CHAPTER XVII
HALAKHA,
MITZVA, AND INDIVIDUAL LIBERALISM
Some
Thoughts on Jewish Tradition and Experience
BERNARD DOV COOPERMAN*
University of Maryland, College Park
THE LAW AND LIBERALISM
I
have titled my response to Professor Walsh’s paper "Hala-kha, Mitzva and
Individual Liberalism" as a way of forewarning the audience that I wish to
approach the general theme of this con-ference from a very specifically Jewish
point of view. The Hebrew words "halakha" (law) and "mitzva"
(commandment) often are cited as the central and defining concepts of
traditional Judaism, con-cepts which mould the nature of the Jew’s religious
experience. It is this legal conception of religion which was rejected by
Pauline Christianity, but which survived and was developed in other ways in
Islam. I wish to stress that the Jew seeking to define his or her own spiritual
identity is confronted immediately with a problem implicit in the religion
itself: namely the apparent debate between an obliga-tory set of ritual laws and
the possibility of individual self-realization. Granted that everything is
ordained, in what sense does the individual have the right to independent and
self-defined re-ligiosity?
I
stress the internal Jewish problematic of individualism and liberalism as
a way of expanding the approach of this conference. Dr. Walsh, in both his paper
and his comments, eloquently defined the conflict between radical egalitarian
government on the one hand, and liberalism and individualism on the other.
Implicit in rule by the majority is the danger of coercion of the individual,
and of an abdication of individual responsibility and values. Our conference,
and this session in particular, are similarly general in their approach. We are
exploring the relationship between the ineffable and the social, and the
specific problems, as the program puts it, "of a monothesitic faith which
is realized possibly as an ethnic minority within a broader society." In
other words, we are bound by our hosts to examine the issues of liberalism and
individuality within the con-text of the relation between religion and society,
between religion and power. We have been asked whether religion should be given
social power. Does giving power to one organized religious group imply that all
other religious groups within the society have thus lost power? On the other
hand, can a truly pluralistic society which rejects any exclusive claim to true
revelation tolerate a mono-theistic faith which on some level claims an
exclusivity of vision and a legitimacy which is uniquely its own?
These
problems are implicit in the structure of our society and, perhaps, in modernity
itself. But they are not generated by our pluralistic social order per se; they
are implicit in the essential tension between the individual and the norms of
society, even if that society is organized around a single and universally
acknowledged set of religious beliefs. Indeed, the problematic arises even if,
as was the case for Jews through much of their history, social control over
individual religious behavior is weak or non-existant, for the individual is
still forced to find his way between externally derived religious rules and
internally satisfying religious experience. In the limited time available to me,
I would like to offer just a few ob-servations about the Jewish case which I
hope will be of help in exploring the issues of individual liberty and autonomy
generally.
Of
course, the suggestion that Jews and liberalism have some special relationship
is not new. Quite to the contrary, it is a convention of American political
rhetoric, though in recent years, Jewish liberalism has become more and more
like the novel -- it is always dying. The popular press is always running lead
articles supposedly documenting and often bemoaning the move by American (and
Israeli) Jews to the right. But this is too narrow a definition of liberalism
for our purposes. What we ask in this context is not whether Jews vote Democrat
or Republican, Labor or Likud. Rather, we wish to understand whether the liberal
slant of modern Jewish politics reflects some aspect of Judaism itself.
Conventional
rhetoric about Jewish political liberalism ex-plains the pattern primarily in
sociological terms: the experience of persecution, of alienation, of immigration
and of poverty combine to push the Jews into the camp of the have-nots, the
outsiders, the concerned and the caring. Now this type of explanation is
noto-riously fuzzy when it comes to details. Neither the Jewish historical
experience nor the nature of liberalism are really explained. What we have is a
cartoon sketch of Jewish history linked to a picture of "knee-jerk"
liberalism. Nor is this simplistic approach helped when we add to it the other
convention used to explain Jewish political attitudes -- "the prophetic
tradition." Thrown in as an afterthought, especially when a polticial
speech is being delivered in a syna-gogue, this standard argument tries to
ground modern political attitudes in the words of Isaiah. In the 1960s, when I
was in college at the University of Toronto, I remember that we Jewish kids
"sat-in" outside the U. S. consulate to show our solidarity with the
marchers in Selma after listening to fiery speeches about biblical dreams of
equality and justice. I suspect, however, that our beating of pens into
plowshares and pencils into pruning hooks amounted to little more than extra
decoration for our cause. The prophets of ancient Israel had little, if
anything, to say to us.
And
yet, paradoxically perhaps, I would argue that there really is something in the
Jewish tradition that leads towards the values of liberalism. Moreover, Jews are
led in this direction not by abstract identification with ancient biblical
sermons, but out of the concrete and quotidian aspects of the Jewish
understanding of religion. Judaism is a religion of commandment and law. This
was attacked by Pauline Christianity and dismissed by the heirs of Paul’s
teachings. But this attack derived from the fundamental Christian
misunderstanding of the nature of the Jewish experience of law.
In
Renaissance Italy, Obadiah Sforno responded to the many Christian scholars who
perceived of Judaism as nothing more than blind obedience to custom and mere
following of traditions passed on from father to son over the generations.1
God’s exhortation in Leviticus 26:3, to "follow My laws, observe my
commandments, and perform them," became a proof text for Sforno’s
individualistic and intellectualist understanding of the religious imperative.
"Following" was no more than obedience to absolute divine imperative.
But "observance" required appropriate speculation and contemplation,
not only about how to perform the commandment but also about why. Only
such involvement by the individual in discovering and evaluating the purpose of
the commandment would make him a truly active agent, "performing" the
commandment out of free will and not out of passive obedience.2 In
other words, the law which apparently binds and destroys freedom actually grants
liberty and demands individual engagement through understanding, evaluating, and
applying the mitzva appropriately. Paradoxically, Jewish mitzva and
halakha demand independence and individual res-ponse.3
Let
me end this section of the paper with a set of assertions which we unfortunately
do not have the time fully to explore. First, I would argue that halakhic
Judaism allows and demands individual religious decision for the simple and
obvious reason that without radical free will the notion of a mitzva, a divine
imperative, is meaningless. And second, I would argue further that the halakhic
foundation of Judaism therefore, and paradoxically, provides the Jew with the
basis for a truly liberal and individualistic approach to religion and society.
THE COEXITENCE OF STATE
AND AUTONOMY
In
this context it is not possible to explore fully the manner in which halakha and
individuality, authority and autonomy, co-exist in Judaism. Let me rather devote
the rest of these remarks to rea-sons why this individualism has largely been
ignored by scholars. There are, after all, elements in Judaism and in the Jewish
his-torical experience which appear to delegitimize and negate the validity of
individual experience. Above all, perhaps, there is the group identity of the
Jews and the national orientation of their religion. Many years ago, the
historian Salo Baron emphasized the "interdependence of Jews and
Judaism," not only in the trivial sense that the creed cannot exist without
its followers, but in the more specific sense that "to Judaism the
existence of the Jewish people is essential and indispensable." This is
because in Judaism the nation is the bearer of the religion; the chosen people
is integral to the faith.4 (I hope that it is not necessary to explain that "chosenness"
in this context is not racist or even exclusivist, that anyone can join the
nation, and that the nation is chosen not for unique salvation but as a model to
others. Even if the universalist aspects of this particularism have not always
been emphasized sufficiently, they are clearly implicit in the original biblical
text, and have been emphasized again and again when historical conditions
allowed.)
The
national idiom in which Judaism articulates itself has had one very clear
result: since "the physical extinction of the Jewish people would sound the
death knell of Judaism," it became the Jews’ first concern to insure
physical group survival. Especially during the long period of exile, nothing
could be allowed to interfere with this "primary directive."
Everything from the systematic elimination of Karaites in the Middle Ages to the
decision to deny automatic Israeli citizenship to Brother Daniel, a born Jew who
had converted to Christianity, attests to the Jewish pre-occupation with
guaranteeing group survival through control of individual thought and belief.
But
even if group survival has been, and remains, a do-minating theme in Jewish
thought, we must not fall into the trap of thinking that group survival is a
value in itself. This mistaken thinking has characterized more than one period
of crisis in Jewish history, and scholars have been led astray by its apparent
simplicity into misunderstanding the ebb and flow of the Jewish encounter with
fate. This mistake is, for example, what lies behind the idea that it is hatred
from the outside that has preserved the Jewish people. This oft-repeated notion
has special appeal to those who are oblivious to, or wish to down-play, the
positive inner content of Judaism.
It
is not coincidental that the notion is first expressed by Spinoza, or that his
proof for the assertion is taken from the ex-perience of crypto-Jews living as
Christians on the Iberian Peninsula rather than from the history of openly
Jewish com-munities.5
Similarly in more recent times the notion that anti-Semitism has preserved the
Jewish people has become something of a conventional cliché. But placing the
outsiders’ hatred in the causative role and relegating the Jewish people to
passivity is to mistake cause for effect. As Jacob Katz has cautioned, rather
than seeing Jewish nationalism as a reaction to anti-Semitism, it makes more
sense to see anti-Semitism as a reaction to the stubborn dedication to group
identity. And group survival has had meaning for the Jews because the group
continues to be the vehicle of creativity and achievement.
Let
me add one more point. There have been many varied Jewish responses to the
challenge of modernity. Of all of these, one response stands out as by far the
most successful: nationalist Zionism. No one a century ago, or even half a
century ago, could have predicted this. Before World War II, Zionism as an
organized movement was relatively weak, the future of the Jewish community in
Palestine was by no means assured, and there were many other, louder voices
clamoring for the attention of the Jewish people in active opposition to
Zionism.
Today,
on the other hand, if you find a non-Zionist Jew you are staring through a
magnifying glass at a very wierd creature in-deed. Whatever the reasons for this
sea-change in Jewish identity, the dominance of political Zionism means that
there has been even more pressure on individual Jews to forego independent
thought in deference to the pressing national need for discipline, unanimity and
consensus. But once again, as I shall explain in a moment, I believe that what
appears to be a restraint on liberty of thought and liberalism within the Jewish
community, is in fact an opportunity for the fullest expression of such liberty
and individualism. Let me summarize and explain.
I
began by suggesting that the freedom of the individual was, paradoxically, given
full expression by the halakhic and com-mandment-based nature of Judaism, and
that the imperative of observance far from precluding individual self-expression
de-manded it. The national basis of Jewish identity, apparently so anti-thetical
to the kind of individual autonomy that we have been discussing, is in fact a
vehicle through which the individual must seek to give group expression to
positive values, values which derive ultimately from the individual conscience
and the individual religious identity. And perhaps most important, the modern
ex-pression of that Jewish group identity in the State of Israel has finally
made room for the fullest expression of the individual con-science, for
liberalism in its most positive and creative sense. If the needs of the group
have effectively limited the possibilities for deviance and for individual
self-expression within the Jewish col-lective, the existence of the State has
required of Jews to discuss the morality of power, the one element which was
lacking in the centuries of exile. Maimonides, in the eleventh century,
understood that the messianic era would be marked by only one change for the
Jews: the ending of political subservience. To turn his statement on its head,
the messianic era of our own day has been marked by the initiation of Jewish
political power -- and hence, of true ethical responsibility.
The
existence of the State of Israel has placed a supreme ethical demand on the
individual Jew. Since the State has gua-ranteed Jewish group survival, group
survival is no longer a suf-ficient reason for demanding individual ritual
observance. When I was a boy, I and my friends were constantly told that we must
observe the tradition (avoid ham sandwiches, avoid dating non-Jews, etc.)
because the future of the Jewish people depended on our doing so. Our
grandfathers, we were told, had been martyred for these rules, and it was our
obligation to continue the observance (whatever we thought of the specifics) in
order to ensure that earlier sacrifice had not been in vain.
This
argument, taken to its extreme, is the one associated with the philosopher Emil
Fackenheim who argued that for the Jews willingly to disappear was unthinkable
since it would be tantamount to doing Hitler’s work for him.6
The argument that one should be a Jew because of a deranged tyrant who destroyed
half the world may appear a bit strained, but it was a powerful one for people
seeking identity in the 1950s and 60s. But as the State has proven both viable
and stable, such strained arguments have become far less compelling. The Jewish
people will continue whatever the individual Jew does or does not do. In this
sense, the Jewish State has given every Jew, whether inside or outside the
country, the freedom to do whatever he or she wishes, including to opt out. Once
group survival per se can no longer be used to justify religious demands, the
individual must address the content and logic of religious demands. Content can
no longer be ignored.
Finally,
the State of Israel confronts the religious Jew with access to political power,
offering both the possibility, and the threat, of religious coercion. In the
past, Jews conceived of the government as gentile, as "goyish." Hence
the Jew could treat the state and its power in purely utilitarian terms (was it
good or bad for the Jews?). Correspondingly, internal discussion of Jewish
ethics could be carried on in purely abstract, and often unrealistic, terms. But
Israel is a place, like the United States, in which groups negotiate for power
and control. Some of these groups represent religious positions of one sort or
another. Other groups are quite hostile to Judaism traditionally conceived. The
debate goes on there within the context of liberal democracy, exactly as in the
United States (though perhaps with a little more intensity than we are used to
seeing here). In this negotiated environment the religious individual is forced
to see the Jewish State as outside of himself, not only when that State adopts
positions antithetical to religious values, but even when that State adopts
positions sup-portive of religious values. The religious individual must
consider not only how to make the State express his (or her) particular values,
but also how to react when the State does not do that. In other words, the
existence of the State of Israel forces the in-dividual Jew to perceive and
often to require a divorce between what we would call Church and State or, to
adopt a less Christian terminology, between Religion and State. As Yeshayahu
Leibowitz has demonstrated over and over, the religious individual has no choice
but to understand the Jewish State as a secular institution which can be used
for good or for evil.7
In other words, the Jew of today, is required for the first time in centuries,
to articulate religious values in the broadest marketplace of ideas, to fight
for those values in the rough and tumble of political discourse, and to be
prepared to see those ideas realized on the battleground of daily life.
To
conclude: the apparent dichotomy between structured authority and social power
on the one hand, and individual religious liberty on the other, is not nearly as
simple as we might think. The Jewish experience demonstrates that individual
liberty and free-dom of conscience can, and indeed must, flourish in the
conditions of modernity. This point, already argued vehemently more than two
centuries ago by the great Jewish philosopher, Moses Men-delssohn, must be
repeated constantly.8
Mendelssohn realized that an argument for Jewish liberty of conscience in a
Christian society was ultimately an argument for universal liberty of conscience
in any society. I submit that there can be no stronger statement of liberal
values.
*
The following paper is a lightly edited version of my res-ponse to a paper by
Professor Walsh above, and suffers from the usual limitations of brief
conference presentations. While I hope that the themes are clear, I realize that
I have only touched the surface of the issues raised and apologize in advance to
the reader for not expanding sufficiently.
NOTES
1.
See the Introduction to his Or Amim (in the collected edition of
Sforno’s work edited by Ze’ev Gotlieb [Jerusalem: Mosad ha-Rav Kook, 1984],
II; Sforno’s critique of Christian allegorization of the commandments in his
commentary to Psalms 119:69–70, ibid., p. 222 f.
2.
Idem, Commentary to the Pentateuch, in the Gotlieb edition, I, p. 254.
3.
I recognize that Sforno represents one approach to ha-lakha, one associated in
the medieval period with the philosophical tradition within Judaism, and that
the reader could easily point to other approaches within Judaism which tend to
emphasize the more monolithic and absolutely authoritative nature of Law. This
brief paper is not the place to attempt a full explanation of this idea. Suffice
it here to refer the interested reader to Isaac Heinemann’s still
authoritative Taamei ha-Mitzvot be-sifrut Yisrael, second rev. ed. (Jerusalem:
1949).
4.
Salo Baron, A Social and Religious History of the Jews, second edition, I
(Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1952), pp. 1 ff.
5.
Benedict Spinoza, A Theological-Political Treatise, chapter III, in Works
of Spinoza, tr. R. H. M. Elwes (reprint: New York, 1951),I.p. 55. I owe this
observation of Spinoza’s emphasis to my teacher, Y. H. Yerusalmi.
6.
Introduction to his Quest for Past and Future. Essays in Jewish
Theology (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1968), p. 20: "Jews
are not permitted to hand Hitler posthumous victories. Jews are commanded to
survive as Jews, lest their people perish." (Emphais in the original.)
7.
See, for example, his collected English essays, Judaism, Human Values, and
the Jewish State, ed. Eliezer Goldman (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 1992).