaism held by the Iberian
philosopher-poet Judah Halevi (d. n41) and to that held by the author of
the Zohar, the core text of the type of Jewish mysticism known as
kabbalah. Maimonides, I argued, maintained that being Jewish has less
to do with where one comes from and more to do with where one is
going. For Maimonides, a Jew is defined by beliefand behaviour, not by
some mystical or metaphysical principle, and certainly not just by the
brute fact of having been born with a particular set of genes. In con-
temporary terms, and to adopt a helpful analogy coined by my friend
Daniel J. Lasker, Jews are defined by software, not hardware. As I will try
to show in this book, Maimonides went so far as to summarize the heart
of Judaism as he understood it in a series of dogmatic statements, his
well-known Thirteen Principles. 2
Maimonides on Judaism and the Jewish People was written as a scholarly
work and aimed at a scholarly audience. No work of scholarship, how-
ever, no matter how dry, boring, and distant from the claims and
concerns of 'real life', can be entirely divorced from the life, concerns,
hopes, and fears of the scholar who produced it. If this is the case
generally, it is all the more true of a person living in Israel and dealing
with Judaic scholarship. While writing the book I was aware that I had
found in Maimonides traditional authority for a position with which
I strongly identified personally. One of the reasons I hold that position
so strongly is that I am convinced that the alternative approach is
dangerous.
It is a short step from maintaining that Jews are essentially different
from non-Jews to affirming that Jews are inherently superior to non-Jews
(a belief hardly borne out by any objective consideration of the evi-
1
On the essentialistvs. the Maimonidean approach to the nature of the Jewish people,
see Menachem Kellner, Maimonides on Judaism and the Jewish People (Albany: SUNY
Press, 1991).
2
Much of this book is given over to a discussion ofMaimonides . For general audiences
by far the single best introduction to the master's thought is Kenneth Seeskin, Maimon-
ides: A Guide for Today)s Perplexed (West Orange, NJ: Behrman House, 1991). For
readers interested in a more technical approach, I recommend Marvin Fox, Interpreting
Maimonides (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990 ). With verve and insight, Fox
stakes out a closely reasoned position on how to interpret Maimonides, a hotly debated
topic now and in the past. On how Fox's approach fits into the history of Maimonides
interpretation, see Menachem Kellner, 'Reading Rambam: Approaches to the Inter-
pretation ofMaimonides', Jewish History, 5 ( 1991 ), 73-93.
Introduction
dence ). It is also a short step from the conviction that Jews are essentially
unlike non-Jews to the position that non-Jews can never be trusted and
that they bear within them an ineradicable hatred for Jews (a beliefwhich
I reject, but which a rational person could deduce from the sad facts of
recent and less recent Jewish history). In the context of an Israel seeking
to live at peace with its neighbours, Jews holding this 'essentialist' view of
the nature of the Jewish people more than occasionally fall prey to the
tendency to demonize our enemies and often incline to believe that any
accommodation with these enemies will simply lead the latter to con-
tinue seeking our destruction. In other words, instead of seeing Arabs
as human beings like us, with similar fears and hopes, frustrations and
joys, they see them as the latest incarnation of the quintessential Jew-
hating Gentile bent upon nothing but our destruction. When the essen-
tialist vision of the Jewish people is coupled with the profound disdain for
non-Jews found in the Zohar and other kabbalistic and hasidic texts, the
temptation to reject any movement towards peace or accommodation on
the part ofArabs as nothing more than a tactical step towards the ultimate
goal of our destruction becomes almost overwhelming.
As a Jew who believes that God created all human beings equally in the
divine image, and as one eager to live in peace and equality with my Arab
neighbours, I was delighted to find in Maimonides traditional authority
for the position that, obvious differences of talent aside, all human beings
are born equal. But, in so doing, I may have jumped from the frying pan
into the fire. In a perceptive review of Maimonides on Judaism and the
Jewish People, David Novak pointed out that by turning the Jews from a
nation defined by shared descent, or by some shared metaphysical or
mystical characteristic, into a communion of true believers, Maimonides
opened the door to accusations of heresy and the concomitant theo-
logical witch-hunts. 3 Knowing that I had no more sympathy with that
outcome than with some sort of religio-ethnic triumphalism, Novak
challenged me to write another book, exploring the possibilities for theo-
logical tolerance within a Judaism which rejects nationalist essentialism.
This book is my answer to Novak's challenge.
Now the full extent of the problem which prompted me to write this
book comes clear: can I reject or modify Maimonides' theological defin-
ition of what it is to be a Jew without adopting some sort of essentialist
definition of the nature ofJ ewishness, with all its attendant dangers, and
without doing what I take Conservative and contemporary Reform Jews
3
David Novak, Review ofMenachem Kellner, Maimonides on Judaism and the Jewish
People, Shofar, n ( 1992 ), 150-2.
Introduction s
to do-namely, turn Judaism into a kind of religious nationalism, whose
main doctrine seems to be a sentimental attachment to half-remembered
myths about what 'true' Jewish life used to be like? There is a second
problem: can I reject what I will show below to be Maimonides' 'theo-
logification' of Judaism without rejecting the allied claims that Judaism
teaches truth and that there is one absolute truth? I certainly do not want
to give these up! The book before you is my attempt to meet these
challenges.
Rabbi Moses ben Maimon ( II38- 1204 ), known in English as Maimon-
ides and in Hebrew by the acronym Rambam, figures on almost every
page of this book. The name 'Maimonides' itself suggests the fact that
there are as many ways of understanding him as there are individuals
seeking to understand him. As I once heard Shalom Rosenberg re-
mark, each of us has a 'Mymonides', as opposed to 'Hermonides' or
'Hismonides'. A number of my recent scholarly publications were
written in order to define and defend a particular view of Maimonides.
There is no need to go into that issue here. The account ofMaimonides
presented in this book is one with which my intended audience should
have no problems-with the exception, probably, of one aspect, namely
my exposition of Maimonides' understanding of the nature of human
perfection and the criteria which must be satisfied for inclusion in the
world to come. As I (and almost all other scholarly interpreters of his
thought with whom I am familiar) understand Maimonides, the only
criterion he stipulates for inclusion in the world to come is intellectual
perfection. In order to achieve intellectual perfection one must first
achieve a very high level of moral perfection. In Maimonides' eyes, the
best, most effective, and most efficient tool for achieving and maintain-
ing moral perfection is fulfilment of the commandments of the Torah.
Nevertheless, in principle, one could achieve a very high level of intel-
lectual perfection (as did Aristotle, according to Maimonides) without
fulfilling the commandments. Furthermore, fulfilling the command-
ments without achieving intellectual perfection does not get one into the
world to come. This interpretation of Maimonides is likely to raise the
hackles of those who approach him from a strictly traditionalist perspect-
ive, and I have thus written a special appendix (Appendix r below)
defending it through an examination of Maimonides' introduction to his
commentary on the tenth chapter ofMishnah Sanhedrin ('Perek 1.ielek)).
There may be some readers who will be put off by my willingness to
engage Maimonides in debate, dismissing it as an act of unparalleled
hubris on my part. To that, a number of things must be said. First,
6 Introduction
Maimonides is today treated with more veneration than he himself would
want. Such veneration often leads to horrible misrepresentation of his
thought. The best example I have of this is a lecture I once heard by a well-
known scientist and Habad hasid. He maintained that since Maimonides
had written the Mishneh torah with divine inspiration, everything in it
must be literally true, including the pre-Copernican description of the
cosmos found in the opening chapters of 'Laws of the Foundations of the
Torah'. In fact, Maimonides presented scientific matters in the Mishneh
torah as an exposition of the most up-to-date science of his day-an
exposition which he certainly did not think was infallible. 4
Second, it is one of the theses of this book that in matters of theology
the attitudes of earlier authorities carry less weight than they do in matters
of halakhah. It would be inconsistent of me, then, to feel that it was for-
bidden for me occasionally to take respectful issue with Maimonides on
matters of theology. In addition, I have argued in detail in a separate work
that Maimonides himself denies the claim that earlier generations (in-
cluding the tannaim and amoraim, that is, the authorities cited in the
Mishnah and Talmud) have inherently greater authority than later gen-
erations to make binding decisions in non-halakhic matters. 5
Third, and most important for those for whom this question is an issue
of significance, there are traditional authorities upon whom I can rely for
every one of my reservations about Maimonides' positions; these author-
ities will be cited below where relevant and appropriate. In general our
medieval forebears were quite willing to be sharply critical of Maimon-
ides. The glosses of R. Abraham ben David of Posquieres, known in
Hebrew as Rabad (c.1125-98) on the Mishneh torah are a notorious case
in point, as we shall see below (p. 58). Similarly, R. Shem Tov ibn Shem
Tov (c.1380-1441) was unrestrained and downright vituperative in his
criticisms of the Jewish Aristotelians, Maimonides prominent among
them. 6 R. Isaac ben Sheshet Perfet ( 1326-1408; also known in Hebrew as
Rivash) addressed a halakhic responsum to the question (inter alia)
whether it was permitted to study the philosophical works of figures like
4
For proofof this, see Menachem Kellner,' Maimonides on the Science of the Mishneh
Torah: Provisional or Permanent?', A]S RePiew, 18(r993),169-94.
5
Menachem Kellner, Maimonides on the (Decline ofthe Generations> and the Na tu re of
Rabbinic Authority (Albany: SUNY Press, 1996).
6
These criticisms are found in Shem Tov ibn Shem Tov, Book of Beliefs (Heb.)
(Ferrara, r556; photo-edition, Jerusalem, r969 ); a good example of what I have in mind
may be found on fo. 4-Sb, where Maimonides' discussion of angels as 'separate intellects'
in the second chapter of the 'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah' is dismissed as
'contradicting the entire Torah' .
Introduction 7
Maimonides and Gersonides (R. Levi ben Gershom, 1288-1344, known

in Hebrew as Ralbag). In the end, he was loath to forbid their works, even
though they wrote things 'which it is forbidden to hear', having been led
astray by foreign teachings. 7
I should add a word here about the 'world to come'. Classical Judaism
(i.e. the Judaism of the Mishnah and Talmud) includes the clear assump-
tion that some of us, at least, will survive our deaths in one form or
another and that after we die the righteous are in some way rewarded and
the wicked in some way punished. Beyond that, there is very little agree-
ment in Jewish tradition about how the world to come is constituted or
what happens there. Maimonides is one of the few authoritative Jewish
figures to have devoted much systematic attention to the nature of the
world to come and to the matter of how one achieves entry into it. It is
one ofthe main aims of this book to show that Maimonides' discussion of
these questions was innovative as opposed to traditional, and that its use
in today's Jewish world has dangerous consequences.
To put my thesis in the simplest possible terms, I will argue here that
Maimonides was right in rejecting the essentialist view of the Jewish
people, but wrong in replacing it with a definition of the Jew as a person
who adheres to a strictly defined set of dogmas. This is simple to state, but
not so simple to explain, and certainly not so simple to defend. What
do I mean by 'right' and 'wrong' in this context? The Jewish religious
tradition, as it had developed to his day, presented Maimonides with a
number of well-entrenched options concerning the nature of the Jewish
people. He chose one of those options and rejected others. The same
religious tradition presented Maimonides with a series of options con-
cerning the nature of Jewish belief. He chose an option which had only
recently been made available, so to speak-having been imported into
Judaism by the theologian and polemicist R. Sa'adia Gaon (882-942)-
one which still clearly bore the marks of its Graeco-Muslim origin, and
one which cohered only poorly with the rest of the Jewish tradition. 8
Thus, the first choice was 'right', the second 'wrong'. Moreover, the first
7
On this issue, see Menachem Kellner, 'R. Isaac bar Sheshet's Responsum Con-
cerning the Study ofJewish Philosophy', Tradition, 15 (1975), no-18. Further on the
resistance to Maimonidean philosophy in medieval Judaism, see idem, 'Gersonides and
his Cultured Despisers: Arama and Abravanel', Journal of Medieval and Renaissance
Studies, 6 ( 1976 ), 269-96.
8
The claim that Maimonides used categories of thought which betray their Graeco-
Muslim origin is indirectly defended in the first two chapters of this book. See also the text
from Maimonides' commentary on Pirkei avot('Ethics of the Fathers') cited below (p. 63).
For detailed discussion, see Menachem Kellner, Dogma in Medieval Jewish Thought: From
Maimonides toAbravanel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986 ), l-9, 34-49.
8 Introduction
choice, I believe, helped move Jews and Judaism along the path to mes-
sianic fulfilment; the second did not.
The claim that Maimonides was influenced by non-Jewish sources,
incidentally, is not a new one. It was made-as an accusation-by many
of his medieval opponents, as noted above. 9 The accusation was renewed
in the modern era by Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-88):
[Maimonides] sought to reconcile Judaism with the difficulties which con-
fronted it from without, instead of developing it creatively from within, for
all the good and the evil which bless and afflict the heritage of the father. His
peculiar mental tendency was Arabic-Greek, and his conception of the purpose
of life the same. He entered into Judaism from without, bringing with him
opinions of whose truth he had convinced himself from extraneous sources
and-·he reconciled. For him, too, self-perfecting through the knowledge of
truth was the highest aim, the practical he deemed subordinate. For him know-
ledge of God was the end, not the means; hence he devoted his intellectual
powers to speculations upon the Deity, and sought to bind Judaism to the
results of his speculative investigations as to postulates of science or faith. The
Mizvoth became for him merely ladders, necessary only to conduct to know-
ledge or to protect against error. 10
Hirsch's claims here are stronger than anything I will be saying in this
book..11
In broad strokes, the argument of this book depends upon distin-
guishing two types of religious faith: one which understands faith as
primarily trust in God expressed in concrete behaviour, as against an -
other which understands faith as primarily the acknowledgement of the
9
For an accessible discussion, see Daniel Jeremy Silver, Maimonidean Criticism and
the Maimonidean Controversy, n80-r240 (Leiden: Brill, 1965) .
10
See Samson Raphael Hirsch, The Nineteen Letters of Ben Uziel, trans. Bernard
Drachman (New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1899 ), eighteenth letter, 181-2.
11
I find it hard to believe, incidentally, that Hirsch could get away with a comment like
this in the contemporary Orthodox world. For an illuminating study of the background
to Hirsch's attack, see Jay Harris, 'The Image of Maimonides in Nineteenth Century
Jewish Historiography', Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research, 54
(1987), u7-39 at 139. The Nineteen Letters, as Marc Shapiro noted to me in a personal
communication, is one of Hirsch 's earliest works; in his later works he no longer criticizes
Maimonides overtly, he simply ignores him . It is interesting to note further that the
German halakhic authority and polemicist R. Jacob ben Zvi Emden (1697-1776) in at
least some places seriously entertained the possibility that Maimonides was not the
author of a book he found so objectionable as the Guide of the Perplexed. See Jacob J.
Schacter, 'Rabbi Jacob Emden's clggeret Purim', in Isadore Twersky (ed.), Studies in
Medieval Jewish History and Literature, ii (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,
1984 ), 441-6 at 445 .
Introduction 9
truth of certain faith-claims. Maimonides, it will be shown here, adopted

the second approach and in so doing introduced a new element into
Judaism. Whatever his intent, one of the consequences of Maimonides'
claim that Jews are defined first and foremost by their beliefs is, to my
mind, unfortunate. This is the tendency to define Jewish 'legitimacy' in
terms of the acceptance of certain abstract theological claims, which in
turn involves the application of categories such as heresy and sectarianism
to individuals and institutions. Once applied, the charge of heresy carries
with it serious halakhic implications, notably the ostracism, vilification,
and exclusion from the world to come of those deemed to be heretics.
This is a fundamentally exclusivist approach. It also involves a certain
amount of hubris, for those who brand others heretics are in doing
so claiming that they themselves are virtuous and upright Jews, and
determining for God, as it were, who gets into heaven.
This book has a clear polemical intent: I argue as a believing,
Torah-observant Jew that the application of theological tests of Jewish
legitimacy, so common today, reflects only one particular vision of
Judaism, a vision first found in the writings ofMaimonides. We can reject
this Maimonidean innovation while remaining committed, mitzvah-
observing Jews. My polemic is thus twofold, arguing against theological
exclusivism and arguing for a more inclusivist vision ofJ udaism.
Beyond my polemical intent, I hope that this book also serves a second
purpose: namely, to provide an examination of the place and nature of
belief in Judaism. It is my analysis of the nature of emunah ('belief') in
the Torah and Talmud which forms the foundation of my reservations
about Maimonides' alternative understanding. Consequently, a person
who could not care less about how contemporary Orthodoxy does and
should view non-Orthodoxy can, I hope, profit from this book, learning
from it about a little-known but crucial aspect of Judaism's self-under-
standing. Certainly my approach has raised not a little controversy in a
number of circles, and I am therefore particularly grateful to the pub-
lishers for the opportunity to respond to some of my critics in the
Afterword written for this new edition.
Must a Jew believe anything? If 'belief' is a matter of trust in God
expressed in obedience to the Torah, my answer to the question is that a
Jew must believe everything. If'belief' is the intellectual acquiescence in
carefully defined statements of dogma, the answer is that there is nothing
that a Jew must believe.
ONE
BELIEF in God was not an issue for the first generations ofhumanity as
described in the Bible: God spoke to them, rewarded them, admonished
them, all directly and without intermediaries. 1 By the time of Abraham,
however, this immediate acquaintance with God had been destroyed.
Abraham's family were idolaters and Abraham himself is depicted in
the midrashic tradition as the first person for whom belief in God is a
challenge, a question, a problem.
The Torah, however, ignores the issue altogether. God speaks to
Abraham suddenly, almost literally 'out of the blue':
Now the Lord said unto Abram: 'Get thee out of thy country, and from thy
kindred, and from thy father's house, unto the land that I will show thee. And I
will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee, and make thy name great;
and be thou a blessing. And I will bless them that bless thee, and him that curs-
eth thee will I curse, and in thee shall all the families of the earth be blessed.'
(Gen. 12: 1-3)
What is Abraham's response to this? 'So Abram went,' the Torah con-
tinues, 'as the Lord had spoken unto him.'
This passage, perhaps more than most in the Torah, begs to be filled
out midrashically. Had Abraham known God previously? What reason
had he for accepting God's command? Did he ask any questions?
Leaving one's tribe and striking out on one's own in the ancient Near
East, not even knowing in advance where one was going, was, for a
herder such as Abraham, an act little short of madness. Did he try to
negotiate with God, buy time, fish for information about where he was
going? As far as we can tell from the text, the answer to all these ques-
tions is simply no. The Lord had spoken to him and that was enough:
'So Abram went.'
1
The title of this chapter is taken from that of Martin Buber's book Two Types ofPaith
(New York: Harper & Row, 1961). See further Louis Jacobs, Faith (New York: Basic
Books, 1968).
12 Two Types ofFaith
Faith, Belief, and Trust

Abraham is presented as the archetype of the person of faith: God
commands and Abraham obeys. As will become clear, it is significant that
God's first recorded approach to Abraham is a command. What was the
nature ofAbraham's faith which led him to obey that command?
In our everyday conversation we distinguish between the expressions
'believe in' and 'believe that'. This is a distinction with a difference, and
one that teaches us important things about Judaism. Consider two ex-
amples. First, a habitually heavy smoker, puffing on an unfiltered cigar-
ette, discourses on the evils of smoking, stating with apparent sincerity:
'I firmly believe that smoking is a foul, disgusting, and dangerous habit.'
Must we think that our smoker is disingenuous? Must we see her as
insincere, trying to fool us or herself? Of course not. We all hold posi-
tions that clearly call for certain norms of behaviour while not always
living up to those norms. I myself was grossly overweight for many years,
all the while firmly believing that it was stupid and irresponsible not
to take better care of myself (and thereby also of my family). Were my
affirmations of that belieflies? Not at all. I really did believe it; I just did
not act on it. That is called human frailty or laziness, not lying.
But consider a second case. A woman professes that she believes in her
husband. We have no reason not to take her at her word and assume that
she is speaking the truth. It then turns out that this same woman has been
spending considerable sums of money to keep hired detectives dogging
her husband's footsteps and reporting his every move, conversation,
and meeting back to her. Do we still credit her claim to believe in her
husband? We do not.
In each case a person affirms a particular belief. In each case the person
acts inconsistently with that belief. In the first instance we dismiss the
inconsistency as an example of (perhaps endearing) human frailty; in
the second, we condemn the assertion as a lie. Why?
The obvious answer to this question is that in the two cases we are
using the term 'belief' in different senses. These two different senses
are indicated by the prepositions following the term. To say of a person
that she believes that something is the case is to say that she affirms the
truth of a proposition or set of propositions. It is a cognitive claim, about
what a person holds to be true. To say that a person believes in something,
on the other hand, certainly has cognitive implications (it would be hard
to believe in something without affirming some factual claims about it,
such as that it exists), but goes beyond affirmation or denial. Such a
statement involves the relationship of the believer to that believed in, a
Two Types ofFaith 13
relationship usually taken to be one of trust. It is a fact of everyday life that

one can sincerely accede to cognitive claims (about the evils of smoking,
for example) without that acceptance influencing one's behaviour in any
noticeable way. It is equally true of everyday life that we expect prot-
estations of trust and loyalty to find expression in concrete behaviour
consistent with those protestations. If we do not find that behaviour we
have good reason to suspect the sincerity of those protestations.
This distinction is crucially important. The prophet Habakkuk teaches
that 'the righteous shall live by his faith' (Hab. 2: +).If the righteous
individual lives by his or her faith and is defined as righteous in terms of
that faith alone, then one cannot hope to achieve or even understand
righteousness without understanding faith. Is the faithful believer a
person who affirms the truth of certain propositions or a person who
steadfastly trusts in God and acts in accordance with that trust? In what
follows I will try to show that the Torah and the Talmud see religious
faith in terms of steadfast loyalty and trust which find expression in
behaviour, and not in terms solely ofintellectual acquiescence in certain
propositions. It is this characteristic of classical Judaism which explains
why systematic theology and dogma are so foreign to its spirit. 2
2
For a philosophical explanation of the difference between 'beliefin' and 'belief that',
see Kenneth Seeskin, 'Judaism and the Linguistic Interpretation of Jewish Faith', in
Norbert Samuelson (ed.), Studies in Jewish Philosophy: Collected Essays ofthe Academy for
Jewish Philosophy, 1980-1985 (Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1987), 215-34.
Some philosophers are unconvinced that the distinction between 'belief in' and 'belief
that' is a real one, maintaining that all 'belief in' statements can be reduced to a series of
'belief that' statements. (On this issue, see H. H. Price, 'Belief"ln" and Belief"That" ',
Religious Studies, 1 ( 1965 ), 5-28.) The matter is in fact irrelevant for my argument here. I
argue in this section that the core meaning of emunah in biblical and rabbinic Judaism is a
species of 'belief in' as opposed to 'belief that'. A much weaker claim would actually
suffice for my needs, namely that biblical and rabbinic Judaism strongly emphasize belief
expressed in behaviour over belief expressed in words, actions over declarations, non-
verbal acts over verbal acts. On this view, emunah means or can be reduced to statements
of 'belief that'; it was sufficient that a person hold correct beliefs implicitly, without
necessarily expressing them in any clear-cut dogmatic fashion. While this sort of move
would probably satisfy the criticisms of those philosophers who are convinced that all
statements of the 'belief in' variety can be translated into statements of the 'belief that'
variety, I am not willing to make it. I am convinced that the distinction is a valid one and
that it teaches us important lessons about the nature of biblical and rabbinic Judaism.
Kenneth Seeskin's discussion in 'Judaism and the Linguistic Interpretation of Jewish
Faith' is extremely helpful in this respect. On the distinction between moral and
intellectual virtues in Jewish thought, see Menachem Kellner, 'The Virtue of Faith', in
Lenn Goodman (ed.), Neoplatonism and Jewish Thought (Albany: SUNY Press, 1992 ),
195-205 .
Two Types ofFaith
the Torah
The term emunah, which is rendered in English as 'faith' or 'belief',
occurs for the first time in the Torah in connection with Abraham. After
obeying God's command to leave his family and home, Abraham is led to
the land which God promises to give to his descendants. Famine forces
him to sojourn in Egypt, where his wife Sarah's beauty almost precipi-
tates a tragedy. Back in the land promised by God, Abraham and his
nephew Lot find that they cannot live together in peace, and each goes
his own way. Lot is captured by enemies and then freed by Abraham.
'After these things,' the Torah tells us, 'the word of the Lord came
unto Abram in a vision, saying: "Fear not, Abram, I am thy shield, thy
reward shall be exceeding great."' Now, for the first time, Abraham
questions God: 'O Lord God, what wilt Thou give me, seeing I go hence
childless . . . to me thou hast given no seed.' God has repeatedly
promised Abraham that the land to which he has been brought will be
given to his descendants. But Abraham remains childless: what is the use
of a 'great reward' if there are no children to whom it can be bequeathed?
In response, God brings Abraham outside, and says: 'Look now towards
heaven and count the stars, if thou be able to count them ... so shall thy
seed be.' What is Abraham's response to this new promise?' Vehe)emin,
and he believed in the Lord; and He counted it to him for righteousness'
(Gen. 15: r-6).
What is the nature of Abraham's belief which God counted as 'right-
eousness'? It is quite clear that Abraham's righteous belief was not a
matter of his accepting God's statements as true, or of having given
explicit intellectual acquiescence to the truth of a series of propositions,
such as:
1. God exists.
2. God communicates with individuals and makes promises to them.
3. God has the power to keep promises made.
4. God may be relied upon to keep promises.
No, the context makes it very clear: Abraham's act of righteousness was
his demonstration of trust in God. There can be no doubt that, had he
been asked, Abraham would happily have affirmed the truth of the four
propositions listed just above. The Torah, however, gives us no reason
for thinking that Abraham ever asked himself the sorts of questions to
which our four propositions could be construed as answers. The emunah
spoken of here is more than beliefthat certain statements about God are
true; it is beliefin God, trust and reliance upon God, all ofwhich call forth
behaviour consistent with that stance of trust and reliance.
The point I am making here about the meaning of emunah is neither
new nor controversial; it is just not often noticed. 3 Yet perusing a con-
cordance and examining the verses in context is enough to convince any
reader that the basic, root meaning of emunah is trust and reliance, not
intellectual acquiescence in the truth of certain propositions. 4 A few
further examples should suffice to make the point clear. God is described
as a God of emunah in the great poem 'Ha'azinu': 'The Rock, His work is
perfect; for all His ways are justice; a God of faithfulness [emunah] and
without iniquity; just and right is He' (Deut. 32: 4). God is not being
described here as agreeing to the truth of certain statements. The verse
itself teaches us which of God's characteristics make it possible to appeal
to a 'God of faithfulness': God is free ofiniquity, just and right.
Even in cases where the Hebrew can be construed in terms of 'belief
that' as opposed to 'beliefin', reading the verse in context almost always
reaffirms the point being made here about the connotation of emunah in
the Torah. In Deuteronomy 9: 23 Moses berates the Jews: 'And when the
Lord sent you from Kadesh- Barnea, saying, "Go up and possess the land
which I have given you"; then ye rebelled against the commandment
of the Lord your God, and ye believed Him [ he)emantem] not, nor
hearkened to His voice.' This verse might be construed as saying that the
Jews simply did not believe what God was telling them; i.e. they did not
believe that God was speaking the truth. This, however, is an entirely
implausible interpretation. In the first place, the parallel between 'believ-
ing' and 'hearkening' is clear; the Jews are being castigated for failing to
3
For an analysis of the use of the root a-m-n in Torah and Talmud, see Norman J.
Cohen, 'Analysis of an Exegetic Tradition in Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael: The Meaning of
'Amanah in the Second and Third Centuries', AJS Review, 9 (1984), l - 26. Compare
further Isaac Heinemann, 'Faith' (Heb. ), in Entsiklopediyah mikra,it, i. 426-8, and
Gerhard Kittel, 'Faith', in Bible Key Words from Gerhard Kitte/Ys Theologisches Worterbuch
zum Neuen Testament, 4 vols., vol. iii, trans. and ed. Dorothea M. Barton, P.R. Ackroyd,
and A. E. Harvey (New York: Harper & Row, 1960 ), 10.
4
My position here is supported by Moshe Halbertal and Avishai Margalit, Idolatry
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1992 ), see e .g. pp. 22, 3I. Compare further
Lenn Evan Goodman's comment, 'Even the word "faith" in the Hebrew Bible does not
have the sense that Augustine forged by merging Plato's pistis with Cicero's jides. It
means steadfastness, trust and loyalty. It is more a moral than a cognitive term and never a
form of knowledge .' See Goodman's God of Abraham (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1996 ), 27.
do what God told them to do, not for their failure to believe in the truth
of some statement or other. Why did they fail to do what God instructed?
The Jews failed to trust God, and therefore they failed to obey God's
command. God commanded the Jews to ascend to the Land oflsrael and
conquer it, promising that they would succeed. The lack of emunah in
this verse relates to the Jews' failure to trust God to keep the promise
made. Furthermore, what was the content of God's statement concern-
ing which the Jews showed lack of emunah? It was the command to
ascend to the Land oflsrael. If one disobeys a command and is therefore
accused of lack of emunah, it makes much more sense to say that one is
being accused oflack of trust in the commander than of quibbling over
the accuracy of statements made by or about the commander. 5
Theology and the Torah

My claim here is that the Torah teaches belief in God, as opposed to
beliefs about God. That is not to say that no specific beliefs are implied by
or even explicitly taught in the Torah. The Torah obviously assumes
God's existence, although it nowhere states simply that God exists, or,
according to most interpreters, commands belief that God exists. 6 The
Torah also clearly teaches that God is one: 'Hear, 0 Israel, the Lord our
5I should like to make it very clear that I am not seeking to read a version of religious
existentialism into or out of the biblical text. Religious existentialists focus on the act of
faith, interpreting it as the response of an entire human being (not just the faculty of
reason ) to some sort of call. Religious faith is presented as subjective, true for each
individual in her or his own way. Religious existentialism is a response to and critique of
medieval religious rationalism. These ideas, I think, and certainly the way in which they
are expressed by thinkers like Martin Buber, are foreign to the world of the Torah . On all
this, see Jacobs, Faith, 61 ff.
6
My claim that few interpreters find in the Torah a commandment to believe in God's
existence is strictly true. But since the main exponent of the view that Exodus 20: 2 ('I am
the Lord thy God') contains an express command to believe that God exists was
Maimonides, a few more comments are in order. To the best of my knowledge,
Maimonides is the first authority to interpret the verse in that fashion, and, at least in the
Middle Ages, one of the few who did so. (He was followed in this by the author of the
Sefer ha&inukh, as Jolene Kellner pointed out to me; see commandment no. 25 in that
work. ) His decision to view this verse as a commandment to believe that God exists is a
clear reflection of his understanding of Judaism (which will be described below in
Chapter 4). His interpretation of the verse was rejected by, among others, Moses ben
Nahman (u94-1270; also known as Nahmanides and Ramban), in his gloss to the first
positive commandment in Maimonides' Book of Commandments, and R. Hasdai Crescas
(d . 1412), in the introduction to his Or hashem. For texts and discussion, see Kellner,
Dogma, rn9-20. See also the discussion in R. Isaac Abrabanel's Rosh amanah (Ramat
God, the Lord is one' (Deut. 6: 4). It is significant that this verse is
phrased as an exhortation, not as a commandment. But beyond these
two core issues, there are many verses and ideas which make no sense
whatsoever ifwe do not accept certain statements about God. The Torah
teaches explicitly that God is 'merciful and gracious, long-suffering, and
abundant in goodness and truth' (Exod. 34: 6 ff). Isaiah (40: 18) implies
that God is incomparable: 'To whom, then, will ye liken God? Or what
likeness will ye compare unto Him?' and in the same chapter (verse 8)
teaches God's eternity: 'The grass withereth, the flower fadeth; but the
word of our God shall stand for ever.' If God's word stands for ever, how
muchmoresotheauthorofthatword! God'spowerisemphasizedinJob
42: 2, 'I know that Thou canst do everything', and God's ubiquity in
Psalm 139: 7-12.
The Torah also teaches explicit beliefs about human beings as well as
about God. Human freedom is the burden ofDeuteronomy 30: 19: 'I call
heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before
thee life and death, the blessing and the curse; therefore, choose life, that
thou mayest live, thou and thy seed.' If we are called upon to choose
between life and death, it must mean that we can make the choice.
Human behaviour is free, not determined.
Facts about history are also taught in the Torah. Many of these can be
allegorized if one wishes; one can, for example, follow Maimonides
in denying that Balaam's ass actually spoke (Exod. 22: 21-35). 7 Some,
however, cannot be allegorized without destroying the Torah alto-
gether. It would be difficult to allegorize away the claim that in some
significant sense God created the cosmos; or, similarly, that God chose
the Jews 'to be Mine own treasure from among all the peoples' (Exod. 19:
5). One can interpret the notion of chosen-ness in many ways; but one
cannot deny that it is a specific, discrete belief explicitly taught in the
Torah.
If, then, there are specific beliefs taught in the Torah, why can we not
say that the emunah which the Torah both demands of a Jew and seeks to
inculcate is belief that certain statements are true, as opposed to trust in
God, trust which finds its expression in certain forms of behaviour? The
Gan: Bar Ilan University Press, 1993), chs. 4, 17. I have translated this book into English,
under the title Principles ofPaith (London: Littman Library ofJ ewish Civilization, 1982 );
see in this edition pp. 72-3, 152-5.
7
For Maimonides' claim that Balaam's ass 'spoke' only in a subjective vision of Bal-
aam's, see Guide of the Perplexed, trans. Shlomo Pines (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1963 ), ii. 42, p. 389.
answer to this question has to do with the Torah's understanding ofitself
and its understanding of the nature of human beings. To state part of the
answer in summary fashion, before developing it in detail: the Torah
teaches, occasionally explicitly, more often implicitly, certain beliefs
about God, the universe, and human beings; notwithstanding this, the
Torah has no systematic theology.
Judaism emerged through a struggle with idolatry, demanding loy-
alty to the one God, creator of the universe. This loyalty was to find
expression in certain ways, pre-eminently through obedience to God's
will as expressed in the Torah. So long as one expressed that essential
loyalty in speech and (especially) in action, little attempt was made to
enquire closely into the doctrines one affirmed; indeed, no attempt was
even made to establish exactly what doctrines one ought to affirm.
Furthermore, Judaism developed as a religion intimately bound up with
a distinct and often beleaguered community. Loyalty to the community
was a further way in which loyalty to God and God's revelation was
expressed. Loyalty to God, Torah, and Israel, therefore, is the hallmark
of the Jew: loyal behaviour, not systematic theology, is what is expected
and demanded.
Systematic theology typically has two components. The first is an
attempt to establish clearly what ideas a religion teaches; the second is
an attempt to fit these ideas into a consistent framework of relationships,
a system. Judaism lacks both. Let us take a look at a number of examples.
In each case we will examine a belief that all would admit is central to
Judaism; in each case we will see that what precisely is taught by the belief
is anything but certain. It was simply never considered important enough
to specify precisely what these beliefs en tail.
Let us take as our first example the notion of providence, that God in
some sense provides for, takes care of, is concerned for, all (or at least
some) creatures. The Ba'al Shem Tov (Israel ben Eliezer, c. 1700-60, also
known as tl1e Besht), the founder ofhasidism, is reported to have taught
that a leaf does not fall in a forest without God ordaining the fall of
that specific leaf in the time, place, and manner of its fall. 8 The Talmud
makes much the same point: 'No one stubs his toe below without it
having been ordained first on high. ' 9 Maimonides rejects this doctrine
explicitly in his Guide ofthe Perplexed: 'For I do not by any means believe
that this particular leaf has fallen because of a providence watching over
it. ' 10 It is Maimonides' teaching that individual providence does not
8
Probably based upon a comment in Genesis rabbah x. 6.
9
BT f:lullin7b. 10
Maimonides, Guide, iii. 17, p. 471.
extend beyond human beings. Nor are all human beings governed by that
providence: only those who have perfected their intellects to one degree
or another benefit from individual providence; and even those who have
perfected their intellects are guided by providence in different degrees,
depending upon each individual's level ofintellectual attainment. 11
The question of divine providence immediately raises three other
questions, concerning God's knowledge, God's justice, and human-
kind's freedom. If God provides for us in some sense, rewarding our
good deeds and punishing our infractions, God must know us in some
fashion. If God's knowledge is perfect, as most religious believers would
want to assert, does it then include the future, what we will do tomorrow?
Ifit does, how can we be thought to be free and hence responsible for our
behaviour? The typical response to this question in Judaism was not an
attempt to work out the relationship between divine providence and
knowledge on the one hand and the idea of human freedom on the other.
Rather, the typical response was that of the second-century tanna
R. Akiva, who made the famous statement in Pirkei avot('Ethics of the
Fathers') to the effect that even though God knows all, human freedom is
preserved (iii. 19 ): a restatement of the problem, not its solution! The
tannaim apparently agreed with the Yiddish saying, 'No one ever died
from having a philosophical problem.'
Bible and Talmud alike, then, assume divine providence as a given
(even Job never questioned God's providence; rather, because of his very
acceptance of divine providence, he questioned God's justice). Yet they
seek neither to define it nor to work out its systematic relationship to
other givens assumed by Judaism.
One might be tempted to dismiss the example of providence since it is
a belief assumed by the Torah, but not really explicitly taught by it. Let us
admit the claim, just for the sake of argument (although it must be
remembered that very few beliefs are explicitly taught as opposed to
implied or assumed by the Torah), and turn to a belief concerning the
explicit centrality of which in Judaism there can be no possible doubt:
that there is a God. Judaism, as noted above, affirms God's existence and
oneness; beyond these two issues, we find much disagreement in the
tradition about the divine attributes. Two of the more blatant areas of
dissension concern God's incorporeality and God's nature.
11
For Maimonides' account of providence, see Guide, iii. 13-24, pp. 448-502. In this
context it should be noted that the very term 'providence' ( was an invention
of the ibn Tibbon family; the Sages, it appears, had no term for the concept. See Ephraim
Urbach, The Sages, 2 vols. (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1975), i. 256.
In a passage to which we will have occasion to return below, Maimon-
ides asserts that anyone who claims that God has any physical charac-
teristics or faculties whatsoever is a heretic, excluded from the com-
munity oflsrael and barred entry to the world to come. It is important to
grasp the full significance of this claim: Maimonides implies that a
devoutly pious Jew who prays to God with fervour and devotion, but
who conceives of God as having some aspects of corporeality, is actually
performing an act of idolatry (praying to an entity other than the true
God). This view, as we shall see below, aroused the ire of one of Maim-
onides' great contemporaries, R. Abraham ben David of Posquieres.
Individuals 'better and greater' than Maimonides, he insisted, had mis-
takenly affirmed God's corporeality without thereby becoming any less
righteous or devout. 12
Does God have a body or not? Both Maimonides and R. Abraham
affirmed that the Master of the Universe is incorporeal; but Maimonides
condemned as heretics those who made an innocent mistake on the issue,
while R. Abraham lauded some of those very 'heretics' as being 'better
and greater' than Maimonides. Neither Maimonides nor R. Abraham
was ejected from the community of Israel: despite their contrary assess-
ments of heresy and its implications, both men, and their disciples, are
accepted (and even accept one another) as good and faithful Jews.
We can focus on another fundamental debate about God in Judaism
by taking note of a question sent to R. David ben Solomon ibn Abi Zimra
(1479-1573; also known as Radbaz), the noted halakhic authority and
leader of sixteenth-century Egyptian Jewry. The question concerned a
case in which 'Reuben' said forcefully and publicly of'Simeon' that 'it is
forbidden to pray with you! For you are a sectarian and heretic: others
For the text of Maimonides' claim that believers in a corporeal God are sectarians
12
and have no share in the world to come, see below, p . 58, and Kellner, Dogma, 22. For R.
Abraham's reservations, see Kellner, Dogma, 89, 256. On R. Abraham generally, see
Isadore Twersky, Rabad of Posquieres, rev. edn . (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication
Society, 1980 ). Twersky discusses R. Abraham's stricture on Maimonides on p. 282.
R. Abraham's claim that individuals 'better and greater' than Maimonides believed in
a corporeal God (and were thus heretics without a share in the world to come in
Maimonides' eyes) was no mere rhetorical flourish. See Kellner, Dogma, 233; Harry
Austryn Wolfson, The Philosophy of the Kalam (Cambridge, Mass. : Harvard University
Press, 1976), ro6-rr; Bernard Septimus, Hispano-Jewish Culture in Transition: The
Career and Controversies of Ramah [R. Meir ha-Levi Abulafia} (Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 1982) , 75-8r. For a contemporary text, see Shem Tov ibn
Falaquera, 'Letter on the Guide of the Perplexed' (Heb.), in J. Bisliches (ed.), Min!Jat
kena)ot (photo-edition, Israel, 1968), 183. See further the sources collected by Marc
Shapiro, 'The Last Word in Jewish Theology? Maimonides' Thirteen Principles', The
Torah Umadda Journal, 4 ( 1993 ), 187-242 at 191 - 4 .
pray to the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac, while you pray
to the god of Aristotle!' The question placed before Abi Zimra was:
had Reuben thus violated the ban on shaming one's fellow in public? 13
Reuben's accusation that Simeon prayed to the God ofAristotle was seen
as being prima-facie grounds for bringing Reuben to judgement before a
rabbinic court. Why?
The distinction between 'the God of the philosophers', on the one
hand, and 'the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob', on the other hand,
is deeply rooted in Western thought. The God of the philosophers is
basically the conclusion to an argument, a philosophical hypothesis
necessary to make sense of certain phenomena. The philosophers' God is
aware only of itself and has no knowledge of changeable entities (such as
you and me); extends no special providence; does not respond in any
meaningful sense to prayer; indeed, beyond the creation of the cosmos
(according to some but certainly not all systems), it does nothing what-
soever but exist and contemplate itself in a timeless and surprisingly
un-self-aware state of pure intellectualism.
On this view of God, prophecy can be nothing more than a perfection
of the prophet: the prophet is not actually sent by God to prophesy, but
rather does so as a consequence ofhighly developed moral and intellectual
capacities. Life after death becomes a consequence of philosophical, as
opposed to religious or moral, excellence. Prayer, as anything beyond an
opportunity for contemplation or the expression of communal solidarity,
makes no sense. God neither rewards nor punishes specific actions.
The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, on the other hand, is wholly
personal (in the sense of being self-aware and thus aware of others),
knows us in all our individual particularity, creates, reveals, redeems,
dispatches prophets, answers prayer (not always in the way we want),
rewards and punishes, and, above all, actively and uninterruptedly loves
all human beings. 14
13
See R. David ibn Abi Zimra, Responsa (Heb.), ed . Yitshak Sofer (Benei Berak: Et
Vesefer, 1972), no. 19r.
14
In a variety of places throughout his works Abraham Joshua Heschel compares the
God of the philosophers to the God ofAbraham, Isaac, and Jacob. His discussion is useful
for further refining the distinction. We may present his comparisons in the form of a table:
The philosophers 1 God The God ofAbraham
God=Being God = Concern
God= Unmoved Mover God= Most Moved Mover
Perfect person =philosopher Perfect person =prophet
Man searches for God God searches for man
We seek to define God We seek to experience God
Concept of God Presence of God
In view of the dramatic distinctions between the two views of the deity,
it is no wonder that the seventeenth-century French scientist and philo-
sopher Blaise Pascal is reputed never to have left home without a note
pinned to the lining of his jacket: 'The God of Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob, not the God of the philosophers!' 15
In the history ofJewish thought, the fourteenth-century Bible com-
mentator, scientist, and philosopher Gersonides is notorious for having
believed in the 'God of the philosophers' almost exactly as depicted
above. Gersonides was hardly alone in this view. In most particulars on
this issue he simply followed the greatest and most influential of all
Jewish thinkers since the completion of the Talmud-Maimonides. Of
course, Gersonides was much more open about his views than was
Maimonides (which may account for the latter's more widespread
acceptance and influence, since he could thus more easily be interpreted
as teaching unexceptional views), but in most respects differed from the
earlier scholar only in matters of detail.
Not all Jewish philosophers agreed with the views of Maimonides
and Gersonides. Judah Halevi, for example, the philosopher and poet
of eleventh- and twelfth-century Spain, rejected views like those of
Maimonides and Gersonides as incompatible with authentic Judaism,
and devoted much of his theological and philosophical work Sefer
hakuzari to refuting them. In the century and a half after Maimonides'
death in 1204 violent debates broke out repeatedly over the acceptability
of Maimonidean teachings. Is God personal and intimately concerned
with each one of us, as traditional rabbinic Judaism and later Jewish
mysticism maintained? Or is God austere and alooffrom us and our petty
needs and concerns, as the philosophers insisted? Do we know God
through nature (as Maimonides taught) or through history (as Halevi
strongly held)? These and the other questions raised above, while they
preoccupied a few philosophers, were simply never considered important
enough by most of those concerned with the ongoing tradition of
Judaism to demand clear-cut, once-for-all answers.
Judaism teaches that God exists and is one; it further teaches that God
provides for all creatures. The Written Torah and the Talmud make no
sense if we fail to affirm these teachings; they are absolutely central to the
Jewish conception of the universe. That does not mean, as we have seen,
that the tradition found it important to reach a normative, obligatory
Having recounted the Pascal story endless times to my students over the years, I
15
have finally found a written source for it. Lenn Goodman cites the source-' Memorial of
1654'-- on the first page ofhis God ofAbraham.
opinion concerning the actual, specific content of these teachings; it

certainly made no effort to reach agreement on their implications and
consequences.
The same situation obtains with respect to another question funda-
mental to Judaism: the meaning of the claim that Jews are God's chosen
people. A typical expression of the idea is found in the following verses
(Exod. 19: 3-6 ):
And Moses went up unto God, and the Lord called unto him out of the
mountain, saying: 'Thus shalt thou say to the house of Jacob, and tell the
children oflsrael: Ye have seen what I have done unto the Egyptians, and how I
bore you on eagles' wings, and brought you unto Myself. Now therefore if ye
will hearken unto My voice indeed, and keep My covenant, then ye shall be Mine
own treasure from among all the peoples; for all the earth is Mine: and ye shall be
unto Me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. These are the words which thou
shalt speak unto the children oflsrael.
This and other passages clearly state a basic teaching ofJ udaism: the Jews
enjoy a special relationship with God. But what is it that makes one a Jew?
As we saw in the Introduction, the tradition seems to offer two alterna-
tive, indeed conflicting, answers to this question. According to certain
midrashim, Judah Halevi, and the Zohar, Jews all have some kind of
inborn, inherent characteristic by virtue of which they are 'essentially',
not 'accidentally', distinguished from non-Jews. On the other view,
which is that held by Maimonides, being Jewish is first and foremost a
matter of commitment. On my understanding of Maimonides, that
commitment involves intellectual acquiescence in certain doctrines. 16
An important aspect of the debate between Halevi and Maimonides is
nicely captured in a distinction drawn by R. Isaac ben Judah Abrabanel
(1437-1508): did God choose the Jews, or did the Jews choose God?
Halevi would adopt the former view, Maimonides the latter. 17
The difference between these two approaches is more than academic:
it affects views about proselytes and proselytization, and about the nature
of the messianic era; also, because the essentialist view often leads those
who hold it to adopt an attitude of superiority over and distrust of non-
Jews, it has had and continues to have actual policy implications for
16
For the debate between Halevi and Maimonides on the nature of the Jewish people,
see my Maimonides on]udaism and the Jewish People.
17
On Abrabanel's distinction between God choosing the Jews (which calls to mind
the old doggerel, 'how odd of God to choose the Jews'), and the Jews choosing God, see
Shaul Regev, 'The Choice of the People oflsrael in the Thought ofR. Isaac Abrabanel'
(Heb. ), Asufot, 2 (1988), 271-83.
Two Types ofFaith
Israelis. And yet, despite its theoretical and practical implications, exactly
what it means to be the 'chosen people' remains amorphous and hard to
pin down. As with the nature of God and the nature of God's providence,
Torah and tradition teach that God chose the Jews in some sense, with-
out ever finding it important to establish in precisely what way.
Classical Judaism and the Absence of Dogma

All this being so (and it is), it is no surprise that classical Judaism has no
dogmas. The term 'dogma' is often taken to mean a beliefthat one holds
in the face of rational counter-evidence, and it is in that sense that we
use the term 'dogmatic' in ordinary language. In theology, however,
the term 'dogma' (from the Latin dogma, meaning 'opinion' or 'belief',
deriving in turn from the Greek dokein, 'to think') typically means a belief
ordained by a recognized religious authority, acceptance of which is a
necessary condition both for membership in the faith community under
discussion and for the achievement of personal redemption, however
that may be defined. It is in this sense that we find dogmas, articles of faith,
confrssional statements, creeds, and catechisms in classical Christianity
and later in Islam. 18
Dogma is an outgrowth of systematic theology. If a religion demands
acceptance of a body of specific doctrines, it is not surprising if it places
some of these doctrines on a higher plane than others. Furthermore, if a
religion teaches that personal fulfilment ('salvation' in Christian religious
vocabulary) depends upon holding some or all of its doctrines correctly,
it becomes very important to achieve absolute clarity on which doctrines
have that status and what precisely they are. Given that classical Judaism
has no systematic theology, and given that it sees personal perfection and
fulfilment as growing out of a life rightly lived as opposed to one rightly
thought, it is no surprise to discover that until the Middle Ages our
religious tradition never sought to express itself in terms of a set of
dogmas.
That the Torah explicitly teaches no articles of faith is clear (after all,
there are no verses that begin, 'Thou shalt verily believe that . . .' or
18
On dogma in Christianity and Islam, see e.g. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Growth ofMedi-
eval Theology (600-r300) (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978); A. J. Wensinck,
The Muslim Creed (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1932). I do not mean to
imply that Maimonides formulated dogmas for Judaism simply as a response to other
religions (for details, see Kellner, Dogma, 34-49), nor do I think that he held that the
classic version ofJudaism was incomplete. Rather, Maimonides sought to make explicit
matters which in his view had always been implicit in Judaism.
'Cursed be he who holds that ... ');but is this true of the Talmud as well?
In Chapter 2 it will be shown both that there are no explicit statements of
dogma in the Talmud and that many talmudic passages and practices
make sense only if we remember that Judaism defines emunah in the first
instance as trust in God and only secondarily, if at all, in terms of specific
beliefs held or rejected. 19 After that we can, in Chapter 3, seek to
understand why this is the case and why it ceased to be so. That, in turn,
will set the stage for Chapters 4 and 5, in which Maimonides' attempt to
revolutionize Judaism by setting it on a firm dogmatic foundation will
be examined. In Chapter 6 I introduce the explicitly polemical side of
this book, criticizing current applications of Maimonides' approach.
This opens the way for the last chapter, in which I attempt to sketch out
an alternative view, one which emphasizes inclusion over exclusion,
and commonalities over differences (without trying to hide those differ-
ences).
19
Throughout my discussion in the early chapters of this book I will be trying to drive
a wedge between theological formulations and behaviour. This is for polemical purposes,
so as to state my case in the strongest possible terms. For a statement of what I take to be
the correct relationship between the two, please turn to the section of Chapter 7 below
entitled 'Maimonides and the Objectivity ofTruth' (p. n9 ). For the moment, suffice it to
say that, in maintaining that 'Judaism defines emunah in the first instance as trust in God
and only secondarily, if at all, in terms of specific beliefs held or rejected', I do not mean to
claim that what we affirm is irrelevant to what we do.
TWO
THE TALMUD and midrashim are simply not the sorts of works in
which one can find explicit responses to questions such as: Does Judaism
have a systematic theology? If not, why not? How does Judaism under-
stand faith in God? It is not that answers to these sorts of questions
cannot be found in talmudic literature; in some cases they can be. The
questions themselves, however, are simply never raised. Systematic
thinking and formulation, indeed, were foreign to the rabbis who
constructed this literature, and it would be surprising if we were to find
'settled doctrines' about anything. 1 Jose Faur put the point pithily: 'The
whole notion of a system, let alone systematic attention, was alien to
them. ' 2 We shall see below that later generations of Jews have looked
back into the talmudic texts and found therein various ideas for which
rabbinic authority is then claimed. This often leads to reading later
systematic ideas back into rabbinic texts. Despite all this, examination of
rabbinically ordained practices and rabbinic texts can help us in formu-
lating answers to questions such as those raised above. In particular, what
can we learn from rabbinic texts about Jewish conceptions of faith in
God?
Testing for 'Required Beliefs'

It pays to put the question in the following way: assuming for the
moment that the rabbis of the Talmud thought that faith in God was best
expressed in a series of affirmations about God and God's universe (i.e.
'belief that' statements), in what contexts could we expect the rabbis to
1
The Mishnah, Jerusalem Talmud, Babylonian Talmud, and allied midrashim consti-
tute a vast body ofliterature composed over a period of at least 700 years. Moreover, it is
a literature aimed at arriving at clear-cut canons of behaviour and inculcating values; it
is not:, as I have said, a collection of textbooks of systematic theology. Approached
historically, therefore, it makes no sense whatsoever to seek after 'the attitude of the
Talmud' on anything. I approach it here, however, as it has always been approached by
traditionalist, believing Jews, as the embodiment of the Oral Torah.
2
Jose Faur, 'Monolingualism and Judaism', Cardozo Law Review, 14 (1993), 1712-44
at 1724.
Rabbinic Thought 27
demand that one get one's beliefs in order, so to speak, and present them
for inspection?
If we may use other monotheistic religions as a guide, then it seems
that we should expect the rabbis to require specific statements on the
exact content of one's beliefs at key junctures such as when one assumes
the rights and responsibilities of full participation in the Jewish com-
munity; when one joins that community from the outside; and when one
seeks admittance to the world to come. IfJudaism is going to apply some
sort of theological test, in other words, we should look for it when one
celebrates reaching one's majority, when one seeks to convert to Juda-
ism, and in discussions of what criteria one has to satisfy in order to
achieve a share in the world to come.
While the terms barmitzvah or batmitzvah do not occur in the Talmud
in their contemporary sense, there are many passages in which it is made
clear that a young man becomes fully responsible for his actions at the age
of thirteen years and one day. Up to this point the child is not actually
obliged to fulfil the commandments of the Torah. This understanding of
the nature of the transition is made clear by the name we give to it:
'barmitzvah', i.e. one who is obliged to fulfil the commandments.
What must one do in order to become bar- or batmitzvah? Contrary to
popular belief, one need not spend a lot of money on a big party, one need
not make a speech, one need not be called to the Torah, one need not even
be aware of the day; all one needs to do is reach one's twelfth birthday if
one is a girl, or one's thirteenth birthday if one is a boy. That is all there is
to it. Just as one reaches one's majority in Britain and in most states in the
USA by turning eighteen, so one reaches one's Jewish majority by turning
twelve or thirteen. To become bar- or batmitzvah, then, one need not do
anything-least of all pass a test on dogmatic theology.
The key focus is on behaviour. When one becomes old enough, one is
held to standards of action which are too stringent for little children: one
can be expected, for example, to fast on Yom Kippur and to observe the
Sabbath. One also earns certain rights over property, for example, or the
ability to enter into legally binding contracts. The question of when this
happens is a practical one: at what age can most developing adults be
expected to be able to do these things, and do them responsibly? 3
Nowhere in the tradition ofJudaism is reaching a majority connected in
3
It should be noted that in rabbinic literature the importance of reaching the age of
majority focuses on issues like the binding character of vows ( nedarim ), not on matters of
accepting theological teachings (see Mishnah Nedarim v. 6). For a valuable summary and
analysis of classic texts dealing with barmitzvah, see Byron L. Sherwin, 'Bar-Mizvah',
Judaism, 22 (1973), 53 - 65.
Rabbinic Thought
any fashion to the understanding and acceptance of specific beliefs. That
is not to say that children reaching the age of bar- and batmitzvah are
expected to be atheists or agnostics. On the contrary: it is expected that
they will have been brought up in faith and trust in God so that they
will want to behave as God wants them to behave and recognize their
obligation to do so.
This situation may profitably be compared with the institution of
confirmation as it is found in many Christian churches and as it was found
in classical Reform Judaism, which, in this matter at least, explicitly
sought to remodel Judaism in the light of Christian theological cat-
egories. A child is typically confirmed as a member of a particular religious
community at the end of her formal religious education, at the point at
which she will have achieved sufficient understanding of the tenets of her
denomination to accept them in a mature, responsible fashion. One is
confirmed, then, after demonstrating mastery (at some level) of the
tenets (i.e. dogmas) of one's faith and after explicitly adopting them as
one's own. By the time of bar- or batmitzvah, by contrast, few children
are theologically sophisticated, fewer still have been taught any sort of
catechism, and none has been tested on it in order to 'become' bar- or
batmitzvah. 4
If the Talmud gives no indication of a theological orientation in the
context of bar- or batmitzvah, perhaps it does in the context of con-
version to Judaism. The rabbis had no control over who was born Jewish,
but they had total control over who was accepted as a proselyte. Is there
any indication in their discussion of conversion to Judaism that they paid
any attention at all to systematic theology (and its offshoot, dogma), or
were even aware of the possibility that Judaism might be defined in
systematic, dogmatic terms?
This issue, at least, is easily examined; there is only one text in the
Talmud in which the process of conversion to Judaism is explicitly
described:
4
One might wish to argue (incorrectly) that the blessings recited over the reading of
the Torah ('Who has chosen us from among all the nations and given us His Torah' and
'Who has given us a Torah of truth and [thus] planted in us everlasting life') reflect a kind
of credo, involving belief that the Jews are God's chosen people and that acceptance of
the Torah leads to life in the hereafter. But even if this is true (and there is no reason to
think that it is), it has nothing to do with barmitzvah: anyone called to the Torah recites
these blessings; boys under the age of thirteen are not called to the Torah. The recitation
of these blessings, therefore, is in no way similar to a catechism, affirmation of which
'confirms' one into the Jewish faith.
Rabbinic Thought 29
Our rabbis taught: if at the present time a man desires to become a proselyte, he
is to be addressed as follows: 'What reason do you have for desiring to become a
proselyte? Do you not know that Israel at the present time are persecuted and
oppressed, despised, harassed and overcome by afflictions?' Ifhe replies, 'I know
and yet am unworthy,' he is accepted forthwith and given instruction in some
of the minor and major commandments ... He is also told of the punishment
for the transgression of the commandments . . . as he is informed of the punish-
ment for the transgression of the commandments, so he is informed of the
reward granted for their fulfilment. 5
According to this text, which is the direct source for all the halakhot
(discrete laws) of conversion, when a person comes before a rabbinic
court in order to convert to Judaism the court seeks to dissuade the pros-
pective proselyte, in effect testing his or her commitment to the process
of adoption into the Jewish people. If the prospective convert passes this
test, instruction in some of the commandments is given, and the person is
then immersed in a ritual bath ( mikveh) and, in the case of a man,
circumcised. That is the whole story. The entire focus here is on two
things: identification with the Jews and acceptance of the 'yoke of the
commandments'. There is not a breath of a whisper of any sort of
theological test. The issue simply does not come up.
I must make an important point here. I do not mean to imply that if a
prospective convert sincerely affirmed his desire to become a Jew, but
then added that he did so only out of identity with the historical fate of
the Jewish people, or because he found the life of the Torah spiritually
fulfilling, and did not really believe that God had given the Torah to
Moses at Sinai, such a person would be accepted as a convert. Hardly.
Similarly, if a person affirmed his desire to convert to Judaism because of
his beliefthat God gave the Torah to Moses at Sinai, but then mentioned
that in his view God was a pink elephant, it is likely that the court would
turn him away.
It is not the case that classical Judaism adopted an 'anything goes'
attitude towards matters of belief. The rabbis functioned in a context in
which who was and who was not a Jew was relatively clear, and in which
there was a broad consensus concerning matters of religious belief and
very little attempt to pin down and codify the details of that religious
belief. Persons who violated that theological consensus were probably
considered up to a point as simply strange, and after some point as having
placed themselves outside the community altogether. The attitude of the
5
BT Yevamot4 7 a-b.
Rabbinic Thought
rabbis towards matters of theology, it would seem, was more laissez-faire
than totally uninterested. 6
I must re-emphasize, so as not to be misunderstood, that the Torah
does have a theological message, and matters of belief are important in
Judaism. The entire Torah, as Maimonides never tires of reminding his
readers, revolves around the pole of the rejection of idolatry. Judaism
without belief in reward and punishment of some sort is incoherent, as
would be any attempt to ascribe to Judaism the denial of human freedom
in some significant sense. But the Torah always emphasized the life
rightly lived over the belief rightly held, and it never taught the specifics
of these beliefs; for reasons which will be discussed in detail below, pre-
medieval Judaism never found it necessary or important to hammer out
the particulars of the beliefs implied by or generally taught in the Torah.
At this point I am trying to prove that this is the case; in the next chapter I
will seek to explain why it is so.
To return to the matter at hand, it should now be clear that in at least
two crucial cases (barmitzvah and conversion) where we would have
expected to find explicit attention paid to dogmatic theology had the
rabbis defined faith in those terms, such attention is wholly lacking. Let
us turn to the third case, admittance to the world to come.
While classical Judaism clearly teaches that right behaviour in this world
is rewarded in the next, and wrong behaviour in this world is punished in
the next, it typically never seeks to establish precisely what happens. The
attitude seems to be: 'We'll die and then we'll see.' But what is clear-
and for this one needs no texts-is that the criterion determining one's
future fate is behaviour, not thought. In popular parlance, one is
rewarded for one's good deeds and punished for one's evil deeds. With
6
Even the case of Elisha ben Abuyah supports my claim here. Elisha, a tanna (i.e. an
authority cited in the Mishnah ), committed some offence. The exact nature of his sin was
unknown to the rabbis of the Jerusalem and Babylonian Talmuds, who advanced several
different theories about what he had done. According to some of the accounts he held
that the cosmos was governed by 'two authorities'. In this he diverged from Judaic
monotheism. For texts and studies on the case of Elisha ben Abuyah, see David Halperin,
The Merkabah in Rabbinic Literature (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1980 ),
71 -2, 167-72, 176-7; Yehudah Lie bes, Elisha )s Sin ( Heb.) (Jerusalem: Academon, 1990).
One of the points which Lie bes tries to prove is that Elisha's actual sin was hubris, over-
weening pride, and not the adoption of theologically obnoxious positions. Assuming
that Lie bes is right supports the general point I am trying to make here, but even Liebes
admits that the amoraim (authors of the Jerusalem and Babylonian Talmuds) and later
authorities all understand Elisha's sin as a theological deviation.
Rabbinic Thought 31
one possible exception, which will be discussed below, there are simply
no biblical or rabbinic texts in which holding right beliefs is specified as
the criterion for enjoying a share in the world to come.
Now, it is clear that some sorts of behaviour reflect or are the con-
sequence of some beliefs. A person who on philosophical or theological
grounds rejects monotheism may be led to idolatry. A person may admit
the existence of one God, but deny reward and punishment, and thus be
led to perikat ol, the throwing off of the 'yoke' of the commandments.
But in all such cases, the individual's sin is the forbidden behaviour, not
the forbidden thought. That is not to say that the Jewish tradition would
actively welcome an extremely observant atheist or agnostic; but so long
as the individual kept his or her unconventional thoughts private, no
great attempt would be made to root them out.
Thus far I have examined three crucial transitions in the life of a Jew:
from childhood to adulthood; from being a Gentile to being a Jew; and
from this life to the next. Had the rabbis of the Talmud been interested in
theology as such, these are the sorts of points at which we could
reasonably expect to find them clearly laying out the basic teachings of
Judaism in a dogmatic or at least theologically systematic fashion. But, in
fact, we do not find them doing so. This I take as convincing evidence for
my claim that pre-medieval Judaism did not express itselfin terms which
could be reduced to ordered theological formulations, formulations
according to which the rabbis could clearly and neatly determine who
was 'in' (a good Jew) and who was 'out' (a heretic).
This situation reflects the fact that in pre-medieval Judaism religious
faith-emunah--was understood as a particular relationship with God,
and not as a group of affirmations about God. There is one rabbinic text
in which this point is made almost explicitly, and it repays examination
here: 'R. Simlai expounded: "Six hundred and thirteen precepts were
communicated to Moses, three hundred and sixty-five negative ones,
corresponding to the days of the solar year, and two hundred and forty-
eight positive ones, corresponding to the number of members of a
human's body.' R. Simlai here tells us that the Torah contains precisely
613 commandments. We may skip the discussion which ensues, in which
he proves his point. R. Simlai then continues his exposition, saying,
'David came and reduced them [the 613 commandments] to eleven.'
Here R. Simlai cites Psalm 15, in which he finds eleven characteristics
of the person who seeks to sojourn in the Lord's tabernacle and dwell in
the holy mountain. The exposition continues: Isaiah is cited as having
Rabbinic Thought
reduced the 613 to six, Micah to three, and Isaiah, again, to two. The
passage ends as follows:
Amos came and reduced them to one, as it is said: 'For thus saith the Lord unto
the house oflsrael, Seek ye Me and live.' At this R. Nahman ben Isaac demurred,
saying [Might it not be taken as meaning,] Seek Me by observing the whole
Torah and live? But it is Habakkuk who came and based them all on one, as it is
said, 'But the righteous shall live by his faith. ' 7
Here we have a passage in the Talmud in which the 613 command-

ments of the Torah are reduced to one statement: the righteous shall live
by his faith . The tzadik, the righteous person, is defined as one who lives
by faith (emunah); faith, in turn, it is clearly implied, finds its expression in
the fulfilment of the 613 commandments of the Torah.
Faith, as apparently understood by Habakk:uk and by R. Simlai, is
meant to bring one to a particular kind of life, not to the affirmation of
particular ideas, however important those ideas may be. Judaism prizes
belief in God, trust in God, a life lived with God, over belief that certain
statements are true of God. This does not mean that Judaism teaches
nothing about God, or is open to any and all affirmations about God. It
means that the room for discussion, debate, even divergence and error
concerning these affirmations is broader than is often thought today.
Systematic theology is simply not part of the focus of classical Judaism;
theological questions as such were largely ignored by the Torah and
Talmud and the answers to theological questions were not made central
to the quest oflearning how to live the life commanded by God. I must
7
The talmudic text is found in BT Makot23b--24a. The amora R. Nahman's comment
here is noteworthy. The Talmud had said that the Prophet Amos had reduced all of the
613 commandments to one: 'For thus saith the Lord unto the house oflsrael, Seek ye Me
and live .' R. N ahman demurred, concerned lest the verse be interpreted to mean that only
those who correctly fulfilled every single one of the 613 commandments are true God-
seekers, and only they will live. This, as is well known, is the picture ofJudaism presented
by the apostle Paul. Paul replaced observance of the commandments with correct faith . If
R. Nah man's comment is indeed part of an anti -Christian polemic, then my claim here
that the faith spoken of by the prophet Habakkuk and recommended, as it were, by R.
Nahman as a summary of the entire Torah could not possibly be the 'belief that' alleged
by Paul. For an interpretation of this text precisely opposed to mine, see George Foot
Moore, Judaism in the First Centuries ofthe Christian Era, 3 vols . (New York: Schocken,
1971), ii. 84. Moore seeks to identify the verse from Habakkuk 2: 4, 'But the righteous
shall live by his faith', with Romans l : 17 and Galatians 3: n, 'The just shall live by faith.'
The 'just' spoken ofin these New Testament books obviously live without even trying to
fulfil the 613 commandments of the Torah . For Moore's interpretation to make sense we
must leave the last sentence out of the talmudic passage altogether.
Rabbinic Thought 33
emphasize again: theological views did find expression in classical Juda-

ism; my point is that no attempt was ever made to systematize them, to
compare them, to bring them into a consistent whole, or even to deter-
mine which were correct and how they were to be understood.
An Objection: Mishnah x. I
I maintained above that classical Judaism knows of no theological test
for admission to the world to come. Readers familiar with the tradition
will immediately object that there is at least one text in which such a test is
applied. This same text, it has been argued, represents an attempt by the
rabbis to set down the dogmas of Judaism. This latter claim has the
authority of no less a figure than Maimonides behind it. IfMaimonides'
interpretation is to be rejected, the support for that rejection must be
strong indeed.
Mishnah Sanhedrin x. I states:
All Israelites have a share in the world to come, as it states, 'Thy people are all
righteous, they shall inherit the land for ever' [Isa. 60: 21]. But the following
have no share in the world to come: he who says there is no resurrection taught in
the Torah, that the Torah is not from heaven, and the epikoros. Rabbi Akiva says:
'Even he who reads in the external books, and he who whispers over a wound,
saying, "I will put none of the diseases upon thee, which I have put upon the
Egyptians; for I am the Lord that healeth thee" [Exod. 15: 26].' Abba Saul says:
'Even he who pronounces the name according to its letters.'
What exactly does this mishnah teach? In the first place it takes as a given
that all Jews (even, apparently, those whose execution was laid down in
the preceding chapter of the Mishnah) will, other things being equal,
enjoy a share in the world to come (the Jewish way of expressing what
Christianity would come to call 'salvation'). 8 Typically, the mishnah cites
a proof text from the Bible to support its claim that Jews ('Israelites') will
8
For background on the mishnah analysed here, see Lawrence Schiffman, Who Was a
Jew? Rabbinic and Halakhic Perspectives on the Jewish-Christian Schism (Hoboken, NJ:
Ktav, 1985), +1-6. Schiffman, I think, over-emphasizes the theological character of the
mishnah, but is surely right in his claim that 'exclusion from a portion in the world to
come does not imply exclusion from the Jewish people' (p. +2). This conclusion follows
from the answer to a question which he poses on the previous page of his book: Can 'one
be excluded from the Jewish people and lose his Jewish status as the result of any beliefs
and actions[?] Indeed, it will be shown conclusively that this cannot occur and that only
the criteria described above [birth or conversion] could serve to indicate who was or was
not a Jew in the early centuries of this era.'
Rabbinic Thought
enjoy a place in the next world. 9 In that verse Isaiah says that the Jews
are righteous ( tzadikim) and will [therefore] inherit 'the land for ever'.
The Hebrew term for 'for ever' (le)olam) connotes eternity. Since the
righteous among us do not inherit anything in this world for all eternity,
the mishnah apparently reasons, the 'land' which Isaiah assures us they
will inherit for all eternity must be in another dispensation altogether.
The righteous, therefore, can look forward to an eternal existence in
another world, the 'world to come', i.e. the world we are not yet in. 10
The presumption of this mishnah, then, is that righteousness is an
absolute prerequisite for admittance to the world to come. It further
teaches that with apparently very few exceptions (it says 'all Israelites') all
Jews are sufficiently righteous to gain that end. 11
But not quite all Jews. The author of our mishnah says that there are
three types ofJewwho are excluded from the world to come: those who
deny that the Torah teaches resurrection, those who deny the divine
origin of the Torah, and those who earn the label epikoros. The first
two are tolerably clear, but what does the last mean? While it is highly
probable that the term derives from the name of the Greek philosopher
of the third and fourth centuries BCE-Epicurus-there is really no way
of knowing what exactly the author of the mishnah meant. The Baby-
lonian Talmud, however, in glossing this mishnah, is quite clear on its
understanding of the term: the epikoros is that person who shows dis-
respect to the rabbis. 12
9
The Mishnah takes no stand on the question of whether non-Jews will also gain
admittance to the world to come. This is a question treated in a parallel text (the Tosefta
on Sanhedrin); the position which has become normative in Judaism is that 'righteous
Gentiles' ( IJasidei umot ha)olam) will find their place in the world to come. For details, see
Kellner, Maimonides on Judaism and the Jewish People, 29-32.
10
The explanation oflsaiah 60: 21 offered here is drawn from Maimonides' 'Laws of
Repentance', iii. 5.
11
The assumption ofMishnah Sanhedrin x. l, that by nature, so to speak, all Israelites
are righteous and deserve a share in the world to come, should be compared with the
orientation of classical Christianity (at least from the time of Augustine), according to
which human beings are born stained with the original sin of Adam and Eve and are thus
by nature anything but righteous and deserving of a share in the world to come . For
discuss.ion of this, see Elaine Pagels, Adam, Eve, and the Serpent (New York: Vintage,
1989 ), esp. eh. 6.
12
For the talmudic understanding of epikoros, see Sanhedrin 96/rwoa and JT
Sanhedrin x. r. The question of whether or not this amoraic understanding of the term
properly reflects the way it was used by the tannaim, interesting in and of itself, is
irrelevant for our purposes here. See further Sanhedrin 3Sb, where Gentile epikoresim are
distinguished from Jewish epikoresim; if a Gentile can be an epikoros then the term can
hardly refer to a heretic in any straightforward theological sense.
Rabbinic Thought 35
R. Akiva adds two further classes of people who exclude themselves

from the world to come. The first of these consists of people who read
'external books' and the second comprises individuals who use biblical
verses in what we would call a magical fashion to heal the sick. As with the
term epikoros, so with 'external books': we do not know exactly what R.
Akiva had in mind. He might mean those books later called apocryphal;
but that seems unlikely, since in his day the biblical canon was still some-
what fluid (he is recorded as one of the authorities who helped establish
it) and also because certain of the books we now call apocryphal were
treated with respect by the authors of the Mishnah. Later interpreters are
also divided over what R. Akiva meant: Maimonides took him to mean
books of history and poetry, while R. Isaac ben Sheshet Perfet took him
to mean works like Aristotle's Rhetoric.13 Abba Saul's addition is clear:
one loses one's portion in the world to come if one pronounces the
tetragrammaton, God's four-letter name, as it is written.
This mishnah represents the only text known to us from classical
Judaism which might serve as a counter-example to my claims that pre-
medieval Judaism contains no statements of dogma and makes no
theological test for admission to the world to come. But does it really? A
number of points have to be made. First, it does not tell us what we have
to believe. It is phrased negatively: all Jews have a share in the world to
come, apart from those excluded under six headings. Instead of setting
down criteria for achieving salvation, it assumes that all Jews will indeed
earn it and then lists exceptions to that generalization, most of them
phrased in terms of denials, not affirmations. Now, it is true that one can
read an implied list of dogmas here: beliefin resurrection, etc. Statements
of dogma, however, do not typically instruct by implication.
This observation leads on to a second point: of the six issues raised in
the mishnah, three (the additions ofR. Akiva andAbba Saul) are actions,
while a fourth, that of the epikoros, is interpreted by the Talmud as
a species of behaviour. It is an odd statement of dogma which lists
two things one is not supposed to believe in and then four species of
13
Maimonides' explanation of the 'external books' is found in his commentary on
the Mishnah. For R. Isaac ben Sheshet's discussion see Kellner, 'R. Isaac bar Sheshet's
Responsum'. For a recent discussion of the term 'external books' see Gerald J. Blidstein,
'Rabbinic Judaism and General Culture: Normative Discussion and Attitudes', in Jacob
J. Schacter (ed.), ]udaism)s Encounter with Other Cultures: Rejection or Integration?
(Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1997), 1-56 at 21-3. Jose Faur suggested to me that the
Mishnah means to forbid reading any extra-biblical book with the cantillation appro-
priate to the Torah.
Rabbinic Thought
prohibited behaviour. It is even odder when we consider that the
mishnah literally says nothing about belief and talks only in terms of
statements, excluding from the world to come 'he who says there is no
resurrection taught in the Torah'. This would seem to indicate that the
mishnah's primary interest is not so much in guaranteeing right belief as
in extirpating dangerous talk. Its concern is more social than theological.
It is interested in what one does befarhesya, in public, rather than in what
one thinks in the privacy of one's head. This might be contrasted with the
Church's injunction against Galileo, ordering him neither 'to hold nor
[to] defend' the Copernican theory. 14
Thus we arrive at my third point. If this mishnah is meant to be a
statement ofJewish dogma, it is odd not only for what it includes, but
also for what it excludes. It makes no specific reference to belief in God,
for example. (Maimonides, it should be noted, interprets the epikoros as
one who denies God's existence, but we have no reason to suspect that
that is the intent of the mishnah itself.)
Fourth, ifwe look at the mishnah in its historical context, the first part,
at least, would seem to make excellent sense as part of a Pharisaic polemic
against the Sadducees, as opposed to an attempt to lay down, once for all,
in a succinct, self-conscious, and authoritative fashion, the normative
dogmas of the Jewish religion. In their controversies with the Pharisees,
which took place largely in the first century CE, the Sadducees denied life
after death and the divine authorship of the Oral Torah. The first two
excluded categories in our mishnah ('he who says there is no resurrection
taught in the Torah, [and] that the Torah is not from heaven'), are clearly
an anti-Sadducean polemic. Given that context, it probably makes more
sense to see the epikorosas a Sadducee than anything else. 15
14
My source for the Church's injunction against Galileo is Maurice A. Finocchiaro
(ed. and trans.), The Galileo Affair: A Documentary History (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1989 ), 147- 8; see also ibid. 286-91.
15
The definition of the epikoros as one who shows disrespect for the rabbis fits in very
well here.J. N . Epstein also sees our mishnah as being an anti-Sadducean polemic . See his
Introduction to Tannaitic Literature (He b.) (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1957 ), 418 . In this he is
followed by Schiffman, Who Was a Jew?, 42 . (See that page, including n . 8, for informa-
tion on the textual history of the mishnah.) The Sadducean threat is taken in the Talmud
less as a theological debate than as challenge to the authority of the rabbis. The Sad-
ducees' insistence on performing ritual acts in a deviant manner is presented in the
Talmud as more threatening than the theological justification offered for these devia-
tions. See e.g. Mishnah Yadayim vi. 6-8 and Mishnah Eruvin vi. 2. It is noteworthy for
our purposes that the Sages made no attempt to exclude the Sadducees from the com-
munity oflsrael and turn them into a separate sect. On this, see Urbach, The Sages, i. 512.
Rabbinic Thought 37
The additions of R. Akiva and Abba Saul, for their part, ought to be
seen in the context of the Talmud's readiness to pronounce exclusion
from the world to come on people who exhibit all sorts of aberrant
behaviour (such as shaming one's fellow in public), rather than as an
attempt to lay down the principles of the Jewish religion. The expression
'such and such an action costs a person his or her share in the world to
come' should be understood as a way of expressing strong disapproval of
the behaviour rather than as a clear-cut eschatological claim. 16
This last point raises a related issue, one which further strengthens
my claim that our mishnah is not meant as a self-conscious statement
of dogma. In the continuation of this text (namely, Mishnah Sanhedrin
x. 2-4) a wide variety of people are said to have no share in the world to
come. These include kings Jeroboam, Ahab, and Manasseh, and com-
moners Balaam, Doeg, Ahitophel, and Gehazi. Also included in this list
(that is to say, excluded from the world to come) are the entire genera-
tion of the Flood, the generation of the Tower of Babel, the inhabitants
of Sodom, and the entire generation of the Exodus (i.e. those who died
during the forty years of wandering in the wilderness), as well as the
followers of Korah. Aside from the 'three kings and four commoners',
the mishnah records debates about the status of the other groups. These
debates revolve around the midrashic exposition of various verses re-
lating to the groups in question. There can be very little doubt that the
expression 'so and so has no share in the world to come' in these texts is
meant to express great disapproval of so and so; it is not meant as a
straightforward eschatological assertion.
Even if the expression means exactly what it says, the three paragraphs
which follow our text strengthen the claim that Mishnah Sanhedrin x. I
is not put forward as a statement of dogma. It would take extremely
creative readings of many biblical texts to support the claim that J ero-
boam, Ahab, Manasseh, Balaam, Doeg, Ahitophel, Gehazi, the gener-
ation of the Flood, the generation of the Tower ofBabel, the inhabitants
16
For examples of other crimes which cost the perpetrator his or her share in the world
to come, see Pirkei avotiii. 12; Avotd)rabbi natan, eh. 36 (where it is taught, for example,
that 'scribes, elementary teachers, [even] the best of physicians, judges in their native
cities, diviners, ministers of the court and butchers' are among many others who have no
share in the world to come); Mishnah Sanhedrin x. 2-4; Tosefta Sanhedrin xii. 12; BT
Bava metsia 59a; BT Megillah 28a; BT Ketubot ma (those who die outside the Land of
Israel, among others); and JT lfagigah ii. r. On this tendency of the rabbis, compare the
comment ofRabbi Shimon ben Tsemah Duran: 'in the Mishnah and the Baraita the Sages
exaggerated in recording many things the doing of which cost one his share in the world
to come.' This text is translated in Kellner, Dogma, 93.
Rabbinic Thought
of Sodom, the generation of the Exodus, and the followers of Korah all
lost their share in the world to come because they held incorrect beliefs.
Moreover, Balaam, those who perished in the Flood, the builders of the
Tower of Babel, and the Sodomites were not even Jews! In other words,
Mishnah Sanhedrin x. 2-4 (the clear continuation of x. 1) cannot by
any stretch of the imagination be taken as a statement of dogma; that
being the case, why should the first part of this unitary text (x. 1) be so
taken?
This point is further strengthened if we consider texts parallel to our
mishnah. Tosefta Sanhedrin xiii. 5 and BT Rosh hashanah 17a condemn
the following to Gehinnom, the place of punishment after death: sec-
tarians (minim), apostates ( meshumadim ), informers, epikoresim, deni-
ers of the Torah, those who abandon the ways of the community, deniers
of resurrection, those who sin and cause the masses to sin, those who cast
their fear upon the land of the living, and those who stretch forth their
hands upon the Temple. We have here a list of 'public enemies', so to
speak; what we do not have is a statement of creed, or anything remotely
resembling such a statement. 17
Mishnah Sanhedrin x. 1, therefore, ought not to be seen as an attempt
to lay down a self-conscious system of dogma for Judaism or set up a
theological test for admission to the world to come. It does, however,
represent part of what is the first recorded theological debate in Judaism,
that between the Sadducees and Pharisees, and as such is certainly a
harbinger of things to come. 18
A Defence of Dogma
The position I have sketched out above is clearly controversial. Rabbi Dr
J. David Bleich, for example, bluntly rejects the view I have been pro-
posing here concerning the place of systematic theology (and its off-
shoot, dogma) in rabbinic thought as a misconception: 'one widespread
17
Further on the passage cited from Toscfta Sanhedrin xiii. 5, see Schiffman, Who Was
a Jew?, +6-9; Kellner, Dogma, 33.
18
Note should be further made of the fact that the arguments in rabbinic literature
against sectarians (minim) of various sorts are almost invariably midrashic and not
theological. Even when challenged theologically, the rabbis tended not to respond in
kind. For examples, see Sifre on Deuteronomy 32: 329; JT Berakhot ix. r; Exodus rabbah,
ii. 5; and BT Sanhedrin 38b. Ephraim Urbach, The Sages, i. +68, points out that arguments
against minim in rabbinic texts tend to be grotesque and derisory; they were rarely
reasoned responses to challenges over the intellectual content of religious faith. See also
David Rokeah,Jews, Pagans and Christians in Conflict (Leiden: Brill, 1982 ), 76-8.
Rabbinic Thought 39
misconception concerning Judaism is the notion that Judaism is a

religion which is not rooted in dogma.' Dogma, for Bleich, is a 'fulcrum
of Judaism' and 'does not stand apart from the normative demands of
Judaism but is the sine qua non without which other values and practices
are bereft of meaning' .19 Bleich's analysis rests upon the unarticulated
assumption that the medieval Jewish philosophers (whom he cites) ex-
pressed views held by the tannaim and amoraim (whom he does not
cite) . In many ways, the argument of this entire book is directed against
scholars like Bleich who, I will try to show, take a particular interpretation
of the views of Maimonides as normative, read it back into classical
Jewish texts, and then claim it to be authoritative for Jews today. 20
It would certainly not be fair to leave my response to Bleich at this
point, however, since his view is supported by a body of scholarship
which ought not to be ignored. Max Kadushin, for example, has argued
at length that 'in their own fashion, the Rabbis crystallized several of their
beliefs into dogmas'. Kadushin immediately qualifies this claim, how-
ever, admitting that 'these dogmas differ widely in their character from
the dogmas of medieval Jewish thought, and they do not constitute a
creed'. They differ from medieval dogma, according to Kadushin,
because of the 'indeterminate' nature of rabbinic beliefs and because 'a
rabbinic dogma is a belief which the Rabbis have singled out as one to
which all must subscribe . A dogma is a matter of belief, not a matter
of daily, personal experience . Acknowledgment of God, on the other
hand, involves daily, personal experience; hence it is not a dogma, not-
withstanding the terminology.' 21 The dogmas of the rabbis are, accord-
ing to Kadushin, belief in the Exodus from Egypt, in the Sinaitic
Revelation, and in the resurrection of the dead. 22
Kadushin bases his claims upon an analysis of rabbinic use of the terms
modeh ('admit' or 'thank') and kofer ('deny'). This is not the place for a
fully fledged critique ofKadushin's views; I will just note that in order to
substantiate his claims, Kadushin is forced into the prima-facie odd
position that beliefin God is not among the dogmas of rabbinic Judaism,
while beliefin the historical truth of the Exodus, the Revelation at Sinai,
19
These statements are drawn from J. David Bleich, With Perfect Faith: The Founda-
tions ofJewish Belief(New York: Ktav, 1983), 1-2.
2
° Further on my disagreements with Bleich, see below, pp. 96-7, 99- l 04.
21
Max The Rabbinic Mind, 3rd edn . (New York: Bloch, 1972), 340, 131-42,
347.
22
Ibid. 348- 66. Even Kadushin, however, admits that Mishnah Sanhedrin x. r is 'an
anathema against sectaries . . . not a statement of the basic doctrines ofJudaism' (p . 367) .
Rabbinic Thought
and the future occurrence of resurrection are. He is furthermore forced
to argue that the meaning of the term modim in the penultimate bene-
diction of the Amidah prayer is 'we admit/ acknowledge' rather than 'we
thank'. This interpretation is, it seems clear (to me at least), very forced;
the rest of the blessing clearly refers to things for which we owe thanks
to God. 23
Heretics and Sectarians

Another commonly adduced source for the claim that the rabbis under-
stood themselves to some extent in what we today call theological terms
is the twelfth blessing of the Amidah prayer, the birkat haminim (curse
on minim): 'May the slanderers have no hope; may all wickedness perish
instantly; may all thy enemies be soon cut down. Do thou speedily
uproot and crush the arrogant; cast them down and humble them
speedily in our days. Blessed art Thou, 0 Lord, who breakest the enemies
and humblest the arrogant. ' 24
A number of scholars have argued that the meaning of minis 'heretic',
with all that implies for notions of theological orthodoxy. The precise
meaning of the term min, however, is hotly debated and certainly not at
all clear. Stuart Miller refers to its 'nebulous and elusive nature'. 25 It is
clear that it meant different things in different times and places; and it is
certainly clear that the use of the term in rabbinic literature does not
mean that most (or even any) of the rabbis of the Mishnah and Talmud
23
The text of the benediction is as follows:
We ever thank thee, who are the Lord our God and the God of our fathers. [ Kadushin would have to
translate : 'We acknowledge that thou art the Lord our God and the God of our fathers .'] Thou art
the strength of our life and our saving shield . In every generation we will thank thee and recount thy
praise--for our lives which are in thy charge, for our souls which are in thy care, for thy miracles
which are daily with us, and for thy continual wonders and favors - evening, morning, and noon .
Beneficent One, whose mercies never fail, Mercifol One, whose kindnesses never cease, thou hast
always been our hope.
I cite the translation of Philip Birnbaum, Daily Prayer Book (New York: Hebrew Pub-
lishing Co., 1949 ), 9r. I ask the reader to decide whether it makes sense to claim that the
use of modim in the first sentence means 'admit/acknowledge' while its use in the third
sentence ( nodeh) and the rest of the passage means 'we thank'.
24
I cite the translation of Birnbaum, Daily Prayer Book, 88 . Although the term min
('sectarian') is not found in this benediction in its current, censored form (in which mal-
shinim, 'slanderers', replaces minim, 'sectarians'), it is referred to in the Talmud by that
name (BT Berakhot 28b). See also Maimonides, 'Laws of Prayer', ii. r.
25
Stuart Miller, 'The Minnim of Sepphoris Reconsidered', Harvard Theological
Review, 86 ( 1993 ), 377-402 at 401.
Rabbinic Thought 41
had a consciously developed and codified theology. While Reuven

Kimelman translates the term both as 'sectarian' (with its social conno-
tations) and as 'heretic' (with its theological connotations), he proves
that the birkat haminim, at least, was actually directed against Jewish
sectarians and not against heretics, and argues convincingly that 'in
Palestine, the term min had a sectarian connotation' .26 The key point
for our present purposes is that even if modern scholars occasionally
translate the word min as 'heretic', and even if in some contexts that
translation is adequate, it is in no way proven that the rabbis had a clearly
worked-out notion of theological heresy. 27
It is appropriate to conclude this discussion with a further word about
sectarians and heretics. In 'Rabbinism and Karaism: The Contest for
26
Reuven Kimelman, 'Birkat ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-
Christian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity', in E. P. Sanders, A. I. Baumgarten, and Alan
Mendelson (eds.), Aspects ofJudaism in the Graeco-Roman Period, vol. ii of Jewish and
Christian Self-definition, 3vols. (London: SCM, 1981 ), 226-4-4- at 23r.
27
Further on all this see Alan F. Segal, Two Powers in Heaven: Early Rabbinic Reports
about Christianity and Gnosticism (Leiden: Brill, 1977), 4--7, and the survey of sources
and studies in Ya'akov Sussmann, 'The History of Halakha and the Dead Sea Scrolls: A
Preliminary to the Publication of the 4-QMMT' (He b.), Tarbits, 55 ( 1989-90 ), rr-76, n.
176 (53-5). Further support for my position may be found in another essay in Sanders et al.
(eds.), Aspects of Judaism. Ephraim Urbach, in 'Self-Isolation and Self-Affirmation in
Judaism in the First Three Centuries: Theory and Practice' (pp. 269-98), comments that
minim 'are not condemned because of their teaching, but because of their infidelity
towards their community' (p. 292). (On this last point, see also Schiffman, Who Was A
Jew?, 4-, 6, and 76-7.) Compare also in the same volume Ferdinand Dexinger, 'Limits of
Tolerance in Judaism: The Samaritan Example', 88-II4-, esp. III. For a striking example
confirming Urbach's (and my) thesis that minim 'are not condemned because of their
teaching, but because of their infidelity towards their community', note the following
well-known passage from the Passover Haggadah: 'What does the wicked son say? "What
is this service to you?" "To you," and not to him-since he excluded himself from the
generality [ oflsrael] he denied the essential .. .'. The expression 'denied the essential'
here translates kafar ba, ikar, an expression which in the Middle Ages came to mean
'denied an essential dogmatic teaching', but which here means 'excluded himself from
the Jewish community'. For studies of this passage and its history, see Louis Finkelstein,
'Pre-Maccabean Documents in the Passover Haggadah', Harvard Theological Review,
36 (1943), 1-38, esp. 8-18; also D. Goldschmidt's edition of the Passover Haggadah
(Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 194-7), 25 n. II, 28. On the expression ikar, see Isaac Abrabanel,
Principles of Faith, eh. 6. In addition, as Jolene Kellner pointed out to me, it should be
noted that Judaism recognizes three cardinal offences, which may never be committed,
even to save one's life: idolatry, murder, and certain forms of sexual immorality (for
details, see Maimonides, 'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah', eh. v). None of these,
not even the first, which deals with forbidden behaviour, not the theology motivating it)
is a strictly theological offence.
Rabbinic Thought
Supremacy', Daniel J. Lasker writes that the Karaite Jacob al- Kirkisani
recorded a debate he had with a Rabbanite whom he described as main-
taining that a 'manifestation of [complete] unbelief is more pardonable
than the display of [petty] differences in the observance of holidays' .28
On this Lasker comments: 'In other words, Rabbanite Judaism can co-
exist with major doctrinal differences as long as they do not lead to
substantial behavioral divergences. It is not able to abide ritual changes
which involve, for example, the existence of a different calendar. Theo-
logical heresy is pardonable; observance of Passover on a different date
is not.' Here we have a medieval discussion predicated upon the distinct-
ion between heresy ('the manifestation of unbelief') and sectarianism
('differences in the observance ofholidays'). Lasker is absolutely correct:
the rabbis of the Mishnah and Talmud tolerated the former with relative
equanimity while being absolutely unwilling to countenance the latter.
Sid Z. Leiman makes the same point in an interesting and compelling
fashion:
Books written in Hebrew and ascribed to the biblical period which challenged
central halakic teachings of the rabbis were ipso facto excluded from the biblical
canon. Thus, the book of Jubilees, which is predicated upon a calendar at
variance with the rabbinic calendar, could not be considered a serious candidate
for inclusion in the biblical canon ... books which challenged central theo-
logical teachings of the rabbis, while problematic, were not necessarily excluded
from the biblical canon. Ecclesiastes is a case in point. Its seemingly antinomian,
pessimistic, and often contradictory sentiments left the rabbis nonplussed.
Despite the theological problems it created for the rabbis, Ecclesiastes retained
its position in the biblical canon precisely because it did not challenge central
halakic practices in any substantive way. 29
The entire point of this chapter could hardly be put in a clearer fashion!
Even if my discussion in this chapter should leave some readers un-
convinced that systematic theology was foreign to rabbinic Judaism, at
the very least it should be clear that for the rabbis matters of belief were
not legally actionable. This is actually enough for my purpose, namely
to show that Maimonides' approach (as will be seen in Chapter+) rep-
resented an innovation in Judaism.
28
Daniel J. Lasker, 'Rabbanism and Karaism: The Contest for Supremacy', in Raphael
Jospe and Stanley M. Wagner (eds.), Great Schisms in Jewish History (New York: Ktav,
1981), +7-72 at 47.
29
Sid Z. Leiman, 'Inspiration and Canonicity: Reflections on the Formation of the
Biblical Canon', in Sanders et al. (eds.), Aspectsoffudaism,56-63 at 62.
Rabbinic Thought 43
A 'Theology' of Action
In this chapter I have defended the consistency of rabbinic with biblical
thought. The Torah understands emunah, faith or belief, less in terms of
propositions affirmed or denied by the believer ('belief that') and more in
terms of the relationship (primarily of trust) between the believer and
God ('belief in'). This faith expresses itself in terms of behaviour, rather
than in terms of systematic theology.
We have seen that the Talmud, following the biblical precedent, gives
no evidence, where it might reasonably be expected to be found, of being
at all interested in systematic theology or dogma, both consequences of
understanding faith in terms ofits propositional content, i.e. in terms of
precisely formulated statements which one affirms or denies. Moreover,
in at least one text, the Talmud clearly connects faith with the observance
of the commandments . Such a connection makes much more sense in the
context of a 'belief in' orientation than in the context of a 'belief that'
orientation.
But does this mean that Torah and Talmud teach us nothing about
God and God's relationship with the world? Such a claim would be
ridiculous. Judaism indeed affirms a large number of teachings of a theo-
logical nature. But it consistently focuses on the sort oflife one is to lead
in pursuit of those teachings, rather than on the teachings themselves.
Two individuals can both be good Jews, fastidiously obeying the com-
mandments, while disagreeing over fundamental matters of theology.
This was certainly the case with Maimonides and the Ba' al Shem Tov.
Ifall this is true, why does Mishnah Sanhedrin x. 1 appear to lay down a
set of dogmas and apply a test of theological orthodoxy? I have shown
above that such was not, apparently, the intent of the mishnah. One must
read the text in that fashion only if one assumes (as did Maimonides) that
Judaism is a religion with a systematically theological base. Similarly, I
have argued that rabbinic strictures against 'sectarians' are better under-
stood in terms of social divisions than in terms of clear self-conscious
theological division.
THREE
Why
IN the last chapter I showed that the mishnah beginning 'All Israelites
have a share in the world to come ... ' ought not to be understood as a
statement of dogma or as a test of theological orthodoxy. The present
chapter is-in one sense-an argument to the effect that only an inter-
preter approaching that mishnah with the prior assumption that Judaism
has a systematic theology like Islam or Christianity would read it as either
a statement of dogma or a test of theological orthodoxy. I mean by this
that there is nothing inherent in monotheistic faith which demands that
it find expression in systematic theology. It is my contention that only if
one assumes that such theology must underlie any monotheistic faith will
one read Mishnah Sanhedrin x. r as an expression of systematic theology.
But that very assumption is one which must come from outside Judaism.
In other words, the question implicit in the title of this chapter is actually
illegitimate. It is based upon the presupposition that all monotheistic
religions have systematic theologies. But the fact that both Islam and
Christianity express themselves in that fashion does not mean that all
monotheistic faiths do so, or ought to do so. 1 As we have already seen,
classical Judaism certainly did not!
Behaviour and Belief

In order to understand this situation, it must be remembered and
emphasized that rabbinic Judaism understood itself first and foremost
1
Islam and Christianity should really be distinguished from each other in this regard.
For an accessible discussion, see Bernard Lewis, Islam and the West (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1993), 155 . As Lewis notes there,
In accordance with a common but nevertheless misleading practice, outside observers often use
words like 'sect' and 'schism' to describe .. . these Islamic differences. Some go even further and use
such words as 'orthodox' and 'heterodox' or 'heretical' to describe Islamic religious disagreements.
This is ... inappropriate ... in that the very notion of orthodoxy and heterodoxy is specifically
Christian. It has little or no relevance to the history of Islam, which has no synods, churches, or
councils to define orthodoxy, and therefore none to define and condemn departures from orthodm.)'.
What Lewis writes here oflslam is even truer of Judaism.
Why Judaism Acquired a Systematic Theology 45
as a system of commandments and values adhered to by a group of

individuals defined in the first instance by shared descent. The Jews were
a nation, a people, a family, bound together by a covenant with God; they
were not a communion of true believers. Thus, as Lawrence Schiffman, a
prominent historian of the period, comments,
Although the Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, Dead Sea Sect, and others dis-
agreed on fundamental issues of theology, law, biblical exegesis, and social and
political matters, no sect ever claimed that the others were not Jews. Rather, all
groups implicitly recognized the Jewish status of their competitors. Even in
regard to the extreme Hellenists, the claim was never made that they had some -
how left the Jewish people by their apostasy. 2
Even groups competing with the Sages were recognized by the latter as
Jews; whatever the fields in which the competition was carried out, they
were not those of theology and dogma.
As we have established in Chapters I and 2, both Torah and Talmud see
the emunah which defines the righteous person as steadfast trust in God
expressed in action, and not as intellectual acquiescence in clearly defined
teachings. In other words, classical Judaism has emphasized 'belief in'
over 'belief that'.
The Torah, as both Maimonides and the Israeli Orthodox iconoclast
Yeshayahu Leibowitz (1903-94) like to remind us, is not a present from
God on a silver platter, designed to endow us with some precious gift
without our lifting a finger. On the contrary, the Torah is a series of
challenges. But these challenges can be met; and in meeting them a
human being becomes better and earns a place in the world to come. In
such a context, what is demanded of people is that they trust in God,
secure in the faith that observing the commandments of the Torah is
good for the Jew and good for the world, even if all the objective evi-
dence seems to contradict this thesis. This is the sort of faith, emunah,
which Judaism seeks to implant in the believer.
Individuals can earn their place in the world to come through fulfil-
ment of the commandments because they are not, at the outset, entirely
distanced from God. On this view, each of us is born pure; it is our job in
living to remain pure, or at least pure enough not to destroy the con-
nection with God. But no matter how bad a mess one makes of one's life,
the doctrine of repentance teaches that God is always available to the
ba)al teshuvah, the repentant individual. This is so because people are
born like blank tablets on which a life is to be written. One can keep one's
tablet clean, or one can sully it. But no matter how dirty the tablet
2
Schiffman, Who Wasa]ew?,3.
Why Judaism Acquired a Systematic Theology
becomes, it still remains there under all the filth. Cleaning the filth may
be difficult, but it is not in principle impossible .
The upshot of all this is that Judaism is a religion which places a great
deal of emphasis on correct behaviour. But Judaism is not simply a system
of observances per se (a 'religion of pots and pans', as some of its de-
tractors like to say). One observes the commandments of the Torah,
ideally, because of one's relationship with God, out of love, with no
thought of reward and punishment. The commandments are not an end
in themselves, in other words, but an expression of the Jew's belief,
emunah, in God. Trusting in God, and knowing what to do to give that
trust concrete expression, the Jew has no need of subtle theological
formulations and distinctions. In a works-orientated religion like Judaism,
emphasis on 'belief in' makes more sense than an emphasis on 'belief
that': Judaism has thus always been more concerned with knowing what
to do than with knowing what to think.
Extrinsic Reasons for the Lack of Systematic

Theology in Judaism
I have just argued that Judaism is a religion intrinsically uninterested in
theology per se. But even such a religion might need to develop a system-
atic theology. Why was this not the case in pre-medieval Judaism? This
question calls up another: namely, under what circumstances might a
monotheistic religion lacking a home-grown theology feel the need to
create one? 3
Religions which need to defend themselves from outside attack, or
which go on the offensive themselves, find it useful to be able to charac-
terize themselves in terms understandable to their foes . When under
siege, the first job of a good commander is to set his defences in order;
and when one goes on the offensive, one surely wants one's forces
3
In this section and elsewhere I refer to Judaism as a 'monotheistic' religion. I do so
for the sake oflinguistic convenience, but it should be noted that in so doing I injure my
own case . The term 'monotheism' (from the Greek, monos, 'single', and theos, 'god')
connotes certain philosophical and theological conceptions about God which were never
explicitly expressed in pre-medieval Judaism. R. Bahya ibn Pakuda, and following him
Maimonides, for example, were sure that to be a believer in one God a person had to
understand certain ideas concerning the nature of that one-ness, ideas which derive
clearly and directly from a philosophical universe of discourse . One of the points of
this book is to argue that this universe of discourse is foreign to classical Judaism.
Maimonides' position may easily be found in his 'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah',
ch.r.
Why Judaism Acquired a Systematic Theology 4-7
arranged in the best possible manner. Thus, had the prophets of ancient
Israel or the rabbis of the Talmud been interested in attracting non-
Jews to Judaism, they would have been forced to organize Judaism in a
clear, systematic fashion. Let us say that you are a rabbi in first-century
Caesarea, trying to convince a pagan friend to embrace Judaism. Your
friend will want to know what Judaism is, and will also expect to you to be
able to trot out arguments in its favour acceptable to any rational human
being. In other words, the pagan will expect some theology. Citing
verses from a text which the pagan does not accept as holy will not be very
convincing. Talking about the history of a people which he may regard
with (probably at best) affectionate disdain is not going to cut any ice
either. Had classical Judaism been an actively proselytizing faith, we
would expect it to have developed a systematic theology. It was not, and
itdidnot. 4
Similarly, had Judaism been under attack from adversaries whom it
took seriously and who had themselves developed systems of theology
and dogma, then it too would have been forced to adapt itself to the
theological model, if only to defend itself. The prophets struggled
mightily against Canaanite idolatry. Given the nature of this response, it
seems obvious that the prophets of Baal and other deities had not them-
selves developed sophisticated theologies. But overall, for a religion
based upon the insight that God is one, while paganism may have been a
challenge in cultural and social terms, it was not much of a challenge in
4
I claim here that classical Judaism was basically uninterested in proselytism. That
does not mean that Jews in the ancient world did not actively proselytize; very often they
did. Judaism was not a proselytizing faith because it was more of a family affair than an
organized religion; in the ordinary course of affairs, people do not go about trying to
convert other people into their families. For surveys of what is known concerning the
actual attempts ofJews to proselytize in the ancient world, see Louis H. Feldman, 'The
Contribution of Professor Salo W . Baron to the Study of Ancient Jewish History: His
Appraisal of Anti-Judaism and Proselytism', AJS Review, 18 (1993), 1-27; William G.
Braude, Jewish Proselytizing in the First Five Centuries of the Common Era: The Age of
the Tannaim and the Amoraim (Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 1940 ). In
'Proselytism by Jews in the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Centuries' ,Journal for the Study of
Judaism, 24 (1993), 1-58, Louis Feldman proves that a considerable amount of prosely-
tizing was undertaken by Jews throughout the ancient world. He fails to show, however,
that this was sanctioned or encouraged by the talmudic rabbis. See also his Jew and
Gentile in the Ancient World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993). See further
Rokeah, Jews, Pagans and Christians in Conflict, 42 ff., for a critique of scholars who
over-emphasize evidence of proselytizing activity on the part of talmudic rabbis. In
general, that Judaism was attractive to Gentiles does not mean that a conscious effort was
made to attract them.
what we would call theological terms. Judaism did not teach that God
was like the other deities, but that there was only one of them. Judaic
monotheism is a complete rejection of the polytheistic world-view;
there can be no shared universe of discourse between the two. (This
might explain why so much of prophetic 'argument' against polytheistic
idolatry is couched in terms of scorn, mockery, calumny, and simple
denunciation.)
The rabbis of Palestine were confronted by versions of Greek and
Roman polytheism (barely taken seriously by Greek and Roman philo-
sophers themselves), Hellenistic philosophy, and, later, Christianity. The
rabbis of Babylonia were, in addition, confronted by Zoroastrianism. It is
hard to know to what extent these were viewed as posing serious dangers.
It is tempting to explain the very scant argumentation against them
found in rabbinic texts on the grounds that the rabbis did not find these
competing religions threatening. It is surely likely that the rabbis were no
more impressed by polytheistic idolatry than were the prophets, and felt
no need to add their own contribution to the prophetic rejection of
idolatry. Zoroastrianism was probably perceived as a form of polytheism,
as early Christianity may have been.
But Christianity and Hellenistic philosophies may have been perceived
as threatening without eliciting a theological response from the rabbis. It
is noteworthy how little Hellenistic philosophical thought influenced the
rabbis. 5 The few anti-Christian polemics we do have from this period are
almost all midrashic, almost none strictly and systematically theological.
This may reflect the fact that the controversy with early Christianity was
perceived as an internal dispute, best carried on with traditional Jewish
tools. When Christianity developed its own full-blown theology and also
5
Not only does Greek philosophical thinking seem to have influenced the rabbis very
little; there is also very little overt anti-Christian polemic to be found in the huge corpus
of rabbinic literature. For the former, see the two studies by Saul Lieberman, Greek in
Jewish Palestine (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1942) and Hellenism in Jewish
Palestine (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1950). Rokeah, Jews, Pagans and
Christians in Conflict, 201-2, takes Lieberman to task for exaggerating the extent of
Greek influence in Jewish Palestine; but even Lieberman found very little evidence of
rabbinic response to philosophical thought. For sources on the lack of clear anti-
Christian polemic, see Cohen, 'Analysis of an Exegetic Tradition', 20 . The rabbis seemed
to have found Hellenistic and other forms of Gentile behaviour threatening and sought
to extirpate its influence upon the Jews, primarily by restricting social intercourse
between Jews and non-Jews as much as possible. The ideologies and theologies which lay
behind the threatening behaviour were largely ignored. As Rokeah (p. 129) notes, 'the
Jewish Sages were not particularly sensitive to philosophical assumptions'.
attacked Judaism (in the thirteenth to fifteenth centuries), it was met
with a systematic theological defence. That is a story which will be taken
up below.
Why Systematic Theology Developed among the

Jews
In the next chapter I will analyse some of the writings of the individual
who might be called the arch-theologian ofJudaism-Maimonides. If
everything I have said up to this point is true, then where did Maimon-
ides come from? He certainly was not dropped into the midst of the
Jewish world from a flying saucer. He also clearly saw himself as part of
the ongoing rabbinic tradition. How, then, could an essentially non-
theological tradition like Judaism give birth to a thinker as systematic as
Maimonides?
I showed in the first section of this chapter that Judaism is a religious
tradition which is inherently non-theological in orientation; I then ar-
gued that there were also extrinsic reasons for classical Judaism's lack of
interest in systematic theology. I will now show how systematic theology
did indeed arise among the Jews after the classical period. The reasons
for this development are themselves historical accidents which did not
change the inherent nature of the Jewish tradition. We will see below
how, when these accidental factors disappeared, Judaism basically re-
verted to its pre-theological stance . But the situation at that juncture
was complicated and made confusing by the fact that the attempt to
'theologify' Judaism had been made by some of its most prominent
teachers.
The issue may be simply stated. With the rise of Islam from without
and of Karaism from within, Judaism was confronted with challengers
which it could not ignore. Islam was an aggressively proselytizing relig-
ion and Karaism denied the Jewish legitimacy ofRabbanite Judaism, rely-
ing for its authority solely upon the most sacred of all Jewish sources, the
Written Torah. Conversion to Islam, moreover, a religion attractive to
Jews because ofits uncompromising monotheism, involved no overt acts
which could be interpreted as idolatrous .
I would like to illustrate this last point with a personal experience. A
number of years ago I had occasion to serve as academic adviser at Haifa
University to an Israeli Muslim student. He himself was not particularly
observant, but he had a room-mate in college who was a devout Muslim.
He was told by his room-mate that Jews believed in a corporeal deity, as
50 Why Judaism Acquired a Systematic Theology
evidenced by many verses in the Torah, and were therefore not truly
monotheists. 6 Turning to me as his 'expert' on all things Jewish, my
student asked me ifindeed Jews were not really monotheists. I, of course,
explained to him how Judaism understands the anthropomorphic ex-
pressions in the Torah. The point of this story is that two intelligent,
college-educated, Israeli Arab Muslims could believe that Judaism was
less purely monotheist than Islam. This emphasizes the degree to which
Islam understands itself and presents itself as a monotheist faith. The
same was clearly true of Karaism, which, despite its allegedly exclusive
reliance upon the Written Torah (i.e. the Hebrew Bible), taught the
absolute in corporeality of God and which, in addition, preserved many
easily recognized Jewish customs and ceremonials.
Islam in its early years was not only religiously attractive to medieval
Jews, it also worked hard at attracting them, offering the carrot of com-
plete acceptance into Muslim society for those who converted and bran-
dishing the stick of oppressive discrimination for those who remained
obdurate in their Judaism.
As it happens, both Islam and Karaism began, very early in their re-
spective existences, to present themselves in a systematically theological
fashion. In order to defend itself, Judaism was forced to present itselfin a
similar fashion, and to do this it had to begin to understand itself in
theological terms. This is precisely what happened.
It is therefore no coincidence that the first systematic exposition of
Jewish theology to be written by an accepted figure in the rabbinic
tradition was authored by R. Sa'adia Gaon, who led Jewish communities
in the heart of the Muslim world in the tenth century, and who moreover
was a leading Rabbanite opponent ofKaraism. 7
The Importation of Theology

Judaism sees hum an beings as challenged to retain through their lives the
purity with which they are born. In principle, therefore, one can earn
My advisee's friend was apparently aware of the philosophical claim that a corporeal
6
God is not truly one, since every corporeal entity has constituent parts or elements, or at
least shares with other entities at least one feature, namely corporeality. On this, see
Maimonides' discussion in 'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah', eh. 1 .
7
For more details on the influence of Islam and Karaism on the rise of systematic
theology in Judaism, see Kellner, Dogma, I -9. This should be supplemented with Haggai
Ben-Shammai, 'Saadya Gaon's Ten Articles of Faith' (Heb.), Da)at, 37 (1996), n-26. I
do not mean to contradict the points cited in the name ofBernard Lewis (n. 1 above) . The
points I am trying to make about Judaism in this chapter are similar to the points Lewis
was making about Islam .
one's share in the world to come. This task is aided by the Torah, which
teaches how one should behave in a world full of temptations so as to
avoid degeneration. Judaism, therefore, rather than focusing on questions
of correct belief, has traditionally focused on questions of correct prac-
tice.
In addition to being inherently uninterested in systematic theology,
pre-medieval Judaism also had no need for systematic theology: it was
confronted by no competing theological system which it had to take ser-
iously and did not itself actively seek to attract outsiders into the fold.
In the early Middle Ages this situation changed dramatically: con-
fronted by the theological challenges of Islam and Karaism, Judaism
responded in kind. It sought to define the specific beliefs which the
Torah taught and which distinguished Judaism from other faiths, and
further sought to organize these discrete beliefs into a systematic, co-
herent whole.
Once introduced, systematic theology found a home in Judaism and
brought with it the propositional understanding of faith congenial to
it. Defining religious faith as a series of affirmations or denials was
a dramatic innovation in Judaism and one which carried with it far-
reaching consequences, as we will see in the coming chapters.
One more point should be made here. Systematic theology was intro-
duced into Judaism as a reaction to historical stimuli. But it also reflected
an intellectual orientation to the nature ofreligious faith which many find
attractive, even indispensable. We shall return to this idea in the last
chapter of the book.
FOUR
IN the last chapter I showed that Judaism has no inherent need for or
interest in systematic theology and its outgrowth, dogma. Systematic
theology first appeared in normative Judaism (primarily in the writings of
R. Sa'adia Gaon) as a response to historical stimuli. In the present chapter
we will confront the most systematic, and certainly the most influential,
of the medieval Jewish theologians: Maimonides.
Maimonides adopted the claim that Judaism was based upon a system-
atic theology and had the courage to face up to the consequences of that
position, that Judaism therefore had dogmas. Here I will first analyse
Maimonides' statement of dogma, showing that he meant his Thirteen
Principles to be accepted as dogmas in the strictest sense of that word. I
will then show that his position reflects a 'belief that' orientation. One of
the most striking consequences of his position-one, moreover, that he
did not hesitate to adopt-is that mistakes with respect to matters of
dogma cannot in any sense be condoned. We will then see how Maimon-
ides' position on dogma influences his views on how one becomes a Jew
and ceases to be a Jew.
I then examine two assumptions crucial to Maimonides' view: that
scientific knowledge and religious faith are ultimately the same thing; and
that there is one objective, absolute standard of truth, in principle access-
ible to all. These two assumptions make it possible for Maimonides to
insist that all Jews learn enough to know the truth ofthe principles offaith.
Maimonides' Dogmas
Once a religion specifies the distinct beliefs which constitute its theology,
a new question must be answered: are all these beliefs equal in signifi-
cance? Maimonides was the first Jew to raise this question and his answer
is explicit: there are thirteen specific teachings of the Torah which stand
on a plane all their own.
Maimonides makes this claim in his commentary on the mishnaic text
Maimonides: Dogma without Dogmatism 53
that begins 'All Israelites have a share in the world to come. ' 1 In doing so
he makes clear that he views that text as a presentation of the dogmas of
Judaism. Maimonides lays down thirteen discrete beliefs as the dogmatic
foundation of the Jewish faith. These may be summarized as follows:
1. that God exists;
2. that God is one;
3. that God is incorporeal;
4. that God is ontologically prior to the cosmos; 2
5. that God alone may be worshipped;
6. that prophecy occurs;
7. that Mosaic prophecy is superior to all others;
8. that the Torah was given from heaven;
9. that the Torah will never change nor be exchanged;
10. that God knows individuals;
11. that the righteous will be rewarded and the evil punished;
12. that the Messiah will come;
13. that the dead will be resurrected. 3
Maimonides does not himself present a list (as I do here) but, rather, a
discussion of these ideas. He cites proof-texts from the Torah, and in
some cases sketches the outlines of a philosophical proof of the truth of
the dogma. The entire discussion is a lengthy essay, written originally in
Arabic c.n70. Maimonides' principles are better known in the Jewish
world in the form of two poetic summaries, Yigdal and Ani ma)amin,
found in most prayer-books. 4 The first of these has become part of the
liturgy in many Jewish communities.
After he finishes presenting his principles, Maimonides makes the
following statement:
When all these foundations are perfectly understood and believed in by a person
he enters the community oflsrael and one is obligated to love and pity him and
to act towards him in all the ways in which the Creator has commanded that one
1
Mishnah Sanhedrin x. I. The text itselfis quoted and discussed above, pp. 33- 8.
2
i.e . that God is cause, but not necessarily creator, of all that exists. For explanation,
see my notes on the fourth principle in Appendix 2 below.
3
The full text of Maimonides' Thirteen Principles is presented in Appendix 2 below.
For detailed study of the principles, see Kellner, Dogma, I0-65 .
4
These two texts are reproduced in Appendix 3 below.
54 Maimonides: Dogma without Dogmatism
should act towards his brother, with love and fraternity. Even were he to commit
every possible transgression, because oflust and because of being overpowered
by the evil inclination, he will be punished according to his rebelliousness, but he
has a portion [of the world to come]; he is one of the sinners oflsrael. But if a
man doubts any of these foundations, he leaves the community [of Israel],
denies the fundamental, and is called a sectarian, epikoros, and one who 'cuts
among the plantings'. One is required to hate him and destroy him. About such
a person it was said, 'Do I not hate them, 0 Lord, who hate thee?' [Ps. 139 : 21].
Maimonides' statement of his principles occurs at the end of a passage

in which he defines the terms appearing in Mishnah Sanhedrin x. 1 ('All
Israelites have a share in the world to come ... '). One term alone remains
undefined: 'Israelite'. He appears to have posited his principles here at
least in part in order to define the term 'Israelite' . An Israelite is a person
who affirms the Thirteen Principles. 5
The text here, with which Maimonides closes his statement of the
principles of the Torah, turns out, on close examination, to be quite
remarkable. In the first instance, we see that Maimonides defines a Jew in
terms of his or her acceptance of the principles: 'When all these found-
ations are perfectly understood and believed in by a person he enters the
community oflsrael.' That Maimonides took this theological answer to
the question 'Who is a Jew?' seriously is evidenced by the fact that he
immediately attaches to the acceptance of his principles the halakhic
rights which Jews may demand of their fellows-to be treated with love,
pity, and fraternity-and by the further fact that he here makes one's
portion in the world to come-one's personal salvation-dependent
upon the acceptance of the Thirteen Principles. Further still, Maimonides
makes admittance to the world to come conditional solely on the accept-
ance of his principles, explicitly divorcing halakhic obedience from the
equation ('even were he to commit every possible transgression').
Several points should be emphasized here. First, Maimonides makes
unambiguous, conscious acceptance of the principles not only a necessary
condition for being a Jew and enjoying a share in the world to come, but
also a sufficient condition. In other words, in order to be counted as part of
Israel, it is necessary that one accept the principles; that is also enough. If
we take Maimonides at his word here, one need not do anything further.
Second, if one simply casts doubt upon any of the principles (without
overtly denying them), one excludes oneself from the people of Israel.
5
R. Isaac Abrabanel was the first to suggest that in his principles Mairnonides was
trying to define the term 'Israelite' in Mishnah Sanhedrin x. r. See his Principles ofFaith,
ch . 6,pp.82,84;ch.24,p . 204.
Such an individual must be hated and destroyed and loses his or her share
in the world to come.
Third, Maimonides makes absolutely no provision for the possibility
ofinadvertence playing an exculpatory role when it comes to doubting or
denying the principles of the faith. Even if one denies a principle of the
faith because one thinks mistakenly that one is following the teaching of
the Torah, one has excluded oneselffrom the Jewish community and lost
one's share in the world to come.
Fourth, Maimonides presents his Thirteen Principles as dogmas in
the strictest sense of the term. They are laid down as beliefs taught by
the Torah, the highest ecclesiastical authority in Judaism, acceptance of
which is a necessary (and sufficient) condition for being considered a
member of the people of Israel, and acceptance of which is a necessary
(and sufficient) condition for attaining a share in the world to come.
With respect to these four consequences ofMaimonides' statement at
the end of his principles, I would remind the reader that we are dealing
with a theological text, not a halakhic one. This distinction is often fudged
these days, and halakhic categories of decision-making are often-too
often-applied to fundamentally aggadic (non-legal) issues. 6 Thus, it is
not uncommon to hear the Thirteen Principles referred to today as if they
comprised a pesak halakhah: a normative, authoritative halakhic decision.
This would have surprised Maimonides' contemporaries, many ofwhom
took issue with his principles, or rejected them altogether, without ever
considering them a matter of halakhah. 7 For our present purposes, it
must be noted that in making perfect and unquestioning acceptance of
the principles the one necessary and sufficient condition for being a Jew,
Maimonides was not trying to modify accepted halakhah, which defined
a Jew as a person born to a Jewish mother or properly converted to
Judaism. 8
6
Maimonides himself made much of this distinction. See his commentary on the
Mishnah, Sotah iii. 5, Sanhedrin x. 3, and Shevuot i. I.
7
For details on the criticism to which the Thirteen Principles were subjected, see
Kellner, Dogma, 66-199 (in other words, most of the book), and, very importantly,
Shapiro, 'The Last Word in Jewish Theology? Maimonides' Thirteen Principles'. For a
crucially important discussion of the misapplication of halakhic categories to aggadah,
see Sacks, One People?, 100.
8
For a suggestion concerning the messianic overtones of what Maimonides was
actually trying to do, see Menachem Kellner, 'A Suggestion Concerning Maimonides'
Thirteen Principles and the Status of Non-Jews in the Messianic Era', in M. Ayali (ed.),
Tura: Oranim Studies in Jewish Thought-Simon Greenberg Jubilee Volume (He b.) (Tel
Aviv: Hakibuts Hame'ui)ad, 1989 ), 249-60.
How has Maimonides arrived at this remarkable and-at the time
he promulgated it-controversial stance? In the first place, it seems, he
understands the verse from Habakkuk, 'the righteous shall live by his
faith', as teaching that the righteous person is defined as righteous by
his or her faith. He furthermore seems to understand the term 'live' in the
verse as referring to life in the world to come. He also conflates the terms
'Israel' and 'righteous' (as Mishnah Sanhedrin x. r itself did, justifying
the claim that 'all Israelites have a share in the world to come' by appeal-
ing to the verse, 'thy people are all righteous'). Finally, Maimonides
understands the faith which defines the righteous Israelite, and through
which he or she earns a share in the world to come, in terms of thirteen
discrete beliefs which constitute that faith. In other words, Maimonides
understands religious faith more as 'belief that' than as 'belief in' .9
This is, of course, a momentous development in the history ofJuda-
ism, one which was to have an impact on all subsequent attempts by
Judaism to reflect upon itself, down to our day. This book is an attempt
to resist some of the consequences ofMaimonides' innovation.
Maimonides on Inadvertent Heresy

One of the most striking elements in Maimonides' formulation of his
principles of faith is his apparent unwillingness to accept any excuses; put
more formally, inadvertence is not exculpatory. I mean by this that for
Maimonides a person who makes a mistake about matters of dogma is
in no better shape than one who consciously and knowingly rejects one
of the Thirteen Principles. The former, as well as the latter, is simply a
heretic. This may not surprise all my readers: after all, if you are stopped
for speeding, telling the police officer that you did not know that speed-
ing was illegal is not going to get you very far. In Western legal systems,
ignorance of the law is not generally considered a legitimate excuse for
violating it.
Judaism, however, does recognize the category of shegagah, inadvert-
For a textually based discussion of Maimonides' new definition of emunah, see Kell -
9
ner, Dogma, 5-6 . For an important (and technical) discussion of Maimonides' under-
standing of emunah, see Shalom Rosenberg, 'The Concept of Emunahin Post-Maimon-
idean Jewish Philosophy', in Isadore Twersky (ed.), Studies in Medieval Jewish History
and Literature, ii (Cambridge, Mass .: Harvard University Press, 1984), 273-307. For a
more accessible and very interesting discussion of emunah in medieval Jewish thought,
see also pp. 353- 8 in Charles Manekin, 'Hebrew Philosophy in the Fourteenth and
Fifteenth Centuries', in D . H. Frank and 0. Leaman (eds.), History ofJewish Philosophy
(London : Routledge, r997), 350-78.
ence, as mitigating guilt or even, in some cases, obliterating it altogether.

The point is clearly made in a story told about the Hebrew poet Hayim
Nahman Bialik (1873-1934), who in his youth was a student in the great
yeshiva of Volozhin, Lithuania. Bialik and two of his friends, it is related,
were sitting in a room one Sabbath morning and smoking. One of the
rabbis happened by, glanced in the window, and to his shock and horror
saw three of his students violating the sanctity of the Sabbath. Rushing
into the room, he demanded to know what was going on. One student
arose in confusion and embarrassment and stammered, 'Rebbe, I don't
know how I could have been so stupid, but I entirely forgot that today
was the Sabbath!' The second student then offered his explanation:
'Rebbe, somehow I forgot that it is forbidden to smoke on the Sabbath!'
Bialik calmly rose, turned to the furious rabbi and said, 'Rebbe, I am
terribly sorry, but I simply forgot to close the curtains.' The first two
students were claiming that they had violated the law inadvertently,
beshogeg, without conscious intent to sin. Bialik, on the other hand,
affirmed that he had sinned bemezid, with 'malice aforethought'.
Persons who violate a commandment of the Torah inadvertently may
have to perform some act of atonement in certain cases but they are cer-
tainly not considered in the same category as those who sin on purpose.
Maimonides simply ignores this distinction, lumping the conscious and
unconscious heretics together in one group: persons excluded from the
community oflsrael and the world to come. 10
Why does Maimonides do this? In fact, because he has no choice: he
has been locked into this position by a number of his previous decisions.
If we interpret Habakkuk as defining the righteous in terms of faith, and
if we further define faith in terms ofits propositional content, then if one
affirms an incorrect doctrine, or denies a correct doctrine, for any reason,
one's faith is in actual fact deficient; and, therefore, so is one's righteous-
ness. If righteousness is a criterion for being a member of the people of
Israel, and for enjoying a share in the world to come, then the mistaken
believer, however sweet, good, and pious in the conventional sense, is
not righteous, and thus is not a Jew, and thus is not a candidate for a share
But perhaps I am wrong; perhaps Maimonides does in fact distinguish
the purposeful heretic from the inadvertent heretic. This is not the place
1
° For proofthat Maimonides does not, in fact, distinguish the purposeful heretic from
the inadvertent heretic, see Menachem Kellner, 'What is Heresy?', in N. Samuelson (ed.),
Studies in Jewish Philosophy (Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1987), 191-214,
and idem, Dogma, 18-19.
to prove that such is not the case, but I would like to show that my
exposition of Maimonides is supported by one of his most influential
glossators and commentators, his younger contemporary R. Abraham
ben David of Posquieres.
R. Abraham composed a series of pithy and often caustic glosses on
Maimonides' code ofJewish law, the Mishneh torah (c. n8o ). Thus,
The following have no portion in the world to come, but are cut off and perish,
and for their great wickedness and sinfulness are condemned for ever and ever:
sectarians ... Five classes are termed sectarians: he who says there is no God and
the world has no Ruler; he who says that there is a ruling power, but that it is
vested in two or more persons; he who says that there is one Ruler, but that He is
a body and has form ... 11
On this last sentence, R. Abraham writes:
Why has he called such a person a sectarian? There are many people greater than,
and superior to him, who adhere to such a belief on the basis of what they have
seen in verses of Scripture, and even more in the aggadot which corrupt right
opinion about religious matters. 12
R. Abraham is not criticizing Maimonides for teaching the doctrine of
God's incorporeality. Rather, he rejects Maimonides' claim that a Jew
who makes a mistake about the doctrine is a sectarian. Persons 'greater
than, and superior to' Maimonides have made that mistake without, ac-
cording to R. Abraham, becoming thereby wicked and sinful, leaving the
community of Israel and forfeiting their share in the world to come. In
other words, R. Abraham attributes to Maimonides the claim that, in
matters of heresy, ignorance or confusion is no excuse. An inadvertent
heretic is a heretic like any other, and merits the punishment of all
heretics.
Maimonides on Conversion and the Nature of Faith

Maimonides' view on sectarianism and heresy has a number of dramatic
consequences. One has to do with how one joins the community of
Israel, and another with how one leaves it. We have already quoted the
talmudic text which serves as the basis for the laws of conversion (see
11
'Laws of Repentance', iii. 6-7.
12
For discussion of this text and its variants, see Kellner, Dogma, 256. In the
same spirit, Isaiah ofTrani the Elder (1232-79) criticizes Maimonides emphatically and at
length. See Ya'akov Halevi Lipshitz (ed.), Sanhedreigedolah, vol. v, pt. 2 (Jerusalem:
Harry Fischel Institute, 1972 ), n6-20 . I thank Marc Shapiro for drawing my attention to
this text.
p. 29). In his Mishneh torah, Maimonides more often than not will simply
translate the relevant talmudic passage from Aramaic into Hebrew. In a
very few places, however, he departs from the talmudic source. One of
those rare instances is his discussion of conversion, where he interpolates
material of his own into the talmudic foundation. Let us look at the
talmudic source, with Maimonides' additions in square brackets:
Our rabbis taught: if at the present time a man desires to become a proselyte, he is
to be addressed as follows: 'What reason do you have for desiring to become a
proselyte? Do you not know that Israel at the present time are persecuted and
oppressed, despised, harassed, and overcome by afflictions?' lfhe replies, 'I know
and yet am unworthy,' he is accepted forthwith. [He should then be made
acquainted with the principles of the faith, which are the oneness of God and
the prohibition of idolatry. These matters should be discussed in great detail;]
and given instruction [though not at great length] in some of the minor and
major commandments ... He ·is also told of the punishment for the trans-
gression of the commandments ... as he is informed of the punishment for the
transgression of the commandments, so he is informed of the reward granted for
their fulfilment.
We saw above how the talmudic discussion places all its emphasis on
the willingness of the proselyte to be adopted into the Jewish family, so
to speak, and on teaching him or her representative commandments.
Through two small additions Maimonides turns the talmudic passage
inside out. Where the emphasis in the talmudic source is entirely on
kabalat ol mitsvot ('acceptance of the yoke of the commandments'),
Maimonides makes the crux of conversion into a theological matter. The
proselyte is instructed in detail on the principles of faith; we are explicitly
instructed not to expatiate at length on the commandments. 13
Why does Maimonides turn accepted notions concerning the process
of conversion on their head? Because, once faith is defined in terms of its
propositional content-in terms, that is, of the specific beliefs one
affirms or denies-and if we expect Jews to be faithful, then we must
demand of prospective Jews that they consciously and explicitly affirm
those beliefs which constitute Jewish faith and deny those beliefs which
13
For Maimonides' codification of the procedures governing conversion, see 'Laws of
Forbidden Intercourse', xiii. 1-4. For further discussion of that text in the context of
Maimonides' thought, see Kellner, Maimonides on Judaism, 4-9-57- For a discussion of
Maimonides' departures from the text of the Talmud in his Mishneh torah see the sources
cited in Menachem Kellner, 'The Beautiful Captive and Maimonides' Attitude towards
Proselytes', in Stephen Benin (ed.), Jewish-Gentile Relations through the Ages (Detroit:
Wayne State University Press, forthcoming).
contradict Jewish faith. Thus Maimonides is led to play down the im-
portance in the process of conversion of teaching the technicalities of
obedience to the commandments (the prospective convert is 'given
instruction though not at great length in some of the minor and major
commandments'). He is similarly led to place heavy emphasis on teach-
ing the prospective convert the dogmas of Judaism, adding to the tal-
mudic text the stipulation that 'He should then be made acquainted with
the principles of the faith, which are the oneness of God and the pro-
hibition ofidolatry. These matters should be discussed ingreat detail.'
Maimonides is thus led by his understanding of the nature of faith to
alter the accepted procedure of conversion. 14 That understanding also
leads him to adopt strong and uncompromising positions concerning the
way in which an individual leaves the community oflsrael.
Maimonides on Leaving Judaism

As we saw above, Maimonides asserts that 'if a man doubts any of these
foundations, he leaves the community [ oflsrael ]'. Maimonides imposes
harsh penalties on the heretic, sectarian, and epikoros. He defines a sec-
tarian as one who denies any of the first five of his Thirteen Principles of
faith. He affirms that 'Israelite sectarians are not like Israelites at all' and
that it is forbidden to converse with them or return their greeting. He
compares them to idolaters and says that even if they repent they are
never accepted back into the community. The epikoros is defined as one
who denies prophecy in general, Mosaic prophecy, and God's know-
ledge of each individual. Such a one is not considered part of the com-
munity oflsrael; we are even bidden not to mourn them on their deaths.
We are furthermore commanded to destroy them and told that they are
no better than informers (individuals who hand innocent fellow Jews
over to hostile authorities), the lowest of the low in Jewish estimation.
The epikoros, of course, has no place in the world to come and it goes
without saying that the testimony of such individuals is not acceptable in
a Jewish court, since they are not Israelites.
The parallel is clear: one exits the community of Israel by deny-
ing certain teachings, just as one enters that community (through con-
version, at least) by affirming certain teachings. 15
14
For further discussion, see Menachem Kellner, 'Heresy and the Nature of Faith in
Medieval Jewish Philosophy',Jcwish Quarterly Review, 76 (1987), 299-318.
15
For the textual sources in this section, see Kellner, Dogma, l7-2r. See further idem,
Maimonidcs on Judaism, 59-64. Special attention should be paid to 'Laws of the Mur-
derer', iv. ro, and 'Laws of the Rebellious Elder', iii. 2.
Maimonides' 'Non-dogmatic' Dogmas: Science and

Religious Faith
It is important to understand that while Maimonides sought to base
Jewish religious faith on a series of dogmas, this was not because he was
'dogmatic' in the accepted sense of the term. Maimonides did not urge
Jews to accept as dogmas beliefs which ran counter to reason, or to accept
them simply on his authority. On the contrary, he was convinced that
the core beliefs of Judaism were true, where 'true' means rationally
demonstrable.
That God exists, is one, is incorporeal, and precedes the world are
beliefs which one need not accept 'on faith', according to Maimonides.
These beliefs can be proven using the tools of philosophy. That God
alone may be worshipped is a consequence of the first four beliefs, since
worshipping another impugns God's unity. That prophecy occurs was
a fact not disputed by any religious believer and, in Maimonides' day,
was accepted by all educated persons. In his Guide ofthe PerplexedMaim-
onides proves to his satisfaction that the Torah really was given by God; 16
this being so, it is not susceptible to change. Since the Torah was the
content of Moses' prophecy, and since the Torah will never change,
Moses' prophecy must of necessity be superior to that of all other pro-
phets. That God knows the deeds of human beings is, again, something
which Maimonides was convinced could be proved to be true. A good
and powerful God, Maimonides held, guides human beings through
reward and punishment; the coming of the Messiah and resurrection are
examples of such recompense. Thus, all thirteen of the principles are
beliefs which any rational person-at least, any rational person in the
twelfth century-could be expected to accept, at least after he or she was
shown their truth.
Maimonides, then, not only understood religious beliefin terms ofits
intellectual, propositional content; he was also convinced that the beliefs
of Judaism, at least, were basically equivalent to the teachings of true
philosophy.17 This underlying approach to religious faith comes out
16
For a discussion of Maimonides' proof of the divine origin of the Torah, see Mena-
chem Kellner, 'Revelation and Messianism: A Maimonidean Study', in Dan Cohn-
Sherbok (ed.), Torah and Revelation (New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1992 ), n7-33.
17
On the relationship between religious belief and philosophy in Maimonides'
thought, as expressed here, see the discussion in Kellner, Maimonideson Judaism, 65-79.
See further idem, 'Maimonides' Allegiances to Torah and Science', The Torah Umadda
Journal, 7 (1997), 88-ro4.
clearly in the very first sentence of Maimonides' Mishneh torah, at the
beginning of'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah', where he writes:
'The foundation of all [religious] foundations and the pillar of [all] the
sciences is to know that there exists a Prime Existent.' Remember, please,
that this is the first sentence of a systematic exposition of halakhah,
Jewish law. In this sentence Maimonides teaches that religion and sci-
ence share a common axiom: God's existence. 18
This may sound odd to contemporary ears, but the science Maimon-
ides was dealing with was Aristotelian; the most foundational of all the
sciences for any Aristotelian was metaphysics; and the fundamental
teaching of metaphysics was God's existence. Thus, one who was con-
fused on that issue was confused at the broadest and most foundational
level of scientific truth. The basic axiom of all the sciences is God's
existence; the basic axiom of religious faith is God's existence. At their
very heart, then, religion and science do not teach the same thing; they
are the same thing.
Science must be based on knowledge, not 'blind' faith (the very oppos-
ite of Maimonidean faith!) or wishful thinking. Similarly, to know that
God exists one must be able to know it scientifically. Since such know-
ledge is possible, Maimonides can make it the first of his Thirteen Prin-
ciples; he can also make it the first commandment: 'Knowledge of this
[God's unconditional existence, uniqueness, and mastery of the cosmos]
is a positive commandment.' In Maimonidean terms, to know some-
thing means to be able to show why it is so; in other words, to offer
rational proof for it. For Maimonides, therefore, to fulfil the very first
commandment, to accept the first principle of faith, one must be suf-
ficiently sophisticated to prove God's existence.
The importance of scientific knowledge to religious faith is further
underscored by Maimonides in the four chapters of the Mishneh torah
following his emphatic opening assertion concerning the identity of the
basic axioms of religion and of science. In these chapters Maimonides
gives a quick course in two sciences, physics (including astronomy) and
metaphysics, maintaining that it is through the study of these sciences
that one can be brought to the love and fear of God. 19
Maimonides makes knowing that God exists the first commandment in his Book of
18
Commandments, and in 'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah', i. 6 .

19
For a discussion of the physics and astronomy presented in the first four chapters of
the Mishneh torah, see Menachem Kellner, 'Maimonides on the Science of the Mishneh
torah: Provisional or Permanent?', A JS Review, 18 (1993), 169-94.
Maimonides: Dogma without Dogmatism
Maimonides on Truth
Maimonides' position as outlined in the previous section reflects an idea
of his which we will have to examine again below. For Maimonides, truth
is one and objective: there is an absolute standard of truth and falsity, and
that standard is discoverable by human reason. In a subsequent chapter
we will have to ask to what extent that position is acceptable to us today.
There can be little doubt, however, that Maimonides held it. He gives
clear expression to this view in his introduction to his commentary on
Pirkei avot('Ethics of the Fathers'):
Know that the things about which we shall speak in these chapters and in what
will come in the commentary are not matters invented on my own nor explan-
ations I have originated. Indeed, they are matters gathered from the discourse of
the Sages in the Midrash, the Talmud, and other compositions of theirs, as well
as from the discourse of both the ancient and modern philosophers and from the
compositions of many men. Hear the truth from whoever says it. Sometimes I
have taken a complete passage from the text of a famous book. Now there is
nothing wrong with that, for I do not attribute to myself what someone who
preceded me said. We hereby acknowledge this and shall not indicate that 'so
and so said' and 'so and so said', since that would be useless prolixity. Moreover,
the name of such an individual might make the passage offensive to someone
without experience and make him think it has an evil inner meaning ofwhich he
is not aware. Consequently, I saw fit to omit the author's name, since my goal is
to be useful to the reader. We shall explain to him the hidden meanings in this
tractate. 20
Let us recall that this passage opens a commentary on a portion of the

Mishnah, the first clearly halakhic text ofJudaism. Maimonides here tells
us that in order to explain the Mishnah to his fellow Jews, he must make
use of the works of the rabbis, of course, but also of the 'ancient [Greek]
and modern [Muslim] philosophers and ... the compositions of many
men'. This is really quite remarkable: Maimonides feels that, in order to
make the 'Ethics of the Fathers' clear, he must use the writings of, as it
turns out, Aristotle and al-Farabi ( c.870-950 )-a Muslim Aristotelian
philosopher! 21 Aware of the fact that this is likely to arouse the antagon-
20
I cite the text from 'Eight Chapters', Maimonides' introduction to his commentary
on Pirkei avot, as it is in Ethical Writings of Maimonides, trans. Raymond Weiss and
Charles Butterworth (New York: Dover, 1983), 60. Emphasis added ..
21
For Maimonides' use of Aristotle and al-Farabi in 'Eight Chapters', see Herbert
A. Davidson, 'Maimonides' Shemonah Peraqim and Alfarabi's Fusul al-Madani', Pro-
ceedings ofthe American Academyfor Jewish Research, 3I ( 196 3), 33-50.
ism of some (probably many) of his readers, Maimonides immediately
adds: 'Hear the truth from whoever says it.'
Truth is truth, Maimonides is telling us, made no more and no less true
by the identity ofits speaker. If there is truth to be learned from Aristotle
and al-Farabi, then the fact that one was an uncircumcised heathen and
the other a member of the oppressive master class was no obstacle for
Maimonides; he used the truths they taught.
Maimonides, however, was no fool, and could predict the outraged
response of many of his contemporaries: 'What? You cite Greeks and
Arabs in commenting on the Mishnah! What sort offree-thinking heretic
are you?' Therefore, Maimonides tells us, he will not cite his sources:
'Moreover, the name of such an individual might make the passage
offensive to someone without experience and make him think it has an
evil inner meaning of which he is not aware.' Since it is Maimonides' aim
to be useful to his readers, he uses the writings of Greek and Muslim
philosophers to explain 'the hidden meanings' in Pirkei avot, without
explicitly citing his sources each time he uses them.
The Logic of Righteousness: Reason and Faith

Apparently taking the prophet Habakkuk at his word, Maimonides be-
lieved that righteous individuals are both defined by their faith and
achieve life in the world to come because of it. Because of his under-
standing of faith as 'belief that', Maimonides was led to ask which specific
beliefs constitute the faith of the righteous Jew and grant that Jew access
to the world to come. The answer to that question he phrased in terms of
the Thirteen Principles.
A person whose faith is deficient, for any reason, is, in cold, hard fact,
not righteous. Maimonides can thus not allow shegagah (inadvertence)
with respect to matters of faith. For this he was taken to task by R. Abra-
ham ben David of Posquieres.
Defining a Jew in terms of her or his beliefs, Maimonides was forced to
codify as halakhah a process of conversion in which matters of theology
are given pride of place and to exclude altogether from the Jewish
community in this world and from the world to come individuals who
hold false views on (in Maimonides' eyes) crucial issues of dogma, no
matter how devout their behaviour, and no matter why they hold those
views. 22
22
My claim here is an interpretation of Maimonides. His son R. Abraham makes the
point explicitly: 'Idolaters deny God's Torah and worship other gods beside Him, while
But Maimonides did not simply posit his principles of faith in a 'dog-
matic' manner. He was convinced that reason supported him. In fact,
reason had to support him in this enterprise, since in the final analysis the
teachings of the Torah and the teachings of science are and have to be the
same: there is only one truth. 23 This leads to a point which will be empha-
sized in the following chapter: what Maimonides demands is not beliefin
his principles (in the sense of'blind' acceptance) but knowledge of them
-or at least, of those involving God. Maimonides does not tell us, that
is, to accept the Thirteen Principles because he tells us to, nor even be-
cause the Torah teaches them, but because they are in and of themselves
true.
Maimonides sought to set Judaism on a new course altogether: he
sought to establish it as a religion based upon systematic theology, a
religion in which doctrinal orthodoxy was the key to everything. The
Thirteen Principles are an outgrowth of this attempt, not its cause. To a
considerable extent, Maimonides failed in his project. Certainly, the
Thirteen Principles soon achieved near normative status in the eyes of
many (but by no means all) Jews in the Middle Ages and today; but the
theological substrate, the reason why Maimonides formulated them, is
barely understood within the tradition and has certainly not taken it over
as Maimonides hoped. It is to an elaboration of this issue that I turn in the
next chapter.
one who, in his stupidity, allows it to enter his mind that the Creator has a body or an
image or a location, which is possible only for a body, does not know Him. One who does
not know Him denies Him, and such a person's worship and prayer are not to the Creator
of the world. [Anthropomorphists) do not worship the God of heaven and earth but a
false image ofHim ... '.See David Berger, 'Judaism and General Culture in Medieval and
Early Modern Times', in Jacob J. Schacter (ed.), ]udaism)s Encounter with Other Cul-
tures: Rejection or Integration? (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1997), 57-141 at 93. For
strong support of my interpretation ofMaimonides himself, see the text from Guide ofthe
Perplexed, i. 36, cited below at pp. 84-5.
23
On the structural similarity of the Torah to the sciences, see Menachem Kellner,
'The Conception of the Torah as a Deductive Science in Medieval Jewish Thought',
Revue des etudes juives, 146 (1987), 265-79; idem, 'Maimonides and Gersonides on
Astronomy and Metaphysics', in Samuel Kottek and Fred Rosner (eds.), Moses Maimon-
ides: Physician) Scientist) and Philosopher (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1993), 91-6,
249-51.
FIVE
TH Is chapter addresses Maimonides' impact on his contemporaries

and upon subsequent generations of Jewish thinkers and halakhic
authorities. Maimonides' position on the nature of Judaism and the
centrality of dogma in it enables, indeed necessitates, the application of
theological tests of Jewish legitimacy. Nevertheless, I will show that
while many other thinkers accepted Maimonides' claim that Judaism has
dogmas, almost none accepted the theological substrate of that position.
Medieval critiques of Maimonides are also addressed here. The chapter
concludes with a discussion of an apparent inconsistency in Maimonides'
treatment of heresy.
The Impact
The impact of Maimonides' position-that Jewish faith is a matter of
believing that certain things are true; that it is thus crucial to get clear on
the theological substrate of Judaism; that correct appreciation of that
substrate is both a necessary and a sufficient condition for becoming a
Jew, remaining a Jew, and achieving a share in the world to come; that
mistakes concerning the fundamental beliefs of Judaism cost an indi-
vidual his or her membership in the community ofisrael and share in the
world to come; that, in short, Judaism has dogmas in the strictest sense of
the word-was monumental and pervasive while at the same time
negligible.
The impact of Maimonides' innovation was monumental because
since his time Jews have taken it as a matter of course that the Jewish
religion has dogmas; and it was negligible because the theoretical sub-
strate on which Maimonides built his dogmatic system (summarized in
the previous paragraph) was not accepted as part of the Jewish tradition.
The pervasive influence ofMaimonides' innovation cannot be denied.
Not only have his principles ofJudaism entered the liturgy; stop any half-
way Jewishly literate person on the street and ask if Judaism has dogmas
Maimonides: Impact, Implications, Challenges
and you will get the answer, 'Of course-Maimonides' Thirteen Prin-
ciples.' More than that, the impact of Maimonides' formulation of
dogmas for Judaism finds expression in the attempt by contemporary
Jews, discussed later in this chapter, to apply theological tests for
religious legitimacy. 1
No one, I think, would deny the profound influence Maimonides'
principles have had in Judaism. But what of my paradoxical claim that
despite this influence the impact ofMaimonides' attempt to re-establish
Judaism on dogmatic grounds is actually negligible? This claim must
strike most readers as bizarre; it is, none the less, true.
That Maimonides' attempt to ground Judaism in dogmatic theology
had only a superficial impact may be seen in several ways. First, Maimon-
ides is the only halakhist to include principles of faith in the 613 com-
mandments of Judaism. In claiming that Judaism had commandments
relating to belief, Maimonides tried to slide a major innovation past his
readers. The Catalonian Jewish leader R. Hasdai Crescas (d. 1412) was
one of the few subsequent halakhists to reject the claim outright. The
others simply rejected it in practice.
A comparison of Maimonides' Mishneh torah-which opens with
'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah' and contains a summary of the
Thirteen Principles in 'Laws of Repentance'-with the various codes
written in response to it, such as theArba)ah turimofR. Jacob benAsher
(c.1270-1340) and the Shull;an arukh ofR. Joseph Karo (1488-1575),
which ignore theological matters entirely, makes the point clearly. Simi-
larly, just glancing at the layout of the pages of most printed editions of
the Mishneh torah confirms the claim that subsequent halakhists ignored
Maimonides' attempt to present Judaism as a religion with a clear
dogmatic base. Almost every word of the text is elaborated on in com-
mentaries and supercommentaries-so much so, that on most pages of
the work only a few lines of text appear, surrounded, island-like, by seas of
commentary. On those pages, however, where Maimonides presents his
principles and their corollaries, his words stand in lonely splendour. 2
1
For an excellent example of the profound influence of Maimonides' attempt to put
Judaism on a firm dogmatic basis, see the comments made by David Bleich quoted above
(p. 39) and below (p. 95).
2
I came across a fascinating parallel to this situation with respect to the reception of
Copernicus' De revolutionibus orbi um celestium. In book 1 he describes his revolutionary,
'Copernican' view of the cosmos.
The remaining five books ... describe geometrical models for each of the planets and tell how to
compute tables . These constructions represent an enormous advance in technique and simplicity
over anything previously available ... The working astronomer of those days was involved in
68 Maimonides: Impact) Implications) Challenges
Even more decisive is the fact that the responsa literature, from his own
time to the present day, is almost entirely innocent of discussions of
Maimonides' principles of faith.
By not including matters of dogma in their statements of halakhah,
Maimonides' successors were, consciously or unconsciously, rejecting
his claim that Judaism had commandments relating to belief, a claim
which lay at the very heart of his understanding of the Torah as consisting
of a mass of laws built upon a solid and unchanging base of explicit,
detailed, systematically arranged and obligatory theological teachings.
Second, with only two exceptions that I have been able to find, none of
the many halakhists and philosophers who engaged Maimonides in theo-
logical discussion concerning his principles of faith accepted his claim
that one who makes a mistake concerning them is a heretic in the same
sense as one who purposefully rejects them. This is as true of our con-
temporaries as it is of Maimonides: even the Razon Ish (R. Abraham
Karelitz, 1878-1953), considered by many to be one of the most im-
portant formulators of what might be called post-Second World War
'hard-line' Orthodoxy, is careful to distinguish between heretics who
consciously and knowledgeably reject the teachings of Judaism and the
vast majority of non-Orthodox Jews, who are to be considered 'babes
fallen into captivity' and thus neither responsible nor culpable for their
non-Orthodoxy.3 And yet rejecting the possibility of shegagah, of non-
culpable inadvertence, is a crucial consequence ofMaimonides' position
producing almanacs for agriculture and casting horoscopes for births, christenings, marriages,
medical treatments, and the erection of buildings. He had no more inclination to ponder the
conceptual foundations of the system than a modern automotive mechanic has to think about the
thermodynamics of combustion .
I quote here from David Park, The How and the Why: An Essay on the Origins and
Development of Physical Theory (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988) , 146. On
this passage, Park writes in a footnote: 'Professor Owen Gingerich tells me he has
examined nearly every extant copy of De revolutionibus and that while the pages of the
technical sections of most copies are darkened with the grime of many fingers, those
of Book 1 are mostly as white as snow.' Copernicus' practically minded readers were
interested in his planetary tables and paid little or no attention to the new astronomy
underlying them. Similarly, Maimonides' rabbinic readers were interested in the practical
halakhah in the Mishneh torah, not in the theological substrate so important to Maimon-
ides. Thus the substrate was neither rejected nor accepted by his successors; it was simply
ignored.
3
The only two medieval thinkers who follow Maimonides in disallowing shegagah
with respect to heresy are R. Abraham Bibago and R. Isaac Abrabanel. For details, see chs .
7 and 8 in Kellner, Dogma; also idem, 'What is Heresy?' and 'Heresy and the Nature of
Faith'. With respect to the Hazon Ish, see below, p. n6.
Maimonides: Impact) Implications) Challenges
that emunah, faith, consists in the unquestioning acceptance of specific
beliefs. If we admit the possibility of shegagahwith respect to dogma, we
reject the definition of faith which forms the foundation of the entire
Maimonidean project.
Third, Maimonides was both the first and the last formulator of
principles of Judaism to use them as a test for Jewish legitimacy. Sub-
sequent discussions of dogma dealt with the subject as a way of dis-
tinguishing Judaism from Christianity, not as a way of distinguishing
legitimate Jews from heretics.
In refusing to make principles of faith commandments, in allowing
shegagahwith respect to matters offaith, and in refraining from adopting
a clear-cut theological test for Jewish 'orthodoxy', post-Maimonidean
Judaism turned Maimonides' principles of faith from a statement of the
unchanging dogmas ofJ udaism into a literary device, a convenient way of
summarizing some widely accepted teachings of the Torah. 4
Further support for my claim concerning the superficial impact of
Maimonides' principles on Judaism may be found in the fact that the
principles themselves, in the way in which Maimonides presented
them, are almost entirely unknown in the Jewish tradition. By and large,
they are known only through two poetic summaries, Yigdal and Ani
ma)amin. 5 While these poems preserve the spirit of Maimonides' ideas,
they reduce a long, detailed, complex, and philosophically sophisticated
text to thirteen rhymed stanzas. As such, they represent an extreme
simplification of Maimonides' original ideas. Understanding the prin-
ciples in their poetic format is not much of a challenge; following the
arguments in the original is another matter altogether. Thus, not only
were Maimonides' principles accepted without the theological substrate
which gave them coherence and which made of them something more
than an elegant literary device for teaching Jewish ideas; they were not
even accepted in the form in which Maimonides presented them, but,
rather, in a simplified, even debased, fashion.
The history of the response to Maimonides' principles also supports
my assertion. After their promulgation, the principles were at first
largely ignored. In the two centuries or so after Maimonides published
his commentary on the Mishnah, only half a dozen Jewish thinkers-not
4
It is precisely and only as a literary device that Abrabanel defends Maimonides'
principles in the twenty-third chapter of his Principles ofPaith.
5
On the textual history of these poems (reproduced in Appendix 3 below), see Alex-
ander Marx, 'A List of Poems on the Articles of the Creed', Jewish Q]tarterly Review, 9
( 1919 ), 305-36.
of the first rank-discussed them at all, and none of them did so in
halakhic contexts. The question of the dogmas of Judaism became a
live issue again only in the fifteenth century and only in Iberia. There and
then it was taken up almost exclusively by figures defending Judaism
against the onslaught of Christianity. With the expulsion of the Jews
from Spain in 1492, the issue once again disappeared from the Jewish
agenda, remaining unconsidered until the Haskalah (the Jewish En-
lightenment) at the end of the eighteenth century, and the rise of Reform
Judaism.
The conclusion to be drawn from this historical sequence is that by and
large Jews sought to express Jewish faith in dogmatic terms only when
forced to do so by Christian interlocutors. In the disputations and apolo-
getics of the fifteenth century it was the Christians who set the agenda
and the ground rules. Left to their own devices, as it were, Jews did not
naturally turn to dogma as a way of expressing the authentic character of
Jewish faith. 6
My claim here about the superficial impact of Maimonides' attempt to
place Judaism on a firm dogmatic footing echoes Isadore Twersky's
assessment of the impact of the Mishneh torah:
It may be proposed that Maimonides' revolution remained primarily 'literary';
there was maximum dissemination of the Mishneh Torah itself but more limited
acceptance of its premises and goals; it did not basically transform modes of
thought or redirect the course of codification, but it impinged, directly and
indirectly, on methods of study and norms of observance and provided a nearly
universal referent for discussion ofhalakhah.7
As I have tried to argue in this book, the actual impact of Maimonides'

innovation remained 'litera1y' and certainly did not 'transform modes of
For details on all this see Kellner, Dogma, 66- 9, 80-2, 200-17. A fascinating and
6
unusual responsum ofR. David ibn Abi Zimra (on whom see above, p. 20) throws further
light on this matter. He was asked (Responsa, part I, no. 344-) which account of the
principles of religion he accepted-that of Maimonides, that of Crescas, or that of Albo.
In his answer, ibn Abi Zimra cited Abrabanel 's Principles ofFaith (eh. 23) to the effect that
since all of the Torah was given by God we have no right to distinguish some elements as
more fundamental than others . Every part of the Torah is a principle of faith . (Compare
further responsum iv. 187, in which he holds that error in theological matters may be
excusable in that one who so errs may be considered anus, 'forced'.) As noted in the text,
theological issues in general and Maimonides' principles in particular are almost never
brought up in the responsa literature, a fact which may be confirmed by a glance at Louis
Jacobs' Theology in the Responsa (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1975 ).
7
Isadore Twersky, Introduction to the Code of Maimonides (New Haven: Yale Uni-
versity Press, 1980 ), 536.
thought'. Authorities since Maimonides' time have adopted the shell of
his position, leaving the meat uneaten, indeed almost entirely unknown.
In this, they have not followed in the footsteps of the second-/third-
century tanna R. Meir, who, as the Talmud recounts, ate the meat (i.e .
the permitted portions) of his apostate master Elisha ben Abuyah's
teachings, while rejecting the shell (BT lfagigah 15b).
The Implications
While the impact ofMaimonides' claims may have been superficial, their
implications are profound. In the first place, as I have been at pains to
demonstrate in this book, a Jew who fails to accept the Thirteen Prin-
ciples has certainly excluded him- or herself from the world to come-or,
more precisely, has failed to do that which makes it possible to enter the
world to come. Furthermore, such a person, according to Maimonides,
has also excluded him- or herself from kelal yisrael, the community of
Israel. Is such a person a I think the only possible answer to this
question, for Maimonides, is that such a person is required to fulfil all the
obligations that devolve upon those ofJewish descent (i.e. the mitzvot:
the commandments of the Torah) but will receive none of the rewards
that follow from that status, be they in the world to come or in this world
(in the sense that the obligations upon other Jews to love, cherish, and
succour their fellow Jews do not apply in respect of such a person). These
individuals remain Jews in a halakhic sense but in no other sense. They are
indeed Jewish, I think Maimonides would be forced to say, but only 'on a
technicality' .
Norman Lamm raises this very issue forcefully: 'Ifwe take [Maimon-
ides] literally, we reach the astonishing conclusion that he who observes
mitzvot but has not reflected upon their theological basis would also be
excluded from the Children of Israel. ' 8 I think that we have to take
Maimonides literally, but that the consequence is exclusion from the
world to come, not from the Jewish people in this world.
To put the matter bluntly, Maimonides sought to make ofJudaism an
ecclesiastical community-what other religious traditions call a church
of true believers. Maimonides' position reflects a particular philosophical
understanding of human nature, according to which (a) no human being
is born with a fully developed soul-we are, rather, born with the
8
Norman Lamm, 'Loving and Hating Jews as Halakhic Categories', Tradition, 24
(1989 ), 98-122 (at us), based upon idem, 'Love oflsrael and Hatred of Evildoers', in his
Laws and Customs(Heb .) (Jerusalem : Mosad Harav Kook, 1990 ), 149-59 .
potential to acquire what can be called a soul-and ( b) the only way in
which an individual can possibly actualize his or her potential to acquire a
soul is through intellectual activity. 9
On the one hand, this theory commits one to an extremely parochial
stance: namely, that only the intellectually gifted and energetic can ever
really fulfil themselves as human beings. This form ofintellectual elitism
leaves most of the human race out in the cold. On the other hand, the
theory also forces one to adopt a very non-parochial stance: anyone born
with a measure of intelligence and a willingness to apply him- or herself
to the exacting demands ofintellectual labour can achieve some measure
or other of spiritual advancement. Race, creed, sex, or national origin are
quite simply irrelevant to one's potential achievement.
Turning Judaism into a series of truth-claims is simply a reflection of
this broader position. Such an understanding of Judaism also forces a
kind of universalism on Maimonides: being Jewish is a matter of what
you believe, not of who your parents were. It is, to repeat the metaphor
suggested earlier, a matter of software, not hardware.
Maimonides does not specify in his statement of the Thirteen Prin-
ciples whether they are to be understood or simply believed (i.e. accepted
on the basis of traditional authority without necessarily understanding
why they are and must be true). But in his parallel statement in 'Laws
of the Foundations of the Torah', at the beginning of the Mishneh torah,
he clearly states that it is knowledge of God's existence which is the
'foundation of all foundations'. He further states there that knowing that
God exists is the first of all the commandments of the Torah. It makes
considerable sense, therefore, to interpret the Thirteen Principles (or at
least the first five of them, which deal with God) as involving knowledge
rather than belief. 10 Indeed, Maimonides cannot be interpreted in any
9
For details on Maimonides' psychology (theory of the human soul), see Kellner,
Maimonides on Judaism, 9- 15. According to Maimonides human beings are born, contra
Plato, without innate knowledge but with a capacity or potential to learn . This capacity is
called, depending on the specific version of the theory which one encounters, 'hylic
intellect', 'material intellect', or 'potential intellect'. If one takes advantage of one's
capacity to learn and actualizes one's potential for study, then one will have acquired what
Maimonides came to call 'an intellect in actu', more often called the 'acquired intellect'.
To the extent that immortality is affirmed, it is the acquired intellect which is seen as
immortal. Since one can actualize one's potential intellect to different degrees, it follows
that one's perfection, and thus one's share of immortality, depends on the degree to
which one has perfected oneself intellectually.
10
For studies concerning Maimonides' attitude towards knowledge and belief, see
Kellner, Dogma, 244 n. 268.
Maimonides: Impact, Implications, Challenges 73
other fashion. This will turn out to be crucial for understanding his
position. It will also help us to understand why contemporary authorities
end up adopting only the shell of his teaching, while ignoring, rejecting,
or, most likely, being ignorant ofits essence.
For Maimonides, as for philosophers generally, the distinction be-
tween knowing and believing is crucial. Knowledge, as Maimonides
understands it, corresponds to reality and must therefore be true (the
expression 'true knowledge' is thus tautologous). Belief is what we rep-
resent to ourselves as corresponding to reality, irrespective of whether
or not in fact it actually does so correspond. Human beings are dis-
tinguished from all other creatures on earth by their ability to achieve
knowledge. In fact, being born with that ability is precisely what it means
to be born with human potential, and becoming truly human means
realizing that ability to one extent or another.
Note carefully what I have just written: the child of human parents is
born as a potential human; only the individual who achieves knowledge
actually becomes a fully fledged human being. Immortality, a share in the
world to come, is something to which only humans can aspire. It is
Maimonides' settled doctrine that only human beings, i.e. only those
individuals, born to human parents, who have also achieved knowledge
('perfection of the intellect' in the sort oflanguage Maimonides used),
have a portion in the world to come.11 This is a position which grates
painfully on the ears of many people today, but there is no point pre-
tending that it isn't there. It is a position which Maimonides adopts and
which, in fact, given his understanding of human psychology, he must
adopt. 12
It is important to understand that one corollary of this stance is that the
only key to earning a share in the world to come is intellectual perfection,
in varying degrees. Good deeds are not enough; nor is correct belief in
the sense that one accepts true teachings on the basis of authority as
opposed to rational conviction. A further upshot of this theory is that just
11
Maimonides' theory that human, religious, Jewish perfection involves the acquis-
ition of philosophical truths is summarized in Menachem Kellner, Maimonides on
Human Perfection (Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press, 1990 ), 1-7. Since this statement is likely
to surprise many of my readers here, and since it is crucial for any understanding of
Maimonides, I have defended it in detail in Appendix 1 below.
12
It ought to be noted, emphatically, that many of Maimonides' positions on philo-
sophical and theological matters follow from his acceptance of the definition of human
beings as rational animals. This point is crucially important. All that we share with animals
(bodily needs, feelings, even emotions) is not truly human; that which makes us human is
our rationality and only our rationality.
74 Maimonides: Impact, Implications, Challenges
as one cannot be a little bit pregnant, one cannot be a little bit eligible for
the world to come: either you are pregnant or you are not; either you are
eligible for the world to come or you are not. But, just as one can be in an
early or advanced stage of pregnancy, one can have earned a smaller or
larger share of the world to come. There remains an important difference
between the two situations, however, in that a pregnant woman advances
from early to later stages of pregnancy; the share in the world to come
one earns through one's intellectual endeavours is the share with which
one is stuck for all eternity.
What sort of knowledge must we acquire in order to establish our
humanity and thereby earn a share in the world to come? On this
medieval Jewish scholars were divided, some saying that all knowledge
counted, others that only knowledge of God and the angels qualified.
In the language of the Middle Ages, the question was: does knowing
mathematics and the physical sciences get one into the world to come, or
must one also know metaphysics? Maimonides comes down heavily for
the second alternative. To become an actual human being, to earn a share
in the world to come, one must acquire knowledge of metaphysical
matters-namely, of God and the angels. 13
It is not enough to be able to recite things by heart like a parrot. One
must be able to understand what one is saying. For Maimonides, then,
one cannot even fulfil the first of the 613 commandments until one can
properly prove to oneself that God exists. Furthermore, since acceptance
of the Thirteen Principles is a key to enjoying a share in the world to
come, and only those who have achieved knowledge gain entry into the
world to come, it follows that believing the Thirteen Principles is not
enough: one must know that God exists, is one, is incorporeal, etc.
I once heard my esteemed colleague Rabbi Dr J. David Bleich, speak-
ing at a conference, explain Maimonides' view of immortality in the
following terms. Let us say that a person of moderate intelligence and no
formal training in mathematics and physics applied for admittance to a
doctoral programme in theoretical physics. It would be no favour to that
person to admit her to the programme, since there is no way she could
succeed; it is a recipe for frustration. Similarly, even if an intellectually
unprepared individual managed to wriggle his way into life in the here-
after, he would not be happy there.
See Menachem Kellner, 'Gersonides on the Role of the Active Intellect in Human
13
Cognition', Hebrew Union College Annual, 65 (1994), 233 - 59. The reader interested in
the contemporary scholarly debate on Maimonides' attitude towards immortality will
find references to the relevant studies there .
Maimonides: Impact) Implications) Challenges 75
Bleich was speaking facetiously, but the analogy is apt. On the face of
it, Maimonides' position might appear strange, but it can be phrased so
as to sound much less outlandish. Compare the following passage from
George Schlesinger's New Perspectives on Old-time Religion:
According to classical theologians, one who has spent one's life as a passionate
servant of the Lord will have developed and perfected one's soul adequately
to have acquired the capacity to partake in the transmundane bliss that awaits in
the afterlife. The suitably groomed soul, when released from its earthly fetters,
will bask in the radiance of the divine presence and delight in the adoring
communion with a loving God. 14
This is precisely Maimonides' position. In his hands, however, the de-

velopment and perfection of the soul are a matter of achieving under-
standing of and insight into metaphysical matters.
We are now in a position better to understand why Maimonides can-
not allow for shegagah with respect to his principles. Well-intentioned
but poor philosophers do not achieve knowledge; their mistakes exclude
them from the ranks of actual (as opposed to potential) humans and thus
keep them out of the world to come. The outcome is similar for well-
intentioned but confused or mistaken Jews: their mistakes in metaphysics
(i.e. mistakes concerning at least the first five of Maimonides' Thirteen
Principles) exclude them from membership in Israel and from the world
to come.
In Chapter 4 I noted that shegagah with respect to matters of religious
belief renders that belief incorrect and thus not really belief at all as far as
Maimonides is concerned. I said there that this reflected Maimonides'
claim that emunah is defined in terms of intellectual affirmations. Now
we can understand why. Maimonides defines belief in this fashion be-
cause of his theory of knowledge. If one holds incorrect beliefs (i.e.
makes mistakes in metaphysics), then one has not achieved full humanity
and thus is not even a candidate for admission to the world to come.
The entire structure of Maimonides' conception of Judaism as a re-
ligion constructed upon a dogmatic base depends upon the theory
sketched here. Many people today are happy to accept the consequence
of that theory, that Judaism has dogmas, and that it is therefore in-
cumbent on us to apply theological tests ofJewish legitimacy; and yet no
one I have met or heard of in today's world accepts the theory itself, as
promulgated by Maimonides.
14
George Schlesinger, New Perspectives on Old-time Religion (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1988), 160.
This point cannot be overstressed, even though contemporary Maim-
onideans tend to ignore it. The issue was well stated in a comment made
to me by Kenneth Seeskin:
No single proposition like 'God is one' can be understood in isolation. To know
what we are talking about, and not just be mouthing words, we need to be
responsible for the whole (Neoplatonic) system of metaphysics that explains
what 'one' means [for Maimonides]. Note, for example, that for Maimonides,
unity cannot be explicated without a lot of detailed work on related subjects like
existence, attribute, subject, predicate etc. ... How many Orthodox rabbis who
cite Maimonides ... want to take a pop quiz on the essentials of medieval logic
and metaphysics? 15
Remember that the ontology underlying Maimonides' first principle of

faith is derived from the Neoplatonic Aristotelianism which Maimonides
regarded as the correct vision of the structure of the universe. That ont-
ology has been succinctly summarized by Elliot R. Wolfson:
One of the basic tenets of [Neoplatonism] is the insistence on the unknow-
ability, indescribability, and ineffability of the One, the ultimate ground of all
being. In the standard Neoplatonic ontology the One cannot be delimited in
any way without undermining its status as the One, i.e. the absolute simple unity
that comprehends within itself all being even though it itself is beyond being.
Insofar as the One is unlimited all terms used in reference to it cannot be taken
referentially. 16
This is the philosophical position which underlies Maimonides' prin-

ciples of faith. To be a consistent Maimonidean today means to accept
the whole system of logic and metaphysics which undergirds Maimon-
ides' articles of faith. On Maimonides' terms, that is the only way to earn
a share in the world to come.
It should further be noted that Maimonides was not optimistic that
rabbis of his own generation would understand the philosophy behind his
principles. Thus he 'determined not to teach these basic truths in the idiom
ofinquiry, since examination of these roots requires skills in many fields, of
which, as I pointed out in the Guide, the learned in Torah know nothing'. 17
15
Personal communication.
16
Elliot R. Wolfson, 'Negative Theology and Positive Assertion in the Early Kab-
balah', Da)at, 31-2 (!994 ), pp. v-xxii at p. v.
17
See Maimonides' 'Essay on Resurrection', in Crisis and Leadership: Epistles of
Maimonides, trans. A. S. Halkin, discussions by David Hartman (Philadelphia: Jewish
Publication Society, 1985 ), 212. The entire passage repays close study in the context of this
present issue.
The point made here bears clear and forceful restatement: Maimonides
did not expect to meet many of his rabbinic contemporaries in the world
to come.
Challenges to Maimonides
Maimonides' innovation (and that, as I have tried above to show, it cer-
tainly was) did not go unchallenged. 18 Given that, as I have shown in
earlier chapters, classical Judaism understood emunah in a different way
from Maimonides, i.e. as a matter of trust in God expressed through
obedience to the commandments, it is not surprising that his ideas con-
cerning the nature ofJewish faith were not clearly understood in their
own terms and thus earned neither applause nor reproach but were-
largely-simply ignored.
Maimonides' innovation did spark off some discussion in the Middle
Ages, especially in the fifteenth century. As I have shown elsewhere, of
the two dozen or so Jewish thinkers who addressed the issue at all, none
followed Maimonides' definition of articles of faith. Rather, in almost all
cases, the principles of faith were deployed not as a theological but as a
literary device, or as part of an anti-Christian apologetic in cases where
Jews were forced to present Judaism in terms laid down by their Christian
interlocutors. This claim may easily be proved: medieval Jews debated
the principles ofJ udaism, but in no case did any of those involved in the
debate denounce as heretics others who disagreed with them over what
these principles actually were. But that is precisely what Maimonides was
doing. 19
However, while medieval Jewish thinkers did not, in general, engage
directly with Maimonides' claims about the nature of faith, his assertion
that the Torah includes commandments to know or believe certain
things was subjected to incisive and, I think, convincing criticism. This
criticism is still relevant today.
R. Hasdai Crescas, the great leader of fourteenth-century Iberian
Jewry, rejected the idea that the Torah contains commandments con-
18
Maimonides was indeed the first Jewish thinker to affirm both that Judaism had core
'faith-commitments' (to borrow an expression of Bleich's from a text I will discuss in
Chapter 6) and that Jews were expressly commanded to believe that these tenets were
true; he was not, however, the last. His clear influence is seen, for example, in the Sefer
on which see above, p. 16.
19
For details, see Kellner, Dogma, 201-17. My position here is supported by Joseph
M. Davis, 'Philosophy, Dogma, and Exegesis in Medieval Ashkenazic Judaism: The Evi-
dence of Sefer Hadrat Qpdesh', AJS Review, 18 ( 1993 ), 195-222, esp. 215, 222.
cerning matters of belief and knowledge. For a commandment to have
any significance, Crescas argues, we must be able to accept it or reject it.
It makes no sense whatsoever to command someone to do something
over which he has no control. It is, he says, a matter of both common
sense and common experience that we cannot control our convictions.
We cannot will to believe or not to believe, to be convinced of the truth of
something or to be convinced of its falsity. How can we then be com-
manded, Crescas asks, to know (or even believe) that God exists, is one,
and is incorporeal? 20
Abrabanel responded to Crescas' criticism ofMaimonides in his analy-
sis of Jewish dogma, Principles of Faith (completed in 1494). Abrabanel
grants Crescas' point that we have no control over our beliefs and con-
victions; but, he maintains, we do have control over the processes that
lead to belief and conviction. These processes are study and learning.
Take, for example, Pythagoras' theorem. Let us say that someone
shows me a right-angled triangle and tells me that the square of the
hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides. I
cannot be commanded to believe that that claim is true. I can, however,
be commanded to measure the three sides of the triangle, which will
rapidly convince me of the truth of the theorem with respect to this
particular triangle at any rate.
Let us say further that I examine dozens of right-angled triangles and
find that the theorem holds for every one of them. Even then, it makes no
sense to command me to accept the truth of the theorem. After all, the
theorem is meant to hold for all right-angled triangles, and no matter
how much time I devote to the project, I will never be able to examine
more than a small number of all possible right-angled triangles. I have no
reason to accept the theorem; I certainly have not been shown anything
which would convince a reasonably sceptical person that it holds for all
right-angled triangles; how, then, can I be commanded to believe it?
Let us say yet further that I am by nature a pleasant, amiable fellow who
likes to make people happy. Let us then posit that the person command-
ing me to believe that Pythagoras' theorem is true is someone for whom I
have profound respect and deep affection, someone who has never lied to
me, and someone who has proved to have nothing but my best interests
at heart. For all these reasons. I might very much want to obey the
command to believe that Pythagoras' theorem is true, but I simply
cannot choose to believe it. Either I believe it or I don't.
2
° For the details of Crescas' critique of Maimonides' claim that Judaism has com-
mandments addressed to the intellect, so to speak, see Kellner, Dogma, 108-39.
I cannot be commanded to be convinced of the truth of Pythagoras'

theorem. I can, however, be commanded to study geometry. If I am
reasonably intelligent and apply myself, I will ultimately become con-
vinced of the truth of the theorem. At some point, the proverbial light
will flick on and I will say, 'Ah, now I see it!' And once I have 'seen it' no
command will be able to force me to deny the truth of the theorem.
Thus, Abrabanel says, 'Maimonides did not count as a positive com-
mandment the form of the belief and its truth, but, rather, knowledge
of those things which bring one to acquire beliefs. 21 According to Abrab-
anel, when Maimonides codifies as commandments the obligation to
accept that God exists, is one, and is incorporeal, he means that we are
commanded to apply ourselves to the study ofphysics and metaphysics so
as to become convinced of the truth of the claims that God exists, is one,
and is incorporeal.
Although this is not the place investigate it in detail, Abrabanel's
proposal has much to recommend it, and it may very well be an accurate
interpretation of Maimonides' intent. But does it help us in today's
world? I think not.
Maimonides could reasonably write that the Torah commands us to
know that God exists and mean that the Torah commands us to study
enough science and philosophy to be able rationally to demonstrate
God's existence. What is acceptable for Maimonides, however, is not
satisfactory for our contemporaries. Medieval science and philosophy
(or physics and metaphysics, as Maimonides would have said) could be
used by a reasonable person to demonstrate that God exists, is one, and
is incorporeal. Maimonides' predecessors and contemporaries in the
Jewish, Muslim, and Christian worlds were unanimous in agreeing that
such proofs were available. Any intelligent person in Maimonides' day
who denied the existence of God could be faulted for not studying
science and philosophy diligently enough. To all intents and purposes
no one denied the basic postulates of Aristotelian science; and, once
accepted, these postulates, it was very widely agreed, led directly to the
proofs of God's existence, unity, and incorporeality.
Today, however, the situation is very different. Contemporary science
and philosophy cannot prove to the satisfaction of reasonable persons
that God exists, is one, and is incorporeal. I suppose that some over-
enthusiastic religious people today might sincerely believe that they can
rationally prove the existence not only of the God of the philosophers but
21
For Abrabanel's response to Crescas, see Principles of Faith, eh. II. The passage
quoted fromAbrabanel is found on p. 155.
of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. If they were correct, however
(without going into the details of the argumentation), then anyone who
denied or questioned God's existence would be guilty of stupidity,
irrationality, or wilfully ignoring the evidence. That is so strong a claim,
and so unlikely on the face of it to be the case, that I can surely say safely
and reasonably that the burden of proof rests not on me, but on those
who think they can prove that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob
exists. 22
That God does not exist cannot be proved either, of course, but that
does not help us very much. Even those individuals who believe (mis-
takenly, in my view) that God's existence can be proven must admit that
reasonable people applying themselves to the study of science and philo-
sophy will not without exception arrive at the conviction that God exists,
is one, and is incorporeal.
The upshot of all this is that Abrabanel's interpretation of Maimon-
ides, namely that commandments of belief really relate to the study
necessary to arrive at may save Maimonides from Crescas' critic-
isms but does not help make possible commandments relating to beliefs
today. Anyone today who maintains that the Torah commands belief
that certain statements are true must explain how the Torah can com-
mand things over which we have no conscious control.
As I have shown above, the claim that Judaism has dogmas is new with
Maimonides and reflects his view that emunah consists of specific affirm-
ations of truth and falsity. In fact, there were other medieval authorities
who shared this basic approach, but refused to go to the extremes that he
did. Let us examine this point first.
R. Sa'adia Gaon (in the tenth century) andR. BahyaibnPakuda (in the
eleventh century) agreed that the Torah teaches specific, discrete beliefs.
22
A number of recent thinkers ( R. Samson Raphael Hirsch, the saintly and martyred
R. Elhanan Wasserman, and R. Elia Lapian) have made a similar claim, to the effect that
the principles of faith are self-evident to all but the corrupted. While there are differences
of emphasis among these three thinkers, they all share the idea that 'all non-believers ...
are to a greater or lesser degree, immoral or at best weak of character. To put it another
way, there is no legitimate disbelief, only chosen lifestyles that jam the wavelength of
faith .' I quote from pp. 34-5 ofJoseph Grunblatt, 'Confronting Disbelievers', Tradition,
23 ( 1987 ), 33-9. For a similar position, one apparently typical of the Musar movement, see
Eliyahu Dessler, Letter from Elijah (Heb.), 5 vols . (Benei Berak: Committee for the
Publication of the Writings of Rabbi E. L. Dessler, 1983), i. 171-6. According to Rabbi
Dessler, the secularist suppresses what he actually knows, in his heart of hearts, to be the
truth. This position is, of course, impossible to prove. It also makes a mockery of the lives
of highly sophisticated, morally sensitive, deeply thoughtful atheists and agnostics. Were
Sartre and Camus weak of character?
Sa'adia, in fact, is the first Jew in the rabbinic tradition to have made this
claim explicitly: he structured his famous Book of Beliefs and Doctrines
around a series of these teachings. The point of this book was to trans-
form the 'beliefs' ofJudaism (ideas accepted on the basis of traditional
authority) into 'doctrines' (these same ideas, after they have been ration-
ally proven to be true). Are Jews obliged to transform their beliefs into
doctrines? Sa'adia's answer is simple: they are not. He wrote his book
only for those Jews who were troubled by the fact that they had not
achieved a state of intellectual certainty concerning traditional beliefs.
It is not that they doubted the truths ofJudaism; they just wanted these
truths to have the same epistemological status as the teachings of science.
But what of a Jew who is content to accept the teachings of the Torah
on the basis of traditional authority, or is unable to understand the argu-
ments proving their truth? Is such a person in any sense an inferior Jew to
one who has succeeded in proving to herself or himself that God exists,
created the world, etc.? Here again, Sa'adia's answer is simple: no. There
is no obligation whatsoever to transform one's simple beliefs into doc-
trines. If one is comfortable in observing the Torah without being able
to prove that its teachings are true, fine.
Note well, please, that the question arises only ifwe adopt the view that
the Torah has explicit and clearly defined teachings of a theological
nature. There is no doubt that Sa'adia adopts that view, but he nowhere
insists that a person should find out exactly what those teachings are and
come to understand them; nor does he use them to define who is and
who is not a Jew, or threaten dire punishments for the person who rejects
or even makes a mistake about them.
Bahya takes the issue a step further. For him the Torah includes IJovot
halevavot, 'obligations of the intellect'. These obligations are com-
mandments, and are every bit as normative as the 'obligations of the
limbs' (IJovot ha)evarim), such as observing the laws of kosher food. But
among the differences he identifies between intellectual obligations
(what Bahya calls 'obligations of the intellect') and obligations of the
limbs is the following: all Jews are required to obey the obligations of
the limbs; but only those Jews who are capable of it are required to
obey the intellectual obligations. Anyone can keep kosher. But not every
person can rationally understand the proofs for God's existence. It would
not be fair if intellectual obligations devolved upon those who were
incapable of observing them. Bahya, a fair man, and, I might add, one
who appears to have had a warm and loving personality, does not
demand from the simple Jew what he or she cannot perform.
Bahya, then, goes a step beyond Sa'adia. The latter makes the intel-
lectual affirmation of the teachings of the Torah entirely a matter of reshut,
something permitted but not obligatory; Bahya makes their acceptance
(which means understanding) obligatory, but only for those capable ofit.
Jews unable to prove that God exists are still good Jews. In addition to
Bahya, Rabeinu Hananel (eleventh century), as cited by Bahya ben Asher
in his commentary on Exodus 14-: 31, and Abraham ibn Ezra (c. 1089-n64 ),
in his long commentary on Exodus 20, anticipate Maimonides' claim that
Judaism has commandments addressed to the intellect.
It was up to Maimonides to take the next step: namely, to state that
knowing God's existence, unity, and incorporeality is obligatory for all
Jews, even, as Maimonides says in Guide ofthe Perplexed, i. 36, for women
and children. Individuals who are not capable of this, or make mistakes
about it, are not simply inferior Jews, they are not really Jews at all. That
is Maimonides' position. How many of his followers today are willing
to accept that assertion? How many of them even qualify as Jews on
Maimonides' criteria? The answer to both questions is, I think, few if any.
Was Maimonides Inconsistent? The Karaites

There are good reasons for asking how consistent Maimonides was in
applying his theory. This issue has direct implications for the way in
which Maimonides' positions are used today. As the discussion proceeds
we will see that while Maimonides was indeed a 'Maimonidean' (i.e. he
actually held the theory which undergirds his system of dogma), his true
position was somewhat different from his public stance, in that he dis-
tinguished decisively between those who doubted or rejected any of the
first five of his Thirteen Principles and those who doubted or rejected any
of the others.
One area in which Maimonides appears to be inconsistent with respect
to the application of his principles is in his attitudes. This has to do with
his stance regarding Karaites. Karaites reject part of the eighth principle
in that they deny the divine origin of the Oral Torah; with respect to all
the other principles they are fully 'orthodox'. 23 In his first public state-
ment concerning the Karaites, in his commentary on the Mishnah,
For an excellent and brief explanation of Karaism, see Lasker, 'Rabbanism and
23
Karaisrn'. On the development of'Rabbanites' are those Jews who upheld the validity of
the rabbinic tradition, denied by the Karaites. For important discussions of the
development of Maimonides' views on Karaites, see Ya'akov Blidstein, 'Maimonides'
Attitude towards Karaites' (Heb.), 8 (1988), 501-w; Daniel J. Lasker, 'The
Influence ofKaraism on Maimonides' (Heb .), Sefunot, 5 (1991), r45-6r.
Maimonides adjudged them to be heretics and called for their execution
where possible. In the course of time Maimonides moderated his stance,
distinguishing between, on the one hand, the founders of Karaism and
Rabbanite Jews who joined them, and, on the other, their descendants.
Descendants ofKaraites, Maimonides avers in the Mishneh torah,
misguided by their parents, [and] raised among the Karaites and trained in their
views, are like a child taken captive by them and raised in their religion, whose
status is that of an anus [one who abjures the Jewish religion under duress], who,
although he later learns that he is a Jew, meets Jews, observes them practice their
religion, is nevertheless to be regarded as an anus, since he was raised in the
erroneous ways of his fathers. Thus it is with those who adhere to the practices of
their Karaite parents. Therefore efforts should be made to bring them back in
repentance, to draw them near by friendly relations, so that they may return to
the strength-giving source, i.e., the Torah. 24
As we shall see below, this more moderate position, that contemporary

Karaites are not to be killed but, rather, treated like 'straying brethren'
and returned to the fold through 'ways of pleasantness' (Prov. 3: 17),
undergirds the position adopted by most halakhic decisors today that
Jews who fail to satisfy theological tests of orthodoxy are heretics, but
inadvertent heretics and therefore not fully culpable. The full rigour of
the law concerning heretics (that they be killed where possible and that
no relations be allowed with them whatsoever where killing them is not
feasible) is therefore not imposed upon them.
I personally am fully in support of the idea that Orthodox Jews
may not kill their Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, and secular
brethren. I certainly have no interest in casting doubt upon the wisdom
of the policy of not calling for their deaths. But how can Maimonides
justify the claim? After all, we have seen how he disallows shegagah with
respect to heresy; now we see him allowing it!
The answer to this question saves Maimonides from the charge of
inconsistency, but, as will become evident as we proceed, only deepens
the crisis of those who wish to use him as an authority for the imposition
of theological tests of Jewish legitimacy. The founders of Karaism re-
jected part of the eighth principle of faith, but they accepted all the
others. In particular, they were in full agreement with the first five, those
which deal with God. That turns out to be significant.
Let us recall that acceptance of principles of faith is supposed to lead to
24
'Laws of Rebellious Elders', iii. 3. I cite the translation of A. M. Hershman in The
Book of]udges(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1949 ), 143-4.
a share in the world to come. This acceptance, I pointed out above,
involves more than learning the principles by rote: it involves some level
of understanding of them. This is so because Maimonides, on his own
philosophical grounds, can only get people into heaven, so to speak, if
they have made themselves full human beings, individuals with a certain
amount ofintellectual advancement. One achieves that level of advance-
ment only through an understanding of basic metaphysical teachings.
(Correct) knowledge concerning God is the only key to immortality.
Essential elements in this knowledge are taught and explained in the first
five principles.
Maimonides' first five principles, then, teach metaphysical truths.
Understanding those truths constitutes enough intellectual advance-
ment to guarantee a share in the world to come. The other principles also
teach truths, of course, but of a type different from the first group. These
latter truths relate to certain historical events (concerning the giving of
the Torah), to the way God relates to us, and to certain future events
(the coming of the Messiah and resurrection). Rejection of these truths
excludes one from that community constituted by their acceptance (the
community oflsrael), but does not and cannot in and of itself lead to
exclusion from the world to come.
Maimonides' claim that all his principles are dogmas in the strict sense
that perfect acceptance of them is a necessary and sufficient condition for
being part of the community of Israel, and for having a share in the world
to come, is thus seen to be exaggerated: it is only the first five principles
that are dogmas in that sense . No mistakes can be tolerated concerning
them, and none is. Innocent mistakes concerning the other principles
can be tolerated to the extent that those who make these mistakes need
not be subjected to the full rigour of the law concerning heretics-as
is clear from the treatment ofKaraite descendants prescribed in Maimon-
ides' writings.
But is it indeed the case that Maimonides himself distinguished be-
tween the first five principles and all the others, as I here claim? It turns
out that-fortunately for my case-he makes the point explicitly in the
Guide of the Perplexed. In part 1, chapter 36 of that work Maimonides
raises the question of the status of a person who mistakenly (i.e. with no
intention to rebel against God and the Torah) attributes corporeality to
God. This is what he says:
What then should be the state of him whose infidelity bears upon His essence,
may He be exalted, and consists in believing Him to be different from what He
really is? .. . If, however, it should occur to you that one who believes in the
corporeality of God should be excused because of his having been brought up

in this doctrine or because of his ignorance and the shortcomings of his appre-
hension, you ought to hold a similar beliefwith regard to an idolater; for he only
worships idols because of his ignorance or because of his upbringing: They
continue in the custom of their fathers. If, however, you should say that the
external sense of the biblical text causes men to fall into this doubt, you ought
to know that an idolater is similarly impelled to his idolatry by imaginings
and defective representations. Accordingly there is no excuse for one who
does not accept the authority of men who inquire into the truth and are engaged
in speculation if he himself is incapable of engaging in such speculation.
(pp. 84-5)
A person has been brought up to believe in a corporeal God. This

person might even (mistakenly) believe that God has material character-
istics because ofhis or her misunderstanding of the Torah (the last verses
of Deuteronomy, for example, speak of God's 'mighty hand and out-
stretched arm'), or even because of the misunderstanding of a parent or
teacher. Such a person holds incorrect beliefs about the deity because of
'his ignorance and the shortcomings of his apprehension', not out of any
desire to be a bad Jew. Can we excuse these mistakes? Only, Maimonides
insists, ifwe are willing to excuse outright idolatry. There is no excuse for
mistakes concerning God, whether made by Jews or by idolaters. The
truth is ready to hand; if you can't work it out yourself, go to an appro-
priate teacher who can help you.
Karaites did not reject God's existence, unity, or incorporeality; they
did not reject the creation of the universe; and they did not pray to inter-
mediaries. Persons raised as Karaites, in other words, are not 'infidels' in
the sense described here by Maimonides. They reject a true teaching
concerning the Torah, but they do not misconstrue or misrepresent
the nature of God. As such, they do not commit fatal metaphysical mis-
takes, and are not, therefore, automatically excluded from the world to
come .25
The founders of Karaism (and Rabbanite Jews who joined it later)
consciously rebelled against the authority of the Sanhedrin, a capital
offence; thus, they deserved death. Their descendants have not so re-
belled and can therefore be treated with greater leniency. By maintaining
correct beliefs about God, Karaite descendants remain within the essen-
25
For important support of my interpretation that according to Maimonides Karaites
do not deny the first five principles and are not minim in the strict sense, see R. Joseph
Kafih's new Hebrew translation ofJudah Halevi's Sefer hakuzari (Kiryat Ono: Makhon
Moshe, 1997), r n. 3.
tial fold of Judaism (if not within the Jewish community); their dis-
agreement is largely about matters of 'detail', so to speak.
Maimonides, then, attached cardinal importance to the first five of the
Thirteen Principles, somewhat less importance to the others. Rejection
of or mistakes concerning the first group truly exclude one from the
community ofisrael and from the world to come. Mistakes concerning
the latter group do not actually exclude one from the community of
Israel (we are, after all, bound to make efforts in respect of those who
err 'to bring them back in repentance, to draw them near by friendly
relations, so that they may return to the strength-giving source, i.e., the
Torah') and certainly do not, in and of themselves, exclude one from the
world to come. 26
Maimonides' willingness to extend Jewish identity to contemporary
Karaites, and not call for their extinction, is therefore not evidence of
inconsistency. The founders of Karaism deserve death as rebels; their
descendants accept those principles of faith about which Maimonides
cannot compromise (those the acceptance of which gain one entry into
the world to come) and therefore are mistaken, not heretical.
26
Further on Maimonides' distinction between the first five principles and the last
eight, see Kellner, Dogma, 34-49.
SIX
0 NE of the most difficult and painful problems facing contemporary

Orthodoxy is the question of how to relate to non-Orthodox versions
of Jewish religiosity. One of the reasons why the issue is so complex is
that the tradition really presents very little guidance on how to deal
with the problem. Orthodoxy today is faced with something new and
unprecedented: expressions of Judaism which claim to be the legiti-
mate, normatively correct versions of the Torah while at the same time
rejecting the divine origin and obligatory character of halakhic obedi-
ence (Reform Judaism) or understanding the nature and character of
the halakhic process in new and unprecedented ways (Conservative
Judaism).
Moreover, what came to be called 'Orthodoxy' was faced with these
new problems against the background ofthe development ofthe modern
world, with its dizzying variety of non-religious versions of Jewish
identification, and the ever-present possibility of simply melting away in a
usually painless and often unconscious process of assimilation. It is no
surprise that bulwarks were thrown up, fortifications built, and positions
entrenched.
Orthodoxy and Heresy

Part of the typically Orthodox response to the challenge posed by non-
Orthodox versions of religious Judaism is to brand the followers of other
varieties of Judaism (or at least their leaders) as heretics. Heretics are
beyond the pale, not to be associated with, lest that association lend them
legitimacy. Heretics, it should be further noted, have no share in the
world to come. This position was made possible by what might be called
Maimonides' 'theologification' ofJudaism. I have my doubts about the
wisdom of this response, but that is not what concerns me here. Rather, I
am interested in its coherence: is it internally consistent, and does it
cohere with classic forms of Jewish self-understanding? In this and the
following chapter I will try to show that the answer to both questions is
no.
88 Heresy-hunting
I would like first, however, to fill in some of the background to our
problem. Orthodoxy is unwilling to do anything which might be con-
strued as conferring legitimacy upon Conservative, Reform, and Recon-
structionist Judaism. 1 The reason for this is quite simple: non-Orthodox
Judaism is heresy. This comes out very clearly in the many responsa of the
late Rabbi Moses Feinstein (1892-1986 ), in which the subject comes up
directly or indirectly. He forbids, for example, an Orthodox service in a
Conservative synagogue building (not just in the main sanctuary, but in
any room in the building), since 'it is well-known that they [Conservative
Jews] are deniers [koferim] of many Torah laws'. Most Conservative and
Reform rabbis can be assumed to be 'deniers of God and His Torah'. All
the people buried in Reform cemeteries are 'evil-doers who have denied
our holy Torah' .2
Maimonides' influence in all this, though rarely stated explicitly, lurks
prominently in the background, as is evidenced, for example, by Bleich's
comment on the matter: 'Halakhah is remarkably tolerant, nay accept-
ing, but only within certain clearly defined parameters. These parameters
involve matters of dogma primarily.' Bleich then goes on, more or less
paraphrasing Maimonides' statement at the end of his principles: 'Juda-
ism has always distinguished between those who transgress and those
1
With respect to the fear of conferring legitimacy upon non-Orthodox Judaism, see
the very clear statement of the Orthodox position in J. David Bleich, Contemporary
Halakhic Problems, 4 vols. (New York: Ktav, 1989- ), iii. 82-rn. As Rabbi Bleich puts
it, 'the issue in the United States is not that of possible negative influence [of non-
Orthodox Judaism upon Orthodoxy and Orthodox Jews] but oflegitimization' (p. 90 ).
2
The three quotations of Rabbi Feinstein's are from Responsa (Heb.) (New York:
n.p., i996 ), ii. 50, iv. 91, and Yoreh de)ah, iii. 149. Rabbi Feinstein, of course,
is the single most influential halakhic decisor of the second half of the twentieth century.
Further on his attitudes towards non-Orthodox Judaism see J. Chinitz, 'Reb Moshe and
the Conservatives', Conservative Judaism, 41 (1989), 5-15; Y. Levin, 'The Conservative
Movement as Reflected in the Responsa of R. Moshe Feinstein', in Y. Raphael (ed.),
Aviad Memorial Volume (He b.) (Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1986 ), 281-93; on the
modern world in general, see Ira Robinson, 'Because of Our Many Sins: The Contem-
porary World as Reflected in the Responsa of Moses Feinstein' ,Judaism, 35 ( 1986 ), 35-46.
Levin points out that Rabbi Feinstein does not distinguish between Conservative and
Reform Judaism and that he characterizes Conservative and Reform rabbis as 'deniers,
sectarians, heretics, evil-doers, enticers [to sin] and corrupters' (p. 287). See further the
comments by Louis Jacobs, 'Theological Responsa', Judaism, 16 (1967), 345-52 at 346.
For the history of Orthodox attitudes towards the non-Orthodox in the last few cen-
turies, a history which serves as the backdrop for Rabbi Feinstein 's approach, see Judith
Bleich, 'Rabbinic Responses to Nonobservance in the Modern Era', in Jacob J. Schacter
(ed.), Jewish Tradition and the Nontraditional Jew (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson,
1992), 37-n6.
Heresy-hunting
who renounce. Transgression is to be deplored, but transgression does
not place the transgressor beyond the pale of believers. Renunciation-
even without actual transgression-is a matter of an entirely different
magnitude.' It is this different order of magnitude which makes co-
operation in religious matters, membership in community-wide organ-
izations (such as the Synagogue Council of America and local boards
of rabbis), and any act which implies recognition or the conferring of
legitimacy, or which might give 'the appearance of dealing with Conserv-
ative and Reform leaders with deference and dignity' wholly unaccept-
able in the Orthodox world today. 3
3
The quotations from David Bleich are from his Contemporary Halakhic Problems, iii.
85, 86. The Jewish Observer, the official organ of the Agudat Yisrael of the United States,
took Rabbi Norman Lamm, president of Yeshiva University, to task for giving the
impression that he treated Conservative and Reform rabbis with 'deference and dignity'
(June 1988, p. 13). In general, see the exchange between Lamm and Professor Aaron
Twersky in the Jewish Observer, April 1988, pp. 6-9, and June 1988, pp. 13-16, 17-26.
Twersky's position clearly reflects his dependence upon Maimonides:
Should one who preaches vile kefira [heresy] be allowed to travel throughout the United States as a
consultant to over three score Jewish Federations preaching 'pluralism' and heresy in the name of
Orthodox 'Centrism'? Isn't it essential that someone declare that 'the field' begins and ends with
unquestioning emuna, and that denial of Ikrim (basic tenets of faith) does not render someone 'left
wing' but totally out of the ballpark? (June 1988, 20-1)
Twersky's ire here was aroused by rabbis Yitzchak Greenberg and Emmanuel Rackman.
See further the Jewish Observer editorial, January 1985, pp. 37-9, and, very importantly
for our purposes, 'Council of Torah Sages Declares: No Rabbinic Dialogue with
Conservatives', Jewish Observer, April 1985, p. 21: 'The classic tenets of Judaism are not
negotiable nor are they the subject matter for dialogues with those who are purveying to
an unwary public a "Judaism" that tears down fundamentals of our ancient heritage-all
in the name ofHalachah.' One can multiply statements such as these almost without end.
I shall, however, cite only a few more examples. The first is a text which clearly illuminates
the tendencies I am trying to describe here. Rabbi Chaim Dov Keller quotes a remark
made at his [Keller's] wedding in 1962 by his 'sainted Rebbe, Reb Elya Meir Bloch zt'l,
Telshe Rosh Yeshiva', to the effect that 'We no longer have to fear Conservatism-that is
no longer the danger. Everyone knows that it is avoda zara. What we have to fear is
Modern Orthodoxy.' See Chaim Dov Keller, 'Modern Orthodoxy: An Analysis and a
Response' ,Jewish Observer, June 1979, pp. 3-14, repr. in Reuven Bulka (ed.), Dimensions
of Orthodox Judaism (New York: Ktav, 1983), 233-71 at 253 . Conservative Judaism is
avodah zarah (lit. 'foreign worship', i.e. idolatry)-'everyone knows' that; Reform
Judaism is presumably worse. Rabbi Keller enthusiastically endorses his rebbe's position
and explicitly ties it to Maimonides. The reader should be reminded that idolatry is one of
the three cardinal sins. A Jew is commanded to sacrifice her life rather than perform
avodah zarah. It is the very antithesis ofTorah.
I must emphasize that this approach is not restricted to 'ultra' Orthodoxy. For
an interesting example of the way in which the heretical nature of non-Orthodox
90 Heresy-hunting
Theology and Halakhah: A Category Mistake

My argument against those who wish to pose a theological test to
determine Jewish legitimacy is based in part on the claim that those who
seek to turn theology into halakhah are making a category mistake. It is
not a halakhic issue and halakhic authorities are not adequately trained to
deal with it. Leaving aside Maimonides (and those who think that they
accept his views), there is no classic authority to support the application
ofhalakhic categories to theology. Moreover, as I will show, those who
seek to impose tests of theological orthodoxy upon other Jews cannot
really be said to be adopting Maimonides' position, even though they
are convinced that they are. Rather, they are adopting the shell of his
position (that Judaism has dogmas) while rejecting the meat-that is,
the philosophical and theological basis for that position. Further-more,
there are very few Jews alive today who actually subscribe to Maimon-
ides' principles as he formulated them. And finally, as we saw in the last
section of the previous chapter, Maimonides himself was, on the face of
it, inconsistent in the way in which he applied his principles. That appar-
ent inconsistency may be sufficient to indicate that it was not his intent
that they should be used in the way which has become prevalent today.
movements in Judaism is taken for granted (by a spokesperson for 'modern' or 'centrist'
Orthodoxy) see Mayer Schiller, 'Torah Umadda and The Jewish Observer Critique: To-
wards a Clarification of the Issues', The Torah Umadda Journal, 6 (1995-6 ), 58-90 at 83
and esp. n. 14-(p. 88): 'In 1986, before an audience comprised largely ofJews affiliated with
heretical movements, Dr Lamm declared ... ' (emphasis added). This is an article devoted
to defending the philosophical bases of 'centrist' or 'modern' Orthodoxy, and its major
contemporary spokesperson (Rabbi Dr Norman Lamm), from criticisms voiced in the
more or less official journal of what is variously called 'right-wing', 'IJaredi' or 'yeshiva'
Orthodoxy, the Jewish Observer. The author, Rabbi Schiller, a distinguished and person-
ally open-minded Talmud instructor oflong standing in Yeshiva University High School
for boys, takes it as a given that Conservative and Reform Judaism constitute heresy and
that his readers will take it for granted that such is the case.
It has become a commonplace in the contemporary Orthodox world to view Reform
Judaism as a new religion altogether. For an example, see Rabbi Yisrael Rozen, a strident
and influential spokesperson in (Israel) National Religious Party circles, in Shabat besha-
bato, no. 622 (parashat Eikev, 23 Aug. 1997). Rabbi Rozen is important both for reflecting
widely held views and for helping to shape them. Rabbi Rozen sees Reform Jews as Jews
who have converted to a new religion without losing their identity (and halakhic obliga-
tions) as Jews (in the same way, I might add, that Jews for Jesus are still seen as
halakhically Jewish). Rabbi Zvi Elimelekh Halberstam, leader of the Zanz hasidim, and a
highly respected individual, was reported in the Israeli newspaper Ha )arets(15 Aug. 1997,
p. 6a) as having publicly affirmed that Reform Jews have not only removed themselves
from the Jewish religion, but have also removed themselves from the people oflsrael and
thus have no rights in the Land oflsrael.
Heresy-hunting 91
It is obvious that Orthodoxy cannot leave matters as laid down by

Maimonides and implemented by rabbis Feinstein and Bleich: the penal-
ties for idolatry and heresy are severe, and treating non-Orthodox (and
Modern Orthodox) Jews as idolaters and heretics would make it im-
possible to live with and among them. 4 The way in which Orthodox
spokesmen get around this problem will be taken up in the next chapter.
Here, I want to illustrate the strategy I plan to follow by drawing a paral-
lel with another difficult problem facing the halakhically observant world.
As I have been writing this book, Israel and the Palestinians have been
taking hesitant steps towards mutual recognition and, perhaps, ultimate
reconciliation. It has become a commonplace in the so-called 'national
religious' camp to argue that it is halakhically forbidden to surrender
territory in the Land oflsrael to non-Jewish authorities. Some voices in
this camp even insist that territorial compromise is forbidden in the same
way that murder, idolatry, and sexual immorality are forbidden: one
must sacrifice one's life before committing one of these forbidden acts.
More moderate voices say that it is forbidden, just as it is forbidden to
violate the Sabbath or eat non-kosher food. In both cases, it is agreed that
the issue is a halakhic one, and that the halakhah on the matter is clear:
one may not give up portions of the Land of Israel. The religious
legitimacy ofpersons holding opposed views is, typically, rejected.
The argument against this position, as voiced from within the 'na-
tional religious' world, is usually presented in two stages. First, it
is argued that the issue is not subject to halakhic determination at all.
The late Rabbi J. B. Soloveitchik (1903-93), former head of Yeshiva
University, for example, is widely reported to have held that questions
concerning the disposition of territory should be asked of generals and
political leaders, not rabbis. But even if one rejects this view, a second
point requires attention: namely, that even if the disposition of parts of
the Land oflsrael is deemed subject to halakhic determination, it is still
the case that the halakhic issue is debated. There is no lack of reputable
rabbis who hold, on halakhic grounds, that surrender of territory in
the Land oflsrael is not in every case forbidden. Once the issue becomes
a matter of halakhic debate between recognized authorities, then the
classic category of'these and these are the words of the living God' (i.e.
both are legitimate) comes into play and neither side has the right to rule
the other illegitimate.
I here adopt the first half of the two-pronged strategy of those who
4
A consequence quite explicitly adopted by the Satmar hasidim; on this see Allan
Nadler, 'Piety and Politics: The Case of the Satmar Rebbe', Judaism, 31(1982),135-52.
92 Heresy-hunting
defend the halakhic legitimacy of the politically 'dovish' posit.ton in
Israel. That is, I take the view that the question who should and should
not be counted a member of the legitimate Jewish community, the ques-
tion with whom we may have social, intellectual, and religious inter-
course, the question whether or not we ought to cooperate with this or
that institution or movement-all these are questions which transcend
halakhah as it has been received in our day. Especially given the un-
precedented existing circumstances of Jewish life in the modem world,
these are questions for which halakhah has no ready answers; and they are
questions which traditionally trained posekim (halakhic decisors) have
not proved themselves particularly well equipped to answer.
I hasten to clarify my position: I am not saying that halakhah cannot
clearly answer questions concerning such matters as whom we may or
may not marry, or who can offer testimony in a Jewish court. These are
technical questions and have technical answers. Who or what is a Jew
(especially in today's fractured world) is a meta- halakhic question.
Let us look at the issue in a historical fashion. The question of who is
and who is not a Jew, or a 'good' Jew, simply does not come up in the
Torah, and receives little if any explicit attention in the Talmud. Clear-
cut answers to the question were developed in the Middle Ages-by
Maimonides, facing Islam and Karaism, and by later halakhic decisors
facing the anusim, the forced converts of fifteenth-century Iberia. The
answers they developed were important in their day and made a signal
contribution to the continued existence ofJews and Judaism. That does
not mean that those answers should be applied blindly in today's world. 5
I should offer one more caveat before proceeding further: as will be-
come clear, my claim that turning theology into halakhah is a category
mistake is not identical with Rabbi Jonathan Sacks' important and pain-
fully true insight that many contemporary Jews seek to apply halakhic
categories to the realm of aggadah. 6
Three Contemporary Orthodox Statements

I will here focus on three statements of what I take to be Jewish Ortho-
doxy in the spirit of Maimonides' principles of faith. The first was pub-
lished in a journal sponsored by Yeshiva University, a journal dedicated
For an important discussion of many of the relevant texts, see Gerald J. Blidstein,
5
'Who is Not a Jew: The Medieval Discussion', Israel Law Review, n ( 1976 ), 369-90 .
6
See Sacks, One People?, 99-roo . Further on this whole problem see Norman Solo-
mon's discussion ofwhat he calls 'pan-Halakhism' in his The Analytic Movement: Hayyim
Soloveitchik and his Circle (Atlanta, Ga. : Scholars Press, 1993 ), 223-40.
Heresy-hunting 93
to exploring and explicating the intersection between Torah and science

(in the broadest sense of both terms). The second was published by a
scholar of vast erudition and profound insight who holds two professor-
ships at Yeshiva University, one in Talmud and the second in law. He
is, moreover, one of the very few Orthodox scholars who consistently
attempts constructive and respectful intellectual intercourse with non-
Orthodox intellectuals, both rabbinic and lay. Moreover, this article was
published in a collection of essays edited by Jonathan Sacks, the Chief
Rabbi of Great Britain, a man deeply committed to openness towards the
entire Jewish world. The third text is Rabbi Sacks' own attempt to argue
for a policy of Orthodox inclusivism towards non-Orthodox Jews.
Put simply, if we are to find texts expressing authoritative Orthodox
opinion which do not take it to be a matter of course that all non-
Orthodox expressions of Judaism are entirely without legitimacy and
have nothing of value to say to the Jew, then these texts are the place to
look. In the first two of these texts, however, the spirit of Maimonides'
principles of faith leaves its clear and, to my mind, unfortunate im-
pression. With respect to the third text, Chief Rabbi Sacks wrote his
book in order to make possible a policy of inclusivism and openness to-
wards non-Orthodox Jews and Judaism. His acceptance of Maimonides'
understanding ofJudaism, however, handcuffs him from the very start,
and makes it impossible for him to get to where he seems to want
to go.
I must emphasize at the outset that by citing the writings of rabbis
Parnes, Bleich, and Sacks together I am not seeking to imply that they
form a unified school or that they would even necessarily agree with each
other. Furthermore, I am not seeking to criticize them; while I do not
know Rabbi Parnes beyond the articles of his which I cite here, I have
nothing but the deepest respect and admiration for the writings and
persons of rabbis Bleich and Sacks. Indeed, it could not be otherwise,
since both represent for me the finest expression of what Orthodoxy can
accomplish in seeking a positive relationship with non-Orthodox Jews,
given the tools currently available. It is the point of the present book to
suggest that these tools (the application of the category of heresy to non-
Orthodox J udaisms) are not the only or indeed the best ones available to
an Orthodox Jew.
Freedom ofEnquiry
The first issue of The Torah Umadda Journal, published in 1989, contains
a brief article by Rabbi Yehudah Parnes entitled 'Torah Umadda and
94 Heresy-hunting
Freedom oflnquiry'. Starting from the supposition that being 'involved
in the intellectual and cultural experience of mankind' is a positive good,
one that leads to an enriched Jewishness, Parnes asks if there are any areas
of enquiry which are out of bounds for the Jew. Using as his source a
passage in Maimonides' Mishneh torah, Parnes bans free intellectual
enquiry 'in areas that spark and arouse ideas which are antithetical to
the tenets of our faith'. These tenets, not surprisingly, he identifies as
Maimonides' Thirteen Principles. 'Torah u-Madda can only be viable',
he concludes, 'ifit imposes strict limits on freedom ofinquiry in areas that
may undermine the Thirteen Principles of Paith.'
Parnes' article sparked considerable debate in the pages of the journal,
and its author was given an opportunity to rebut his critics in a sub-
sequent issue. His second piece, published in 1990, amplifies and clarifies
some of the ideas put forward in the first. Here he makes clear that, in his
eyes, he has
raised a halakhic issue essentially no different than a she)elah [halakhic enquiry] in
kashrut [the laws of kosher food]. In fact, this is a she)elah of kashrut [here,
legitimacy] in the sphere of intellectual activity. Consequently, this mandates a
response by great poskim [halakhic decisors] and morei hora)ah [authoritative
teachers] as is wont in other areas of halakhah le-ma )aseh [practical halakhah].
This is as succinct a statement of the position I wish to criticize as one
could wish for.
Parnes' own intellectual honesty is evidenced by his next sentence, in
which he refers to one of the positions I defend in this book: 'Of course,
there has been previous mention of the possibility that freedom of
inquiry is not an halakhic issue.' This view had been attributed to the late
Rabbi J.B. Soloveitchik by one of Parnes' critics. Parnes then goes on: 'If
this is so, then it should be spelled out in the classical format of a she)elah
u-teshuvah [halakhic enquiry and responsum].' In other words, Rabbi
Parnes' last word on the issue is that the halakhic status of questions
concerning matters of belief and enquiry is itself a halakhic question.
This last point smacks of an odd kind of circularity; but whether Rabbi
Parnes' reasoning is circular or not is irrelevant here. What is at issue are
his claims that Maimonides' Thirteen Principles constitute the tenets of
Jewish faith and that the determination of'kosher thinking' is a halakhic
determination precisely parallel to the determination of whether or not a
particular chicken is kosher. 7
7
The Torah Umadda journal is edited by Rabbi J. J. Schacter and published by
Yeshiva University. Parnes' articles are in the first and second volumes (1989 and 1990) of
Heresy-hunting 95
The Illegitimacy ofthe Non-Orthodox

Parnes limits his discussion to permitted fields of study. In an important
statement of Orthodox views concerning the illegitimacy of non-
Orthodox approaches to Judaism, David Bleich applies a similar attitude
and approach to the question of theological kashrut. 'With a sense ofpain
and anguish', Bleich confronts the problem of 'Orthodoxy and the Non-
Orthodox: Prospects of Unity' in a volume of essays called Orthodoxy
Confronts Modernity. 8 Building heavily upon Maimonides, Bleich main-
tains that certain deviations from accepted behaviour are 'repugnant
and ... odious', not because of the behaviour they entail, but because
they are 'manifestation[ s] of intellectual renunciation of fundamental
beliefs posited by the Torah'. With respect to idolatry (the issue discussed
by Maimonides in the texts quoted and analysed by Bleich), it is not
the act of bowing down to idols which forces the idolater beyond the
pale and out of the world to come; it is, rather, 'his denial and renunc-
iation of the basic faith-commitments ofJudaism that serve to bar such
an individual's entry into the world-to-come'.
Bleich continues in his Maimonidean vein, affirming that 'all trans-
gressions of commandments addressed to the intellect are, in this respect,
the functional equivalent of idolatry'. It follows from this that 'it is
necessary to us to be cognizant ofthis basic principle, and to be cognizant
of the centrality of faith-commitments in Judaism in order to recognize
that there are issues which cannot be compromised in any manner'.
'Compromise', Bleich continues,
is entirely out of the question with regard to any of the fundamentals of our faith.
It is for this reason that in seeking the unity of Klal Yisrael [the community of
Israel], in reaching out with 'calm patience' to draw back our separated brethren
with 'words of peace', one must carefully distinguish between conduct that is
directed toward individual fellow Jews and conduct that is directed towards
institutions, movements, or streams, lest we be drawn into a situation involving
intellectual compromise or into legitimization, either actual or perceived, of
alien ideology.
the journal. For an important response to Parnes see Shapiro, 'The Last Word in Jewish
Theology?' With vast erudition, Shapiro documents the mixed reception accorded
Maimonides' dogmas in medieval and early modern Judaism. Parnes' position, it should
be noted, is considerably more open and liberal than many found in the world of con-
temporary Orthodoxy. See e.g. the statements of the (martyred) R. Elhanan Wasserman,
cited by Solomon on p. 28 of The Analytic Movement.
8
Jonathan Sacks (ed.), Orthodoxy Confronts Modernity (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1991);
Bleich's article appears on pp . 97-108. I do not know whether or not Bleich would
approve of Parnes' attempt to limit freedom of enquiry. I suspect not.
Heresy-hunting
Let us try to establish clearly what is being said here. Non-Orthodox
interpretations ofJudaism are 'alien' ideologies; those who follow them
are 'separated brethren'. With two important restrictions, every effort
must be made to draw these brethren away from their alien ideologies
and back into the fold. These restrictions are that no act may be per-
formed which might involve compromise on any of the intellectual
commandments of Judaism, and that no act may be performed which
might be perceived as granting legitimacy to the alien ideologies.
What brings Bleich to adopt this stance? He makes two crucial assump-
tions, or, I should say, accepts two Maimonidean teachings which lock him
into his position. The first concerns the 'centrality of faith-commitments in
Judaism' and the second the idea that Judaism recognizes a category of
'commandments addressed to the intellect'. If there are commandments
addressed to the intellect and these concern the central faith-commitments
of Judaism, then those who violate these commandments have separated
themselves from the community oflsrael and have adopted alien systems
of thought. Compromise with such individuals or with such ideologies
cannot be countenanced, since it means compromising the essential nature
of true Judaism. Cooperating with their institutions, even on matters
relating to the community of Israel, is forbidden, lest such cooperation
be misperceived as the legitimization of such institutions. Addressing the
clergy of non-Orthodox Judaisms by the title 'rabbi' is similarly prob-
lematic and holders ofBleich's position try to avoid it.
Bleich, in short, is proposing a theological litmus test to distinguish
legitimate from illegitimate Jews and Judaism. As it turns out, in his
hands the test is applied with sensitivity, tact, and good humour; in the
hands of many others it deteriorates into heresy-hunting.
It is important to note that Bleich's argument here depends for its
cogency upon an earlier discussion of his in the introduction to his
anthology With Perfect Faith (referred to in Chapter 2 above). He there
interprets Maimonides as holding that 'basic philosophical beliefs are
not simply matters of intellectual curiosity but constitute a branch of
Halakhah' (p. 2) and that matters of dogma are decided like other areas
of halakhah. Bleich has recently reiterated this position. In an article
published in 1996 he insists that 'Matters of belief are inherently matters
of halakha. It is not at all surprising that disagreements exist with regard
to substantive matters of belief, just as is the case with regard to other
areas ofJ ewish law. Such matters are subject to the canons of halakhic
decision-making no less than other questions of Jewish law. ' 9
9
J. David Bleich, 'Reply', Tradition, 30 ( 1966 ), rno-2 at IOI.
Heresy-hunting 97
A number of things must be said in response to this. First, I think that

Bleich here misunderstands Maimonides: basic philosophical beliefs are
neither simply matters ofintellectual curiosity nor a branch ofhalakhah.
They are attempts to understand the true nature of the universe to the
greatest extent possible. Ma)aseh bereshit equals physics; ma)aseh mer-
kavah equals metaphysics; and Maimonides calls these two sciences the
'roots' (Arabic: of the specific halakhot (gufei torah) in his com-
mentary on Mishnah Ifagigah ii. r. These roots being either true or false
absolutely, it is literally inconceivable that Maimonides could have held
that their truth status depends upon rabbinic pesak (decision), as Bleich
avers.
This leads to my second point: can we seriously credit the idea that
Maimonides would have held that, for example, before he 'paskened'
(decided halakhically) that Moses was superior to all the other prophets
before and after him, the question was undecided in Judaism? Of course
not; and the same point applies with respect to the other twelve of the
Thirteen Principles.
Third, even were Bleich correct in his understanding of Maimonides,
the latter's position is quite clearly an innovation in Judaism, as I have
been at pains to argue in earlier chapters of this book, and it is simply
incorrect to read it back into rabbinic texts. 10
Inclusivism
Jonathan Sacks explicitly seeks to be as 'inclusive' as possible. He is
interested in building bridges between Jews, in erasing boundaries to the
greatest extent possible . This overall approach reflects his deeply held
commitment to 'the idea of "one people" [which] forms the very core of
Jewish faith in the covenant between God and a chosen nation'. 11 Sacks
summarizes his position as follows:
Inclusivism, then, uses classic halakhic strategies-variants on the themes of
minhag avoteihem beyadeihem (habit, not belief) and tinok shenishbah (excusable
ignorance )-to include within the covenantal community those whose beliefs
and practices would, if taken at their face value, place them outside. It is an
extraordinarily powerful device, capable of neutralizing the schismatic impact of
almost any Jewish ideology at odds with tradition. Its method, considered as a
1
° For discussion ofMaimonides on the relationship between philosophical truths and
halakhah, see Kellner, 'Maimonides' Allegiances to Torah and Science', The Torah
Umadda Journal, 7 (1997), 88-104.
11
Sacks, One People?, 212 .
Heresy-hunting
formal halakhic device, is to isolate the liberal or secular Jew from his beliefs. The
beliefs remain heretical, but those who believe them are not heretics, for they do
not ultimately or culpably believe them. Liberal and secular Jews remain Jews,
even though neither liberal or secular Judaism is Judaism. 12
Sacks' position relies upon the idea that'[ Orthodoxy] is a boundary,

defined by halakhah and the principles ofJewish faith.' 13 Yet once Ortho-
doxy is defined in terms of principles of faith, the notion of heresy be-
comes operational. With all the goodwill in the world, Sacks cannot get
away from that point. Nor is he unaware ofit. He, too, is trapped by the
language oflegitimacy and illegitimacy. The furthest his basic universe of
discourse allows him to go is well expressed in the following passage:
Attaching no significance to liberal Jews' description of their own actions and
intentions allows Orthodoxy to include individuals within the halakhic com-
munity while excluding their ideologies. In so doing, it bypasses the conflict be-
tween communal unity and doctrinal integrity. It is, as we have seen, a device
that allows enormous inclusivity. But it does so by devaluing the legitimacy of
any interpretation of Judaism that lies outside the parameters of traditional
faith. It is a strategy of which non-Orthodox Jews might understandably not
wish to avail themselves. Explicitly or implicitly, they will feel that it assaults their
authenticity. 14
Sacks cannot escape his Maimonidean basis, and in the final analysis
adopts the position stated more bluntly by Bleich: non-Orthodox Jews
and Judaism are illegitimate and inauthentic. 15 Is that the only way
Orthodoxy can relate to them? Is it the best way? These questions will be
taken up below in Chapter 7. Here I want to turn to a brief critique of the
positions of Parnes, Bleich, and Sacks.
12
Sacks, One People?, 133. 13
Ibid . 216 (emphasis added); see also p. 218.
14
Ibid. 252.
15
For a position similar in its basic intent to that of Rabbi Sacks, see Norman Lamm,
'Seventy Faces', Moment, June 1986, pp. 23-8. Rabbi Lamm, the president of Yeshiva
University and the bete noire of many Orthodox Jews to his 'right' (witness the discussion
between him and Aaron Twersky, cited inn . 3 above), starts from the perspective that
'Orthodox rabbis consider those movements not bound by the traditional halacha as
heretical'. But, despite that, he seeks to be as non-confrontational as possible: 'As an
Orthodox Jew, I not only have no trouble in acknowledging the functional validity of
non-Orthodox rabbinic leadership, but also in granting that non-Orthodox rabbis and
laypeople may possess spiritual dignity.' There are, of course, limits: 'But neither
functional validity nor spiritual dignity are identical with Jewish legitimacy.' (All these
passages are from p. 24 of the article.) I would like to thank Rabbi Lamm for his kindness
in providing me with copies of many of his publications on this subject.
Heresy-hunting 99
The Three Statements: A Critique

The positions affirmed by Parnes, Bleich, and Sacks depend upon the
truth of two separate claims. The first is that emunah in Judaism is defined
in terms of the intellectual affirmation of certain claims (what Bleich calls
'faith-commitments'); the second is that the Torah commands matters
of belief or knowledge. It is important to understand that the two are
distinct. The Torah could teach certain claims about God, the universe,
and the Jewish people, and condemn as lacking in faith those Jews who
doubt or reject those claims, without there being any explicit command-
ments to acknowledge the truth of those claims.
The Torah, for example, teaches that God exists and is one, created the
world, and revealed the Torah. Nowhere, however, does it command us
to accept the truth of these claims. That is not to say that a Jew is free to
accept them or reject them. It is, rather, to say that the acceptance of
these claims is taken as a matter of course, not subject to explicit com-
mandment. We could, in theory, accept the idea (nowhere in fact taught
in the Torah or Talmud) that to be a ma)amin, a faithful person, one
must affirm these (and other) Torah teachings without at the same time
affirming that the acceptance of these teachings is a matter of explicit
commandment. This is precisely the position of classical Judaism. In fact,
in the long history of pre-modern Judaism, the first authoritative figure
clearly to affirm both assertions (that Judaism taught specific theological
tenets and that there were specific mitzvot, commandments, to believe
them) was Maimonides.
Jews today who use Maimonides' authority to impose theological tests
oflegitimacy upon other Jews choose parts of Maimonides' position, not
all ofit, ignore the alternative attitudes ofSa'adia and Bahya (discussed in
the previous chapter), and certainly ignore the fact that the position
shared by Sa'adia, Bahya, and Maimonides, that the Torah has a clear-cut
systematic theology, is an innovation in Judaism, with no historical or
textual basis before the Middle Ages.
From a traditionalist perspective, I have no right to disagree with
Maimonides on my own, as it were, and any attempt to reject one of his
teachings based only on analysis of the issues would be considered ille-
gitimate. Let me therefore remind the reader that the claim that Judaism
has dogmas in the sense proposed by Maimonides was rejected by his
contemporary, R. Abraham ben David of Posquieres, as we saw above,
while Maimonides' understanding of the nature of dogma was rejected
by R. Shimon ben Tsemah Duran (1361-1444) and by R. Isaac Arama
100 Heresy-hunting
(1420-94), among many others. The claim that Judaism has dogmas at
all was rejected by Abrabanel. The claim that Judaism has dogmas and
that they have halakhic standing has been ignored by almost every
halakhic decisor from Maimonides' time to our own.
It is Maimonides' claim that one becomes a Jew through the un-
conditional acceptance of the Thirteen Principles as promulgated in the
commentary on Mishnah Sanhedrin. Having accepted the principles,
one becomes part of that 'Israel' which is considered 'all righteous'.
Members of that 'Israel' are guaranteed a share in the world to come.
That is the positive side of the coin; the other side is that any Jew who
doubts or makes a mistake concerning the principles is excluded from
kelal yisrael (the 'community oflsrael') and loses his or her share in the
world to come.
These claims are theological, not precisely halakhic. Maimonides
did, in fact, accept many of the halakhic consequences of these claims.
We can, however, leave that complex issue aside for the moment and
focus on the theological point. Maimonides here distinguishes theo-
logical orthodoxy from halakhic obedience, making membership in the
Jewish community and the enjoyment of a share in the world to come
dependent on the former, not the latter. In short, it is Maimonides'
claim that to be a Jew, and to get into heaven, one must minimally
accept correct teachings; once one has accepted those teachings, one is a
Jew and has a share in the world to come, no matter what one actually
does.
Is there anyone alive today who would maintain that Judaism teaches
theological orthodoxy as the fundamental criterion for being Jewish?
Taking Maimonides at his word, a category of persons born as Gentiles,
who become Jews by conviction but not by conversion, becomes pos-
sible. Remember that Maimonides says,
When all these foundations are perfectly understood and believed in by a person
he enters the community oflsrael and one is obligated to love and pity him and
to act towards him in all the ways in which the Creator has commanded that one
should act towards his brother, with love and fraternity. 16
Maimonides gives us no reason not to take him literally here. (By this I
mean that the logic of his position should lead him to adopt this stand,
not that he actually and self-consciously did.) But how many of our con-
temporaries who use the authority of Maimonides to impose theological
16
See below,p. 15r.
Heresy-hunting IOI
tests oflegitimacy upon their fellow Jews would be willing to accept the
consequences ofhis position in this matter? 17
Thus far I have been concerned with the positive side ofMaimonides'
position. But there is also the negative side: the claim that rejection
of the principles, or even mistakes concerning them, exclude a per-
son from the Jewish community and from the world to come. On this
understanding, remember, any person who fails to satisfy the criterion
of correct 'faith-commitments' is simply not Jewish. Every single secu-
lar, Reform, Conservative, and Reconstructionst Jew is thus found not
to be Jewish at all. Even ostensibly Orthodox Jews who in their heart of
hearts wonder if the dead will be literally resurrected in the flesh, while
still punctiliously observing every commandment, are to be excluded
from the Jewish community in this world and have no share in the
world to come. Similarly, Jews who address prayers to angels, 18 or who
naively see their hasidic masters as intermediaries between themselves
and God, are not really Jews and certainly have no share in the world to
come.
The issue gets even more complicated, and, on many readings, the
circle of acceptable J ews-ofJ ews per se- shrinks even further. Let me
explain how. In 1982 I heard a lecture given by Avraham Shapiro, then
a member of the Israeli Knesset, representing what was then called the
Agudat Yisrael party. This was shortly after the massacres of Palestinians
in the Sabra and Shatila camps, and Shapiro was arguing against the
demand to institute a governmental commission of inquiry (what
17
For a stimulating discussion of the claim that a consequence of Maimonides'
position is that unconverted Gentiles might have to be considered Jews if they adopt
correct theological views, see Steven Schwarzschild, 'J.-P. Sartre as Jew', Modern Juda-
ism, 3 (1983), 39-73, repr. in M. Kellner (ed.), Ibe Pursuit ofthe Ideal: Jewish Writings of
Steven Schwarzschild (Albany: SUNY Press, 1990 ), 161-84. For an argument to the effect
that Maimonides expected this state of affairs actually to obtain in the messianic era (but,
contra Schwarzschild, not before it), see Kellner, 'A Suggestion Concerning Maimon-
ides' Thirteen Principles and the Status of Non-Jews in the Messianic Era', in M. Ayali
(ed.), Tura: Oranim Studies in Jewish Thought-Simon Greenberg Jubilee Volume (He b.)
(Tel Aviv: Hakibuts Hame'ul)ad, 1989 ), 249-60.
18
For indications of Metatron worship in rabbinic times, see BT Ifag-igah 15a and BT
Sanhedrin 38b. On prayer to the (kabbalistic) sefirot, see Gershom Scholem, Or-igins ofthe
Kabbalah (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987), 194-7. Further on this, see
Moshe Idel, 'Kabbalistic Prayer in Provence' (Heb.), Tarbits, 62 (1993), 265-86. For
citations from relevant texts which surprised me, see Daniel Abrams, 'The Boundaries of
Divine Ontology: The Inclusion and Exclusion of Metatron in the Godhead', Harvard
IbeologicalReview, 87 (1994), 291-321, esp. 315 and 320.
102 Heresy-hunting
ultimately became the Kahan commission). Shapiro led his listeners
through the following argument:
1. Acceptance of the Oral Torah commits one to emunat l;akhamim
(trust and faith in Torah Sages).
2. Emunat l;akhamim commits one to accept the authoritative pro-
nouncements ( da)attorah) of Torah Sages.
3. The Council of Torah Sages of Agudat Yisrael authoritatively ex-
presses the opinion of the Torah ( da)at torah) on all issues.
4. The Council of Torah Sages opposed the creation of a commission of
inquiry into the massacres in Sabra and Shatila.
5. In consequence, anyone who supported the establishment of such
a commission rejected the authority of the Oral Torah and was a
heretic according to Maimonides.
Had Shapiro been entirely consistent, and aware of the actual teachings
of Maimonides, he would have been forced to add the following phrase
to the conclusion of his argument (5): 'and therefore no Jew'.
Similarly, the leaders of so-called Lithuanian ultra-Orthodoxy and of
Habad hasidism would not only be able to deny the legitimacy and even
sanity each of the other, as they do now; they could also deny each other
the very status of being a Jew. After all, each claims to represent da)at
torah; those who reject da)at torah are heretics (so Avraham Shapiro
argued); according to Maimonides, heretics have no share in the world
to come and are not even Jews.
In the eyes of most contemporary Jews, even the most 'ultra-
Orthodox', this argument is a reductio ad absurdum of the claim that we
must adopt Maimonides' views concerning dogma and the status of] ews
who deny or question the Thirteen Principles.
Let us recall that for Maimonides shegagah, inadvertence, is no defence
in matters of dogma. We have seen that Maimonides is himself not
entirely consistent on this matter, but here let us restrict ourselves to a
consideration of what Maimonides says, not what he does. If we take
Maimonides at his word (and those who follow him on the issues under
discussion have no reason and, in their eyes, no right not to), then any
Jew who makes a mistake about any one of the Thirteen Principles
excludes her- or himself from the Jewish people and loses her or his share
This judgement rules out all of the various moves on the part of
contemporary halakhic authorities who want to adopt Maimonides' con-
Heresy-hunting 103
ception of Judaism as a religion defined by a body of dogma while

holding fast to traditional Jewish conceptions concerning the unity of the
Jewish people, not to mention the exculpatory character of shegagah.
Those who deny the basic 'faith-commitments' of Judaism (in Bleich's
words) are 'straying brethren' but are still brethren, because they are
tinokot shenishbu (children taken into captivity and thus not trained in the
ways and beliefs ofJudaism) or anusim, 'forced' to abandon traditional
Judaism by the tribulations and dislocations of the modern era. (Maim-
onides' own discussion of this issue was taken up in the last section of
Chapters.)
I do not mean to criticize these attempts to hold fast to Maimonidean
orthodoxy while not accepting its more extreme consequences. I simply
want to show that the position is inconsistent: a true Maimonidean is
forced to admit that even sweet-tempered, well-intentioned, Jewishly
committed Reform and Conservative Jews are heretics and have no share
in the world to come. It should also be remembered that on Maimon-
ides' account, fervently Orthodox Jews who are confused about the
nature of God's incorporeality, or who believe that Joshua wrote the last
few verses of Deuteronomy, 19 or who pray to the angel Metatron, or who
use photographs of great rabbis as good-luck charms, are all heretics and
have no share in the world to come. A heretic is a heretic is a heretic, and
heretics have no share in the world to come. It is as simple as that.
This point must be emphasized. As argued above in connection with
the Karaites, Maimonides does notapply the category of tinokotshenishbu
('children carried off by heathens', i.e. Jews who cannot be expected to
know of their halakhic obligations-a category to which we shall return
in the next chapter) to heretics, i.e. people who deny, doubt, question, or
are ignorant of at least the first five principles of faith. For a Maimonidean
this is not an available escape clause.
Many contemporary Conservative and Reform Jews, probably many
secular Jews, and maybe even some followers of Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan
(1881-1983), the founder of Reconstructionism, accept the first five of
Maimonides' principles. From an Orthodox perspective, the major prob-
19
It turns out that there are not a few kabbalists who deny divine authorship of the
Book of Deuteronomy altogether, attributing the book to Moses, not to God. This is a
clear violation of Maimonides' eighth principle. Despite this, I know of no one who has
ever been labelled a heretic for holding this position . For details, see Yaakov Elman, 'The
Book of Deuteronomy as Revelation: Nahmanides and Abrabanel', in Elman and Jeffrey
Gurock (eds.), Hazon Nahum: Studies Presented to Norman Lamm (New York: Yeshiva
University Press, 1997 ), 229-50.
10+ Heresy-hunting
lems relate to the other principles, dealing with revelation and with
reward and punishment. It is with respect to these principles, rarely with
respect to the first five, that tests of theological legitimacy are usually
applied. It is ironic that today's heresy-hunters, not a few of whom could
not themselves pass the actual Maimonidean test of knowing, not just
believing, God's existence, unity, and incorporeality, use his authority
to exclude from the Jewish community and from the world to come
individuals for whom Maimonides himself may have had greater toler-
ance.
In sum, Maimonides was a Maimonidean with respect to the question
of dogma, but not the sort of Maimonidean many of his present-day
supporters think that he was. Maimonides was a Maimonidean because
he truly accepted and applied the theory ofhuman nature which underlay
his system of dogma. I would venture to say that very few of the people
who today use his system of dogma to exclude heterodox Jews from the
community of Israel and from the world to come are even aware of the
philosophical foundation of that system. Were they to become aware of
it, they would most likely be horrified: for on that theory, many of them
would themselves be excluded from the world to come.
Maimonides' position negates any tendencies in Judaism towards
nationalist triumphalism or downright racism. That is good. Unfortu-
nately, Maimonides' position also enables, in fact demands, theological
tests for Jewish legitimacy. Searching out and condemning heretics (to
exclusion from the community, not to the stake!) becomes a possibility.
That is bad. In the next chapter I will sketch out a vision of Judaism
which remains true to the biblical and rabbinic understanding of emunah
(which demands strict halakhic obedience coupled with a relatively
laissez-faire approach to theology) and at the same time seeks to take
advantage of the positive aspects of Maimonides' emphasis on intel-
lectualism.
Why has Maimonides' Position become Dominant?

Before turning to that vision, however, I think I owe my readers an
explanation ofwhy Orthodoxy in the modern world has chosen to define
itself so emphatically in Maimonidean, dogmatic terms. This explanation
is necessary as I have consistently argued here that classical Judaism is not
Maimonidean in this sense and that the Jewish tradition did not have to
(and today should not) define itself in that fashion. If it is true that
Judaism was not always like this, what happened to make it so?
Heresy-hunting 105
One could, I am sure, look for answers to this question in broader

sociological discussions concerning, for example, the rise of fundamen-
talism in the modern world, 20 or the need members of any religion feel
to find unimpeachable sources of authority in the face of the attacks of
modernity (witness the way in which papal infallibility became a dogma
of the Catholic Church); one could also use psychology to examine
whether there is a connection between the rise of dogmatic Orthodoxy in
Judaism and Jewish reactions to the Holocaust; or, in a polemical vein,
one could (mistakenly in my view) see this phenomenon as an example of
the sheer momentum of halakhah working itself into an ever narrower
corner.
To my mind, however, it is not necessary to go so far afield in search of
an explanation. The answer to our problem lies in the dynamics ofJewish
history. I noted above that Maimonides' innovation was largely ignored
in the first centuries after his death. This is true for the two centuries after
the publication of the Thirteen Principles in the commentary on the
Mishnah, but not for the century beginning with the murderous anti-
Jewish riots of 139i. As I have described in greater detail elsewhere, the
Jews of Iberia were challenged by the contemporary Church to defend
Judaism. 21 The Church set the parameters for the debate; the presen-
tation of Christianity in dogmatic terms made it necessary for the Jews
to reply in kind.
Furthermore, the Jews who were forced to defend their ancestral
faith were the religious leaders of their communities, the communal
rabbis and heads of rabbinical academies. Their dogmatic presenta-
tions ofJudaism (pre-eminently but by no means only R. Joseph Albo's
Sefer ha)ikarim) were thus written by and for religious Jews, not by
and for philosophers. These books became very popular and quickly
achieved a level of acceptance and authority never reached by the more
straightforwardly philosophical works written by Jewish thinkers in
the generations immediately after the death of Maimonides. Thus the
dogmatization, theologification, Maimonidesification of Judaism is not
a twentieth-century phenomenon, but a fifteenth-century one. In a
world in which almost all Jews accepted the authority of tradition, it
really made relatively little difference. Once the traditional world began
2
° For discussions of fundamentalism in the modern world in general, and the Jewish
world in particular, see Martin Marty and R. Scott Appleby (eds.), The Fundamentalism
Project, 5 vols. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991-5).
21
For the rise ofJewish dogmatics in the fifteenth century, see Kellner, Dogma, 80-3,
207-12.
106 Heresy-hunting
to break down in the face of modernity, defenders of tradition used the
tools ready to hand in their attempts to stem the tide of change. One of
these tools was dogma.
There is a second point which must be raised here. Maimonides
achieved a level of personal authority in Judaism that has never been
equalled since (and, the first Moses aside, is maybe even unequalled
before). 22 His fellow medievals were, it is true, less awed by him than
were later generations; 23 but by the close of the Jewish middle ages in
1789 Maimonides had become all but unassailable. This is apparent from
the way in which almost every Jew today, from the Rabbi of Leibowitz to
the Rabbi ofLubavitch, claims to represent the true teachings ofMaim-
onides.24 Further evidence is provided by David Bleich's introduction to
his anthology, With Perfect Faith, discussed in Chapter 2 above. Finding
a dogmatic, theological reading of Judaism in Maimonides, Bleich,
apparently unwilling or unable to accept that Maimonides would have
introduced such a dramatic innovation into Judaism, is forced to read
Maimonides back into earlier Jewish texts. One could hardly find a
stronger indication of Maimonides' stature: in order to defend his
kashrut, so to speak, it is necessary to read his ideas into Bible and
Talmud, in effect rewriting i:hese texts in a Maimonidean vein.
I suspect that there is another issue at work here as well, which
further helps us to understand Bleich in particular and the inability
22
Isadore Twersky has written widely on the reception of Maimonides by his con-
temporaries and near-contemporaries. See e.g. his Introduction to the Code ofMaimonides,
515-37, and, for references to other literature, Kellner, 'Reading Rambam'. Bernard
Septimus refers to the 'heroic' conception ofMaimonides regnant in the years following
his death. See his Hispano-Jewish Culture in Transition, 48, 63, 99-roo. With respect to
a later period, Robert Bonfil, Rabbis and Jewish Communities in Renaissance Italy
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990 ), speaks of 'the aura of sanctity which sur-
rounded the Maimonidean corpus' (p. 294 ). For dramatic expressions of Maimonides
veneration, see Ya'akov Spiegel, 'Elliptical Language among the Tannaim and Pshatand
Drash in the Mishnah' (Heb.),Asufot, 4 (1990 ), 9-26 at 25.
23
Maimonides' writings stimulated considerable debate in the generations immedi-
ately after his own . For a recent discussion, with extensive references to the scholarly
literature, see Ram Ben-Shalom, 'Communication and Propaganda between Provence
and Spain: The Controversy over Extreme Allegorization', in Sophia Menache (ed.),
Communication in the Jewish Diaspora: The Pre-modern World (Leiden: Brill, 1966 ),
171-226.
24
The 'Rabbi ofLeibowitz' is a facetious reference to Yeshayahu Leibowitz, some of
whose idiosyncratic views on Maimonides may be found in his Judaism, Human Values,
and the Jewish State (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1992). The 'Rabbi of
Lubavitch' refers to Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneersohn (1902-94), charismatic
leader of the Habad/Lubavitch hasidim.
Heresy-hunting 107
of today's Orthodox Jews in general to do what almost all medieval

authorities did, and politely ignore Maimonides' innovation. This is the
way in which the doctrine of 'the decline of the generations' has taken
such hold in contemporary Orthodoxy. 25
It is generally accepted in the contemporary Orthodox world that
the generations are in decline: i.e. that each successive generation is
intellectually, spiritually, and morally inferior to preceding generations.
We dwarves have no right to criticize or disagree with the giants who
preceded us, and we don't even see further than they did when perched
on their shoulders. It would be hard enough even to appear to disagree
with Maimonides, given his heroic stature, even without the doctrine of
the decline of the generations; against the background of that doctrine
(almost universally accepted in contemporary Orthodoxy as normative,
authoritative, and binding), it is almost impossible. Thus, ifMaimonides
says that Judaism has dogmas and those who reject them are heretics,
then Judaism has dogmas and those who reject them are heretics. Thus
extra force is lent to what I have called the theologification of con-
temporary Orthodoxy.
Another factor which may have contributed to the current situation is
the influence of the German Orthodox leader Rabbi Samson Raphael
Hirsch (1808-88). Hirsch insisted on a policy of Austrittor 'separation'
from non-Orthodox Jewish institutions in the Frankfurt of his day.
Hirsch was, moreover, for all his lack of enthusiasm for Maimonides,
a staunch defender of orthodoxy, who went so far as to claim that
Orthodox and Reform Jews did not share the same religion. Hirsch's
policies on separation and on the nature ofreligious orthodoxy (but not
other policies he espoused-see below) were taken as normative for
subsequent generations; they thus helped frame contemporary Ortho-
dox responses to Conservative and Reform Judaism. It is interesting
that while in his own day Hirsch's policy of separation from the non-
Orthodox was vehemently debated within German Orthodoxy, it none
the less became 'official' Orthodox policy in our day. His call for some
sort of melding between Jewish and general culture ('Torah and derekh
erets') and the creation of a new Jewish personality reflecting that meld,
'mensch-Jisroel', policies which generated much less controversy in his
own day, survive today in the circles associated with Yeshiva University,
but have been interpreted as time-bound and no longer normative by
25
On the 'decline of the generations', see Kellner, Maimonides on the <Decline of the
Generations).
108 Heresy-hunting
other sectors ofOrthodoxy. 26 Thus, since Orthodoxy picks and chooses
among Hirsch's teachings, his teachings alone are not a sufficient
explanation for the contemporary situation. 27
The Maimonidean Bind

Maimonides' intellectualist perception of the nature of religious faith
forced him to espouse a stance based on strict dichotomies, opposing in
and out, saved and damned, believer and heretic. Such a stance leaves no
room for inadvertence, for shegagah. The combination of his position
with the separate and independent claim that matters of dogma were
matters of halakhah, that theology is normative and actionable, yields a
Judaism which must condemn theological deviations as heresy (an
absolute innovation in Judaism, as was argued above in Chapter 2) or
come up with excuses for not so doing (which will be discussed in the
next chapter).
It is the Maimonidean framework which forces Orthodox Jews to
relate to non-Orthodox streams ofJudaism not as innocently mistaken,
but as heretical, deviant, illegitimate, lacking in (Jewish) spiritual dignity.
This framework forces Jews like Parnes to seek to find ways to limit what
other Jews may study; it further forces Jews like Bleich and Sacks to turn
intellectual cartwheels so as to make possible dignified and respectful
intercourse with non-Orthodox colleagues. (Of course, many Orthodox
rabbis today would insist that the term 'colleague' here is a misnomer-
how can a heretic be a colleague?)
Judaism did not have to take this turn. But when modernity burst
upon the Jewish world, the leaders of what came to be called Orthodoxy
sought tools with which to strengthen the bulwarks of tradition, and
found Maimonides' principles of faith ready to hand.
26
For a recent refutation of this misrepresentation ofHirsch's views, see Shnayer Z .
Leiman, 'Rabbinic Openness to General Culture in the Early Modern Period in Western
and Central Europe', in Ja cob J. Schacter (ed. ),Judaism 1s Encounter with Other Cultures:
Rejection or Integration? (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1997), 143-216 at 194-7.
27
With respect to the Hirschian policy of Austritt, see Mordechai Breuer, Modernity
within Tradition: The Social History of Orthodox Jewry in Imperial Germany (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1992 ); Robert Liberles, Religious Conflict in Social Context:
The Resurgence ofOrthodox Judaism in Frankfurt am Main1 1838-1877(Westport, Conn. :
Greenwood, 1985). For Hirsch's battles with other Orthodox rabbis (pre-eminently
Rabbi Seligman Baer Bamberger, the celebrated 'Wurzburger Rav'), see Breuer, Mod-
ernity within Tradition, 58, and Liberles, Religious Conflict, 2u-25. On Orthodox and
Reform Jews not sharing the same religion, see Breuer, Modernity within Tradition, 296,
and Liberles, Religious Conflict, 208 .
Heresy-hunting 109
In its response to the challenges of the modern world contemporary

Orthodoxy has, I fear, missed the boat. It seems clear to me that the
strategies adopted by its leadership have met with only questionable
success. Non-Orthodox Judaisms have not disappeared, nor is there
any apparent likelihood of their doing so. Standard Orthodox apolo-
getics has it that Conservative and Reform Judaism facilitate assimilation,
giving excuses for people too lazy or too weak to fulfil all the com-
mandments. So far as I can see, this claim is downright wrong-headed.
Non-Orthodox versions of Judaism surely stand in the breach against
assimilation, rather than facilitating it. Moreover, what I take to be
Orthodoxy's 'hard line' has made it easier for non-Orthodox versions of
Judaism to move further away from the tradition, rather than closer to it.
My opinion is no more provable than the opposite view: but nor is it any
more easily dismissed. As I will urge in the next chapter, labelling others
as heretics or even as tinokot shenishbu, accomplishes nothing positive; it
just makes it harder to attract those others to our understanding of the
Torah. And it is no criticism of Maimonides to urge, as I do, that the tools
he fashioned for Jewry in twelfth-century Egypt have not proved
themselves adequate for the needs of our own age.
SEVEN
IN this chapter I want to sketch a way in which Orthodox Jews can relate
to non-Orthodox Jews and their understandings of Judaism which
avoids the language of'legitimate vs. heretical' without at the same time
adopting a pluralist position which sees all (or almost all) expressions of
Judaism as equally acceptable. Labelling non-Orthodox Jews and inter-
pretations ofJudaism as heretical is too exclusive, while true pluralism is
too inclusive. Is there some middle ground which will allow me, as an
Orthodox Jew, to eat my cake of Jewish unity while still having the cake
of adherence to the doctrine according to which the Torah was given in
its entirety to Moses by God on Sinai? In other words, can I arrive at a
position of tolerant respect for non-Orthodox Jews and Judaisms with-
out being forced to adopt a position of relativistic approval of them? I
think that I can.
Asking the Right Question

In brief, I want to show that one can defend the essential elements of
what is now called Orthodox Judaism (the expression of emunah in God
through obedience to the commandments) without being forced to read
out of the community as heretics Jews who question, reject, or are simply
unaware of certain elements ofJewish theology. My approach is actually
traditional, even though it will probably be seen as radical by those whose
thinking has been conditioned by what might be called the 'pseudo-
Maimonideanism' of post-Haskalah Orthodoxy.
I should like to make it very clear here that I am urging neither toler-
ance nor pluralism. By 'pluralism' I mean a view which considers the
relevant alternatives equally correct, equally acceptable. In the present
context that would mean a position which holds Orthodoxy, Con-
servatism, and Reform to be equally valid, equally legitimate expressions
ofJudaism, each with its own unique and important value. By 'tolerance'
I mean a view which basically does not recognize the value, legitimacy,
and validity of the opposed opinions, but is willing to tolerate or 'suffer'
them for a variety of possible reasons. As I often tell students who dis-
How to Live with OtherJews III
agree with me, 'Israel is a democracy; you have the right to be wrong.'
That is an expression of tolerance, not ofpluralism. 1
Now, my position in this book is certainly not pluralist: I do not see
Orthodoxy, Conservatism, and Reform as equally valid, equally correct
expressions ofJudaism in our age. 2 But my position is more than simple
tolerance, since I am not at all interested in seeking out the 'tolerable'
mistakes of non-Orthodox Jews, in order to show how liberal and long-
suffering I am in being willing to put up with these mistakes. My whole
point in this venture is to urge that pluralism and tolerance are answers
to the wrong question-the Maimonidean question. If we frame our
questions differently, we will not be forced to choose between tolerance
and pluralism (not to mention what appears to be the most popular
choice these days, in all camps-intolerance). The question we should be
asking is: 'Now that we are all Jews, what can we do together to enhance
further the future of the Jewish people?'
I will begin from the assumption that Jews are one community, one
family, divided by disputes. A healthy family can survive disputes: the
areas of disagreement are not glossed over, they are acknowledged, but
areas of agreement, of shared concern, shared past, shared future, are
emphasized, and arenas are sought in which all can work together. God
made a covenant with the Jewish people. That people has been tra-
ditionally defined as kelal yisrael. I want to urge that we start with
that notion of Israel as basic. Let us move the discussion of Jewish
authenticity from the realm of dogma, where Maimonides pushed it,
1
The term 'pluralism' is often used to mean simply an acknowledgement of diversity.
But 'pluralism' is a value term, 'diversity' a description of a state of affairs. A truly pluralist
approach insists that each stream of Judaism is equally legitimate, equally normative,
equally authoritative, equally the correct manifestation of God's Torah in today's world.
2
Spokespersons for Conservative, Reform, and Reconstructionist Judaism often main-
tain that their movements are pluralist while Orthodoxy is not. I do not think that is true:
most Conservative and Reform rabbis reject as illegitimate the same-sex marriages cele-
brated by some Reconstructionist rabbis; most Conservative, Reform, and Reconstruc-
tionist rabbis reject as illegitimate the intermarriages solemnized by some of their
colleagues. Few Conservative rabbis recognize the authenticity and legitimacy of the
Reform decision in favour of patrilinear descent; and few, if any, non-Orthodox rabbis
accept as legitimate the Orthodox 'oppression' of women (through the laws of agunah)
or of bastards (through the laws of mamzer). Adherence to these laws is usually rejected as
immoral, not as 'acceptable for you but not for me'. For a leader of Conservative Judaism
who adopts a clearly 'non-pluralist' approach to Reform and Reconstructionist Judaism,
see the statement by the provost of the (Conservative) Jewish Theological Seminary of
America, Professor Jack Wertheimer: 'Judaism without Limits', Commentary, July 1997,
pp. 24-7.
112 How to Live with OtherJews
back to the realm of public behaviour, where it traditionally belongs. In
effect, I am calling for an inversion of the later Haskalah dictum, urging
one to be aJewin the street and, if unavoidable, an epikorosathome. 3
More precisely, the position I am urging calls for us to worry less about
determining whether or not our fellow Jews are heretical, and more
about working with them on matters of mutual concern and encourag-
ing them to behave more in accordance with traditional norms. In other
words, I think we should let God worry about who the 'kosher' Jews are,
and who gets into heaven, while we worry about trying to get Jews to
become more Jewish here in this world.
So Who or What is a Jew Anyway?

Maimonides defines Jews, ultimately, as persons who hold certain clearly
defined doctrines. In theological terms, he turns Judaism into what may
be called a 'church of true believers' .4 Ifwe reject that view, what alterna-
tives remain? The question is of considerable importance to me, for
reasons I explained in the introduction to this book. As noted there, I do
not want to go from the frying pan of a theological definition ofJudaism
into the fire of an essentialist definition ofJudaism; nor am I willing to
turn allegiance to the Torah into a sentimentalized religious nationalism.
3
The expression heyeh adam betsetekha viyehudi be)ohalekha (which may be paraphrased
as 'behave like a human being when on the street, like a Jew when in your tent') was a
standard phrase of the later Haskalah, and comes from the poem Hakitsah ami by Judah
Leib Gordon (1830-92). The 'father of the Haskalah', Moses Mendelssohn (1729-86)
sought to move Judaism from the public to the private domain. That is certainly not what I
am trying to do here. I am, however, trying to move the issue of theological orthodoxy
from the public to the private realm. I hope that none of my readers will confuse my
position more broadly with that of Mendelssohn. He sought to turn Judaism into a
'religion of reason' (basically, the affirmation of the existence of one God who guarantees
human immortality and demands moral behaviour from human beings) with a revealed
law. In his hands, Judaism becomes 'orthopraxy'. I certainly do not deny that the Torah
teaches truths about God, the universe, and our place in that universe; my argument con-
cerns the Jewish status of those truths. It is expected that Jews will accept them; tradition-
ally, no great store is set by defining them in a carefully worked out and systematic fashion.
4
In emphasizing the dogmatic character ofJudaism, Maimonides divided Jews into
two classes, the saved and the damned. The very fact that his approach can be so neatly
summarized in terms borrowed directly from Christian theology shows how unusual it is
in the context of classical Judaism. In his book One People? Rabbi Jonathan Sacks points
out that this 'fundamental dualism between the saved and the condemned' (p. 206) is
typical of apocalyptic writings, gnosticism, and the writings of the Qumran community
and of Paul the Apostle, but not typical of classical Judaism.
How to Live with OtherJews 113
Nor, in rejecting Maimonides' dogmatic version of Judaism, do I wish

at the same time to reject the (in Maimonides' eyes) allied claims that
Judaism teaches truth and that there is one absolute truth-for these are
claims that I am in no way willing to give up.
The solution to my problem is in fact ridiculously simple. Maimonides
argued that the Jews became the Jews by accepting the Torah; but he
defined the Torah in terms of its core metaphysical teachings. Halevi
argued that the Jews were given the Torah because they were already the
Jews, the only people capable of receiving the Torah and worthy of it.
I propose instead to define Jews as the halakhah does: as persons born
Jewish (i.e. born to a Jewish mother) or converted to Judaism. In a very
real sense, Halevi accepts only the first half of that formula, Maimonides
only the second half.
For Halevi, persons converted to Judaism are not fully Jewish, for
they could not possibly have inherited the inyan ha)elohi, that special
characteristic which sets Jews apart from non-Jews in an essential fashion.
For Maimonides, persons born to a Jewish mother are not thereby truly
Jewish until they consciously accept the essential doctrines taught by
Judaism. This acceptance, it should be remembered, constitutes the core
of conversion to Judaism for Maimonides. 5
Accepting the halakhic definition of what it is that makes a person a
Jew has a number ofimmediate advantages. The first advantage is that it
is the halakhic definition. In principle, that, of course (at least in my eyes),
gives it immediate legitimacy. In polemical terms, it puts Maimonides
and Halevi (and their present-day followers) on the defensive: it is
they who have to defend their apparent divergence from the halakhic
standard; I, on the other hand, do not have to defend my allegiance to
it. Second, the halakhic definition disallows Halevi's essentialist reading
of what it is that constitutes a Jew, since it allows for true and complete
conversion to Judaism. Third, the halakhic definition disallows Maimon-
ides' theological reading of what it is that constitutes a Jew, since it
counts as Jews those persons born to Jewish mothers who are unaware of
the theological teachings of the Torah, mistaken about them, or even
unwilling to accept them.
5
For an important discussion of Judah Halevi's attitude towards proselytes, see
Daniel J. Lasker, 'Proselyte Judaism, Christianity, and Islam in the Thought of Judah
Halevi', Jewish Quarterly Review, 81 ( 1990 ), 75-9r. Halevi's views on proselytes ought to
be contrasted with those of Maimonides, on which see Kellner, Maimonides on Judaism,
49-57. See there, 85 ff., for proof of my claim that according to Maimonides even indi-
viduals born as Jews have, in effect, to 'convert' in order actually to be Jews in the full
sense of the term.
Non -Orthodox Jews and Judaisms

Defining Jews as persons considered Jewish by halakhah does not mean
that all Jews are good Jews. It certainly does not commit me to accepting
every interpretation of Judaism put forward by sincere and concerned
Jews. On the contrary,itputshalakhah atthe centre of Jewishness, where
it belongs, and commits me to encourage myself and other Jews to strive
for greater obedience to the dictates ofhalakhah. It does, however, allow
me to reject the Maimonidean language oflegitimacyvs. heresy, ofin vs.
out, of the saved vs. the damned. Changes of language both reflect and
bring about changes in attitude. Adopting the halakhic approach allows
me to tear down the barriers built between Jew and Jew. It allows me to
stop asking 'does so and so believe the right thing?' and encourages me,
instead, to ask 'is so and so doing the right thing?' It moves mitzvot
(commandments) to the centre of the stage, forcing us to ask 'how many
mitzvot does so and so observe?', not 'which of Maimonides' Thirteen
Principles does so and so correctly accept?'
This distinction is of cardinal importance. No one, not even Moses,
has properly observed all 613 commandments. All Jews, therefore, are on
the same continuum, from those who obey more to those who obey
fewer. There is no absolute 'in' or 'out' here, saved or damned, orthodox
or heretical. Rather, the question becomes: where on the continuum
does one stand, and in which direction is one going? 6
Furthermore, by emphasizing behaviour, and de-emphasizing theology,
we can allow ourselves to examine the contributions that individuals
make, and ignore the reasons behind those contributions. In doing so,
we are on firm traditional footing. The Jerusalem Talmud has God say,
'Would that they abandon Me and observe My Torah-the light within
it would return them to the good. ' 7 Similarly, in the Babylonian Talmud
we find the statement, 'Let a man always concern himself with Torah and
commandments even not for their own sake, since performance not for
6
With respect to the issue of the observance of all the commandments it is worth
recalling a text from BT Makot 23b--24a cited in Chapter 2 above:
Amos came and reduced them to one, as it is said: 'For thus saith the Lord unto the house oflsrael,
Seek ye Me and live .' At this R. ben Isaac demurred, saying [Might it not be taken as
meaning,] Seek Me by observing the whole Torah and live? But it is Habakkuk who came and based
them all on one, as it is said, 'But the righteous shall live by his faith.' Rabbi Nahman ben Isaac was
concerned lest it be thought that Jews were required to observe all 613 commandments perfectly to
be considered properly Jewish . This mistake is based upon the misconception of Judaism as an 'in vs.
out', 'all or nothing', 'saved vs. damned' religion .
7
JT Ifagigah i. 7.
its own sake will lead to performance for its own sake. ' 8 We can thus ask,
does a particular individual, institution, or movement behave in such a
fashion as to move Jews away from assimilation and in the direction of
greater fidelity to the Torah or not? If the answer is yes, we can applaud
that individual, institution, or movement, without agreeing with her/
his/its theological stance.
There is a further advantage to the approach urged here. As we have
seen above, once one accepts the basic Maimonidean orientation, which
defines Judaism first and foremost in terms of dogmas, one is locked into
seeing those who deny (or, for Maimonides, even question or simply
make honest mistakes about) dogma as heretics. Very few rabbinic au-
thorities want to count the vast majority ofJews alive today as heretics.
They therefore adopt the fiction of calling these people anusim or tinokot
shenishbu. One is an anus(literally, 'coerced' or 'compelled') when one is
compelled to violate the law. One is a tinok shenishbahwhen one violates
the law because one knows no better. In order to apply the category of
anus we must say something to the effect that contemporary Jews would,
other things being equal, choose to obey the Torah. What keeps them
from doing it? The claim is made that the modern world is so dominant
and so attractive that one is literally compelled to abandon the life of
Torah. In the words of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hakohen Kook, Jews today
who do not live according to the Torah are like 'children who have been
turned from Torah ways and the faith by the raging currents of the
time ... They are coerced in every sense of the word. ' 9
Those raised in a cultural environment alien to the values and norms of
(Orthodox) Judaism are additionally seen as being almost literally like
children taken captive by heathens. 10 They can hardly be expected to
believe in the dogmas of Judaism, and obey the commandments, when
they barely know of their existence. Even in circumstances where they are
taught about Judaism, their exposure to the dogmas and command-
8
BT Pesa/Jim 5ob. The Hebrew there reads: Le)olam ya)asok adam betorah umitsvot)
afal pi shelo lishmah) shemitokh lo lishmah) ba lishmah.
9
The quotation from Rabbi Kook is taken from Responsa (He b.) (Jerusalem: Mosad
Harav Kook, 1962), 1, 170-1. For an English translation see Tzvi Feldman, Rav A. Y.
Kook: SelectedLetters(Ma'alehAdumim: Ma'aliyot, 1986),51-4. My citation is taken from
Judith Bleich, 'Rabbinic Responses to Nonobservance', n4-15.
10
For sources on calling contemporary non-Orthodox Jews 'babes captured by
heathens', see Sacks, One People?, 125-8; Chinitz, 'Reb Moshe and the Conservatives';
Yehudah Levi, Facing Contemporary Challenges (Heb.) (Jerusalem: Olam Hasefer Ha-
torani, 1993), 71-81. My thanks to my son, Avinoam Kellner, for drawing this last passage
to my attention.
ments is such as almost to guarantee that they will not relate to them
in a proper (Orthodox) manner. The application of this category in
the modern world derives from the writings of Rabbi Abraham Isaiah
Karelitz, the Razon Ish-although he was not the first to use it in this
fashion in the modern era. 11
Without any significant exceptions that I have been able to find, every
single Orthodox spokesperson (from all elements in Orthodoxy, with
the obvious exception of Satmar hasidim, who draw the circle of who is
truly Jewish very narrowly) who has addressed the issue has adopted the
Razon Ish's solution to the problem ofliving with heretics. (For reasons
which need not detain us here, the Razon Ish is cited much more fre-
quently than Rabbi Kook.) This proposed solution distinguishes be-
tween the sinner (who can be exculpated on the grounds of compulsion
and having been captured by heathens) and his or her sin (which cannot
be forgiven under any circumstances). 12
What is wrong with this approach? From my perspective, four things:
it is unnecessary; it is a fiction; it is unbearably patronizing; and it is
counter-productive. 13
11
On this point see Samuel Morell, 'The Halachic Status of Non-Halachic Jews',
Judaism, 18 (1969 ), 4-4-8-57. In his glosses on ShulJ;an arukh, Yoreh de'ah ii. 16 and ii. 28,
the Hazon Ish argues that in our day and age, since we cannot properly rebuke our fellow
Jews, and since divine providence is no longer clearly operative in the world, non-
observant Jews may be considered as tinokot she nishbu, their heresy a matter of compul-
sion (ones) and not choice . The Maimonidean context of his discussion is clearly evident
throughout and is reflected in his choice of terms and phrases, much of it drawn directly
from Maimonides. This is further indicated by the Hazon Ish's parallel discussion in his
commentary on Maimonides' 'Laws of Character Traits', ii. 3. See A. L. Karelitz, The
Hazon Ish on the Yoreh De'ah (Heb .) (Benei Berak: Greenman, 1973); idem, The Hazon
Ish onMaimonides(Heb.) (Benei Berak: n.p., 1980 ).
12
In the words ofR. Meir's wife Beruriah, as used by J. Immanuel Schochet, 'Let Sins
be Consumed and Not Sinners', Tradition, 16 (1977), 4-1-61). Other articles which rely
upon the Hazan Ish include Shlomo Riskin, 'Orthodoxy and Her Alleged Heretics',
Tradition, 15 (1976), 34--4-4-; Grunblatt, 'Confronting Disbelievers'; Alan J. Yuter, 'ls
Reform Judaism a Movement, a Sect, or a Heresy?', Tradition, 24- ( 1989 ), 87-98; and a
major statement by Norman Lamm, 'Loving and Hating Jews as Halakhic Categories'.
On Lamm in particular, see Elliot N. Dorff, 'Pluralism: Models for the Conservative
Movement', Conservative Judaism, 4-8 (1995), 21-35. Dorff cites and discusses Lamm's
untitled presentation in Materials from the Critical Issues Conference: Will There be One
Jewish People by the Year 20oo?(NewYork: CLAL, 1986).
13
I should like to point out that the Hazan Ish's position is problematic in its own
terms. It is Maimonides who decided that we 'lower and do not raise' (i.e. kill) heretics
(after proper rebuke but without benefit of trial-for sources see Kellner, Maimonides on
Judaism, 136 n. 13). But 'proper rebuke' (a technical term) was no more possible in his day
This approach is unnecessary because it is adopted only to avoid

excluding masses of Jews from the community as heretics, with all the
extreme penalties and disabilities attached to that status. If we give up
the whole approach of heresy, however, this corrective is no longer
necessary.
Calling a well-educated non-Orthodox rabbi, or a lay graduate of
some of the finer educational programmes in the non-Orthodox world, a
tinok shenishbah is clearly a fiction. These people know very well what
they are rejecting. All legal systems know of legal fictions; in Judaism
commercial life would be impossible without the legal fictions called
prozbul and heter iska. 14 These are fairly arcane examples; but most Jews
are aware of the custom of 'selling' one's !Jamets (leavened food pro-
ducts) before Passover. So why not adopt one more fiction, that of calling
the non-Orthodox tinokot shenishbu, if that allows us to have a certain
level of dealings with them, and allows us to pursue certain crucial pro-
jects (such as support for Israel) together?
There are a number of points to be made here. In the first place, legal
fictions are, and should be, used only when absolutely necessary. To a
certain extent they engender a sense of bluff and hence discomfort.
Building one's communal life on a fiction, even a legal fiction, is to build
that life on very shaky foundations. They should therefore be used only
when essential, and then only sparingly.
Secondly, a legal fiction is one thing, a theological fiction is another.
Legal systems, whether divine or human, are constructs of one sort or
another and therefore can allow for inconsistencies, loopholes, fictions.
Theology, on the other hand, is meant to be a matter of truth and false-
hood. A 'theological fiction' is, in effect, a theological falsehood, which
should be a contradiction in terms.
Further, theology, especially Maimonidean theology, is very much an
'in vs. out' affair and clear lines are meant to be drawn between those who
are in and those who are out. Ifwe say that Conservative Jews are babes
stolen by heathens, why not extend the same loophole to include Jews for
than in ours, and divine providence was certainly no more evident then than now. So why
are today's heretics compelled and babes captured by heathens while those in Maimoides'
time were not? On the notion of 'rebuke' ( referred to here, and on the im-
possibility of actual 'rebuke' in the post-talmudic era, see Yehudah Arnita!, 'Rebuking a
Fellow Jew: Theory and Practice', in Jacob J. Schacter (ed.), Jewish Tradition and the
Nontraditional Jew (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1992), 119-38. For bibliography on
the subject see ibid. 208-9.
14
For explanations of these terms, see the Glossary.
Jesus? Abrabanel raised this point explicitly in the fifteenth century in
a critique of earlier attempts to allow for a measure ofinadvertence with
respect to heresy: if some mistakes are allowed, why not others? Re-
sponding to R. Abraham ben David's defence of the Jew who mistakenly
attributes corporeality to God, Abrabanel wrote:
But upon examination this position may be seen to be clearly false, for according
to it, [even] one who unintentionally denies every principle will acquire [a por-
tion in] the world to come. Thus, the belief of the Christians-who took the
words of Torah and prophecy literally, and believed their meaning to be as they
understood it-would not deprive them of the true felicity and we may not say
that they are heretics and sectarians. It would be possible, according to this, to
find a man who does not believe in any of the principles or beliefs of Torah and
yet who would not be called a sectarian or heretic ifhe were brought to this blind
foolishness by his failure to understand the meaning of the Torah. 15
Abrabanel is demanding consistent application ofMaimonides' doctrine

of theological orthodoxy. The same demand for consistency, it seems to
me, ought to be made of those contemporary authorities who are willing
to apply the tinok shenishbah label to some forms of heterodoxy but not
others.
Most if not all of us have had the experience of being approached
by a proselytizer (Mormon, Seventh-Day Adventist, Witness, or Habad
hasid) with the request that we do this, that, or the other with or for him.
Invariably, these requests are accompanied by a smile and, whatever our
response, we are met with consideration and understanding. Many of my
readers will, I suspect, recognize as well my feeling that this very positive
approach is made possible by the attitude that our views and ideas are
deemed, to the extent that they differ from the proselytizer's, to be
worthless; if only we recognized reality as it truly is, we too would be
Mormons or Habad hasidim. This patronizing attitude is very off-
putting. I hate to be patronized; following the first-century tanna Hillel
the Elder (who urged us not to do to others what we hate), I try not to
patronize others. Telling a committed, educated, sincere Reform Jew
that her views of Judaism are, at best, childish mistakes born of her
unfortunate upbringing is simply obnoxious. I do not think that the
Torah demands that I be obnoxious to people who, according to the
standard Orthodox view, are not really responsible for holding the views
they hold and for behaving as they behave.
Given that the whole tinok shenishbah approach is a patronizing fiction,
15 This passage from Abrabanel's Principles ofFaith is from eh. 12, p. 112.
is it surprising that it is counter-productive? This view, as Rabbi Sacks

puts it so well, attaches 'no significance to liberal Jews' description of
their own actions and intentions [thus allowing] Orthodoxy to include
individuals within the halakhic community while excluding their ide-
ologies'. How can the non-Orthodox Jew respond to this? Sacks con-
tinues: 'It is a strategy of which non-Orthodox Jews might under-
standably not wish to avail themselves. Explicitly or implicitly, they will
feel that it assaults their authenticity.' 16 Sacks writes with admirable
British understatement; non-Orthodox Jews indeed find the tinok shen-
ishbah approach infuriatingly patronizing.
As anything more than a sop to Orthodox consciences, then, the
strategy of calling the non-Orthodox tinokot shenishbu is a failure. It
cannot be otherwise. Since non-Orthodox Jews know very well that they
are not 'babes carried away by heathens' their reactions to the claim that
they are range from bemusement through irritation and resentment to
anger. I once heard a prominent academic figure in Israel denounce with
great passion a rosh yeshiva who had invited the scholar's son to his
yeshiva during the young man's army service, thereupon explaining to
the officer that he was not at fault for his non-Orthodoxy since he was a
'babe captured by heathens'. In a voice trembling with indignation, the
father, who had held high office in the government and had founded
one of Israel's universities, proclaimed: 'I did not raise my son among
heathens!'
Adopting the Maimonidean approach to the nature ofJudaism forces
us to choose between two unappetizing alternatives: calling all non-
Orthodox Jews heretics, and relating to them as such; or adopting a
patronizing, counter-productive fiction as the guiding principle of our
shared Jewish life. Were the Maimonidean approach the only option
open to us then we would have no choice but to pay the price. But since it
is not the only option available to us, as I have shown in the earlier
chapters of this book, why not simply abandon it? Such a move would
allow us to place our relations with non-Orthodox Jews on a more
honest, respectful, and, above all, traditional footing.
Maimonides and the Objectivity of Truth

My position, I fear, is easily misunderstood. My arguments against the
claim that Judaism has commandments addressed to the intellect does
not mean that the Torah addresses nothing to the intellect. That is clearly
16
The passage quoted from Sacks, One People? is on p. 152.
false. Reducing Judaism to a complex of behavioural norms rubs against
the grain of the tradition as much as does reducing Judaism to a series of
dogmatic statements. Both are exaggerations and both misrepresent the
nature of classical Judaism.
The Torah has important things to say to us on an intellectual plane.
These include, for example, the affirmation of God's existence and unity,
the rejection ofidolatry in all its forms, and ideas concerning the purpose
of human and natural existence. That the Torah teaches truth (which
it does) does not mean that these truths are expressed in an explicit,
detailed, systematic fashion. Nor does it mean that correct and self-
conscious affirmation of these truths in all their specificity is the sine qua
non of being Jewish. 17
One of the reasons why it is important to take note of this is that
we cannot otherwise appreciate the contribution of Maimonides to
Judaism. While I have been concerned in this book to argue against a
particular aspect ofMaimonides' thought, it should not be inferred that I
belittle his greatness or underestimate his importance. Maimonides'
position that truth is objective and must be accepted whatever its source,
and his willingness to understand the Torah in such a way that it can-
not conflict with the teachings ofreason, are two aspects of his thought
that make it possible for many people today to remain faithful to the
Torah and Judaism without feeling that they must turn off their brains. 18
These teachings concerning Judaism make sense only if we insist that the
Torah addresses the intellect and not just the limbs. My 'argument' with
Maimonides in this book is over the nature of that address, not over
whether or not it exists.
Let me put this in another way: Maimonides' attempt to place Judaism
on a firm dogmatic footing may have reflected, as I have argued else-
where, particular historical stimuli; but it also reflects an intellectual
orientation to the nature of religious faith which many find attractive,
even indispensable.
17
With respect to the ever-present need to relearn and re-internalize the truths
actually taught by the Torah, I refer the reader to Kenneth Seesk.in's marvellous No Other
Gods: The Modern Struggle against Idolatry (West Orange, NJ: Behrman House, 1995). As
Seeskin elegantly shows, idolatry is alive and well, thriving in some really unexpected
places, and few are immune to its allure. The teachings of the Torah need not be system-
atized, dogmatized, and made into a rigid orthodoxy for them to be normative, im-
portant, and applicable to our lives.
18
Concerning the possibility of remaining true to the Torah without turning off
one's brain, I refer the reader to a splendid book, Torah and Science, by Judah Landa
(Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1992).
This point is important enough to deserve further elaboration. Bahya

ibn Pakuda may have been the first Jewish thinker to take explicit notice
of the fact that Judaism is not and cannot be a species of 'orthopraxy'.
Not only does what we think have a great influence on what we do; how
could God command the limbs and ignore the mind? Bahya expresses
himself as follows:
Then I examined the duties of the heart as they are commanded by the mind, the
Scriptures, and tradition, so that I might see whether they were obligatory or
not. And I found them to be the basis of all duties. Were they not, all the duties of
the members would be of no avail. As I have said, the duties of the heart are
commanded by the mind, for we have already shown that man is composed of a
soul and a body-both are God's graces given to us, one exterior, one interior.
Accordingly, we are obliged to obey God both outwardly and inwardly .. .
Inward obedience, however, is expressed in the duties of the heart, in the heart's
assertion of the unity of God and in the beliefin Him and His book, in constant
obedience to Him and fear of Him, in humility before Him, love for Him and
complete reliance upon Him, submission to Him and abstinence from the
things hateful to Him. Inward obedience is expressed in the consecration of all
our work for His sake, in meditation upon His graces, in all the duties performed
by faith and conscience without the activity of the external body members. Thus
I have come to know for certain that the duties of the members are of no avail to
us unless our hearts choose to do them and our souls desire their performance.
Since, then, our members cannot perform an act unless our souls have chosen it
first, our members could free themselves from all duties and obligations if it
should occur to us that our hearts are not obliged to choose obedience to God.
Since it is clear that our Creator commanded the members to perform their
duties, it is improbable that He overlooked our hearts and souls, our noblest
parts, and did not command them to share in His worship, for they constitute
the crown of obedience and the very perfection of worship . For this reason, we
are commanded both outward and inward duties, so that our obedience to our
glorious Creator might be complete, perfect, and all-embracing, comprising
both our outer and inner parts, both mind and body .19
Bahya's point cannot be ignored: must Judaism indeed include 'com-
mandments of the heart [i.e. of the intellect]' for the 'commandments of
the limbs' to make any sense? Not necessarily. As I have tried to make
clear earlier in this book, the Torah can teach truth without necessarily
commanding its acceptance.
But if the Torah contains the truth, why not command its acceptance
-or, at the very least, teach it in a very clear and unambiguous fashion?
19
I cite from Bahya ben Joseph ibn Pakuda, The Book of Direction to the Duties of the
Heart, trans. Menahem Mansoor (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973 ), 89.
The reason is that for Bible and Talmud the translation of ultimate truth
into clearly defined and manageable statements was a less pressing need
than it was for Maimonides. Let me put this as follows: Maimonides and
the Talmud agree that God's truth is embodied in the Torah; the Talmud
finds pressing the need to determine the practical, this-worldly con-
sequences of that truth, while Maimonides, in addition, finds it necessary
to determine the specific, cognitive content of that truth. On one level,
Maimonides is clearly right: Judaism does teach truth; but, on the other
hand, his insistence on expressing that truth in specific teachings is an
innovation in Judaism.
The point I am trying to make here comes out in the well-known
talmudic story concerning the oven of Akhnai. The Sages debated
whether a particular kind of oven could become ritually impure. The text
says:
On that day R. Eliezer brought all the answers in the world [to support his
position] but they were not accepted. He said to them: 'If the halakhah accords
with my opinion, let this carob tree prove it!' The carob tree uprooted itself and
moved rno amot [c.50 yards]-some say, it was 400 amot. The [other] rabbis
said to him: 'One does not bring a proof from a carob tree.' He continued,
saying, 'If the halakhah accords with my opinion, let this aqueduct prove it!' The
water thereupon flowed backwards. They said to him: 'One does not bring a
proof from an aqueduct.' He continued, saying, 'If the halakhah accords
with my opinion, let the walls of this house of study prove it!' The walls of the
house of study thereupon began to fall inward. Rabbi Joshua reproved them
[the walls]: 'By what right do you interfere when Sages battle each other over
halakhah?' The walls did not fall [all the way] out of respect for R. Joshua and did
not stand upright [again] out of respect for R. Eliezer. To this day, they stand at
an angle. He then said to them, 'If the halakhah accords with my opinion, let it
be proved by Heaven!' A voice from Heaven [immediately] spoke forth: 'How
do you disagree with R. Eliezer, when the halakhah accords with his opinion in
every place?' R. Joshua then stood upon his legs and said, 'It is not in Heaven!'
[Deut. 30: 12]. [The Talmud then asks,] 'What is the significance of It is not in
Heaven?' R. Jeremiah answered, 'Since the Torah was given at Mt Sinai we pay
no attention to voices from Heaven [in determining halakhah] since You [i.e.
God, the source of heavenly voices] have already written in the Torah at Mt
Sinai, "turn aside after a multitude" [i.e. follow the majority: Exod. 23: 2].'
R. Nathan met Elijah and said to him, 'What did the Holy One, blessed be He,
do when this happened?' Elijah replied: 'He smiled and said, "My children have
defeated me! My children have defeated me!" ' 20
20
BT Bava metsia 59b. For a useful survey of the many ways in which this passage has
been interpreted, see Avi Sagi, Elu ve)elu (Tel Aviv: Hakibuts Hame'ul).ad, 1996 ), 12-16.
Much can be (and has been) said about this fascinating passage. Here it
will suffice to quote an insightful comment of David Kraemer's: 'Of
course, we must assume that if the heavenly voice supported R. Eliezer's
view, his view must have been closer to the "truth." Nevertheless, his
truth is rejected, and the view of the sages, though objectively in error, is
affirmed. ' 21 Judaism teaches truth, and that fact must never be forgotten.
But the ultimate truth taught by the Torah need not necessarily be
understood in its detailed specificity for us to live in the world in a decent
fashion; while there is one objective 'truth', the Talmud is interested in
arriving at a halakhic determination, rather than at a determinate under-
standing of the final truth. We can safely put off determining the exact
truth until 'the earth ... be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the
waters cover the sea' (Isa. n: 9 ); but in the meantime we must know how
to live. 22
The talmudic position, I think, makes it possible for Jews to reach
ever greater understandings of the truth taught by the Torah and allows
them to express that truth in language appropriate to each age. Had
Judaism adopted a Maimonidean, as opposed to talmudic understand-
ing of the nature of our relation to the truth taught by the Torah, we
would be forced to express our vision of the universe in terms of the
Neoplatonized Aristotelianism adopted by Maimonides. Our situation
would be similar to that of Habad hasidim, who feel constrained to
accept Maimonides' description of the physical universe as 'Torah from
heaven', or to that of those Catholics who accept the medieval theology
of Thomas Aquinas and the scholastics as normative and authoritative.
But the Torah 'is not in heaven'-it must be lived in this world, while
the absolute truth which it embodies remains 'from heaven', a constant
challenge to our understanding, a constant critique of our tendency
to intellectual complacency. The talmudic position, as hinted at in the
story of the oven of Akhnai, allows Judaism to live and breathe in to-
day's world as much as in yesterday's; Maimonides' position (as held
especially by today's Maimonideans, if not necessarily by Maimonides
himself) would have kept us chained to medieval conceptions of the
cosmos.
21
David Kraemer, The Mind ofthe Talmud: An Intellectual History ofthe Bavli (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 122. I found Kraemer's discussion of the Bavli's
understanding of truth very helpful.
22
Maimonides uses the verse from Isaiah to close his messianic discussion at the very
end of the Mishneh torah; my use ofit, therefore, is not coincidental. In the pre-messianic
era we can only approximate to the truth.
How to Live with OtherJews
I should not like to be misunderstood here (or anywhere, for that
matter). I am not claiming, with Peter Ochs, that
In Hebrew Scripture, in rabbinic literature, and for most Jewish thinkers, truth is
a characteristic of personal relationships. Truth is fidelity to one's word, keeping
promises, saying with the lips what one says with one's heart, bearing witness to
what one has seen. Truth is the bond of trust between persons and between God
and humanity . In the Western philosophical tradition, truth is a characteristic of
the claims people make about the world they experience: the correspondence
between a statement and the object it describes, or the coherence of a statement
with what we already know about the world. 23
I am enough of a Maimonidean (i.e. a follower of the 'Western philo-
sophical tradition') to think that the Torah is concerned with truth in
both senses of the term isolated by Ochs (senses, by the way, which
parallel the distinction used above between 'belief in' and 'belief that').
My claim throughout has been that the Torah teaches truth in both
senses, but that Judaism had, until Maimonides, emphasized truth as 'a
characteristic of personal relationships' over truth as 'a characteristic of
the claims people make about the world they experience', and that we
would all be better offwere we to revert to that approach, at least until we
have reached the days of the Messiah.
Maimonides' position, and my discomfort with it, may be better
understood in an Aristotelian context. Aristotle was well aware of the
fact that absolute truth is not always determinable. As he wrote in the
Nicomachean Ethics (i. 3),
Our discussion will be adequate if it has as much clearness as the subject matter
admits of; for precision is not to be sought for alike in all discussions ... for it is
the mark of an educated man to look for precision in each class of things just so
far as the nature of the subject admits .
In matters of science, however, truth is attainable (as Aristotle argued in
Posterior Analytics, ii. 19 ), even if it may take a long time to arrive at.
Aristotle makes this last point in Metaphysics(ii. 1 ):
The investigation of the truth is in one way hard, in another easy. An indication
of this is found in the fact that no one is able to attain the truth adequately, while,
on the other hand, no one fails entirely, but everyone says something true about
the nature of things, and while individually they contribute little or nothing to
the truth, by the union of all a considerable amount is amassed. 24
23
Peter Ochs, 'Truth', in A. A. Cohen and Paul Mendes-Flohr (eds.), Contemporary
]ewishReligiousThought(NewYork: Scribners, 1987), 1018-23at1018 .
24
I quote from Aristotle's Complete Works, ed. Jonathan Barnes ( Princeton: Prince ton
University Press, 1984), i. 1730; i. 1569.
How to Live with Other Jews 125
Maimonides, as I have argued elsewhere, 25 conceived of the Torah

on the model of an Aristotelian deductive science and thus thought it
necessary that the same canons of exactitude in expressing cognitive
truth pertaining to the latter should also be applied in the former. I shall
quote just one of his many statements which express this idea:
The fourth species [of perfection] is the true human perfection; it consists in the
acquisition of the rational virtues- I refer to the conception of intelligibles,
which teach true opinions concerning the divine things. This is in true reality the
ultimate end; this is what gives the individual true perfection, a perfection
belonging to him alone; and it gives him permanent perdurance; through it,
man1sman.
It is on this understanding of truth that Maimonides says, 'For only truth
pleases Him, may He be exalted, and only that which is false angers
him. ' 26 This is clearly not the position of the Talmud in the story of the
oven of Akhnai! Surely, God is pleased by (intellectual) truth, but is even
more pleased, as it were, by right behaviour. This is the entire burden of
my argument in this book.
But, it may be asked, ifI agree that Judaism teaches truth, why am I
unwilling to admit that untruth is heresy? The reason is simply stated.
Heresy is the opposite of truth only in a narrowly theological context.
Usually, when we think that someone has become persuaded of untruth,
we say that such a person is mistaken, not a heretic. The position ad-
vanced in this chapter is that Judaism teaches truth, and that Orthodoxy
understands that truth more completely than competing versions of
Judaism. Those competing versions are wrong and mistaken; calling
them heretical is simply not helpful and is, furthermore, foreign to the
historical tradition ofJudaism as it developed until Maimonides.
It is further important to realize that even though classical Judaism
does not understand the nature of emunah as Maimonides does, and
therefore places little value and emphasis on precise theological formula-
tions, there are limits to what one can affirm or deny and still remain
within the Jewish community. Note my terminology here: there are
limits to what one can affirm or deny and still remain within the Jewish
community. Denying the unity of God, for example, or that the Torah is
of divine origin in some significant sense, or affirming that the Messiah
has already come, are claims which place one outside the historical com-
munity of Israel. This is not to say that such persons are technically
25
Kellner, 'The Conception of the Torah as a Deductive Science'.
26
Guide, iii . 54, p . 635; ii. 48, p . 409.
How to Live with OtherJews
heretics-nor is it to say that they are not: that is not the issue here-but
it is to say that they have placed themselves beyond the broadest limits of
historical Jewish communal consensus.
How to respond to such people is a question which, I think, is best
decided on an ad hoe basis; indeed, it is a question which cannot be
answered in one fashion for all of us. The Israeli Supreme Court faced
with a Brother Daniel gives one sort of answer, 27 a parent faced with a
rebellious child another sort. Similarly, when faced with such problems,
rabbis should match their responses to the problems, without being
forced to decide in advance that all persons of a certain type are either
heretics or babes captured by heathens.
27
Daniel Rufeisen (b. 1932), a Polish Jew turned Catholic monk, in 1962 sought
recognition as an Israeli citizen on the basis of his birth as a Jew.
A UTH o RS must usually resign themselves to the slings and arrows of
outrageous reviewers, who typically get the last word. Although the
reviewers of this book were generally perceptive and generous, I am very
grateful to the Littman Library ofJewish Civilization for this opportunity
to respond to some of those colleagues who paid me the compliment of
writing serious responses to this book. 1
A central thesis of the book is that the fundamental meaning of'belief
in Judaism is trust. The reviewer who best understood the implications of
that insight was Norbert Samuelson. By way of summarizing my answer
to the question, 'What constitutes Jewish belief understood as trust?',
Samuelson writes: 'Trust that God is God and should be worshiped, that
the Torah and the rabbinic interpretation of it should be observed in
service to God, and that the Jewish people were chosen by God to
preserve, obey, and teach the Torah.' He continues:
Hence, despite the title and the initial answer, it is not really the case that
Kellner's Judaism does not require belief. It clearly does, namely beliefin God,
Torah, and Israel. Trust can either be reasonable or unreasonable, and to make
this judgment requires critical thinking about the trust. What Kellner rejects is
what he calls systematic theology and dogmatism. He argues that Judaism has
always emphasized deeds as an expression of the love of God. Although this
emphasis entails beliefs, they were never systematized or clearly defined until the
time of Sa'adia, and then only as a strategy of defense against threats posed to
Jewish identity by Islam and the Karaites. Systematic theology and dogmatism
are polemical strategies that the rabbis adopted in defense ofrabbinic Judaism
against intellectual attacks, but they were never intended to define Judaism as
Judaism in any other kind ofcontext. Similarly, once the threat was removed, the
activity of systematic, dogmatic theology was abandoned until another external
threat emerged-[ medieval] Christianity.
I should like to thank David Berger, Raphael Jospe, Jolene S. Kellner, Tyra Lieberman,
and Daniel Statman for discussing the issues raised in this afterword with me.
1
Mention should be made here of Marc Shapiro, The Limits of Orthodox Theology:
Maimonides) Thirteen Principles Reappraised (Oxford: Littman Library ofJ ewish Civiliz-
ation, 2004 ). Shapiro's seminal work adds important support to many of the points made
in this book. See also Howard Wettstein, 'Doctrine', Faith and Philosophy, 14 ( 1997), 423-
43, who convincingly argues that 'theological doctrine is not a natural tool for thinking
about biblical/rabbinic Judaism' (p. 423) .
128 Afterword
Up until this point Samuelson succinctly captures what I try to say in this
book. The continuation of this paragraph, however, does not reflect my
intentions:
In fact, systematic theology and dogmatism arise in Judaism today only because
of Christianity and not because of the inner logic ofrabbinic Judaism itself. As
such, Bleich and others (notably Yehudah Parnes and Jonathan Sacks), despite
their intentions to the contrary, distort Judaism, and they do so because of
Christian influence. 2
Systematic theology and dogmatism arise in Judaism today, I suggest,
because of the threats of emancipation and enlightenment, not because
of Christianity. To my mind, using tools crafted by Maimonides eight
hundred years ago to confront the challenges of his day indicates a failure
to realize that the challenges confronting Judaism since the emancipa-
tion are dramatically unlike any of those faced by the Jewish religion at
any point since the destruction of the Second Temple.
Because my principal focus in this book was on theological issues, I
may not have developed this historical point sufficiently. In order to
understand what Samuelson describes as the distortions foisted upon
Judaism by contemporary rabbis, we must take a brieflook at the history
of the Jews and ofJ udaism over the last two hundred years.
Pre-emancipation Judaism was an unselfconscious amalgam of reli-
gion and what came, in the nineteenth century, to be called nationality.
With very few exceptions (the forced converts of Iberia being the most
prominent example), Jewish authorities never had to define who a Jew
was, since the matter was clear, both to Jews and to non-Jews. After the
French Revolution, when Jews were invited to participate in the world
around them, they found a world in which religion had been largely
'privatized', in which it had been severed from nationality, and in which
there developed a confusing multiplicity of new ways of being Jewish. It
was suddenly no longer so clear who was a Jew, and it was certainly no
longer clear who was a 'good' Jew. In a world in which membership in
good standing in the Jewish community was no longer determined by
descent (since so many Jews by descent had ceased being Jewish in terms
of belief and practice, or were adopting new beliefs and practices while
still calling themselves 'good' Jews); in a world in which membership in
the Jewish community was no longer determined by identity with a
shared Jewish past and hopes for a shared Jewish future (since so many
2
Norbert M. Samuelson, review, Central Conference of American Rabbis Journal
(Winter 2001), 95-9, esp. p. 98.
Afterword 129
Jews who identified with the shared Jewish past hoped for a shared Jewish
future defined primarily in national or cultural terms); in a world in which
Jews might be willing to violate every single one of the 613 command-
ments of the Torah while still being prepared to lay down their lives in
defence of the Jewish collective, Maimonides' Thirteen Principles, wholly
ignored by halakhic authorities since their publication, and largely ignored
by theologians (with the exception of those of Iberia between 1391
and 1492 ), suddenly came into their own and were used, with increasing
vigour, to demarcate the line between 'good' Jews and those who must
be excluded, those with whom no religious co-operation may be per-
mitted, those who, for the most lenient, are tinokot shenishbu, and who,
for the most stringent, are out-and-out heretics.
The challenges facing Judaism since the emancipation are thus unlike
any faced before; that being the case, the theological toolbox ofJudaism
must be expanded to include tools for which there was no need in our
past. I argued in this book that the tools fashioned by Maimonides are
inappropriate and counter-productive when used today. But, before
exploring that point, let us return to Samuelson's presentation of my
argument: '[Kellner] argues that Judaism has always emphasized deeds
as an expression of the love of God.' Samuelson perfectly captures my
approach here, while several other reviewers apparently missed the
significance of the second part of this sentence and asserted that in this
book I argue for a form of orthopraxy. In their view, if Judaism lacks an
orthodoxy, a substratum of obligatory (but, before Maimonides, not
clearly expressed) beliefs, then it resolves itself to an orthopraxy, a body
of (mindless) rules which could be obeyed by an automaton.
But-and this my critics failed to grasp-to say that Judaism does not
demand that we express beliefs about God and God's relationship to the
world in the form of dogmas is not to say that all that Judaism demands of
its adherents is a kind of mindless practice. They ignore two issues: (a)
one can love someone and act on that love while knowing very little
about the object of that love; ( b) Judaism prizes kavanah (intention) over
rote behaviour.
Let me illustrate the first point with a dramatic allegory. Let us imagine
a member of a cell in the French resistance during the Second World War.
This person might know that she is a member of a cell with perhaps a
dozen members, even if she does not know them all. Let us further
imagine that our resistante does not know the identity of her cell leader.
She might not know whether the leader is a man or a woman; she might
not even know whether the leader is French, or perhaps someone para-
130 Afterword
chuted in from abroad. At first she might be wary of following instruc-
tions from this leader. But time after time, the leader's instructions prove
to be wise, leading to many successful strikes against the Nazis, and in
many instances they protect our cell member from possibly fatal mis-
takes. Our resistante comes to trust her cell leader and finds that this trust
is never betrayed. Would we be surprised to discover that our heroine
comes to feel admiration, even awe, for her cell leader, that she is willing
to lay down her life for the leader, and, as time goes by, that she devotes
herself to her resistance activities as much out of dedication to the leader
as for the freedom of Prance?
Our resistante would certainly fail any 'theological' test about her cell
leader. Beyond the fact of the leader's existence and, one supposes, the
leader's nom deguerre, she knows almost nothing at all about him or her.
She might imagine all kinds of things about the leader, and could even be
wrong about all of them, without that making much difference at all.
'Orthodox' she certainly isn't. But does it make sense to call her 'ortho-
prax' in her resistance activities? Her motivations are undoubtedly com-
plex (as are all human motivations), but they can include devotion to the
cause and its ideals, loyalty to her fellow cell members, trust in her cell
leader, and a desire to earn the trust, respect, and approbation of that
leader.
It is possible for a Jew to have very few detailed ideas about God, and
about the way in which God relates to the cosmos, while still loving God,
trusting in God, and yearning to earn God's approval. On this issue (if
not on many others, and it pains me even to admit this) Judah Halevi
better reflects the traditions of Judaism than does Moses Maimonides.
Halevi's spokesman in the Kuzari speaks of the experienced God of
Jewish history, the God who spoke with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the
God who took the Jews out of Egyptian bondage and nurtured them for
forty years in the wilderness. Maimonides prefers to speak of the God
whose wisdom is manifest in nature. Halevi's Jew knows what God has
done for her people, Maimonides' Jew understands the workings of
sCience.
With respect to my second claim, that Judaism prizes kavanah over
rote behaviour, must a person have a 'firm dogmatic foundation' in order
to pray with kavanah and in order to fulfil commandments with kava-
nah? 3 Can one pray if one does not have dogmas defining the recipient of
3
Yitzchak Blau, 'Flexibility with a Firm Foundation: On Maintaining Jewish Dogma',
The Torah Umadda Journal, 12 (2004 ), 179-9r. Daniel H. Frank, review,Jewish Quarterly
Review, 92 (2002 ), 272-5 also interprets me as advocating a kind of orthopraxy.
Afterword 131
one's prayers? If the answer to this question is negative, then no Jew

before Maimonides prayed with kavanah or fulfilled the commandments
with kavanah, since even my critics admit that before Maimonides there
were no clear and explicit statements of theology or dogma in Judaism.
As David Berger states, 'Since they [the talmudic Sages] were indeed not
interested in systematic theology, they did not articulate these principles
until they were challenged, but once challenged, they fleshed out a posi-
tion they had always taken for granted. ' 4 The point that scholars like
Berger are trying to make is that, while a religion may lack a clearly
expressed statement of dogma, there may still be a wide (if unexpressed)
consensus concerning theological matters. My critics claim that Judaism
always had a theology, but that no one before Maimonides took the
trouble of systematizing it and expressing it in terms of dogma. But my
argument is different: if one needs to know to whom one is praying or to
whom one is dedicating one's fulfilment of the commandments, then
how can one be said to know God if this knowledge has never been
systematized or even articulated?
If the answer to my question is positive, and kavanah is possible
without a firm dogmatic foundation, then the stark dogma versus ortho-
prax dichotomy is nullified. 5
The question that needs to be addressed, then, is whether or not
kavanah must presuppose some sort of systematic theology, even if un-
expressed.6 I want to give my critics the benefit of the doubt, as it were, by
examining what Maimonides has to say about the subject. 7 After all, if any
Jewish thinker and halakhic authority can be expected to make kavanah
depend upon theology, it should be Maimonides.
Maimonides opens chapter+ of 'Laws Concerning Prayer and the
Priestly Blessing' in the Mishneh torah with the following general state-
ment: 'The set time for prayer having come, it should still be delayed for
five reasons: purity of hands, nakedness, purity of the place of prayer, the
pressure to rush, and correct intention [ kavanat halev].' After discussing
the first four impediments to prayer, Maimonides devotes four para-
graphs to the issue of kavanah:
4
David Berger, review, Tradition, 33 (1999 ), 81-9.
5
So, for that matter, is Norman Solomon's criticism that I advocate a vague and hazy
theology. See his review in Journal ofJewish Studies, 52 (Spring 2001), 152-4.
6
For a discussion of the nature of kavanah in general, see Seth Kadish, Kavvanah:
Directing the Heart in Jewish Prayer (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1997 ).
7
On kavanahin Maimonides, see Gerald J. (Ya'akov) Blidstein, PrayerinMaimoni-
dean Halakha (Hatefilah bimishnato hahilkhatit shel harambam) (Jerusalem: Mosad
Bialik, 1994), 77- 150.
132 Afterword
15. What does correct intention involve? Any prayer recited without correct
intention is not prayer. One who prays without correct intention must pray
again with correct intention. One who is confused or preoccupied may not pray
until he become tranquil. Thus, one who returns from a journey fatigued or dis-
tressed is forbidden to pray until he becomes tranquil. The Sages said that such a
person must wait three days until he rest and his mind settle before praying.
16. How does one achieve correct intention? One must free his mind of all
thoughts and see himself as standing before the Divine Presence [ shekhinah].
Therefore, one should sit a while before prayer in order to direct his mind, and
then pray gently and beseechingly. One must not pray as ifit were a burden to be
cast aside before one continues on his way. Thus, one should sit a while after
prayer and only then leave. The early pietists would wait an hour before prayer,
an hour after prayer, and spend an hour praying.
17. One who is drunk may not pray, since he has no correct intention; if he
prayed, his prayer is an abomination . Therefore, he must pray again when he
becomes sober. One who is slightly drunk should not pray, but if he prayed, his
prayer is considered prayer. Who is drunk? One who cannot speak before a king.
The person who is slightly drunk is one who can speak before a king after
drinking without confusion. Even so, one who has drunk a quarter-hin of wine
should not pray until its influence pass.
18. So too, one ought not to stand up to pray directly after laughter, frivolity,
conversation, argument, or anger, but after words of Torah. Even though a
halakhic debate consists of words of Torah, one ought not stand up to pray
directly after such a debate, lest one's mind be preoccupied with determining the
halakhah. Rather, one should stand up to pray after studying words of Torah
that do not demand concentration, such as already determined laws. 8
From this passage, Maimonides' most extensive treatment of the nature
of kavanah, 9 we learn that kavanah consists in seeing oneself as standing
before the Divine Presence. Now it is obvious that certain beliefs are
presupposed by this formulation. But is it obvious what they are? Upon
examination, the issue turns out to be not so simple.
Minimally, one can only picture oneself as standing in prayer before
the Divine Presence if one accepts that God exists and is a fit object of
worship. But what further specific beliefs are entailed by the obligation to
picture oneself as standing in prayer before the Divine Presence? It turns
out, almost none.
First, does God command us to pray? As is well known, that is a matter
8
I quote from my translation of Maimonides, The Book ofLove (New Haven, Conn. :
Yale University Press, 2004), 28-9.
9
Guide, iii. 51 also contains a discussion of the nature of kavanah, but even there
Maimonides focuses on the psychological aspects of kavanah and not on its object.
Afterword 133
of debate in the tradition. Maimonides holds that there is a biblically
derived commandment to pray, while Nahmanides disagrees. 10 Since
there is a debate among the early authorities over whether or not there can
be a biblically ordained commandment to pray, it is obvious that accepting
that prayer is commanded by God cannot be a prerequisite for kavanah.
Assuming that there is a commandment to pray, how is it to be ful-
filled? Maimonides strongly hints that, ideally, prayer should consist of
silent (presumably intellectually oriented) meditation; prayers consisting
of words (and associated actions, such as fasting and genuflecting) are an
accommodation to human weakness. 11 However, be that as it may, all
would have to agree that in the biblical and mishnaic periods (before the
establishment of standardized prayer), there was a time when Jews
prayed without the words we use today. Kabbalists also hold that the
prayer ofJews who pray without the requisite intentions ( kavanot) is, at
the very least, defective. Beyond certain halakhic minima, the tradition
does not even teach us how to pray.
Must we know something concrete, as it were, about the Divine
Presence in order to see ourselves as standing before it? If so, we are in
trouble, since the Jewish tradition presents us with a wide variety of
opinions concerning the nature of shekhinah without finally coming
down in favour of any of them.
The term shekhinah does not occur in the Torah, but the term kavod
does. 12 Its first use is illustrative of its other occurrences. Exodus 16
describes one of the episodes of Israelite grumbling in the wilderness.
Moses tells the people: 'and in the morning you shall see the kavod of the
Lord, because He has heard your grumblings against the Lord. For who
are we that you should grumble against us?' (Exod. 16: 7). Moses keeps
his word: 'Then Moses said to Aaron, "Say to the whole Israelite com-
munity: Advance toward the Lord, for He has heard your grumbling."
And as Aaron spoke to the whole Israelite community, they turned
toward the wilderness, and there, in a cloud, appeared the kavod of the
Lord' (Exod. 16: 9-ro ). The ancient Israelites certainly seemed to have
beheld something visible. In a later chapter (Exod. 24: 17), the Israelites
see the kavod as a burning fire on top of Mount Sinai. 13
10
See Maimonides, Book of Commandments, positive commandment 5, and Nahman-
ides' gloss. 11
See Guide, iii. 32.
12
Sa'adiah Gaon teaches that the rabbinic term shekhinah refers to the entity called
kavodin the Torah. See Belieftand Opinions, ii.10 .
13
Compare also Lev. 9: 5-7, 22-4; Num. 14: 10, 20-3; Num. 16: 6-7; Isa. 40: 3-5; Isa.
60: l-3; Ezek. l: 26-8, 3: 22-7, and 8: 1-4.
134 Afterword
As used in rabbinic literature, shekhinah may or may not be a hypostasis
in the Neoplatonic sense of the term, 14 but there is no reason to doubt
that many rabbinic sources attest to an understanding of shekhinah as a
phenomenon which can be located in specific places at specific times. 15
Consistent with traditional usage, both Sa'adiah Gaon and Judah
Halevi, following Targum Onkelos, 16 understand kavod as denoting
something corporeal and accessible to the senses.17 Maimonides, on the
other hand, takes great pains to deny this. His ultimate position may be
summarized in the following gloss on Isa. 6: 3, 'The whole earth is full of
his kavod'. The meaning of this verse, Maimonides teaches, is 'that the
whole earth bears witness to His perfection, that is, indicates it'. 18
In sum, the biblical kavod, as some sort of sensible manifestation of
God's presence, and the post-biblical shekhinah readily lend themselves
to interpretations according to which God's presence can be located in
space and time. Onkelos (followed by Sa'adiah and Halevi) had sought to
soften the dangerous idea of a sensible manifestation of God's presence.
It fell to Maimonides to analyse many of the places where the terms kavod
and shekhinah are used, in an attempt to show that the key meaning of the
term kavod is the wisdom of God as expressed in the natural world, and
that the way in which we best show kavod ( = honour) to God and express
kavod ( = praise) of God is by seeking to understand divine wisdom as
expressed in nature. 19
14
Urbach, The Sages, i. 43, denies the hypostatic nature of shekhinah, while Gershom
Scholem sees it as 'verging on hypostatization'. See Scholem, On the Mystical Shape ofthe
Godhead(New York: Schocken, 1991), 147-8.
15
See e.g . Gen. Rabbah 19: 7. Indeed, Alan Unterman opens his Encylopaedia ]udaica
article' Shekhinah' with the following definition of the term as used in rabbinic literature :
' God viewed in spatio-temporal terms as a presence' .
16
As Maimonides presents his position in the Guide, i. 21.
17
For a history of discussions of kavod, see Joseph Dan, The Esoteric Theology of
Ashkenazi Hasidism (Torat hasod she! ashkenaz) (Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1968 ),
104-68.
18
Guide, i. 9 . My late teacher Steven S. Schwarzschild presented a Maimonidean
understanding of the concept, asserting that shekhinahshould 'be understood as a some-
what poetic, metaphoric name that classical Judaism has given to the idea of the func-
tioning relationship between the transcendent God, on the one hand, and, on the other
hand, humanity in general and the people oflsrael in particular'. See Steven S. Schwarzs-
child, 'Shekhinah and Eschatology', in Menachem Kellner (ed.), The Pursuit ofthe Ideal:
Jewish Writings of Steven Schwarzschild (Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1990 ), 235-50, esp.
p. 235 .
19
I cite and analyse the relevant texts in my forthcoming Maimonides 1 Confrontation
with Mysticism (Oxford: Littman Library ofJewish Civilization, 2006 ), eh. 6.
Afterword 135
I do not want to go too far afield here, but if we admit into our
discussion kabbalistic conceptions of the term shekhinah as naming one
of the sefirot, we certainly see how tolerant the tradition has been of
dramatically different conceptions of what it means to stand before the
Divine Presence.
Let us grant all that I have said up to this point. Have I refuted my
critics? My colleague Daniel Statman is not sure. His perceptive critique
is worth citing at length:
According to Kellner, emunah in classical Judaism is not propositional belief,
but trust in God expressed through the observance of His commandments. But
if that is so, then in most cases the conclusion would be less tolerance of non-
orthodox Jews, not more tolerance. The reason for this is simple: if emunah
referred to propositional beliefs, such as the belief that God exists, that He
created the world, that He revealed Himself in Sinai etc., then we could ascribe
significant emunah to many non-orthodox Jews, in the US as well as in Israel.
But if emunah means faith in God manifested through fulfilling the mitsvot, then
non-orthodox Jews, namely Jews without commitment to halakha, would
clearly count as 'illegitimate'. The suggestion to focus on praxis as the essence of
Judaism seems to achieve the exact opposite of what Kellner wanted. In other
words, from an orthodox point of view the problem with the non-orthodox is
that, by definition, they lack emunah in the sense of trust in God expressed in
fulfilling the mitsvot, and most of them also lack emunah in the sense of admit-
ting the truth of the theological principles set by Maimonides, especially those
concerning the divine origin and the eternal nature of the Torah.
To this Kellner will probably respond by saying that while the focus on dogma
leads to an absolute 'in' or 'out' (either you believe that x is true, and you are in,
or you don't, in which case you're out), the focus on praxis leads to a continuum
... Yet this response ignores the fact that emunah--even on Kellner's view-is
more than merely doing certain things. It is doing them as an expression of one)s
trust in God. Thus, a huge difference exists between Jews who do not accept the
yoke of the mitsvot (and who often do not believe that God exists or revealed
Himself in the Torah) and Jews who do, and only the latter seem to qualify as
having emunah. Here I think that the late Yeshayahu Leibowitz was right: some
minimal religious intention (kavanah) is required in order for behaviour to bear
a religious meaning. A lucky coincidence between what one does and what
halakha requires is insufficient to bestow religious significance on the deed and
to place the agent on the same continuum with those who accept the yoke of
halakha. 20
Statman is correct in refusing to adopt the stark 'orthodox-orthoprax'
dichotomy. He correctly anticipates my response that traditionally
20
Review,]ournal ofJewish Studies, 52 (2001), 202-6.
Afterword
approved Jewish behaviour is not action on the basis of dogma, but
action leshem shamayim, done for the sake of heaven. The problem with
this approach, Statman sagely notes, is that most contemporary Jews,
towards whom I want to be inclusive, do not in fact behave in this way. 21
Their Jewish behaviour does not appear to express trust in God or indeed
often expresses no relationship with God at all, and thus fails Leibowitz's
test for an act bearing religious meaning.
I cheerfully admit all this, but am still convinced that much is gained by
focusing Jewish attention on behaviour and not on dogma, for two
reasons. First, Leibowitz is wide of the mark. Jewish tradition recognizes
the religious significance of actions done shelo lishmah, not for the sake of
heaven. The talmudic rabbis, unlike Professor Leibowitz, prized good
behaviour done for the wrong reasons. They prized good behaviour
done for the right reasons even more, but in no way can they be con-
strued as holding that incorrect intention empties an act of all religious
meaning, even if the religious meaning is not intended by the actor.
Second, while theological tests are relatively easy to administer (and
there is a long history of administering them in Christianity and Islam, a
history which contemporary Orthodoxy seems all too eager to ape), tests
ofintention are much harder to administer. Human motivation, after all,
is marvellously complex. On the basis of the approach I champion, the
decision of who is in, who is out, who is a good Jew and who is a bad Jew,
is removed from the hands of rabbis and returned to the hands, so to
speak, of God, where it belongs.
Statman continues:
Kellner's conclusions regarding contemporary Judaism are undermined from
another direction too. The mishnah in Sanhedrin chapter rn, regarding the
epikorsim who do not have a share in the world to come, seems to assume the
existence of dogma, to which Kellner responds by saying that the mishnah did
not intend to formulate a list of creeds but 'a list of"public enemies", so to speak'
(p. 38). The main enemies the tannaites had in mind here were the Sadducees,
hence the reference in the mishnah to him who denies resurrection and him who
denies that Torah was from heaven-two well-known heresies of the Sadducees.
Generally speaking, the Rabbis could tolerate major doctrinal differences so
long as they did not lead to substantial behavioural divergences (p. 42 ). When
they did, as with the Sadducees, they were rather intolerant.
Here again I find Kellner's intriguing suggestion leading to an opposite con-
clusion from the one he derives regarding contemporary Judaism. First, and
most important, if the Sages saw the Sadducees as 'public enemies', it is hard to
21
Norman Solomon (above, n. 5) makes a similar criticism.
Afterword 137
see why they would not react in the same way towards the reformers, the recon-
structionists or the seculars. Second, if Kellner is right, then we might learn from
this mishnah that one way to fight the 'public enemies' is to define what they
believe in as heresy. Why, then, can the orthodox not follow the same tactic in
their struggle against the non-orthodox, thereby turning them into epikorsim
and presenting them as residing beyond the borders ofJ ewish legitimacy?
As a matter of fact, I think this is precisely what orthodox speakers do today
when they use Maimonidean dogma to de-legitimize their perceived enemies.
Kellner is right in pointing out the absurdity in the fact that those who do so
almost certainly do not subscribe to Maimonides' principles as he stated them ...
and have not even started the philosophical voyage necessary for religious
perfection. But this only indicates that their real motivation for using Maimon-
ides is political rather than theological. What really concerns them about the
non-orthodox movements is not their erroneous theological views, but rather
their lack of commitment to halakha (often coupled with a denial of its divine
origin).
Statman's points here force me to make clear some unarticulated assump-
tions which underlie a lot of what I tried to do in this book. Paraphrasing
David Berger's statement quoted above, even though I am indeed
opposed to systematic theology, I did not articulate these principles until
challenged by Daniel Statman, but once challenged, I shall flesh out a
position I had always taken for granted.
There are some crucial assumptions which inform my approach and
which need to be made explicit here:
1. commitment to kelal yisra)el, the generality oflsrael, overrides doc-
trinal orthodoxy;
2. modernity presents challenges never before faced by the Jewish
people;
3. the response to modernity on the part of the founders ofwhat is today
called J;aredi Orthodoxy was wrong.
It would take a whole new book to defend these claims, but I think that I
may be allowed a few paragraphs here to sketch out the basis for each of
them.
My first assumption is that, in many important ways, identification
today with the Jewish past and a desire to be identified with the Jewish
future is at least as important a criterion of Jewish legitimacy as theo-
logical 'orthodoxy' and adherence to halakhah. My espousal of this view
probably reflects the fact that I am not only an observant Jew, but also a
Jewish nationalist, specifically a Zionist. But it also reflects, I believe, a
crucial intuition of traditional Judaism that a Jew is, first, a human being,
Afterword
second, a member of the Jewish people, and only third a believer in the
Torah ofisrael.
This is the order in which we become aware of our identity; it is also the
order in which these stages are presented in the Torah: all human beings
were created equally in the image of God. The patriarchs, through
covenants with God, established a special relationship with the Creator
of all. The descendants of the patriarchs stood at Sinai and in effect
converted to Judaism. 22
Indirect expression of this tripartite approach may be found in Mish-
nah Avotiii. 14:
[Rabbi Akiva] used to say: Beloved is man in that he was created in the image [of
God]. [It is a mark of] superabundant love [that] it was made known to him that
he had been created in the image [of God], as it is said: 'for in the image of God
made He man'. Beloved are Israel in that they were called children of the All-
Present. [It was a mark of] superabundant love [that] it was made known to
them that they were called children of the All- Present, as it is said: 'ye are chil-
dren of the Lord your God'. Beloved are Israel in that a desirable instrument [the
Torah] was given to them. [It was a mark of] superabundant love [that] it was
made known to them that the desirable instrument, wherewith the world had
been created, was given to them, as it is said: 'for I give you good doctrine;
forsake not My teaching'.
This text speaks, first, of the creation of all humanity, second, of the
establishment of a special relationship between God and the Jewish
people, and, third, of the giving of the Torah. We are thus faced with
three concentric circles-the first and largest, humanity, encompassing
the second, the Jewish people, which in turns encompasses the third and
smallest, those people whose lives are governed by the Jewish religion in
its various guises. While some Jewish particularists may have problems
with the status of the first circle, all Orthodox Jews must admit that the
second circle is religiously significant.
But beyond all this, and we now shade into my second claim, modern-
ity presents Orthodoxy with challenges it never had to face before,
specifically, a large number ofJews who strongly identify as Jews, and yet
who would never knowingly fulfil a single commandment of the Torah
if they could help it. This is particularly evident in Israel. Over the last
half-century many Jews there, even though wholly disconnected from
tradition, have sacrificed their lives for the good of the Jewish people.
Modernity has made it possible for individuals to identify as Jews in ways
22
Above, pp . 58-60, and the sources cited there.
Afterword 139
never dreamed of by our classical and medieval forebears. This is a reflec-

tion of the fact that what was once an undifferentiated and unself-
conscious Jewish identity, consisting of many facets, has been shattered
by modernity so that each of the facets (religious, mystical, cultural,
national, etc.) has adherents who are convinced that theirs is the truest
form ofJudaism. Modernity has also presented Judaism with a challenge
never dreamed of by any pre-modern Jew (other, perhaps, than Spinoza):
the re-establishment of Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel without
the coming of the messiah. In effect, my argument is that new challenges
must be recognized as such, confronted honestly, and not ignored.
This leads to my third assertion, that rabbinic leadership has failed to
rise to these challenges. The famous pun made by the Hatam Sofer
(Rabbi Moses Sofer, 1762-1839 ), 'All that is new [ lpadash] is forbidden by
the Torah', may have been a reaction to the early proponents of religious
reform ( melpadshim ), but it both reflects and was taken to mean not con-
frontation with modernity, but flight from it. We will never know if
Rabbi Sofer and his followers were right in rejecting the model of Ortho-
dox engagement with modernity offered by Rabbi Samson Raphael
Hirsch, or the model of Orthodox engagement with Zionism offered by
Rabbi Isaac Jacob Reines (1839-1915), or the model of Orthodox engage-
ment with democracy offered by Rabbi Hayim Hirschensohn ( 1857-
1935 ); but, from where I sit, it seems clear that they missed the boat, and it
is possible that they should be held responsible for the assimilation of
millions ofJ ews. Of course, we can never know who is right, but the only
reason to assume that they were correct is if one believes that they must
have been correct. This is certainly the view of /paredi Orthodoxy, but not
likely to be the view of anyone who has read this far in this book.
We may now return to Daniel Statman's critique. He writes: 'First, and
most important, if the Sages saw the Sadducees as "public enemies", it is
hard to see why they would not react in the same way towards the
reformers, the reconstructionists or the seculars.' Indeed, that is precisely
what has happened. But to equate Reform Jews with Sadducees, for
example, is to pretend that Judaism and the Jewish people exist in a kind
of stasis and that nothing of note has happened in the last two thousand
years. It is, crucially, simply to ignore the challenges of modernity as
outlined above. 23
23
Statman's point here raises another issue. A number of readers (including Statman
himself, in private communication) understand me to have claimed that the talmudic
rabbis would adopt my position. That is not the claim I defend in the book or in this
afterword. Rather, I maintain that if we go back to the early Sages instead of to
140 Afterword
Statman continues:
Second, if Kellner is right, then we might learn from this mishnah [Sanhedrin
x. 1] that one way to fight the 'public enemies' is to define what they believe in as
heresy. Why, then, can the orthodox not follow the same tactic in their struggle
against the non-orthodox, thereby turning them into epikorsim and presenting
them as residing beyond the borders ofJewish legitimacy?
Again, Statman is correct. Contemporary Orthodoxy uses the weapons
forged against the Sadducees in the first century and against Karaites and
others in the twelfth century against a very different sort of opponent in a
very different sort ofworld. It is not that I am unaware of this sort of reac-
tion (were I unaware ofit, I would not have written this book); rather, my
book is a plea to see this reaction as unwise and self-destructive, in
addition to being untrue to the teachings of rabbinic Judaism as outlined
in Chapter 2.
Apropos those teachings, David Berger made some important criti-
cisms of my presentation of them. Let us turn then from my response to
what might be called Statman's theological critique of the book to
Berger's historical critique. Here is the core of his argument:
Let us begin at the beginning. It is perfectly evident that Haza! [the talmudic
rabbis] did not present us with a Maimonidean-style creed. At the same time, it is
also evident that they did regard the denial of specific theological propositions as
grounds for exclusion from the world to come. When Kellner has completed his
discussion of the 'one possible exception' to his rule, he has shown that Mishnah
Sanhedrin 10: 1 is not a work of systematic theology but has done nothing to
undermine the obvious and unavoidable reality, to wit, that it excludes from the
world to come people who deny resurrection and the belief that the Torah is
from Heaven. Even if we were to endorse the debatable assertion that only
people who advertise their denial forfeit eternal felicity, the fateful action would
remain nothing more than a statement of disbelief in a dogmatic proposition.
Now, it may well be that the Rabbis were impelled to single out these
doctrines in the wake of attacks by Sadducees and other sectarians (p. 36 ), but
this position does little to salvage Kellner's overall argument. It means that the
Rabbis did believe that membership in good standing in the community oflsrael
rested on certain articles of faith. Since they were indeed not interested in
Maimonides, we can construct a way of dealing with non-Orthodox Jews which does not
necessitate invoking the language of heresy, with its absolute 'in' or 'out' implications.
Nowhere in the book do I make the claim that the rabbis of the Talmud would adopt the
views I defend, were they to walk among us today. (Nor do I say they would not.) The
claim I seek to defend is that demanding dogmatic orthodoxy is a ( Maimonidean) diverg-
ence from rabbinic approaches, and that one can use those approaches to fashion tools
better suited to contemporary needs and realities than those based upon Maimonides.
Afterword 1+1
systematic theology, they did not articulate these principles until they were chal-
lenged, but once challenged, they fleshed out a position that they had always
taken for granted.
In contrast to David Berger, I shall begin at the end. Given all the
evidence adduced in this book concerning the nature of religious faith in
the Torah and rabbinic writings, it appears to me that there is only one
reason why one should assume that the talmudic rabbis believed that
'membership in good standing in the community of Israel rested on
certain [unarticulated] articles of faith'. That reason is that Maimonides
could not have introduced so massive an innovation into the heart of
Judaism. But that assumption lacks all scholarly basis, and, so far as I can
judge, is not necessitated by any commitment central to Orthodox
Judaism (it is certainly not taught in Maimonides' Thirteen Principles).
Orthodox Jews who make this assumption (and Berger is certainly not
alone in making it), are, in effect, adopting Solomon Schechter's under-
standing ofJudaism as the religion of catholic Israel, where catholic Israel
is defined as that portion of the Jewish people with whose views and
practices one identifies. To make this assumption is to read Judaism back-
wards (surely an odd approach for so excellent a historian as David
Berger), but, in more popular terms, it is to say that what my rabbi
teaches must be what all previous rabbis have taught.
Once this assumption is rejected, as it ought to be, there is no reason in
the world to assume that, despite the lack of interest on the part of the
talmudic rabbis in systematic theology, they held Judaism to be based on
(unarticulated) principles of faith, adherence to which was the single
essential criterion for membership in good standing of the community of
Israel. 24
24
Berger's assumption also underlies another of his criticisms of the position I defend
in the book. He attributes to the rabbis the position that 'false belief is a criterion for
minut['heresy' for Berger, 'sectarianism' for me] and exclusion from the world to come.
To take Kellner's own example of idolatry, his assertion that Hazal saw only action as
sinful is incorrect. They explicitly tell us that thoughts of heresy or idolatry are biblically
forbidden ( Sifrei on Numbers 15: 39; BT Berakhot 12b)' (p. 84 ). What I find fascinating
here is how Berger understands the expressions found in the original-da)at minim,
hirhur averah, and hirhur avodah zarah. Depending upon how we understand the term
min (above, pp. +0-2 ), the first expression can either mean 'heretical positions' (Berger)
or 'sectarian positions' (Kellner). The second expression literally means 'thought of sin'
but may also mean 'licentious thought', while the third means 'thoughts of idolatry'.
Only a person who reads these rabbinic texts through a theological prism would feel the
necessity to render the Hebrew as does Berger. The text here (I found the source in
Berakhot, not in Sifrei) certainly does not prove his point.
Afterword
What I tried to do in this book was to look at rabbinic texts against the
background of the Torah and without the assumption that Maimonides
understood them correctly (certainly most of his contemporaries were
convinced that he got most non-halakhic aspects of Judaism wrong).
Once that assumption is rejected, the reading I gave to those texts makes
excellent sense-as is apparent from a careful reading of Berger's own
critique. As we just saw, he writes: 'When Kellner has completed his
discussion of the "one possible exception" to his rule, he has shown that
Mishnah Sanhedrin rn: r is not a work of systematic theology but has
done nothing to undermine the obvious and unavoidable reality, to wit,
that it excludes from the world to come people who deny resurrection
and the belief that the Torah is from Heaven.' But, as Berger must readily
admit, and as I note in the bookitself(p. 37), the expression 'Xloses his or
her share in the world to come' does not actually mean that the person
about whom it was said has no share in the world to come. It is not an
expression bearing any serious halakhic or theological weight. It is simply
an expression of strong disapproval. 25 Only one who assumes that the
Mishnah in Sanhedrin is making a theological statement, and only one
who assumes that the Mishnah in Sanhedrin knows of a category of
punishment (eternal damnation) for mistakes concerning certain theo-
logical matters, i.e. only one who reads the Mishnah as if it were written
by Moses Maimonides, could possibly make the claims that Berger makes
here. 26 But the Mishnah was not written by Maimonides!
Let us continue. Does the Mishnah condemn those who deny resur-
rection, as Maimonides' text has it, or those who deny that the Torah
teaches resurrection, as the standard printed editions have it? The issue is
of course crucial if there are indeed dogmas in Judaism, even if the first
articulation of this alleged dogma is in our mishnah. But, if Berger is
25
BT BM 58b-59a may be added to the sources cited there (n. 16). Compare also
Rabeinu Nisim of Marseilles in his Ma)aseh nisim, ed. H. Kreisel (Jerusalem: Mekize
Nirdamim, 2000 ), 132. The text cited from Avot derabi natan may be found in The
Fathers According to Rabbi Nathan, trans. Judah Goldin (New York: Schocken, 1974),
151; the chapter contains a long list ofindividuals and groups excluded from the world to
come.
26
Further support for my reading may be found in the following statement by W. D.
Davies: 'The anathemas in Mishnah Sanhedrin ro strike one as being haphazard: they are
not the considered "dogmatic" pronouncement of an authorized body ofleaders nor are
they presented with the full-blasted force of a "dogma": they do not stand out in any way
from other materials in Sanhedrin; they are given no prominence, not to speak of pre-
eminence.' See Davies, 'Torah and Dogma: A Comment', Harvard Theological Review,
61(1968),87-105,esp.p.89.
Afterword 14-3
right, why is there no discussion outside the world of scholarship of this

matter? Maimonides' recension is clearly theological, the standard text,
clearly sociological.
Continuing with our gloss of David Berger, he holds that the Mishnah
excludes all who deny that the Torah is from heaven from the world to
come. Let us grant him his claim for the moment. What does it mean to
assert that the Torah is from heaven? Berger is certainly aware of the ways
in which twentieth-century theologians tied themselves into knots trying
to define this term. Had the authors of the Mishnah really held it to be a
dogma ofJudaism, does it not seem odd that not one of them, or their
amoraic successors, or thege)onim who followed them took the trouble
to define the term with any specificity? 27 Assuming that we know what it
means for the Torah to be from heaven, do we know which part ofTorah
is from heaven? Maimonides and Nahmanides famously disagreed about
this as well, and Rabbi Isaac Abrabanel, among others, was willing to
consider the possibility that the book of Deuteronomy was written by
Moses himself, not God. 28
Speaking more generally, David Berger proposes a category of un-
articulated dogmas, rejection of which (whether purposeful or inadvert-
ent, apparently) costs people their share in the world to come. The
category seems bizarre on the face of it. But leaving that aside, let us
examine some of its consequences. Does a Jew living before the pub-
27
It is apposite here to contrast David Berger's views with those of another historian:
Classic Judaism places very little emphasis on dogma . While its adherents and critics might differ
sharply in their attitude towards this orientation, they would have been able to agree that this was
much more a religion of'works' than of'faith', and that one's membership in good standing in the
religious community depended on practical observance rather than on formal assertions of belief.
We hear of few internal debates on questions of dogma, and even someone who denied one of the
few tenets which were deemed essential , such as the belief in resurrection, was only said to be denied
a place in the World to Come and his transgression was not punishable by human agency . . . Al-
though a few basic beliefs, such as the existence of God and the revelation of the Torah, may safely be
considered part of a universal consensus for the Tanna'im and Amora'im, they were able to entertain
an extraordinarily wide range of views on almost any other theological question. Furthermore, to
judge by the available evidence, many of the talmudic rabbis devoted little or none of their intel-
lectual energies to theological speculation, and those who did concentrate on this field did not
generally present their ideas in explicit, let alone systematic, form.
See Robert Brody, The Geonim of Babylonia and the Shaping ofMedieval Jewish Culture
(New Haven, Conn. : Yale University Press, 1998), 283.
28
For the first issue, see Maimonides' Book of Commandments, principle 2, and
Nahmanides' gloss there; for the second, see Abravanel's introduction to Deuteronomy.
Abravanel's conclusion (one likely to surprise many contemporary Orthodox Jews) is
that Moses wrote the book on his own and that only after it had been written did God, as
it were, extend a divine imprimatur to the book.
144 Afterword
lication of the Mishnah who denies that the Torah teaches resurrection
have a share in the world to come? If the answer is yes, then we seem to
have a case of punishment without prior warning (hatra)ah). If the
answer is no, then theological orthodoxy becomes time-dependent; a
person who denied resurrection before the publication of the Mishnah
could achieve a share in the world to come while one who denied it
afterwards has no share.
Berger continues: 'Even if we were to endorse the debatable assertion
that only people who advertise their denial forfeit eternal felicity, the
fateful action would remain nothing more than a statement of disbeliefin
a dogmatic proposition.' Actually, no. The fateful action would be an
overt act by which one puts oneself outside the community. In tannaitic
Palestine, to state publicly (the Mishnah's criterion, not mine 29 ) that one
denied the heavenly source of Torah, or to deny that the dead will be
resurrected, was not to engage anyone in theological debate; it was to
make a statement about the community from which one excluded one-
self. I argued this at length in the book itself. Berger is on shaky ground
when he refutes the claim; he can only reject it because of his own un-
articulated assumption that rabbinic Judaism must have had dogmas,
because otherwise Maimonides was a religious revolutionary.
But let us assume for the moment that Berger is right in his reading of
Mishnah Sanhedrin x. r and that (despite the arguments adduced above
on pages 33-8 and in the preceding paragraphs) the text means exactly
what he takes it to mean, namely, that Jews who deny that the Torah is
from heaven and who deny that the resurrection will take place (or that
the Torah teaches that the resurrection will take place) lose their share in
the world to come. We are still very far away from the kind of dogmatic
theology he needs to make his critique stick. He must also argue that an
issue of crucial importance is raised in a fairly offhand manner by the
Mishnah, discussed briefly and in a desultory manner by the relevant
Gemara, and ignored by generations ofhalakhic decisors.
Let us look at the issue in strictly historical terms. Systematic theology
(and its outgrowth, dogma) is entirely absent from the Written Torah.
There are a very small number of rabbinic texts which may (but, as I have
argued here and in the book proper, do not have to) be read as implying
that the Sages understood Judaism to be a religion based upon dogma.
29
As noted above (p. 36) the Mishnah uses the expression ha)omer, 'he who says'. Had
the authors of this text meant 'he who thinks' they could have used the biblical expression
amar belibo (Obad. 1: 3; Pss. ro: 6, II, 13; 14: 1, and 53: 2) or some variant of the mishnaic
meharher(Mishnah Ber. iii. 4, etc.; see above, n. 24)
Afterword 145
Apart from Maimonides, would anyone read those texts in this way?
David Berger thinks that the answer is yes, while I remained convinced
that I have shown the better answer to be no.
My disagreement with Berger can be made clearer by reference to the
case of the rebellious elder. In 'Laws of Rebellious Elders [ mamrim ]',iii.
4 Maimonides defines 'the rebellious elder [ zaken mamreh] ofwhom the
Bible speaks' as a member of the high court who disagrees with his
colleagues in the court 'with regard to a question of law, refuses to
change his view, persists in differing with them, [and] gives a practical
ruling which runs counter to that given by them'. However, Maimonides
clarifies in paragraph 6 that, if the elder 'persists in communicating his
opinion to others, but does not give it in the form of a practical ruling,
he is not liable' .30 The rabbis were not seeking uniformity of halakhic
thought and teaching; they were interested in communal solidarity. I
suggest that, to the extent that they considered theological matters at all,
they applied the same approach: one could think pretty much what one
pleased, so long as one did not diverge too publicly from the communal
consensus.
The clearest proof that Berger's critique of my book misses its target is
provided by Berger himself. He has proved conclusively that contem-
porary Habad hasidism is heretical, 31 yet no Orthodox rabbi that I have
ever heard of is willing to follow him in adopting the operative con-
clusions that follow from this finding. This is so, despite the fact that most
Orthodox rabbis persist in saying, with Berger, that 'membership in
good standing in the community of Israel rest[ s] on certain articles of
faith'. Berger is consistent: Habad fails a crucial theological test (divine
unity and incorporeality, i.e. the absolute transcendence of God )32 and
followers of Habad cannot therefore be considered members in good
standing in the community of Israel. Berger's rabbinic colleagues insist
that the test is applicable, and some (in private) are willing to admit that
Habad fails the test, but none is willing (in public) to join Berger in his
30
I cite the translation ofAbraham M . Hershman, The Book offudges, 144-5.
31
See Berger, The Rebbe, the Messiah, and the Scandal ofOrthodox Indifference(Oxford :
Littman Library ofJewish Civilization, 2om) . That many followers ofHabad see the late
Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneersohn as the Messiah is certainly foolish, but not
necessarily heretical. That many of them also attach expressions of divinity to him clearly
violates Maimonides' principles offaith.
32
A test, I might add, probably more important in Maimonides' eyes than the
question of how precisely to define the term 'Torah from Heaven' (about which he
himself held views at variance with what is considered normative by most Orthodox
rabbis today; on this see my forthcoming Maimonides' Confrontation with Mysticism).
Afterword
condemnation ofHabad. Why is that? Leaving aside questions of com-
munal policy and the nature of rabbinic leadership, it seems obvious to
me that in their heart of hearts the rabbis who agree that Ha bad is heresy
but who refuse to condemn it as such are adherents (without knowing it)
of the approach I advocate-other considerations (for them, halakhic
obedience; for me, identification with the past and future of the people of
Israel) trump theological orthodoxy.
A number of reviewers33 were disappointed that I did not adopt a
thoroughgoing theological pluralism. I regret that I must disappoint
them, but to ask a person writing from a standpoint of Orthodoxy (even
as I attempted to define it) to applaud versions ofJudaism which coun-
tenance or advocate large-scale abandonment of halakhah is itself not
only unreasonable, but also intolerant.
To my mind there are two other problems with the call for pluralism.
The first is the implied trivialization of the decision to be Jewish. In
public lectures the late Emil Fackenheim used to confront his listeners
with a chilling point: Jews in nineteenth-century Europe who remained
Jewish condemned millions of their descendants to death. One's deci-
sion to remain Jewish could be fraught with horrifying consequences for
people yet unborn; it is not a decision to be taken lightly. The claim that
all forms ofJ udaism are equally true and valid (however one defines these
words) trivializes the decision to remain Jewish. It ultimately turns
remaining Jewish into a matter of taste or sentiment. I have much greater
respect for a Reform Jew convinced that her interpretation of Torah is
superior to mine and fervently committed to it than I have for someone
whose understanding ofJ udaism has no truth component. With the first
person, I can agree to disagree (the position staked out in this book);
with the second, I have very little to discuss concerning matters ofJewish
religious importance.
The second problem is inherent in the concept of religious pluralism
itself: why not extend the bounds of pluralism beyond the bounds of
Judaism? If one relativizes religious truth within Judaism, on what
grounds can one refuse to relativize it outside Judaism?
Let me rephrase these two points in extreme terms. For thousands of
years Jews have martyred themselves for their faith; to adopt a pluralist
view ofreligious truth is to make a mockery of those sacrifices. It further
implies that any Jew who makes such a sacrifice in the future is misguided.
I must hasten to add that, historically, Judaism has been convinced of
33
Notably Peter Haas, review, Shofar, 19(2001),178-80.
Afterword 147
its own truth without seeking to impose that truth on non-Jews. Indeed,
one way of expressing what I am trying to do in this book is to urge
Orthodoxy to extend the same attitude of respectful disagreement it main-
tains towards righteous non-Jews towards righteous non-Orthodox
Jews.
Daniel H. Frank seeks to exculpate Maimonides from responsibility
for the use to which he has been put by Orthodoxy over the last couple of
centuries. He concludes his interesting review by saying:
I think Maimonides' demands are not unreasonable. He is not hunting heretics,
as Kellner believes, nor is he demanding mindless uniformity of belief. Rather,
he calls Jews to greater reflection on the foundations of their characteristic way
of life. In this regard, I side entirely with Kellner in his own battle against the
forces of mindless uniformity-the thought police. 34
I would rate this a nice try, and I certainly sympathize with its intent.
Unfortunately, it founders on the shoals of some fairly hair-raising
Maimonidean texts. 35 Maimonides certainly did not demand mindless
uniformity of belief, but he definitely preached thoughtful uniformity
and seemed to have no qualms about deploying thought police. Gott-
hold Ephraim Lessing ( 1729-81) is famous for having maintained that, if
God were to offer him all truth in the right hand and the eternal search for
truth in the left, he would choose the left. Maimonides, in common with
all other medievals, would choose the right hand, and expected others to
do so as well. Those who failed to choose the truth were to be con-
demned.
Rabbi Isaac Abrabanel is reputed to have ended lectures on Mai-
monides' philosophy with the words: 'This is the opinion of Rabeinu
Mosheh [Rabbi Moses Maimonides], not of Mosheh Rabeinu [Moses
our teacher].' Abravanel thought that Maimonides held views at variance
with those taught in the Torah, but he still taught those views in public.
Would that Jews today could put up with each other with as much
forbearance!
34
Jewish Quarterly Review, 92 (2002), 275.
35
Examples include Mishneh torah, 'Laws of Repentance', iii. 7; 'Laws ofidolatry', ii.
5-6, v. 5, and x. r. For discussion, see my Dogma, 18-21, and the additional sources cited
there.
APPENDIX ONE
THE idea that individuals are rewarded for their good deeds and pun-
ished for their transgressions is, according to Maimonides, literally a
dogma ofJudaism. The eleventh of his Thirteen Principles is
that He, may He be exalted, rewards him who obeys the commands of the Torah
and punishes him who violates its prohibitions; and the greatest of His rewards is
the world to come while the severest of His punishments is 'being cut off'. We
have already expounded sufficiently on this in this chapter. 1 The verse which
attests to this foundation is: ' ... if You forgive their sin, and if not, erase me,
then from Your book which You have written' (Exod. 32: 32), taken together
with His answer, may He be exalted, 'Him who has sinned against Me, shall I
erase from My book' (Exod. 32: 33). These verses are attestations to [the fact
that] the obedient person and the rebellious person will reach [a point] with
Him, may He be exalted, where He will reward the one and punish the other. 2
On the face of it, this is an unambiguous statement of the doctrine that
people are rewarded for good behaviour and punished for evil behaviour.
It is certainly no surprise to find a figure like Maimonides, one of the
foremost exponents of the rabbinic tradition, presenting the doctrine of
divine retribution as a dogma of Judaism. 3 If any teaching finds near-
unanimous support in rabbinic literature, it is surely this one. 4
1
Maimonides' principles appear at the end of his introduction to his commentary
on the tenth chapter of Mishnah Sanhedrin, 'Perek lfelek'. The original Arabic text with
modern Hebrew translation may be found in Maimonides, Mishnah im perush rahenu
moshe hen maimon, 6 vols., ed. and trans. Joseph Kafih (Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook,
1963), iv. 195-217. For an English translation, see Isadore Twersky, A Maimonides Reader
(New York: Behrman House, 1972 ), 401-23. Maimonides' reference here appears to be to
the text at Mishnah im perush rahenu moshe hen maimon, ed. Kafih, 210 and Twersky, A
Maimonides Reader, 412.
2
I use the translation of David R. Blumenthal, as cited in Kellner, Dogma, 15-16, and
in Appendix 2 below (p. 150 ).
3
Strictly speaking, as I have argued throughout this book, it is surprising to find any
exponent of the rabbinic tradition maintaining that any beliefis a dogmaofJudaism, but
that is not relevant to our theme here.
4
On the doctrine of reward and punishment in rabbinic thought see e.g. the dis-
cussion in Urbach, The Sages, vol. ii, eh. 15, sect. 2.
150 Maimonides on Reward and Punishment
It is also no surprise, therefore, that readers whose understanding
of Maimonides is coloured by the received tradition of Judaism are
thunderstruck, often outraged, when confronted by the claim that
Maimonides actually maintains that the righteous are not directly re-
warded for their good behaviour, nor the wicked directly punished for
their evil behaviour. Yet this understanding of Maimonides is the near-
unanimous opinion of those of his interpreters whose approach to
the 'Great Eagle' is informed by the canons ofWestern academic scholar-
ship. 5
Since many of the arguments in this book stand or fall on the question
of Maimonides' understanding of reward and punishment, and since
some readers of earlier drafts were indeed shocked by my assumption that
Maimonides denies that the righteous are clearly and directly rewarded
for the fulfilment of the commandments, I thought it necessary to write
this appendix. It is my intention here to defend the 'academic' under-
standing ofMaimonides on reward and punishment, show that he could
not possibly have accepted the 'traditionalist' approach, and explain
exactly in what sense he maintains that the righteous are indeed rewarded
and the wicked indeed punished. I will argue further that in his own eyes
his position is in no way heterodox (even though he took considerable
pains to hide his true views from his less sophisticated readers). Attention
will also have to be paid to the nature ofMaimonides' esoteric writing in
his halakhic works.
I will be demonstrating, in other words, that Maimonides put forward
an esoteric teaching on the nature of divine retribution, that that teach-
ing is a consequence of antecedently held philosophical positions, and
that he did not himself hold that teaching to be heterodox. In so doing I
will be advancing a project to which I have devoted considerable atten-
tion, namely showing that Maimonides understood his philosophical
and Jewish commitments to coexist harmoniously and that he was in his
own eyes an 'orthodox' Jew. 6
The best place to begin our investigation is with Maimonides' first
5
Maimonides' view on this matter was well understood by R. Solomon ben Abraham
Adret (Rashba; c.1235- c.1310 ), the leading halakhist of his generation, who complained
about Maimonides' views, 'Are the pious men oflsrael without philosophy not worthy
of an afterlifd' The text appears in Adret's Responsa (Heb.), 2 vols . (Jerusalem: Mosad
Harav Kook, 1990 ), i. 387. I cite it as translated by Moshe Halbertal in People of the Book
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997), u9.
6
See the following of my studies: Dogma, ro-65; Maimonides on Human Perfection;
Maimonides on Judaism; 'Reading Rambam'; 'The Beautiful Captive'; Maimonides on
the (Decline ofthe Generations'.
Maimonides on Reward and Punishment 151
statement of his opinions concerning the nature of retribution in this

world and the next, his introduction to the tenth chapter of Mishnah
Sanhedrin, 'Perek l)elek'. It is at the end of this text that he enunciates his
Thirteen Principles and it is in the light of this text, I maintain, that we
ought to understand the eleventh principle of faith, cited above. In com-
menting on the mishnah which begins 'All Israelites have a share in the
world to come', Maimonides writes:
I must now speak of the great fundamental principles of our faith. Know that the
masters of the Torah hold differing opinions concerning the good which will
come to a person as a result of fulfilling the commandments which God com-
manded us through Moses our Teacher. (p. +02) 7
After describing five different views about the nature of reward for the
fulfilment of the commandments, Maimonides introduces an analogy
by way of explaining the correct understanding of divine retribution. A
small child will study the Torah only if bribed to do so. Such a child
cannot understand that study of the Torah brings us to our perfection
and is thus worth doing in and ofitself. As the child grows, the nature of
the bribes changes (from food, to clothing, to money, to social status).
This is deplorable, Maimonides says, but also unavoidable, 'because of
man's limited insight, as a result of which he makes the goal of wisdom
something other than wisdom itself ... our Sages called this learning not
for its own sake' (p. 4-05 ).
Learning the Torah for its own sake, on the other hand, means that
'the end of studying wisdom [should not] be anything but knowing it.
The truth has no other purpose than knowing that it is truth. Since the
Torah is truth, the purpose of knowing it is to do it' (p. +05). 8 This study
and doing should be motivated by nothing extrinsic to itself:
7
Here and below I cite from the translation found in Twersky, A Maimonides Reader,
401 ff. The translation is relatively loose but sufficient for our purposes. Page references in
the text are to this edition. I have retranslated passages which require greater precision
from the Arabic-Hebrew edition by Kafih, as indicated in the text.
8
Y. Leibowitz (incorrectly) uses this passage to prove that the fulfilment of the com-
mandments is 'not a means: it is the end in itself'. For Leibowitz's texts and a critique of
them see the important article by Hannah Kasher,' "Torah for its Own Sake", "Torah
not for its Own Sake", and the Third Way', Jewish Quarterly Review, 79 (1988-9 ), 153-63
at 157. This fine article provides significant support for the interpretation of Maimonides
put forward here. Further on our issue, see the discussion between Hannah Kasher and
Michael Zvi Nehorai in Tarbits, 64/2 (1995), 301-8. See also Dov Schwartz, 'Avicenna
and Maimonides on Immortality: A Comparative Study', in Ronald Nettler (ed.), Studies
in Muslim-Jewish Relations (Chur, Switzerland: Harwood Academic Publishers, 1993),
185-97. For another very useful and convincing study relevant to my theme here, see
A good man must not wonder, 'Ifl perform these commandments, which are
virtues, and if I refrain from these transgressions, which are vices which God
commanded us not to do, what will I get out of it?' This is precisely what the
child does when he asks, 'Ifl read, what will you give me?' (p. 405)
In promising a child some sweet or toy in order to motivate it to learn, we
are acting in accordance with Proverbs 26: 5: 'Answer the fool according
to his folly.' It is reasonable to extrapolate and see that Maimonides is
hinting that when a person is promised some earthly reward for the study
of the Torah or the fulfilment of its commandments, that promise is an
instance of answering the fool according to his folly.
Maimonides seems to confirm this interpretation immediately: 'Our
sages have already warned us about this. They said that one should not
make the goal of one's service of God or of doing the commandments
anything in the world of things' (p. +06 ). 9 One who does so does not
serve God out oflove. The true servant of God, Maimonides continues,
quoting the Talmud, desires God's commandments, not the reward of
God's commandments. 10
Maimonides admits that it is hard to motivate the masses to serve God
out of love, with no thought of reward or fear of punishment. 'There-
fore,' he says, 'in order that the masses stay faithful and do the command-
ments, it was permitted to tell them that they might hope for a reward
and to warn them against transgressions out of fear of punishment ...
just like the child in the analogy which I cited above' (p. +06).
Having made his position tolerably clear, that only fools and children
expect rewards for the fulfilment of the commandments or for the
study of the Torah, Maimonides suddenly shifts his attention to a new
question altogether: how to understand the words of the Sages (in mid-
rashic and aggadic contexts). The suddenness of this shift of attention
is actually more apparent than real. Maimonides is interested here in
Jerome Gellman, 'Radical Responsibility in Maimonides' Thought', in Ira Robinson et
al. (eds.), The Thought ofMoses Maimonides (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1990 ),
249-65.
9
i.e. in this earthly world. The passage quoted is from BT Avodah zarah l9a.
10
Maimonides' statements on service of God out oflove have recently been collected
and analysed by Abraham Feintuch, Upright Commands (Heb.) (Jerusalem: Ma'aliyot,
1992 ), 80-2. See further Menachem Kellner,' Philosophical Misogyny in Medieval Jewish
Thought: Gersonides vs. Maimonides', in A. Ravitzky (ed.), From Rome to Jerusalem:
The Joseph Sermonetta Memorial Volume (He b.) (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1998 ), n3-28.
In addition to the sources cited in these two studies, see also Guide, iii. 28-9. For im-
portant new insights into the issue, see Howard Haim Kreisel, 'Love and Fear of God in
Maimonides' Thought' (He b.), Da)at, 37 ( 1996 ), 127-52.
teaching us how to understand rabbinic discussions of reward in the

world to come.
There are those who interpret the Sages literally and accept their
teachings on that level; there are others who also interpret the Sages liter-
ally but therefore reject their teachings as contrary to reason. The very
small number of people who interpret the words of the Sages correctly
realize that to interpret them literally is to impute nonsense to them.
People of this sort understand that 'whenever the sages spoke of things
which seem impossible, they were employing the style of riddle and
parable which is the method of truly great thinkers' (p. 409 ).
Having made these introductions, Maimonides can finally 'begin to
discuss the matter with which I am really concerned' (p. +rn ). This is, that
true delight is spiritual. Such delight has no physical analogue, being of a
different dimension altogether. The angels, heavenly bodies, and spheres
'experience great delight in that they know by experience the true being
of God the Creator. With this knowledge they enjoy delight which is
both perpetual and uninterrupted' (p. +n). Individuals who purify them-
selves in this world will achieve this 'spiritual height'.
How does one purify oneselfin order to achieve this rarefied existence?
Maimonides makes himself fairly clear, commenting on a passage from
BT Berakhot 17a which reads: 'In the world to come there is no eating,
drinking, washing, anointing, or sexual intercourse; but the righteous sit
with their crowns on their heads enjoying the radiance of the divine
presence.' The expression 'crowns on their heads', Maimonides explains,
signifies the existence of the soul through the existence ofthat which it knows, in
that they are the same thing as the experts in philosophy have maintained . . .
The expression, 'enjoying the radiance of the divine presence' means that those
souls enjoy what they know of the Creator, as the IJayot hakodesh and other
degrees of angels 11 enjoy what they have cognized of His existence. (p. 412; my
translation)
Maimonides explains to us here that the reward of the righteous in the

world to come is the existence of the soul thanks to what it has learned.
This existence is blissful because it involves the cognition of God. This is
something taught by the 'experts in philosophy'.
Maimonides sharpens the point in the sequel: the final end of human
beings, their ultimate felicity, consists in knowing God, which knowledge
'is the cause [of the soul's] continued existence, as was established in
11
For Maimonides on the J?ayot hakodesh ('holy animals') and other degrees of angels,
see 'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah', ii. 7.
first philosophy'. 'First philosophy', of course, is a standard Aristotelian
expression referring to metaphysics.
Reward in the world to come, then, is a consequence of achieving a
certain kind of knowledge in this life and consists of enjoying that know-
ledge without change and without end. If that is reward, what is punish-
ment? Maimonides is quick to answer that the ultimate punishment
'consists in the cutting off of the soul so that it perishes and does not
exist' (p. 412; my translation). 12 If this is the case, Maimonides con-
tinues, what could be 'the meaning of the promises of good and threats
of evil punishment which are contained in the Torah?' When the
Torah promises a reward, it means that God will remove obstacles to
human fulfilment, 'so that men who strive to do the commandments
will be healthy and at peace so that their knowledge will be perfected
and they will [thereby] merit life in the world to come' (p. 413; my
translation).
We may now summarize Maimonides' position as it has been de-
veloped to this point. Fulfilment of the commandments enables us to
learn about God. Learning about God is the key to the soul's survival
after the death of the body. The fulfilment of the commandments itself
without learning about God does not bring one to the world to come,
while it appears that Maimonides would hold (indeed, has to hold, as I
will show below) that learning about God without fulfilment of the
commandments does bring one to the world to come. 13
There is an important point which must be emphasized here. Life in
the world to come is not a reward in the sense that if a person does x then
God responds by granting that person a share in the world to come. For
12
A consequence ofMaimonides' position-a consequence from which he does not
shrink-is that there is no actual punishment after death. He makes that point tolerably
clear in his discussion of the biblical karet ('cutting off') in 'Laws of Repentance', i. 1
and i. 5, and explicitly in viii. r. His statements on this matter have deeply troubled
traditionalist interpreters of the Mishneh torah, starting with N ahmanides and continuing
through R. Joseph Karo (in his Kesef mishneh on 'Laws of Repentance', viii. 1) to our
own day in the commentaries of Rabbi Nachum Rabinovitch, and Rabbi Joseph Kafih.
The ingenuity of these commentators aside, it will be shown below that Maimonides
could not have held any other position. For Nahmanides, see his Writings and Discourses,
trans. Charles B. Chavel (New York: Shilo, 1978), 390-5, 495-504; for Rabinovitch, see
his Yad peshutah on the Mishneh torah, book r (Sefer hamada), 2 vols. (Jerusalem:
Ma'aliyot, 1990 ), i. 971; for Kafih, see his commentary on the Mishneh torah, book r ( Sefer
hamada) (Jerusalem: Makhon Moshe, 1986 ), 636.
13
I hasten to add that Maimonides was not optimistic that many could learn about
God without fulfilling the commandments, only that the possibility existed. For details,
see Kellner, Maimonideson Judaism, 29-32.
Maimonides, one achieves a share in the world to come by learning about

God. As he puts it,
When one perfects oneself as a human being, and genuinely differentiates one-
self from the animals, 14 one becomes a perfected human being; a characteristic
ofthis degree is that nothing external can restrain the soul from existing through
that which it cognizes, and this is the world to come, as we have explained.
(p. +16; my translation)
In other words, life in the world to come is a consequence of having

achieved human perfection, not a reward for a particular sort of behav-
iour.15 For Maimonides, correct behaviour (i.e. fulfilment of the com-
mandments) is surely obligatory, and certainly an important condition
for achieving human perfection, but in itself it does not constitute that
perfection and there is, literally, no direct reward for it. 16
Maimonides' position here in his commentary on 'Perek l).elek' is
couched in very traditional language, and most readers, expecting to find
a traditional account, and not familiar with the Aristotelian background
to Maimonides' argumentation (which I will elucidate below), are not
even aware that an unusual stance is being taken.
The position on reward and punishment which I have found in
14
Accepting the Aristotelian definition of a human being as a rational animal (see
Guide, i. l-2), Maimonides is committed to the proposition that the specific difference
which marks humans off from other animals is their rationality. Thus, one 'genuinely
differentiates oneself from the animals' by achieving rationality and thus becoming fully
human. Those who do not make the grade remain animals in human form. Such a one 'is
not a man, but an animal having the shape and configuration of man' (Guide, i. 8, p. 33; cf.
iii. 18, p. 475 and commentary on Mishnah Ffagigah ii. 1). This last text is available in
an annotated English translation: Menachem Kellner, 'Maimonides' Commentary on
Ffagigah ii. 1', in Marc Angel (ed.), From Strength to Strength (New York: Sepher
Hermon Press, 1988), 101-n
15
The point is put very well by Kasher in' "Torah for its Own Sake"'. As Kasher puts
it, Maimonides replaces 'the principle of just recompense with a rational doctrine of
natural consequence' (p. 157). Further, 'God's rule of the world and his providential
actions are not based upon the idea of reward and punishment, but upon a natural process
which leads to a desirable outcome' (p. 162).
16
We are now in a position to understand why there can be no punishment after death
for the wicked: nothing remains to be punished! If we are born, live, and die without
perfecting ourselves as human beings, then we die as we were born: human beings in
potentia only. Maimonides' Aristotelian doctrine of the soul makes it impossible for him
to posit punishment after death for evildoers. The righteous (=intellectually perfected)
create their own immortality and enjoy it when they die; the wicked ( = those who have
not actualized their intellectual potential even to a small degree) create nothing and
therefore are nothing when they die.
Maimonides on Reward and Punishment
Maimonides' commentary on 'Perek l)elek' is repeated in other of his
works, both halakhic and philosophical. I have cited and analysed these
texts in another context; 17 here I must be content briefly to summarize
them.
In 'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah', iv. 9, Maimonides ex-
plicitly connects knowledge of God with the persistence of the soul after
death. In 'Laws of Repentance', viii. 3, again quoting from BT Berakhot
17a, Maimonides repeats that the expression 'their crowns on their heads'
'refers to the knowledge they have acquired, and on account of which
they have attained life in the world to come'.
Maimonides' position on fulfilment of the commandments and re-
ward in the world to come finds clear expression in the Guide of the
Perplexed. A human being's ultimate perfection, Maimonides maintains,
is to become rational in actu; this would consist in knowing everything con-
cerning all the beings that it is within the capacity of man to know in accordance
with his ultimate perfection. It is clear that to this ultimate perfection there
do not belong either actions or moral qualities and that it consists only of
ideas toward which speculation has led and that investigation has rendered
compulsory. 18
Perfection consists only in knowledge. 19 This perfection is purely intel-

lectual; 'actions or moral qualities' do not constitute it all.
What is going on here? Does Maimonides really mean to teach that
fulfilment of the commandments is a waste of time, and that in order to
reach ultimate perfection one must devote oneself wholly to perfecting
one's intellect? Were that his position, he would really have placed
17
See Kellner, Maimonideson Human Perfection, 1-5.
18
Guide, iii. 27, p. 5n; emphasis added.
19
Some students of Maimonides maintain that such perfection is actually impossible
and thus hold that he denied that anyone could really achieve a share in the world to
come. This view, held by Shlomo Pines, obviously turns Maimonides into a self-cons-
ciously heterodox thinker. Pines' position has been criticized by Alexander Altmann and
Herbert Davidson . See Shlomo Pines, 'The Limitations of Human Knowledge Accord-
ing to al-Farabi, ibn Bajjah, and Maimonides', in Isadore Twersky (ed.), Studies in Medi-
evalJewish History and Literature, i (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1979 ),
82-109; Alexander Altmann, 'Maimonides on the Intellect and the Scope of Meta-
physics', in Von der mittelalterlichen zur modernen Aufkliirung (Tiibingen: Mohr, 1987 ),
60-129; Herbert A. Davidson, 'Maimonides on Metaphysical Knowledge', Maimon-
idean Studies, 3 (1992-3), 49-103. The question of what sort of knowledge constitutes
human perfection has also been debated. See Warren Zev Harvey, 'R. Hasdai Crescas and
his Critique of Philosophic Happiness' (He b.), Proceedings ofthe Sixth World Congress of
Jewish Studies, 3 (1977), 143-9.
himself so far outside the mainstream of the rabbinic tradition as to justify

the claims of those who see him as an epikoros, a self-conscious heretic.
Maimonides, however, neither says nor intimates that Jews are not
obligated to fulfil the commandments. We are indeed so obligated, and
it is good for us to do so. What he does hold is that there is no direct,
quid pro quo compensation for the fulfilment of the commandments. We
ought to fulfil the commandments in a mature fashion, out oflove, with
no expectation of reward.
What good then are the commandments and their fulfilment? Maim-
onides essays an answer to this near the very end of the Guide:
all the actions prescribed by the Torah-I refer to the various species ofworship
and also the moral habits that are useful to all people in their mutual dealings-
... all this is not to be compared with this ultimate end and does not equal it,
being but preparationsfor the sake ofthis end. 20
The commandments are preparations which enable human beings to

achieve their proper end, intellectual perfection. Through the achieve-
ment of such perfection, one constitutes one's own immortality.
How does this work? In order to answer this question we must look at
Maimonides' psychology, or theory of the soul. This is a subject to which
I have also paid attention elsewhere, and so here, again, I will only sum-
marize the key elements ofMaimonides' theory. 21 Maimonides adopted
an account of the nature of human psychology called the theory of the
acquired intellect. According to this theory, humans are born with a
potential to learn, which they may or may not actualize, and it is this
20
Guide, iii. 54, p. 636; emphasis added.
21
See Kellner, Maimonides on Judaism, passim and esp. 9-16. With respect to Maim-
onides' adoption of the theory of the acquired intellect, Isaac Abrabanel also attributes it
to him in his commentary on Guide of the Perplexed, i. l, i. 41 (Abrabanel's commentary
is found in the standard Hebrew editions of the Guide), in his commentary on Genesis
(Jerusalem: BeneiArabel, 1964), 67, and in Yeshu'otmeshil;o, section ( iyun) l, eh. 5 (Benei
Berak: Me'orei Sefarad, 1993), 92. He sees Alexander of Aphrodisias as Maimonides'
source and criticizes the latter heartily for following Alexander in this matter. In his
commentary on l Samuel 25, third root (Jerusalem: Torah Veda' at, 1955), 286, Abrabanel
argues, against Maimonides, that immortality is not restricted to the 'souls of perfected
individuals, who survive through their concepts or their desired actions, but the souls of
the wicked also survive in the world of souls in order to be punished there ' . Abrabanel
goes on to connect the view he rejects (that the wicked have no world to come) to the
psychology of Alexander of Aphrodisias, according to which the human soul is at birth
(only) a disposition. This latter view he also attributes to Maimonides, and he hints rather
broadly that Maimonides also accepts the view that the wicked do not survive to be
punished in the world to come.
capability and its actualization in which their humanity lies. In slightly
more formal terms, we are born with a capacity to know; to the extent
that we actualize that capacity by learning truth, we become actual
intellects-we have acquired our intellects; if we fail to actualize our
intellects, that capacity with which we are born is wasted and nothing
survives the death of our bodies. 22 It is important to note here that on the
theory of the acquired intellect the only way to achieve immortality, what
Jews call earning a portion in the world to come, is through actually
acquiring an intellect by perfecting ourselves intellectually. There is
simply no other mechanism available to Maimonides on his own under-
standing of the nature ofhuman beings.
One could reply, of course, that there is nothing to stop God from
working a miracle and granting a saintly but simple person a share in the
world to come. On Maimonides' theory of miracles this solution is not
available. Maimonides' understanding of the stable character of nature,
and his consistent attempts to explain miracles in naturalistic terms, make
it impossible that he should hold that God works miracle after miracle to
guarantee a share in the world to come to every saintly but philosophic-
ally unsophisticated person who dies. Maimonides, indeed, explicitly
distances himselffrom the 'masses', who, he says,
like nothing better, and in their silliness, enjoy nothing more, than to settle the
Torah and reason at opposite ends, and to move everything far from the explic-
able. So they claim it to be a miracle, and they shrink from identifying it as a
natural incident ... But I try to reconcile the Torah and reason, and wherever
possible consider all things as of the natural order. Only when something is
explicitly identified as a miracle, and reinterpretation of it cannot be accom-
modated, only then I feel forced to grant that this is a miracle. 23
Now, Maimonides is quite clear in maintaining that in order to perfect

our intellects we must achieve and maintain a high level of moral
perfection. In the Guide of the Perplexed, he discusses four types of
perfection which pertain to human beings (possessions, physical consti-
tution, morals, and intellect). Of the third he says:
The third kind is a perfection that to a greater extent than the second kind
22
As we saw above, this is what Maimonides calls karet, the biblical punishment of
being 'cut off'.
23
This passage is found in Maimonides' 'Treatise on Resurrection'. I cite it (with
slight emendations) as translated by Halkin in Crisis and Leadership, 223 . Further on this
subject see my discussion of Maimonides' understanding of nature and miracles in
Kellner, Maimonides on the (Decline ofthe Generations', 27-36.
subsists in the self. This is the perfection of the moral virtues. It consists in the
individual's moral habits having attained their utmost excellence. Most of the
commandments serve no other end than the attainment of this kind of per-
fection. But this kind of perfection is likewise a preparation for something else
and not an end in itself. 24
Most of the commandments serve to bring us to moral perfection. 25 But
this perfection to which we are brought by the fulfilment of the com-
mandments is not an end in itself; rather, it is 'a preparation for some-
thing else'. For what is it a preparation? Maimonides answers imme-
diately:
The fourth kind is the true human perfection; it consists in the acquisition of the
rational virtues- I refer to the conception of the intelligibles, which teach true
opinions concerning the divine things. This is in true reality the ultimate end;
this is what gives the individual true perfection, a perfection belonging to him
alone; and it gives him permanent perdurance; through it man is man.
Fulfilment of the commandments is thus not valuable in and ofitself; it is,
rather, a means for achieving the one truly human virtue, the one truly
human perfection, the one activity which constitutes us as human beings
in this world and guarantees our existence in the next, namely, the 'con-
ception of the intelligibles, which teach true opinions concerning the
divine things' .26
Maimonides himself stresses this point, stating further
that similarly all the actions prescribed by the Torah-I refer to the various
species of worship and also the moral habits that are useful to people in their
mutual dealings-that all this is not to be compared with this ultimate end
[wisdom] and does not equal it, being but preparations made for the sake of this
end. 27
As we saw above, looking for rewards in this world for the fulfilment of
the commandments is a sign of immaturity and foolishness; while the
only reward in the next world is an outgrowth and consequence of (not a
24
Guide, iii. 54, p. 635.
25
Most, but not all, since some commandments bring us to adopt true beliefs, such
as observance of the Sabbath, which teaches creation, and the first of the Ten Com-
mandments, which teaches God's existence.
26
i.e. metaphysics. For an analysis of the many texts in which Maimonides makes the
identification, 'secrets of the Torah'= 'Account of the Chariot'= metaphysics, see Kell-
ner, Maimonides on Judaism, 65-80 . See also the important study by Sara Klein- Braslavy,
King Solomon and Philosophical Esotericism in Maimonides, Teaching (Heb.) (Jerusalem:
Magnes, 1996), 48-75, 203-10.
27
Guide, iii. 54, p. 636.
response to) our intellectual perfection and nothing else. We can now see
why for Maimonides there can be no reward or punishment in this world
or the next for the fulfilment of the commandments or their violation as
such.
Why, then, should we fulfil the commandments? The very question
would have given Maimonides a stomach-ache, I think, since in his view
it is so wrong-headed. In the first place, Jews are commanded by God to
fulfil the commandments. Jews who love God will fulfil the command-
ments with devotion and joy, with no thought whatsoever of reward.
Furthermore, the fulfilment of the commandments is good for you. It
makes you into a better person. Even more, a society of individuals
fulfilling the commandments of the Torah will be a stable and just
society, as Maimonides makes clear in the Guide (iii. 27). Finally, in order
to realize our potential we must lead ordered, structured, disciplined,
and moral lives, otherwise we will never fulfil ourselves as human beings,
i.e. as rational animals. Maimonides was convinced that there is no
better way to achieve that end than through the fulfilment of God's
commandments.
A word of explanation concerning this last point is warranted.
Achieving intellectual perfection is extremely hard work, demanding
years of disciplined study and devotion in the search of truth, not en-
joyment of the pleasures of this world in and of themselves. 28 Very few
people can discipline themselves in this fashion. Adopting a mode of
life which channels our desires in a healthy fashion, disciplines our be-
haviour, and leads (those who are able) to intellectual perfection makes
the likelihood of perfecting ourselves as human beings much greater. 29 It
is not impossible for Gentiles to accomplish this; it is simply much harder
for them than for Jews since they do not have the Torah. 30
Maimonides' position may be summarized thus: fulfilment of the
commandments is both an obligation and also certainly good for you,
but brings no direct reward, in this world or the next; transgressing the
commandments is forbidden and bad for you, but brings no direct
punishment, in this world or the next.
All this being said, it is still the case that in not a few places Maimonides
28
Intellectual perfection must also be constantly renewed. As Lenn Goodman once
pointed out to me, it is not like money in the bank, but is, rather, like health or vigour.
Without constant exercise, one loses one's vigour. In this sense, intellectual perfection
is like treading water: if you stop, you sink.
29
On this way oflife, see Kellner, 'Revelation and Messianism'.
30
On this point, see Kellner, Maimonideson Judaism, 23-32.
clearly speaks as if he accepted a traditionalist account of reward and

punishment. Thus, in 'Laws ofRepentance', Maimonides writes: 'In that
it is known that the reward for the [fulfilment of the] commandments,
and the good that we will receive if we observe the way of the Lord as
written in the Torah is life in the world to come ... '. Maimonides here
says that life in the world to come is earned through the fulfilment of the
commandments. 31 This is, of course, good solid traditional Judaism, but
it is a far cry from the doctrine which I hope I have shown here to be
espoused by Maimonides and summarized in the previous paragraph.
We have a number of choices here. We can accept the text from the
'Laws of Repentance' as normative and attempt to interpret the texts
adduced above in support of the interpretation of Maimonides urged
here in its light; or, alternatively, we can take 'my' interpretation of
Maimonides as correct and seek to understand why he seems to diverge
from it here in the 'Laws of Repentance'. Not surprisingly, I propose to
adopt this second alternative, and I would like to explain why.
The interpretation ofMaimonides' stance on reward and punishment
presented here follows from several other positions which Maimonides
clearly holds. Ifwe reject it, we must also reject Maimonides' views on the
nature of human beings, their perfection, and his understanding of
miracles. That is an unacceptably high price to pay.
Why, though, does Maimonides not present his position clearly and
unambiguously? Why does he force us to tease it out of texts like the
introduction to 'Perek Q.elek' (as we did above), and why does he seem to
contradict it (as in the passage just cited from 'Laws ofRepentance')? 32
An answer to this question may be found in Guide ofthe Perplexed, iii. 28.
There we are told that in addition to teaching truths in a summary
fashion, the Torah 'also makes a call to adopt certain beliefs, belief in
which is necessary for the sake of political welfare'. That is, the Torah
teaches things which are themselves not strictly and literally true, but are
beliefs which the masses must accept so as not to undermine the stability
of society. The example cited by Maimonides clearly confirms this inter-
31 'Laws of Repentance', ix. r. For further examples, see 'Laws of Forbidden Inter-
course', xiv. 3; Commentary on Mishnah Makot, iii. 17.

32
In actual fact, I think that the contradiction is more apparent than real. Ifwe under-
stand Maimonides here in light of a passage already cited from the commentary on 'Perek
J:elek' ('so that men who strive to do the commandments will be healthy and at peace so
that their knowledge will be perfected and they will [thereby] merit life in the world to
come'), we can understand him to be saying that obedience to the commandments leads
to health and peace, which in turn enables people to devote themselves to the acquisition
of knowledge, which brings them to the world to come.
pretation: 'Such, for example, is our belief that He, may He be exalted, is
violently angry with those who disobey Him and it is therefore necessary
to fear Him and to dread Him and to take care not to disobey.' Now,
Maimonides makes it abundantly clear in many contexts that God does
not really get angry. 33 But it is certainly useful for religiously immature
people to believe that God gets angry so that they 'take care not to dis-
obey'. At the end of the chapter Maimonides sums up his position very
clearly:
In some cases a commandment communicates a correct belief ... In other cases
the belief is [only] necessary for the abolition of reciprocal wrongdoing or for
the acquisition of a noble moral quality-as, for instance, the belief that He, may
He be exalted, has a violent anger against those who do injustice, according to
what is said: 'And My wrath shall wax hot, and I will kill ... ' [Exod. 22: 23] and as
the belief that He, may He be exalted, responds instantaneously to the prayer of
someone wronged or deceived: 'And it shall come to pass, when he crieth unto
Me, that I will hear; for I am gracious' [Exod. 22: 26].
It is hard to state the point more clearly than this: it is important that
people believe that God gets violently angry with sinners and it is im-
portant for them to believe that God immediately answers the prayers of
the wronged. The Torah therefore teaches that these beliefs are true; that
does not mean that they are actually true in and of themselves. They are
necessary beliefs, not true beliefs. 34
The notion that the righteous are rewarded for the fulfilment of the
commandments in this world and the next, without any reference to their
intellectual attainments, and that the wicked are punished in the next
world, if not clearly in this world, for their transgressions, 35 is, I submit, a
necessary beliefwithout being a true one. As Maimonides himself told us
in the introduction to 'Perek l)elek', very few people are mature enough
33
See esp. Guide, i. 54. Further on Maimonides' extremely negative attitude towards
anger, see Guide, iii. 8; 'Laws of Character Traits', ii. 3; commentary on Pirkei avotii. rn;
and Book of Commandments, positive commandment 317.
34
As we saw above, Maimonides writes in his commentary on 'Perek l).elek', 'in order
that the masses stay faithful and do the commandments, it was permitted to tell them that
they might hope for a reward and to warn them against transgressions out of fear of
punishment'.
35
It is crucial to remember that for Maimonides moral perfection is a prerequisite
of intellectual perfection. He does not have to 'worry' that an intellectually perfected
wicked person will 'sneak' into the world to come. Wicked people do not achieve true
intellectual perfection. This position is, I think, objectively false (Martin Heidegger, for
example, was a moral pygmy and at the same time an important philosopher); but that
does not mean that Maimonides did not hold it. He is allowed to be wrong.
to fulfil the commandments of the Torah for its own sake. They must be
motivated by promises of reward and threats of punishment. These
promises are in one sense false: there is no quid pro quo reward for the
fulfilment of the commandments; one does not earn credit points in
some heavenly bank account for obeying the commandments of the
Torah. But in another sense these promises are true: obeying the com-
mandments of the Torah is surely good for you. In most cases such
obedience in and ofitself (with no divine intervention) leads to a happier
and more fulfilled life, and to a better and more just society. Obedience
to the commandments is also a crucially important, if neither necessary
nor sufficient, step towards achieving true human perfection and the life
in the world to come which is a consequence of that perfection.
APPENDIX TWO
I use the translation of David R. Blumenthal in his The Commentary of

R. Ifoter hen Shelomo to the Thirteen Principles ofMaimonides(Leiden:
Brill, 1974 ), pp. 52, 74, 83, 91, rn7, n4, 125, 144, 148, 164, 166, 171, and
l8I.
WHAT is appropriate for me to record now-and this is the most appro-

priate place to record them-is that the principles of our pure Torah and
its foundations are thirteen foundations. 1
The first foundation is the existence of the Creator, 2 may He be
praised; to wit that there exists a being in the most perfect type of exist-
ence and that it is the cause of the existence of all other beings . In this
being is the source of their existence, and from it derives their [con-
tinued] existence. If we were able to eliminate its existence, then the
existence of all other beings would be nullified and nothing would
remain. However, if we were able to eliminate the existence of all beings
other than it, His existence, may He be exalted, would not be nullified
nor be lacking, for He is self-sufficient, dependent upon no other for His
existence. Everything other than He of the Intelligences, 3 meaning the
1
As noted above (p. 54), Isaac Abrabanel explains that Maimonides presented the
Thirteen Principles in an attempt to define the term 'Israelite' as used in Mishnah
Sanhedrin x. r ('All Israelites have a share in the world to come ... ' ).
2
Maimonides' use of this term (albari in Arabic) here does not of itself imply a
doctrine of creation out of nothing . In the original version of the principles (on which,
see n . 18 below) Maimonides does not make acceptance of the doctrine of creation out
of nothing a principle of faith . On the term, see Warren Zev Harvey, 'A Third Approach
to Maimonides' Cosmogony-Prophetology Puzzle', Harvard Theological Review, 74
(1981), 287-301at296; also the discussion in Kellner, Dogma, 53 - 61. In this first principle,
God is described as cause of the world, not as its creator, even though the term 'creator'
is used. This point troubled R. Shimon ben Tsemah Duran (1361-1444), since it appears
to be the position ofAristotle and not that of the Torah. See Kellner, Dogma, 87-8 .
3
By 'Intelligences' Maimonides means the 'separate intellects' (sekhalim nivdalim in
Hebrew): those disembodied intellects whose name derives from their being 'separate'-
distinct from - matter, as opposed to human intellects, which develop out of a material
disposition, and which in Maimonides' Neoplatonized Aristotelianism move the heavenly
spheres and constitute the intermediate stages of existence between God and our world.
Identifying them with the biblical angels is not to pour new wine into old bottles, as
The Thirteen Principles 165
angels, and the matter of the spheres,4 is dependent upon Him for its
existence. This first foundation is attested to by the verse, 'I am the Lord
thy God' (Exod. 20: 2). 5
The second foundation is God's unity, may He be exalted; to wit, that
this One, Who is the cause of [the existence of] everything, is one. 6 His
oneness is unlike the oneness of a genus, or of a species. 7 Nor is it like the
oneness of a single composed individual, which can be divided into many
units. 8 Nor is His oneness like that of the simple body which is one in
number but infinitely divisible. 9 Rather, He, may He be exalted, is one
with a oneness for which there is no comparison at all. The second foun-
dation is attested to by the verse: 'Hear, 0 Israel, the Lord our God, the
Lord is one' (Deut. 6: 4).
The third foundation is the denial of corporeality to Him; to wit, that
this One is neither a body nor a force within a body. 10 None of the
characteristics of a body appertains to Him, either by His essence or as an
accident thereof, as for example, movement and rest. 11 It is for this reason
Maimonides was convinced that the Torah taught metaphysics and that the actual mean-
ing of the biblical term 'angel' was 'separate intellect'.
4
This passage is made clearer by 'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah', ii. 3. There
Maimonides informs us that all created entities fall into three classes: transitory entities
composed of matter and form (all that exists in the sublunar natural world); permanent
entities composed of matter and form (the spheres and heavenly bodies); and permanent
entities composed of form only (the angels, or separate intellects). Cf. further Guide, ii.
10, p. 273. Maimonides' point here would appear to be that everything in the universe,
emphatically including unchanging heavenly entities, depends upon God for its existence.
5
Maimonides' claim that this verse teaches the doctrine of God's existence, com-
monly accepted today (because ofMaimonides' vast influence) was a matter of consider-
able debate in the Middle Ages. See Kellner, Dogma, 127-36.
6
Once again, God is presented as cause of the universe, not necessarily as its creator.
To this Aristotle, who held the universe to be uncreated but not uncaused, would have no
objection.
7
A genus (such as mammals) is one, but not simple, since it is composed of species; a
species is one, but not simple, since it is composed ofindividuals.
8
Even an individual, which, unlike a genus or a species, is not composed of members,
is still composed of components, such as the four elements.
9
Even simple elements (earth, air, water, fire) can be divided into ever smaller bits
( Maimonides could say this since he rejected atomism in favour of the doctrine of matter
and form).
10
i.e. God is neither a body nor a force which exists as the consequence of the existence
of a body. An example of the latter in modern terms would be the force of gravity as we
experience it.
11
Movement and rest, that is, are 'accidents' of material bodies, not essential charac-
teristics of them. A material body can be either in motion or at rest; either way it remains a
material body.
166 The Thirteen Principles
that they, may they rest in peace, denied to Him division and continuity
in saying: 'There is no sitting, nor standing, nor oref [lit. "shoulder"],
nor ipui [lit. "fatigue"] in heaven.' 12 They meant that there is no 'divis-
ion' which is ore[, nor is there any continuity (as it is said: ve)afu bekhatef
pelishtim [Isa. n: 4 ], meaning, 'they shall push them with their shoulders
[to form a continuous mass] because they are closely packed together,' as
the T argum says, 'they shall put their shoulders together') .13 The prophet
has said: 'To whom then will you compare Me so that I be similar?' (Isa.
40: 25). Were God a body, He would then resemble bodies. 14 Everything
mentioned in the Scriptures which describes Him, may He be exalted, as
having the attributes of a body, such as moving from place to place, or
standing, or sitting, or speaking, and so on, is all metaphors, allegories,
and riddles, as they have said, 'The Torah speaks in human language.' 15
People have philosophized a great deal about this matter. 16 This third
foundation is attested to by the verse 'you saw no image' (Deut. 4: 15),
meaning, 'you did not perceive Him, may He be exalted, as having an
image,' for He is, as we have said, neither a body nor a force within a
body.
The fourth foundation is God's precedence; 17 to wit, that this one who
just been described is He Who precedes everything absolutely. No other
being has precedence with respect to Him. There are many verses
attesting to this in Scripture. The verse attesting to it [best] is 'the God of
12
BT lfagigah l5a.
13
Targum on Isa. n: +. The parenthetical expression here is part ofMaimonides' text;
I have added the parentheses for the sake of clarity. The point of these two sentences is
that Maimonides is attributing to the rabbis in BT Jfagigah lSa the doctrine of divine
incorporeality.
14
i.e. were God a body, a comparison with other bodies would be possible. Here
Maimonides is attributing the doctrine of divine incorporeality to Isaiah.
15
The statement is drawn from BT Berakhot 31b. As Abraham Nuriel has shown,
Maimonides wholly revised the meaning of this rabbinic statement. Its original use was to
claim that not every apparently extra word in Scripture should be understood as teaching
something taught nowhere else (on the basis of the rabbinic teaching that there are no
unnecessary words in Scripture), since some apparently extra words are necessitated by
the way in which Hebrew is actually spoken . Maimonides took it to mean that Scripture
couched philosophical teachings in mythological language, suitable for the simple-
minded or uneducated. See Abraham Nuriel,' "The Torah Speaks in Human Language"
in the Guide of the Perplexed', in A. Kasher and M . Hallamish (eds .), Religion and
Language(Heb.) (Tel Aviv: University Publications, 1981), 97-103.
16
Maimonides himself devotes the first fifty chapters of the Guide ofthe Perplexed to an
analysis of biblical terms which seem to impute corporeality to God.
17
Arabic: alkadam; Hebrew: kadmon. This term may denote only ontological, not
temporal, precedence. Seen. l above.
The Thirteen Principles
eternity is a dwelling place' (Deut. 33: 27). 18 Know that a foundation of
the great Torah of Moses is that the world is created: God created it and
formed it after its absolute non-existence. That you see me circling
around the idea of the eternity of the world is only so that the proof of
His existence will be absolute as I explained and made clear in the
Guide. 19
The fifth foundation is that He, may He be exalted, is He Whom it is
proper to worship and to praise; and [that it is also proper] to promulgate
praise of Him and obedience to Him. This may not be done for any being
other than Him in reality, from among the angels, the spheres, the
elements, and that which is composed of them, for all these have their
activities imprinted upon them. 20 They have no destiny [of their own]
and no rootedness [of their own in reality] other than His love, may He
be exalted [of them]. Do not, furthermore, seize upon intermediaries in
order to reach Him but direct your thoughts towards Him, may He be
exalted, and turn away from that which is other than He. 21 This fifth
18
This principle, as expressed to this point (as it appeared in the earliest 'editions' of
the commentary on the Mishnah), seems calculated to upset the philosophically sophis-
ticated but religiously conservative reader, as was indeed the case with R. Shimon ben
Tsemah Duran (seen. 2 above). God here is described in terms which Aristotle could
easily accept: God is presented as cause of the world, but not as its creator. (For example, I
am, I hope, the cause of my students' learning, but am hardly the creator of them or their
learning; ifI set an example emulated by others, I am the cause of their behaviour, but
hardly its creator. In more strictly Aristotelian terms, God can be final cause of the world
without being its material, efficient, or formal cause.) It is furthermore stated here that
no other being has the same sort of precedence to the world that God has; but, as Duran
worries, does that mean that God's precedence is only relative, not absolute? Last, why
does Maimonides cite Deuteronomy 33: 27 instead of Genesis 1: 1? What Maimonides may
have meant by all this need not concern us here (see the discussion in Kellner, Dogma,
53-61 ), but it should be clear that a proper understanding of his principles requires a fairly
lengthy course ofstudy in Aristotelian philosophy.
19
This sentence was added by Maimonides late in his life; see Kellner, Dogma, 54-- The
reference to the Guide is to his explanation there (i. 71, p. 182) of why he appeared to
accept the doctrine of the eternity (i.e. uncreatedness) of the world in 'Laws of the Foun-
dations of the Torah', i. 5.
20
i.e. it is forbidden to worship any entity other than God. Maimonides here makes
reference to the three classes of existent beings he later mentions in 'Laws of the Foun-
dations of the Torah': separate intellects (angels), the spheres, and the four elements and
all that is composed of those elements (see n. 4- above). None of these may be worshipped;
they are all inferior beings determined in their behaviour.
21
It is on the basis of this passage that several decisors have forbidden the recitation of
the passage in the Sabbath eve hymn 'ShalomAleikhem' beseeching angels (not God) for
Sabbath peace. For details, see Shapiro, 'The Last Word in Jewish Theology?'.
foundation is the prohibition against idolatry and there are many verses
in the Torah prohibiting it. 22
The sixth foundation is prophecy; to wit, it should be known that,
within the species of humanity, there are individuals who have a greatly
superior disposition and a great measure of perfection. And, if their souls
are prepared so that they receive the form of the intellect, 23 then that
human intellect will unite with the Active Intellect24 which will cause a
great emanation to flow to it. 25 These people are prophets, this [process]
is prophecy; and this is its content. The explanation of this principle to its
fullest, however, would be very long26 and it is not our intention to
demonstrate each ofits basic premises, or to explain the ways by which it
is perceived for that is the epitome of all the sciences.2 7 Here we shall
mention it only in the form of a statement. The verses of the Torah
testifying to the prophecy of the prophets are many.
The seventh foundation is the prophecy of Moses, our Teacher; to wit,
it should be known that: Moses was the father of all the prophets-of
those who came before him and of those who came after him; all were
beneath him in rank and that he was the chosen of God from among the
entire species of humanity and that he comprehended more of God, may
He be exalted, than any man who ever existed or will exist, ever com-
prehended or will comprehend and that he, peace be upon him, reached
a state of exaltedness beyond humanity such that he perceived the level of
sovereignty and became included in the level of angels. 28 There remained
22
Indeed, Maimonides follows the Talmud (BT Horayot 8a) in making it the central
axis of the Torah. See 'Laws ofldolatry', ii. 4; Guide, iii. 37, pp. 542, 545.
23
i.e. actualize the potential intellects with which they were born.
24
The tenth and last of the 'separate intellects'.
25
i.e. the unification with the Active Intellect is the cause of the emanation upon the
human intellect.
26
In the Guide ofthe Perplexed it occupies ii. 32-48, pp. 360-412.
27
i.e. understanding prophecy necessitates understanding all the sciences.
28
Maimonides here makes a number of unprecedented claims about Moses: (a) he is
the 'father of all the prophets', including the Patriarchs who preceded him; ( b) no other
prophet ever achieved his rank, nor will any prophet do so (including the Messiah, who,
Maimonides teaches in 'Laws of Repentance', ix. 2, will be a prophet 'close' in rank to
Moses, but not equal to him); ( c) unlike other prophets who, in effect, chose themselves,
Moses was chosen by God from among all humans; ( d) Moses' uniqueness was, appar-
ently, a consequence of his having achieved such an exalted level of comprehension of
God; (e) Moses became an angel, pure intellect only. None of these statements about
Moses is commonplace in Jewish tradition. On the contrary, there are several passages in
the Talmud in which Hille! is implied to have been as great as Moses (BT Sukah 28b, BT
Sanhedrin na) and one in which the same suggestion is made in respect of Ezra (BT
The Thirteen Principles
no veil which he did not pierce, no material hindrance burdened him,
and no defect whether small or great mingled itself with him. The
imaginative and sensible faculties in his perception were stripped from
him, his desiderative faculty was still, and he remained pure intellect
only. 29 For this reason, they remarked of him that he discoursed with
God without the intermediacy of an angel. 30 I would have been obligated
to explain this strange subject, to unlock the secrets firmly enclosed in the
verses of the Torah, and to expound the meaning of'mouth to mouth'
(Num. 12: 8) together with the whole of this verse and other verses
belonging to the same theme had I not seen that this theme is very subtle
and that it would need abundant introductions and illustrations. The
existence of angels would first have to be made clear and, then, the
distinction between their ranks and that of the Creator. The soul would
have to be explained and all its faculties. The circle would then grow
wider until we should have to say a word about the images which the
prophets attribute to the Creator and the angels. The Shiur komahand its
meaning would have to enter [into our survey]. And, even ifl were to be
as brief as possible, this purpose alone could not be attained in even a
hundred pages. For this reason, I shall leave it to its place, whether in 'the
book of the interpretation of the discourses' which I have promised, or in
'the book of prophecy' which I have begun, or in a book which I shall
compose as a commentary to these foundations. 31 I shall now return to
the purpose of this seventh foundation and say that the prophecy of
Moses is separated from the prophecy of all other prophets by four
differences:
The first difference: To every other prophet that ever was, God did not
Sanhedrin 21/:r22a). BT 29b can be construed as implying that Rabbi Akiva was
no less great than Moses. Maimonides deals with the special character of Mosaic pro-
phecy in Guide, ii. 39-40, pp. 378-85. On this subject see Menachem Kellner, 'Maimon-
ides and Gersonides on Mosaic Prophecy', Speculum, 42 ( 1977), 62-79.
29
Maimonides is repeating what he has just said. To be an angel is to be 'pure intellect
only'.
3
° For Maimonides' discussion of this topic, see Guide, ii. 39-40, pp. 378-85. Maimon-
ides is here attributing philosophical ideas to the Sages: other prophets received their
prophecy through the Active Intellect (=angel). Moses, having become an angel, has no
need of an angelic intermediary in order to receive prophecy from God.
31
We see here that Maimonides felt that these principles needed a whole book of
commentary. For arguments to the effect that the Guide of the Perplexed is that book
of commentary, see Menachem Kellner, 'Maimonides' "Thirteen Principles" and the
Structure of the Guide of the Perplexed', Journal of the History of Philosophy, 20 ( 1982 ),
76-84.
speak except by an intermediary. But Moses had no intermediary, as it is
said, 'mouth to mouth did I speak with him' ( Num. 12: 8).
The second difference: Every other prophet received inspiration only
when in a state of sleep, as He said in various places: 'in a dream of the
night' (Gen. 20: 3), 'he dreamed and he saw a ladder' (Gen. 28: 12), 'in a
dream of a vision of the night' (Job 33: 15), and in many other places with
similar intent; or during the day, after a deep sleep had fallen upon
the prophet and his condition had become one in which his sense-
perceptions were rendered inactive and in which his thoughts were
empty as in sleep. This condition is called ma&azeh ['vision'] and mareh
['appearance'] and it is referred to in the phrase 'in visions of God' (Ezek.
8: 3, 40: 2 ). But to Moses, peace be upon him, discourse came in the day
when he was 'standing between the two cherubim', as God had promised
him, 'and, there, I will meet with you and I will speak with you' (Exod.
25: 12). And He, may He be exalted, also said, 'If there be a prophet
among you, I the Lord, will make Myself known to him in a vision and
will speak to him in a dream. Not so my servant Moses. He, in all my
house, is faithful' (Num. 12: 6-8).
The third difference: Every other prophet receives inspiration only in a
vision and by means of an angel [and] his strength becomes enfeebled,
his body becomes deranged, and a very great terror falls upon him so that
he is almost broken by it, as illustrated when Gabriel spoke to Daniel in a
vision and Daniel said, 'And there remained no strength in me and my
dignity became destructive for me' (Dan. rn: 8). He also said, 'I was in
deep sleep on my face and my face was towards the ground' (Dan. rn: 16).
But not so with Moses. Rather, discourse came to him and no confusion
of any kind overtook him as He, may He be exalted, has said, 'And the
Lord spoke to Moses face to face as a man speaks to his neighbor' (Exod.
33: 11 ). This means that just as no man feels disquieted when his neighbor
talks with him, so he, peace be upon him, had no fright at the discourse of
God, although it was face to face. This was because of the strength of his
union with the [Active] Intellect, as we have said.
The fourth difference: Every other prophet did not receive inspiration
by his own choice but by the will of God. The prophet could remain a
number of years without inspiration, or an inspiration could be com-
municated to the prophet but he could be required to wait some days or
months before prophesying, or not make it known at all. We have seen
that there are those among them who prepared themselves by simplifying
their soul and by purifying their minds as did Elisha when he declared,
'Bring me, now, a minstrel' (2 Kgs. 3: 15) and then inspiration came to
him. It was not, however, necessarily that he received inspiration after he
was prepared for it. But Moses, our Teacher, was able to say whenever he
wished, 'Stand, and I shall hear what God shall command concerning
you' (Num. 9: 8). And He also said, 'Speak to Aaron, your brother, that
he not come at any time into the sanctuary' (Lev. 16: 2 ). [On this], they
said, 'Aaron was bound by the prohibition, "that he not come at any
time," but Moses was not bound by the prohibition. ' 32
The eighth foundation is that the Torah is from heaven; to wit, it
[must J be believed that the whole of this Torah which is in our hands
today is the Torah which was brought down to Moses, our Teacher; that
all ofit is from God [by Jthe transmission which is called metaphorically
'speech'; that no one knows the quality of that transmission except he to
whom it was transmitted, peace be upon him; and that it was dictated to
him while he was of the rank of a scribe; and that he wrote down all of its
dates, its narratives, its laws-and for this he is called the 'Legislator' 33
(Num. 21: 18). There is no difference between 'the sons of Ham were
Cush, Mitsrayim, Fut, and Canaan' (Gen. rn: 6) and 'the name of his wife
was Mehetabel, the daughter ofMatred' (Gen. 36: 39) on the one hand,
and 'I am the Lord your God' (Exod. 20: 2) and 'Hear, 0 Israel, the
Lord, our God, the Lord is One' (Deut. 6: 4) on the other hand. Every-
thing is from the mouth of the Almighty;34 everything is the Torah of
God: whole, pure, holy, true. 35 Indeed, Menasseh became, in the eyes of
the Sages, the person strongest in heresy and hypocrisy for he thought
that the Torah was composed of kernels and husks and that those dates
and these narratives had no value and that they were composed by
Moses. 36 This is the issue of 'the Torah is not from Heaven'. 37 And the
Sages have said that he who believes that 'the Torah is entirely from the
mouth of the Almighty except for this [i.e. any given J verse which was
not said by the Holy One, blessed be He, but Moses said it on his own
authority' is one to whom the following verse applies, 'He disdains the
word of God' (Num. 15: 31). 38-May God be exalted about that which
the heretics say!-Rather, every letter of the Torah contains wisdom and
wonders for whom God has given to understand it. Its ultimate wisdom
32
Sifraon Leviticus 16: 2. 33
Literally, 'copyist'. There is a play on words here.
34
Mipi hagevurah; a reference to BT Makot For Maimonides' use of this
expression see Kellner, Dogma, n9-20.
35
See Psalms 19: 8. 36
See BT Sanhedrin 99b.
37
i.e. one who affirms that only part of the Torah is not from heaven falls under the
category (in our mishnah) of one who denies that the Torah is from heaven.
38
BT Sanhedrin 99a.
cannot be perceived, as it is said, 'Its measure is greater than the earth and
broader than the sea' (Job n: 9 ). A man can only follow in the steps of
David, the anointed of the God ofJacob, the most pleasant singer of the
hymns oflsrael who prayed, singing, 'Unmask my eyes that I may see
wonders from Your Torah' (Ps. n9: 18). Similarly, its interpretation as it
has been handed down is also 'from the mouth of the Almighty'. 39 That
which we observe today, such as the form of the sukkah, the lulav, the
shofar, the fringes, the phylacteries, and other such forms are the actual
forms which God told to Moses and which he told to us. He is the
transmitter of the message, faithful in its transmission. The verse on the
basis ofwhich this eighth foundation is attested is his [i.e. Moses'] saying,
'By this shall you know that the Lord has sent me to do all these things'
(Num. 16: 18).
The ninth foundation is the [denial of the] abrogation [of the Torah];
to wit, that this Torah of Moses, our Teacher, shall not be abrogated or
transmuted; nor shall any other law come from God. It may not be added
to nor subtracted from-not from its text nor from its explanation-as it
is said, 'You shall not add to it, nor subtract from it' ( Deut. 13: l). We have
already explained that which it is necessary to explain concerning this
foundation in the introduction to this book. 40
The tenth foundation is that He, may He be exalted, has knowledge of
the acts of men and is not neglectful of them. It is not as the opinion of
someone who says, 'God has abandoned the earth' (Ezek. 8: 12, 9: 9) but
as the opinion of him who says,'[ God is] great in counsel, and mighty in
work;whoseeyesareopen upon all thewaysofthesonsofmen' (Jer. 32: 19).
It is also said, 'God saw that the evil of man was great' (Gen. 6: 15 ), and
'the cry of Sodom and Gomorrah was great' (Gen. 18: 20 ). This attests to
this tenth foundation.
The eleventh foundation is that He, may He be exalted, rewards him
who obeys the commands of the Torah and punishes him who violates its
prohibitions; and the greatest of His rewards is the world to come while
the severest of His punishments is 'being cut off'. 41 We have already
expounded sufficiently on this in this chapter. The verse which attests to
this foundation is' ... ifYou forgive their sin, and if not, erase me, then
from Your book which You have written' (Exod. 32: 32) taken together
39
i.e . the Oral Torah is also from heaven. Maimonides here hints at his relatively
narrow understanding of the term 'Oral Torah' . For details, see Gerald Blidstein, 'Maim-
onides on "Oral Law"' ,Jewish Law Annual, r (1978 ), 108-22.
40
Mishnah in perush rabenu mosheh ben maimon, ed. Kafih, i. 4 ff.
41
On karet(being cut off) and the controversy over it see Appendix r, n . 12.
with His answer, may He be exalted, 'Him who has sinned against Me,
shall I erase from My book' (Exod. 32: 33). These verses are attestations to
[the fact that] the obedient person and the rebellious person will reach [a
point] with Him, may He be exalted, where He will reward the one and
punish the other. 42
The twelfth foundation is the days of the Messiah; to wit, the beliefin,
and the assertion of, the truth of his coming. He shall not be a long time
'and ifhe tarries, wait for him' (Hab. 2: 3). No time for his coming may be
set nor may the verses of Scripture be interpreted to reveal the time of his
coming, as our Sages have said, 'May the wits of those who calculate the
date of the end be addled. ' 43 One must believe in him by praising him,
loving him, and praying for his coming according to that which has been
revealed by all the prophets from Moses to Malachi. He who doubts, or
treats his command lightly, says that the Torah, which promised his
coming specifically in the [weekly readings] of Balaam and Atem
nitsavim,44 is lying. One of the general ideas of this foundation is that
Israel will have no king except from David, and that he will be descended
especially from the seed ofSolomon. 45 Whoever disobeys the command
of this dynasty denies God and the verses of the prophets.
The thirteenth foundation is the resurrection of the dead and we have
already explained it. 46
When all these foundations are perfectly understood and believed in
by a person he enters the community oflsrael and one is obligated to love
and pity him and to act towards him in all the ways in which the Creator
has commanded that one should act towards his brother, with love and
fraternity. Even were he to commit every possible transgression, because
42
On Maimonides on reward and punishment, see Appendix 1 above .
43
BT Sanhedrin 99a-b.
44
i.e. Numbers 22: 5-25: 9; Deuteronomy 29: 9-30: 2.
45
As my friend and colleague Daniel J. Lasker once observed to me, Maimonides'
emphasis on the Solomonic descent of the Messiah may be aimed at the Christians, who
(at Luke 3: 31) traced Jesus' descent through David's 'son' Nathan.
46
The sum total ofMaimonides' explanation was his comment:
The resurrection of the dead is one of the cardinal principles established by Moses our Teacher. A
person who does not believe in this principle has no real religion, certainly not Judaism. However,
resurrection is only for the righteous . .. how, after all, could the wicked come back to life, since they
are dead even in their lifetimes? Our sages taught: 'The wicked are called dead even while they are
alive; the righteous are alive even when they are dead' (Berakhot 18b). All men must die and their
bodies decompose . (Twersky, A Maimonides Reader, +1+)
Maimonides' comments here and in his Treatise on Resurrection sparked a wide-ranging
and long-lived debate on his actual views concerning resurrection of the dead. For details,
see Septimus, Hispano-]ewish Culture in Transition, 39-60.
oflust and because of being overpowered by the evil inclination, he will
be punished according to his rebelliousness, but he has a portion [of
the world to come]; he is one of the sinners oflsrael. But if a man doubts
any of these foundations, he leaves the community [of Israel], denies
the fundamental, and is called a sectarian, epikoros, and one who 'cuts
among the plantings'. One is required to hate him and destroy him.
About such a person it was said, 'Do I not hate them, 0 Lord, who hate
thee?' [Ps. 139: 21].
APPENDIX THREE
The authorship of these two texts is unknown. Yigdal is variously attrib-

uted to Daniel ben Judah of Rome and Immanuel ben Solomon of
Rome, both writing in the fourteenth century; the translation cited here
is that of Philip Birnbaum in the Daily Prayer Book, 12-14 and 154-6. 1
Yigdal
Exalted and Praised be the Living God!
He exists; His existence transcends time.
He is one-there is no oneness like His;
He's unknowable-His Oneness is endless.
He has no semblance-he is bodiless;
Beyond comprehension is His holiness.
He preceded all that was created;
The First He is though He never began.
He is the eternal Lord; every creature
Must declare His greatness and His kingship.
His abundant prophecy He granted
To the men of His choice and His glory.
Never has there arisen in Israel
A prophet like Moses beholding God's image.
The Torah of truth God gave to His people
Through His prophet, His own faithful servant.
God will never amend, nor ever change
His eternal Law for any other law.
He inspects, He knows our secret thoughts;
He foresees the end of things at their birth.
1
Further on these and other poems derived from Maimonides' Thirteen Principles,
see Marx, 'A List of Poems on the Articles of the Creed' .
176 Yigdal and Ani ma )amin
He rewards the godly man for his deeds;
He repays the evil man for his evil.
At time's end He will send our Messiah
To save all who wait for His final help .
God, in His great mercy, will revive the dead;
Blessed be His glorious name forever.
I firmly believe that the Creator, blessed be His name, is the Creator and Ruler of
all created beings, and that He alone has made, does make, and ever will make all
things.
I firmly believe that the Creator, blessed be His name, is One; that there is no
oneness in any form like His; and that He alone was, is, and ever will be our God.
I firmly believe that the Creator, blessed be His name, is not corporeal; that no
bodily accidents apply to Him; and that there exists nothing whatever that
resembles Him.
I firmly believe that the Creator, blessed be His name, was the first and will be the
last.
I firmly believe that the Creator, blessed be His name, is the only One to Whom
it is proper to address our prayers, and that we must not pray to anyone else.
I firmly believe that all the words of the prophets are true .
I firmly believe that the prophecy of Moses our teacher, may he rest in peace, was
true; and that he was the chief of the prophets, both of those who preceded him
and of those that followed him .
I firmly believe that the whole Torah which we now possess is the same which
was given to Moses our teacher, may he rest in peace.
I firmly believe that this Torah will not be changed, and that there will be no
other Torah given by the Creator, blessed be His name.
I firmly believe that the Creator, blessed be His name, knows all the actions and
thoughts of human beings, as it is said: 'It is He who fashions the hearts of them
all, He who notes all their deeds' (Ps. 33 : 15).
I firmly believe that the Creator, blessed be His name, rewards those who keep
His commands, and punishes those who transgress His commands.
I firmly believe in the coming of the Messiah; and although he may tarry, I daily
wait for his coming.
I firmly believe that there will be a revival of the dead at a time which will please
the Creator, blessed and exalted be His name for ever and ever.
THE transliteration of Hebrew in this book reflects a consideration of the type
of book it is, in terms of its content, purpose, and readership. The system
adopted therefore reflects a broad approach to transcription, rather than the
narrower approaches found in the Encyclopaedia Judaica or other systems de-
veloped for text-based or linguistic studies. The aim has been to reflect the pro-
nunciation prescribed for modern Hebrew, rather than the spelling or Hebrew
word structure, and to do so using conventions that are generally familiar to the
English-speaking Jewish reader.
In accordance with this approach, no attempt is made to indicate the dis-
tinctions between alef and ayin, tet and taf, kaf and kuf, sin and samekh, since
these are not relevant to pronunciation; likewise, the dagesh is not indicated
except where it affects pronunciation. Following the principle of using con-
ventions familiar to the majority of readers, however, transcriptions that are well
established (for example tannaim) have been retained even when they are not
fully consistent with the transliteration system adopted. On similar grounds, the
tsadi is rendered by 'tz' in such familar words as barmitzvah, mitzvot, and so on.
Likewise, the distinction between betand khafhas been retained, using bfor the
former and kh for the latter; the associated forms are generally familiar to readers,
even if the distinction is not actually borne out in pronunciation, and for the
same reason the final heh is indicated too. As in Hebrew, no capital letters are
used, except that an initial capital has been retained in transliterating titles of
published works (for example, Shull;an arukh).
Since no distinction is made between alefand ayin, they are indicated by an
apostrophe only in intervocalic positions where a failure to do so could lead an
English-speaking reader to pronounce the vowel-cluster as a diphthong-as, for
example, in ha)ir-or otherwise mispronounce the word. Here too, an allow-
ance has been made for convention: yisrael has been left as it is, without an
apostrophe, since interference in this familar form would constitute an intrusive
intervention of no benefit to readers .
The sheva na is indicated by an e-perikat ol, reshut-except, again, when
established convention dictates otherwise .
The yod is represented by an i when it occurs as a vowel ( bereshit), by a ywhen
it occurs as a consonant (yesodot), and by yi when it occurs as both (yisrael).
Names have generally been left in their familiar forms, even when this is
inconsistent with the overall system.
Thanks are due to Jonathan Webber of the Oxford Centre for Hebrew and
Jewish Studies for his help in elucidating the principles to be adopted.
Citations ofthe Mishnah are given by tractate name (there are over sixty tractates
in the Mishnah), chapter number, and paragraph (mishnah) number. Thus, for
example, a reference to the first paragraph (mishnah) of the second chapter of
tractate lfagigahwould be given as: Mishnah lfagigahii. I.
The Babylonian and Jerusalem (Palestinian) Talmuds are, in effect, com-
mentaries upon the Mishnah and are divided into the same tractates. References
to the Babylonian Talmud are prefaced by the letters 'BT' and cite tractate, page,
and folio number; references to the Jerusalem Talmud are prefaced by the letters
'JT' and cite chapter and section (halakhah) number.
Sifra is a midrashic commentary on Leviticus; Sifre a midrashic commentary
on Numbers and Deuteronomy; references to both are keyed to biblical verses.
Genesis rabbah and Exodus rabbah are also midrashim, but are customarily
divided into section and subsections, and are referred to accordingly.
Maimonides' Mishneh torah is divided into fourteen books and further divided
into sections, chapters, and paragraphs. References here follow the customary
format of citing section, chapter, and paragraph. Each section within the Mish-
neh torah is called 'Laws of __ '. Thus a reference might read: 'Laws of the
Foundations of the Torah', i. 1.
References to Maimonides' Guide of the Perplexed are cited by section and
chapter number, followed by the page number in the translation of Shlomo
Pines (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963).
References to Maimonides' Commentary on the Mishnah are given by citing
the relevant passage in the Mishnah itself, by tractate, chapter, and paragraph.
aggadah (pl. aggadot) Story; non-halakhic (q.v.) material in Talmud (q.v.).
amora (pl. amoraim) An authority cited in the Gemara (q. v.).
anus ('annoos') (pl. anusim) Coerced (and thus not legally liable for one's
actions).
avodah zarah Lit. 'alien worship': idolatry.
ba'al teshuvah (pl. ba'alei teshuvah) Repentantindividual(s).
da'at torah (Allegedly) authoritative expression ofJewish values by a leading
rabbi.
emunah (pl. emunot) Belief(s).
epikoros Rabbinic term of opprobrium; generally taken to mean 'heretic'.
Gehinnom Place of punishment for sinners after death.
Gemara Edited record of discussions on the text of the Mishnah (q.v.) in
Palestine, which, with the Mishnah, is called the Jerusalem Talmud; and in
Babylonia, which, with the Mishnah, is called the Babylonian Talmud; the
Babylonian Talmud was brought to its present form by the year 600 CE.
Ha bad Philosophy ofLubavitch hasidism; acronym of the three Hebrew words
J;okhmah (wisdom), binah (discernment), and da)at (intellect or know-
ledge).
halakhah(pl. halakhot) Jewishlaw(s).
l;amets Food containing fermented dough, forbidden on Passover.
hasid (pl. hasidim) Adherent(s) of hasidism (q.v. ).
hasidism Spiritual and social movement in Judaism, dating from the eight-
eenth century, strongly influenced by kabbalah (q.v.), divided into groups
led by hereditary leaders called tzaddikim (q.v. ).
heter iska Legal device enabling Jews to conduct business without violating the
prohibitions related to the taking or giving ofinterest.
hora'at sha'ah Exceptional permission to perform an otherwise forbidden act.
kabbalah Trend in Jewish mysticism from the twelfth century onwards, deriv-
ing from the Zohar (q.v.) and having profound impact on hasidism (q.v.)
and other forms of contemporary Jewish Orthodoxy.
Karaism Schismatic movement in Judaism (from the ninth century) which re-
jected rabbinic authority
karet Excision; divine punishment mentioned in the Bible (e.g. Num. 15: 31),
ordinarily thought to mean early death.
180 Glossary
kelal yisrael The generality or community of the people of Israel, compre-
hending past, present, and future.
ma "'am in (pl. ma "'aminim) Believer( s).
malshin (pl. malshinim) Informer( s) .
meshumad Lit. 'one who has been destroyed': apostate.
mezid One who sins by prior intention, not inadvertently.
Midrash (adj. midrashic) Body of rabbinic literature from the mishnaic and
talmudic periods, containing homiletical expositions of biblical texts, ser-
mons, and halakhic analyses of biblical texts; also the (continuing) activity of
so treating biblical texts.
mikveh Ritual bath, used primarily by married women in order to purify them-
selves after menstruation, and in which proselytes immerse themselves on
conversion to Judaism.
min (pl. minim) Sectarian( s).
Mishnah First and most authoritative codification ofhalakhah (q.v.) found in
the Oral Torah (q .v. ), dating from the early third century.
Mishneh torah Maimonides' comprehensive code ofJewish law, the first of its
kind.
mitzvah (pl. mitzvot) Commandment( s); colloquially, 'good deed( s)' .
Oral Torah According to Jewish tradition, Moses received the Torah from
Sinai in its written form, and in the form of equally authoritative material
which was to be transmitted from generation to generation orally; this latter
is the Oral Torah.
paskened (Yiddish) Having made a decision in a matter ofJ ewish law.
pesak Decision in a matter ofJ ewish law.
Pharisees Immediate antecedents of the tannaim (q.v.); forebears of all con-
temporary versions ofJ udaism; contrasted with Sadducees (q. v.).
Pirkei avot 'Ethics of the Fathers'; title of a tractate in the Mishnah ( q.v. ).
prozbul Legal device promulgated by the first-century tanna ( q.v.) Hillel to
make the otherwise forbidden collection of debts in the sabbatical year
(Deut. 15: l-3) permissible.
Rabbanites Opponents of the Karaites (q. v.), faithful to the rabbinic tradition.
reshut Permissible; neither ordained nor forbidden.
responsum (pl. responsa) Written answer to a query concerning halakhah
(q.v.).
Sadducees First-century movement in Judaism which, among other things,
denied retribution after death and rejected the authority of contemporary
(Pharisaic) rabbis.
shegagah Inadvertence in committing a sin.
Glossary 181
shogeg One who commits a sin inadvertently.

Talmud Mishnah ( q .v.) and Gemara (q .v.) taken together.
tanna (pl. tannaim) An authority cited in the Mishnah (q .v.).
teshuvah Repentance .
tinok shenishbah (pl. tinokotshenishbu) Lit. 'captured child'; by extension, one
who was raised in such an environment that he or she cannot be held
responsible for failure to obey the commandments ofJudaism.
Torah Lit. 'teaching': most narrowly, the Pentateuch; more broadly, the Heb-
rew Bible as a whole; even more broadly, the content of God's revelation to
Moses, encompassing the Written and Oral Torah (q.v. ).
-izaddik (pl. tzaddikim) Righteous person; leader of a hasidic (q.v.) grouping.
world to come Reward for the righteous after death.
Written Torah Hebrew Bible.
Zohar Key text of that trend in medieval Jewish mysticism known as kabbalah
(q.v. ); traditionally ascribed to the second-century tanna (q .v.) Rabbi
Simeon bar Yohai.
Biographical Notes on]ewish Thinkers
Abraham hen David of Posquieres (Rabad) Provence, c.n25-98; prolific rab-

binic writer, most prominently the author of caustic glosses on Maimonides'
Mishneh torah.
Abrabanel, Isaac hen Judah Iberia, 1437-1508; leader of Spanish Jewry at the
time of the expulsion of 1492; author of Bible commentaries, works in the-
ology and philosophy, and especially ofJ ewish messianism.
Akiva Prominent second-century tanna.
Albo, Joseph Iberia, fifteenth century; communal leader and author of Sefer
ha >ikarim, a popular work ofdogmatic theology.
Ba'al Shem Tov or Besht (Israel hen Eliezer) Eastern Europe, c.1700-60;
charismatic founder ofhasidism.
Crescas, Hasdai Iberia, d. 1412; leader oflberian Jewry; author of Or hashem, a
work of dogmatic theology highly critical ofJewish Aristotelianism.
Duran, Shimon hen Tsemah (Rashbats) Iberia and North Africa, 1361-1444;
communal leader, author of theological works and influential responsa.
Emden, Jacob hen Tsvi Germany, 1697-1776; halakhic authority, kabbalist,
and fierce opponent of followers of the false messiah Shabbetai Tsvi
(1626-76).
Halevi, Ju.d ah Iberia, d. 1141; poet and author of Seftr hakuzari, a popular and
influential work in theology and philosophy.
Hirsch, Samson Raphael Germany, 1808-88; rabbi and leader of German
Orthodoxy.
ibn Abi Zimra, David hen Solomon (Radbaz) Egypt, 1479-1573; communal
leader and author ofinfluential responsa.
ibn Pakuda, Bahya Iberia, eleventh century; ethical thinker and author of the
very popular Ifovot halevavot.
Karelitz, Abraham Isaiah (Razon Ish) 1878-1953; prominent Israeli talmudic
scholar who largely set the tone for what came to be known as or
'ultra-Orthodox' Judaism.
Levi hen Gershom (Ralbag; Gersonides) Provence, 1288-1344; radically Aristo-
telian philosopher, Bible commentator, astronomer, and mathematician.
Moses hen Maimon (Rambam; Maimonides) Iberia and Egypt, n38-1204;
leader of Egyptian and later world Jewry; prolific writer in all fields of
Judaism; author of first comprehensive code ofJewish law, Mishneh torah,
and of the most influential work of Jewish philosophy yet written, Guide of
Biographical Notes on Jewish Thinkers
the Perplexed ; probably the single most influential Jewish figure since the
first Moses.
Moses ben Nahman (Ramban; Nahmanides) Iberia, n94-1270; prominent
rabbinic leader, prolific author, kabbalist; respectful but determined critic of
Maimonides.
Perfet, Isaac ben Sheshet (Rivash) Iberia and North Africa, 1326-1408; com-
munal leader and author ofinfluential responsa.
Sa'adia ben Joseph ( Sa'adia Gaon) Born in Egypt, but came to prominence in
Babylonia, 882-942; first systematic theologian of Judaism, leading halakh-
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--Rabad of Posquieres, rev. edn. (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society,
1980 ).
URBACH, EPHRAIM, 'Self-Isolation and Self-Affirmation in Judaism in the
First Three Centuries: Theory and Practice', in E. P. Sanders, A. I. Baum-
garten, and Alan Mendelson (eds.), Aspects ofJudaism in the Grae co-Roman
Period, vol. ii ofJewish and Christian Self-definition, 3 vols. (London: SCM,
1981 ), 269-98.
--The Sages, 2 vols. (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1975).
WENSINCK, A. J., The Muslim Creed (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1932).
WERTHEIMER, JACK, 'Judaism without Limits', Commentary, July 1997,
pp. 24-7.
W o LF so N, ELLI OT R., 'Negative Theology and Positive Assertion in the Early
Kabbalah', Da)at, 31-2 ( 1994 ), pp. v-xxii.
Bibliography 195
WOLFSON, HARRY AusTRYN, The Philosophy of the Kalam (Cambridge,

Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1976 ).
YUTER, ALAN J., 'Is Reform Judaism a Movement, a Sect, or a Heresy?',
Tradition, 24 (1989 ), 87-98.
A intellectual perfection of 5
Abba Saul 33, 35, 37 on metaphysics 62
Abrabanel, Isaac 23, 69, 70, IOO, n8, 143, Rhetoric 35
147 as source for Maimonides 63-4
on Christianity n8 on truth 124
defender ofMaimonides 78-80 on universe as uncreated 165, 167
on dogma as defining who is a Jew 165 astronomy 62
on Maimonides and acquired atheism 80
intellect 157 atomism 165
on Maimonides' definition ofwho is a atonement 57
Jew 165 Augustine H
Principles ofFaith 78 Austritt(separation), in Frankfurt am
on shegagah and heresy 68 Main I07
Abraham n, 12, 14 authenticity, Jewish lII-12
faith and trust of 12, 14
andGod 14 B
and his wife Sarah 14 Ba' al Shem Tov 43
Abraham ben David of Posquieres 6, 20, on providence 18
58, 64, 99, II8 Bamberger, Seligman I08
Abraham ben Moses Maimonides 64 barmitzvah 27-8, 30
Active Intellect 168, 169 batmitzvah 27-8
Adret, Solomon ben Abraham 150 behaviour 37, 156
aggadah and halakhah 55, 92 and belief 31-2, 43, 45-6, 48, 64;
Agudat Yisrael IOI divorced from each other 54
Akhnai, oven of 122, 123, 125 point of 155
Akiva, Rabbi 19, 33, 35, 37, 138, 169 and truth 125
Albo,Joseph 70,I05 belief:
Alexander ofAphrodisias 157 and behaviour 12, 31-2
al-Farabi 63, 64 'beliefin' and 'belief that' 13, 15, 43,
al-Kirkisani, Jacob 42 45-6, 56, 124, 127
Amidah 40 'belief that' held by Maimonides
angels IOI, 153, 165, 167-70 52
as intellects 165 and commandments 46, 99
anger, God's 161-2 vs. knowledge 72-3, I04
Ani ma Jamin (poem) 53, 69, 176 meaning of 12-13
anthropomorphism 50 see also emunah; faith
anus 70, 83, 92, I03, n5 beliefs:
apocrypha, see 'external' books not commandable 80
Aquinas, Thomas 123 and commandments 162
Arabs 4 commandments concerning 77-80
Arama, Isaac IOO necessaryvs. true 162
Aristotelianism 76 not under our control 78-80
Aristotle 35 Berger, David 131, 137, 140-6
defines 'human being' 155 Bialik, Hayim Nahman 57
on God as cause, not creator 167 Bibago, Abraham 68
Index
Bleich,J. David 77, 91, 93, 99, 103, 106-8, diversity vs. pluralism 111
128 dogma 66-7, 129, 131, 136, 137
critique of 99-104 absent in classical Judaism 24-5, 35-6
on dogma as essential to Judaism 38-40 absent in Talmud 25, 43
andMaimonides 67, 88-9, 96 as basis ofJudaism 38-40, 75
on non-Orthodoxy 95-8 J. David Bleich on 38-40
Bloch, Elya Meir 89 and confirmation 28
Blumenthal, David 164 as content of belief 9
Buber, Martin 16 and conversion 60
defined 24; by Maimonides 56
c and exclusion from the world to
catechism 28 come 64
chosen people 17, 28 and halakhah 68, 96
chosen-ness 23-4 Max Kadushin on 39-40
Christianity 48, 69, 70, 77, 128, 136 in liturgy 66
Abrabanel on 118 and the nature ofJ udaism n2
anti-Christian polemics 48 read back into classical Jewish texts 106
dogma in 24, 44 as a response to Christianity 70
commandments 114 rise of, in Judaism 105
and belief 46, 99 and Sanhedrinx. l 38
ofbelief 68 and shegagah 102
and beliefs 162 dogmatism 61, 65
and emunah 46 Duran, Shimon ben Tsemah 37, 99,
fulfilment of 160-2 165, 167
obligatory 157
point of 154 E
and reward 159-60, 162-3 Ecclesiastes 42
613 commandments of the Torah Elisha ben Abuyah 50, 71
32,67 elitism 72
and world to come 5 Emden, Jacob 8
community oflsrael 53, 58 emunah:
exclusion from 71, 125 as 'beliefin' 13
confirmation 28 not 'belief that' 17, 80, 99
Conservative Judaism characteristic of God 15
M. Feinstein on 88 and commandment 45
conversion 28-30 defined 75, 135
anddogma 60 lackof 16
Maimonides on 58-60 Maimonides on 56, 77, 80, 125
Copernicus 36, 67-8 Maimonides' innovation
covenant III concerning 77
creation 17, 21, 155, 166-7 in Orthodoxy no
Crescas, Hasdai 16, 67, 70 andshegagah 68-9
critique of Maimonides 77-8 studies of 56
in Torah 14
D in Torah and Talmud 9, 31, 104
da)attorah 102 as trust in God 15, 25, 43
Daniel ben Judah of Rome 175 emunat 102
decline of the generations, doctrine of 107 enquiry, limits of 94
deeds, good 73 Epicurus 34
Dessler, Eliyahu 80 epikoros 33-6, 38, 53, 60, n2, 136, 157, 174,
Deuteronomy, divine authorship of 103, 206
143 esotericism 150, 155, 161
Index 199
essentialism 3, 4, 7, 23, II2, II3 andJews III

evil inclination 53 justice of 19
exclusivism 9, II4, II7-18 knowledge of 19, 153, 172
existentialism 16 known through nature or history
Exodus from Egypt 35 22
Expulsion of the Jews from Spain 70 love and fear of 62
'external' books 33, 35 loyalty to 18
Ezra 147 nature of 19-22, 85
never truly angry 161- 2
F obedience to 18
Fackenheim, Emil 146 pleased by truth alone 125
faith: trustin 46
as affirmation 26 unity of 17, 60, 165
defined 32, 57, 59, 61; by Maimonides worship of 152, 167-8
66-7, 68-9, 108 Goodman, Lenn 15, 160
as defining the righteous person 57 Graeco-Muslim thought 7
intellectual 120 Greenberg, Yitzchak 89
meaning ofin the Hebrew Bible 15
natureof 51 H
personof 12 Habad 6 , 106, 123, 145-6
and righteousness 56 Habakkuk 13, 64
and science 61-2, 65 Haggadah (Passover) 41
and the Thirteen Principles 56 halakhah 55, 92, 105
types of 8-9, II and aggadah 92
Faur, Jose 26, 35 and dogma 68 , 96
Feinstein, Moses 88, 91 and theology 6, 90, 92, 100, 108
fides 15 Halberstam, Zvi Elimelekh 90
Fox, Marvin 3 Halevi, Judah 3, 22, 23, 113, 130, 134
Frank, Daniel H. 147 vs. Maimonides on definition of
fundamentalism 2, 105 Jews 113
IJaredim 137, 139
G hasidism 4
Gehinnom 38 Haskalah 70
Gentiles 36, 100-1 Hazan Ish 68, n6
Gersonides 7 critique of n6-17
God 14, 31, 53, 61, 130 and Maimonides II6
and Abraham 14; ofAbraham vs. God Heidegger, Martin 162
of the philosophers 20- 2, 79-80 Hellenism 48
beliefin, 9, 11; commanded 62; heresy 4, 9, 56-7, 68, 77, 108, II7, 171
provable 62 distinguished from sectarianism
as cause, not creator 167 41-2
characteristics 17; emunah 15 distinguished from untruth
communion with 75 125
corporeality of 20, 49-50, 85; belief in as heresy hunters 103
idolatry and heresy 20 and non-Orthodoxy 93
existence of 16, 36, 72, 165; impossible untruth as 125
to prove 79; knowledge of heretics 87, 90-1, 102-4, 110, n5, 174
commanded 72 defined 60
faith in 8-9, 15, 26, 28, 32; of inadvertent 83
Jews 15-16 non-Orthodox as 109
incorporeality of 19-22, 50, 58, rebuke of n6-17
165-6 Heschel, Abraham 21
200 Index
Hillel, Rabbi n8, 168 J
Hirsch, Samson Raphael 8, 80 Jacob benAsher 67
influence of 107-8 Jesus 151
and 'mensch-Jisroel' 107 Jewish community:
Hirschensohn, Hayyim 139 exclusion from 64, 71
human beings: joining 27
communion with God 45 Jews 45
defined 73, 155; by Aristotle and assimilation of n5
Maimonides 155, 160 as a community n1; ecclesiastical 71-2
equality of 4 defined 2-3, 54-6, 66, 71, 82; by
free 17, 19, 30 Abrabanel 54, 164; as a communion
immortality of explained 155 of true believers 4; by dogma 7, 9; by
nature of 18, 45, 71-2, 161 halakhah n3; by Halevi 3, n3; by
perfection of 24, 73, 125, 155-6, 158-9, Maimonides 3, 64, 100, n2-13, 173, in
161, 163; Maimonides on 5 the Thirteen Principles 55
purpose oflife of 153-4, 157 nature of 23, 52, 92
and non -Jews 3-4
I people 33, 57
Iberia 105 Jews for Jesus n8
ibn Abi Zimra, David 20, 70 Job 19
ibn Pak.uda, Bahya 46, 80-2, 99, 121 Judaism:
identity, Jewish 128-9, 137-8 and concept of heresy 31; see also
idolatry 18, 30-1, 85, 95, 168 heretics
consists of attributing corporeality to and inclusivism 93, 97-8
God 20 legal fictions in n7
andnon-Orthodoxy 91 Maimonidean 2
opposite of Torah 20, 120 medieval 77
and paganism 4 7 nature of 24-5, 77, 104
prohibition of and conversion 60 place of theology in 32
Immanuel ben Solomon of Rome 175 'theologification' of 5, 105
immortality 21, 28, 36, 72, 74, 153-4, see also Conservative Judaism; non-
158 Orthodox Judaism; Orthodoxy;
human, explained 155 Orthopraxy; Reconstructionist
and knowledge 156-7 Judaism; Reform Judaism
Maimonides on 74-5
see also world to come K
infallibility, papal 105 kabbalah 3, 4
intellect 72 kabbalists 103
acquired intellect: Maimonides on 157; Kadushin, Max 39-40
theory of 71-2 on dogma 39-40
angels as 165 Kahan Commission 102
perfection of key to world to come Kaplan, Mordecai 103
73 Karaites 41-2, 49-51, 82-6, 92, 103, 127
Torah and n9-20 defined 82
typesof 72 descendants of 83
see also Active Intellect not idolaters 85
Intelligences 165 Karelitz, Abraham, see Hazan Ish
Islam 49-51, 92, 127, 136 karet 149, 154-5, 157-8, 172
dogma in 24, 44 Karo, Joseph 67, 154
Israel 23-4, 91-2 Kash er, Hannah 155
peace process 4, 91 kavanah 129, 130-3, 135
Israelites, see Jews kavod 134
Index 201
Keller, Chaim Dov 89 on epikoros 36

Kellner,Jolene 16 on Exodus 20: 2 l, 33
Kimelman, Reuven 41 on 'external' books 35
knowledge: on faith 66, 108; and science 61-2,
vs. belief 72-3, 104 65
defined 62 on God 22, 46
Kook,Abraham n5,n6 on God's corporeality 20
Kraemer, David 123 Graeco- Muslim influence on 7-8
on halakhah and theology 90
L vs. Halevi on the Jews n3
Lamm, Norman 71, 89-90, 98 and Hazan Ish n6
Lasker, Daniel J. 2, 42, 173 heroic conception of 106
legitimacy, Jewish 104, n4 as heterodox 156
Leibowitz, Yeshayahu 45, 106, 135, 136, 151 on human beings 72, 155
Leiman, Sid 42 on human perfection 5, 125, 158-9
Lessing, G. E. 147 on immortality 72, 74-5, 155
Levin, A. Mark 2 impact of 66-71, 120
Lieberman, Saul 48 inconsistency of 90, 102
liturgy, dogma in 66 influence, lack of 67
logic, in Maimonides 76 influence of: on Bleich 67, 88-9, 96; on
Lot 14 Judaism 105; on Orthodoxy 92; on
loyalty 18 Jonathan Sacks 98
on intellect 72
M introductions to thought of 3
ma )aseh bereshit 97 on the Jewish people 23
ma)aseh merkavah 97 on Judaism as based on dogma 75
magic 35 on Karaites 82-6
Maimonides 43, 45, 49, 55, 93, 94, 102, 105, on kavanah 131-2
109, 129, 130 on kavod and Shekhinah 134-
acceptance of 22 on knowledge vs. belief 73
on acquired intellect 157; and Maimonidean controversy 22, ro6
Abrabanel 157 vs. Maimonideans 123
approaches to the interpretation of 5, negates racism 104
161 non-parochialism of 72
and Aristotle 63-4, 155 on the obligatory character of the
authority of 104, 106 commandments 157
on Balaam's ass 17 options available to him 7
Bleich on 39, 106 Orthodoxy of 150
compared to Sa'adia and Bahya 82 parochialism of his teachings 72
consistency of 82-6 vs. Plato 72
on conversion 58-60 on providence 18-19
criticism of 5-6; by Crescas 77-8 psychological theory of 157
defended by Abrabanel 78-80 rejection of II3
defines faith 68-9 on religion 9
definition ofJ ews 64, 82, 92, 112; as as revolutionary 25
interpreted by Abrabanel 165 on reward and punishment 149-50
and dogma 24, 56; dogmas of an on righteousness 64
innovation 56, 99; not dogmatic 65 on Sanhedrin x. l 33
on eligibility for the world to come 76 on shegagah 75
elitism of 72 on theology: and halakhah roo;
on emunahas 'belief that' 52, 56, 75, 80, in Judaism 87; on theological
147 mistakes 85
202 Index
Maimonides (cont.): 0
on Thirteen Principles as a criterion for Ochs, Peter 124
being Jewish IOo; on eighth principle One, the 76
I03; on first five principles 86 Onkelos IH
on Torah and science 79, 97; as science ontology 76
I25 Oral Torah 26, 36, 82, I02, 172
on truth 63-4, I22; vis-a-vis Bible and Orthodoxy I, I29, I39
Talmud I22 and decline of the generations I07
universalism of 72 defined 98, no
veneration of 6 dogmatic 2, I04-8
vision ofJ udaism of 9 and emunah no
on world to come 5, 7, 64, I56 and freedom of enquiry 93-4
see also Mishneh torah Maimonidean 92
majority, age of, and beliefs 28 and non-Orthodoxy I, 87, 89, 93,
matter and form I65 107-10, u9; cooperation with 96
Meir, Rabbi (2nd/3rd-cent. tanna) 7I Orthodox Jews forbidden to kill
Mendelssohn, Moses n2 others 83
Messiah, the 55, 84, I23-4, I68, I73 'theologification' of I07
messianic era 23; and Gentiles IOI Orthopraxy n2, 120-r, 129, 131, 135
metaphysics 62, 74-6, 97, I54, I59
Aristotle on 62 p
key to world to come 84 paganism 4 7-8
and Thirteen Principles 75 Palestinians 91, 101
Metatron IOI, I03 Parnes, Yehudah 93-4, 95, 99, I08
mikveh 29 Pascal, Blaise 22
min, see sectarians Passover 36, 42, 45, n7
miracles 158, 161 Patriarchs 168
Mishnah 6, 63 'Perek l)elek' 5, I5I, I55, I6I-2
Mishneh torah 70 perfection:
divine inspiration of 6 human 24, 73, 155-6, I58-9, 161, I63
infallibility of 6 intellectual 5, I25, I6o
and Talmud 59 Perfet, Isaac ben Sheshet 6-7, 35
mitzvot, see commandments Pharisees 38
monotheism 3I, 45, 56, 48 physics 62, 74, 97
morality I49-59, 162 and metaphysics 79
andTorah 5 Pines, Shlomo 156
Moses 97, I06, n4, I68-71 Pirkei avot 63, 64
differs from other prophets I69-7I pluralism I, no, III, I46-7
polytheism 48
N prayer 21, 130, I62
Nahmanides 16, I33, I43, I54 prophecy 2I, I68, I69-70
name, divine 33 proselytes 23
nature I58 Maimonides and Halevi on n3
Neoplatonism 76 proselytism 47
non-Orthodox Judaism 2, 87, 98, I09 providence 18-19, 21, 22
Moses Feinstein on 88 psychology, Maimonides on I57
and heresy 87, 90, 93, I03, I08, 109, n9 punishment 154, 155, I57, 174
notJewish IOI
legitimacy/illegitimacy of 95, 96, 98 R
not pluralist m Ra bad, see Abraham ben David of
Novak, David 4 Posquieres
Nuriel, Abraham 166 rabbanites 49, 50, 82
Index 203
rabbinic literature 26 Schlesinger, George 75
rabbis: Schneersohn, Menachem 106
ignorance of 76-7 Schwarzschild, Steven IOI, 134
knowledge of metaphysics 76 science, and faith 52, 61-2
place in world to come 76-7 sectarians 38, 40-2, 58, 60
racism, disallowed by Maimonides I04 vs. heretics 41-2
Rademan, Emmanuel 89 Seeskin, Kenneth 76
Radbaz, see ibn Abi Zimra, David Sefer 16
Rashba, see Adret, Solomon ben sefirot 135
Abraham Shapiro,Avraham IOI, I02
reason 61 Shapiro, Marc 8, 95, 127
rebellious elder 145 shegagah 64, 68-9, 83, I02-3, I08
rebuke of heretics n6-r7 Maimonides on 56-8, 75
Reconstructionist Judaism I03 Shekhinah 133-5
ReformJudaism 5,28,136,138 Shem Tov ibn Shem Tov 6
called a new religion 90 Shiur komah 169
M. Feinstein on 88 arukh 67
seen as not Jewish I07 sin :
Reines, Isaac J. 139 original sin 34-
repentance 45 sinner vs. sin n6
resurrection 33-6, 39, 53, 84, IOI, r73 Sofer, Moses I39
revelation l, 39 Solomon 173
reward and punishment 19, 30, 53, 159-60, Soloveitchik, Joseph 91, 94
172-3 soul, the 71-2, 157
vs. consequence 154-5, 157 Spain, Expulsion of the Jews from 70
as dogma 149 Statman, Daniel 135-7, 139, 140
Maimonides on 149-63 Synagogue Council ofAmerica 89
righteousness 13, 34-, 64
andfaith 56 T
righteous person, the 32, 57 Talmud 6
Rosenberg, Shalom 5 absence of dogma in 25, 43
Rozen, Yisrael 90 absence of systematic thought in 26
Rufeisen, Daniel 126 tannaim and amoraim, authority of 6
Ten Commandments 159
s tetragrammaton 35
Sa'adia Gaon 7, 50, 52, 80-1, 99, 127, 134 theology:
Sabbath 27, 159 and behaviour 25
Sabra and Shatila IOI, I02 consensus concerning 29
Sacks, Jonathan 92, 93, 97-9, I08, n2, n9, and halakhah 6, 90, 92, roo, 108
128 in Judaism 46
influence ofMaimonides on 98 systematic 44, 49, 51, 52, 99
Sadducees 36, 38, 46, 136, 139 theological mistakes, Maimonides on
Sages, interpretation of r53 85
salvation 24, 33, 36 Thirteen Principles, the 3, 97, I02, I05,
Samuelson, Norbert 127-9 II4, 129, 151, 165-74
Sanhedrin, and Karaites 85 acceptance of makes one a Jew 94, roo
Sanhedrinx. 1 33-8, 43, 45, 54-, 56, IOO challenges to 77-80
and dogma 38, 144 cognitive status of 72, 74
Satmar 91, n6 described 52-4
Schiffman, Lawrence 45 as dogmas 55, 84
Schiller, Mayer 90 doubted 54-5
schisms, lack ofin Judaism 77 eighth 82, 85
204 Index
Thirteen Principles, the (cont.): truth 5, 52, 61, 73, n2-13, 158
eleventh 149 Aristotle on 124
and faith 56, 64-6 and behaviour 125
first five 82-6, 103 as characteristic of claims 124
and freedom of enquiry 94 not commanded 121-2
ignored by responsa literature 68 God pleased by 125
as innovation in Judaism 97 Maimonides on 63-4, n9-26
last eight 104 in pre-messianic era 123
as a literary device 69 as relationship 124
and metaphysics 75 and Torah 120
in Mishneh torah 58 Twersky,Aaron 89
mistakes concerning 56-8, 84 Twersky, Isadore 70, 106
poemson 175
rejection of 55 u
responses to 69-70 universalism 72
true 61 universe, eternity of 167
and the world to come 71
tinok shenishbah 68, 97, 103, 109, w
n5-19 Wasserman, Elhanan 80, 95
tolerance no, III Wolfson, Elliot 76
theological 4 world to come 7, 27, 30-1, 33-5, 45, 51, 54,
Torah 18, 45, 53 56-7, 60, 64, 66, 127, 163
blessings over 28 achieving a place in 84, 144; depends
dogma absent from 24 upon intellectual perfection 73
from heaven 33, 34, 143, 171-2 characterized 131
and history 17 and commandments 5, 161
and intellect n9-20 anddogma 64
as metaphysics n3 eligibility for 73-4, 76, 154, 158
and morality 5 exclusion from 36-7, 64, 71, 100-2, 104,
nature of 81 134; and heretics 87; and Karaites 85
non-abrogation of 172 impossibility of 156
as opposite ofidolatry 30 inclusion in 100
place of theology in 16-24 Maimonides on 5, 7
and reason 120 non-Jews in 34
and science 93; Maimonides on place ofrabbis in 76-7, 150
79 and Thirteen Principles 71
as science 125 Written Torah 50
studyof 151
systematic theology absent from 18 y
teachings of not always strictly true Yeshiva University 89, 91, 92, 98
161-2 Yigdal 53, 69, 175-6
theology in 30 Yorn Kippur 27
and truth 120
see also Oral Torah; Written Torah z
'Torah and derekh eretl 107 Zahar, the 3, 4, 23
Torah Umadda(journal) 93-4 Zoroastrianism 48

Kellner Must A Jew Believe Anything ?

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Must a Jew Believe

The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization

First published 1999

©Menachem Kellner 2006

All rights reserved.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not

Catalogue records for this book are available from the

1 Two Types of Paith II

Faith, Belief, and Trust 12

Emunah in the Torah 14

3 Why Judaism Acquired a Systematic Theology 44

4 Maimonides: Dogma without Dogmatism 52

7 How to Live with Other Jews no

APPEND Ix l Maimonides on Reward and Punishment 149

APPENDIX 2 The Thirteen Principles 164

APPENDIX 3 Yigdaland Ani ma)amin 175

Note on Transliteration 177

Note on Citation ofClassical Sources 178

Biographical Notes on Jewish Thinkers 182

are defined by some inherent characteristic which makes them essentially

Maimonides and Gersonides (R. Levi ben Gershom, 1288-1344, known

truth of certain faith-claims. Maimonides, it will be shown here, adopted

Faith, Belief, and Trust

relationship usually taken to be one of trust. It is a fact of everyday life that

Theology and the Torah

opinion concerning the actual, specific content of these teachings; it

Classical Judaism and the Absence of Dogma

Testing for 'Required Beliefs'

Here we have a passage in the Talmud in which the 613 command-

emphasize again: theological views did find expression in classical Juda-

R. Akiva adds two further classes of people who exclude themselves

misconception concerning Judaism is the notion that Judaism is a

Heretics and Sectarians

had a consciously developed and codified theology. While Reuven

Behaviour and Belief

as a system of commandments and values adhered to by a group of

Extrinsic Reasons for the Lack of Systematic

Why Systematic Theology Developed among the

The Importation of Theology

Maimonides' statement of his principles occurs at the end of a passage

Maimonides on Inadvertent Heresy

ence, as mitigating guilt or even, in some cases, obliterating it altogether.

Maimonides on Conversion and the Nature of Faith

Maimonides on Leaving Judaism

Maimonides' 'Non-dogmatic' Dogmas: Science and

Commandments, and in 'Laws of the Foundations of the Torah', i. 6 .

Let us recall that this passage opens a commentary on a portion of the

The Logic of Righteousness: Reason and Faith

TH Is chapter addresses Maimonides' impact on his contemporaries

As I have tried to argue in this book, the actual impact of Maimonides'

This is precisely Maimonides' position. In his hands, however, the de-

Remember that the ontology underlying Maimonides' first principle of

This is the philosophical position which underlies Maimonides' prin-

I cannot be commanded to be convinced of the truth of Pythagoras'

Was Maimonides Inconsistent? The Karaites

As we shall see below, this more moderate position, that contemporary

corporeality of God should be excused because of his having been brought up

A person has been brought up to believe in a corporeal God. This

0 NE of the most difficult and painful problems facing contemporary