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Paul Eidelberg: : Jerusalem vs. Athens: In Quest of a General Theory of Existence. Lanham: University Press of America, 1983.

Originally published in Interpretation: A Journal of Political Philosophy. Volume 14, Nos. 2 & 3, May & September 1986. Republished with permission.

 

“In the history of mankind, two cities stand above all others and vie for men’s souls: Jerusalem and Athens.” To “almost all participants in this conflict,” Jerusalem stands for religion, revelation, and traditional authority whereas Athens stands for philosophy, reason, and freedom of thought. Eidelberg dissents. “These dichotomies are not only superficial; they are a distortion of the truth. We shall present evidence indicating that there is far greater rationality and intellectual freedom in the city of King David and King Solomon than in the city of Plato and Aristotle. We shall show that the Tree of Knowledge, which bore fruit in Athens, cannot survive without the Tree of Life whose roots are in Jerusalem. Indeed, we shall see how the Athenian tree of knowledge, without the Tree of Life, yields madness and death.”

Eidelberg’s claim should not be unthinkingly dismissed. As a student of Professor Leo Strauss he had guidance through many of the most obscure yet important neighborhoods of “Athens.” Fortified by the teachings of logician and Torah master Rabbi Chaim Dr. Chaim Zimmerman, Eidelberg boldly challenges Strauss on Straussian territory: “Unfortunately, Prof. Strauss did not penetrate the esoterics of the Torah or of the Talmud. Had he done so he would have transcended the quarrel between the ancients and the moderns of which he was otherwise the master.” Eidelberg makes the still bolder claim that modern historicism, Strauss’s bète noire, glimpses a truth denied by the best Greek philosophers: theory and practice can ultimately harmonize, and humanity is perfectible. He makes perhaps the boldest claim of all in calling true revelation entirely rational, superior to philosophy and modern science; the Torah contains the means by which human perfection can be achieved. [1] Eidelberg intends to provide a “general theory of existence” based upon a rational understanding of the Torah. In doing so, he intends to show that modern mathematical physics is not the paradigm of true knowledge; the attempt of modern social ‘scientists to use this physics as a model must fail.

Eidelberg writes ten chapters. The first and most complex of these contains the “basic principles” of the “Torah Theory of Existence.” Following Zimmerman, Eidelberg discusses twentieth-century physics, arguing that both quantum mechanics and the general theory of relativity disprove the physics of classical Athens but do so by pointing beyond physical existence itself. [2] This tends to confirm the Torah principle that an epistemology based upon “the postulation of any physical or mental existent, process, or law as self-sustaining” and unified is a form of idolatry, the worship of a created thing. Thus the Torah stands against any form of monism, as distinguished from monotheism. Although many scholars contend that there is no Hebrew equivalent for the word ‘nature,’ Eidelberg observes that one of the names of God, ‘Elohim, appears in relation to the multiplicity of cyclical forces manifested in creation. However, these forces do not constitute the self-sustaining nature of the philosophers, the nature of which man is a part; rather, “the universe owes its existence to the ceaseless Will of the Creator.” Another of God’s names, HaShem, appears in relation not to cyclicality but to linear, providential, teleological laws “more fundamental” than the cyclical ‘natural’ laws. This exemplifies the principle of “asymmetric complementarity,” whereby nature and history are ordered by means of dualities, one element of each duality being the stronger. In this case, the physical world has ‘its own’ laws but these are governed, finally, by nonphysical laws. “Judaism’s distinctive task” is “to sanctify the physical world so that the latter is brought into harmony with the nonphysical world.” Far from being a handbook for mystics, the Kabala “embodies knowledge” about “the structure of creation, about the relationship between nonphysical and physical existence,” with scientific and mathematical rigor. Judaism thus avoids “the self-gratification and self-glorification” of the Cainites and the “one-sided asceticism or spiritualism” of the Sethites. Two systems of law—the Finite Halacha (Dinei Adam), governing immediate daily duties, and the Infinite Halacha (Dinei Shamayim), governing “the conduct of individuals and nations throughout history”—combine law, rationality, and morality in a manner Plato and Aristotle would regard with considerable skepticism. But the philosophers are descendants of Esau, “the nations” or goyim, who despite their best efforts inhabit and exploit the physical world and serve egalitarianism. The descendants of Jacob, the Israelites, inhabit the spiritual domain that will master the physical in accordance with Torah principles of hierarchy. Both the descendants of Esau and the descendants of Jacob serve laws that conduce to the perfection of mankind. One might say, however, that the best of the descendants of Esau know that they do not know what they are doing, whereas the best of the descendants of Jacob do know something of what they are doing.

In the second chapter Eidelberg contrasts philosophic pride with Torah anava, usually translated as humility. He observes that Plato’s Socrates ‘forgets’ justice and gentleness in his final enumerations of the philosopher’s virtues. (The word Eidelberg translates as “gentle” is translated as “tame” by Allan Bloom.) He goes so far as to argue (citing the Republic 501a and 541a) that Socrates would have all citizens over the age of ten exterminated, a somewhat harsh reading that allows him to call the ancient/modern dichotomy (epitomized for Strauss in the contrast between Plato and Machiavelli) exaggerated. He also contends that if (as Socrates contends) the unexamined life is not worth living, “it would not be unjust to exterminate those unfit to pursue the philosophic life”—the very ones eliminated from Plato’s republic. But this as it were deadly serious reading of Plato fails if justice is not the philosopher’s virtue or purpose. [3] Eidelberg charges that Plato and indeed all the philosophers deify the intellect and attempt to murder God. This manifests their pride. “Pride of intellect is the human vice par excellence.” The Torah man, who is anav, “does not even regard himself as ultimately deserving any credit for his wisdom or greatness,” for the means of achieving these were given to him. [4] “Judaism is based on gratitude,” gratitude not only to God as the giver of nature’s cyclical laws, apprehensible by the human mind, but the laws of HaShem, inaccessible to the unaided human mind. (Eidelberg denies that this veers into mysticism; Torah laws, once given, “must and can be tested like any scientific theory; by its internal logical consistency and by its power to elucidate nature and history…”) “The man of Torah does not want to make a name for himself; he wants only to sanctify the name of HaShem. To sanctify the name of HaShem requires not the union of wisdom and power, so much as the union of wisdom and anava from which power in the form of just rule and dominion follows.” In this way the judges of the Sanhedrin excel Plato’s philosopher-kings.

In the third chapter Eidelberg writes that “Machiavelli only vulgarized Plato or made public what Plato preferred to remain private.” Plato’s “city in speech” is “founded on force” and “preserved by force unmitigated by fraud yet all serving the quest for truth.” (One must ask, Does Machiavelli’s city serve the quest for truth? If so, is Machiavelli’s ‘truth’ identical to Plato’s?) Eidelberg contrasts the inhumane Platonic founding (whether that described in the Republic or that described in the Laws) with the founding of ancient Israel, and particularly with the efforts of “the most anav man on the face of the earth,” Moses. “Infinitely removed from the idolatry of nationalism and imperialism, Israel, serving only God, would be proud as a nation (Deut. 33:29), yet, at the same time, each individual member of this nation would be, like Moses, anav. This complementarity of humbleness and pride corresponds to a perfect complementarity between the individual and society which is to found only in the Torah of Israel.” Thus Judaism overcomes the tension between the wise individual and the community—a tension best described by Plato. Eidelberg argues that philosophy makes this tension inevitable because philosophy understands cyclical nature only; anava would be irrational in a meaningless, ever-wheeling cosmos. Indeed, what has lately come to be called ‘self-actualization’ “is a fit and all-consuming imperative in such a universe,” as Spinoza more-or-less openly taught. Instead of the tension between the philosopher and the polis Judaism poses a problem, if not necessarily a permanent tension, between the Creator and the created. “How can the Absolutely Transcendent be Immanent?” The problem is “insoluble” by the finite human mind; “mysticism, insofar as it involves a supposed unio mystic with HaShem, is utterly foreign and abhorrent to the Torah,” a denial of God’s transcendence or holiness. We can only know God “indirectly through His works or actions”: through nature, history, and especially through His most illuminating work, the Torah, which “harbors a pure system of symbolic logic” whose rules of exposition are given orally “only to the Jewish people, and then only to those who, through long and rigorous discipline, have mastered the logical system and esoteric wisdom underlying the deliberately disordered teachings of the Talmud.”

The six following chapters include two on history, two on science, and two on what might very loosely be called psychology. In the chapters on history, Eidelberg writes that “the primary historical function of Greek philosophy was to destroy the Greek pantheon, that is, primitive idolatry.” Platonic “rationalism” “identifies Being with being known,” thus deifying intellect. “In the denial of creation ex nihilo is the fundamental conflict between Athens and Jerusalem.” Aristotle’s “empiricism” also deifies intellect by working its way to a “Prime Mover,” defined as “thought thinking about itself.” “A Creator-God would be absolutely inscrutable, an offense to the philosopher’s intellect.” Eidelberg observes that this deification of mind paradoxically “imposes limits to man’s intellectual power and creativity” because it “denies the possibility of man ever achieving a radical power over nature,” the power to “modulate” natural laws. This power “presupposes knowledge of nonphysical laws from which the laws of nature are derived.” The moderns, one might say, absurdly try to use nature to conquer nature. But the only true way to conquer nature is to employ non-natural laws; creativity ‘in God’s image’ rather than the ersatz creativity of self-deifying philosophers, is the promise of Judaism.

In destroying the Greek pantheon, the classical philosophers weakened the polis and encouraged universalism—the conception of “man qua man.” Despite their attempts to conceal this apolitical teaching, the classical Greek philosophers thus served the idea of equality in the sense that all nations could be regarded as equally artificial. As Eidelberg asks, “How is it that ‘nature’ fails to produce one good regime?” Further, this nature fails to produce the sense of obligation needed to sustain a just hierarchy Eidelberg sees that such Torah incidents as Abraham’s binding of his son Isaac and the severe methods employed during the conquest of Canaan might easily be cited if one wished to raise questions concerning the justice of God and the Israelites. Accordingly, he argues that “Abraham’s sacrifice… teaches us that although man is nothing in relation to God, he is the acme of God’s creation.” As for the destruction of the Canaanites, it was done “to stamp out the pagan practice of sacrificing the innocent for the sake of the guilty.” Jewish practice contrasts with the perhaps proto-Machiavellian acts of Plato’s founders. It also contrasts with Christianity, which Eidelberg blames for sanctioning just such a ‘pagan’ sacrifice. “The pagan practice of sacrificing the innocent for the guilty is a form of aristocide,” hence egalitarian. In practice, “by eliminating the coherent and comprehensive system of laws of the Torah, Christianity was forced to adopt the patchwork of laws of pagan nations, laws which could not but conflict with and eviscerate the unguarded teachings of the Nazarene or his disciples. Hence Christianity was and still is compelled to render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s, when in truth, nothing in a monotheistic universe belongs to Caesar.” The church/state separation leaves Christianity vulnerable to the separation of morality and politics effected by its enemy, Machiavelli. Eidelberg decries the “sacrifice of intellect” required by the Christian doctrine of salvation by faith. “The Book of Truth requires infinitely more than belief or faith”; it requires acts in the form of observance of the commandments. “The suicide of the mind… is the final consequence of the mind’s deification.”

Modern science provides a different way to this suicide. Chapters six and seven concern ‘classical’ (i.e., Galilean/Newtonian) and twentieth-century physics, respectively. Galileo preserves Plato’s esteem for mathematics but discards the Platonic eidos; “the loss of this upper rung of Plato’s mental hierarchy brings Galileo closer to epistemological democracy.” For in contrast to Plato Galileo believes the universe infinite and irrational, with no natural warrant for distinguishing curved from straight, circumference from center. With this, relativity or egalitarianism “entered cosmology.” Add Galileo’s anti-teleological, subjectivist, and atomistic tendencies, and we see the grounds for an atheistic positivism. Eidelberg calls this an advance, in one sense, because it destroyed “a farrago of Greco-Christian elements which, having fulfilled their historical function of destroying paganism or primitive idolatry, were now preventing mankind from recognizing the only true God.” Newton added an empiricist determinism to this modern brew. Twentieth-century physics in turn counteracted early modern physics. Einstein substitutes a non-materialist determinism for Newtonian mechanics. Eidelberg objects that Einstein’s laws “leave no room for contingency or uncertainty”; Einstein “assumes that the universe exists by immanent necessity and not as a result of the will of a Creator.” Relativity theory not only deifies human intellect but overlooks the necessary incompleteness of any mathematical system—a necessity demonstrated by Gödel. It also contradicts the microphysical indeterminacy posited by another branch of contemporary physics, quantum mechanics. For these and other reasons, Eidelberg can insist that physics now suffers from theoretical disarray, despite spectacular practical successes. He points to the concept of creation ex nihilo as the only remaining solution to the many problems.

Whitehead “admits” the existence of one such problem when he writes that “apart from some notion of ‘imposed law,’ statistical law or ‘the doctrine of immanence provides absolutely no reason why the universe should not be steadily relapsing into lawless chaos.” Eidelberg goes further, following Zimmerman, and asserting that statistical laws “are not self-sustaining” because, if they were the only laws in operation, “the universe would now be in a state of complete entropy.” Contra Einstein, “God does play dice with the world, only the dice are ‘loaded.'” This assertion allows Eidelberg to introduce the claims of chapters eight and nine which concern the human soul as seen in Jews and in non-Jews. Aside from God Himself, what prevents the decline into entropy is human action, insofar as those actions serve God. The human will should serve the divine Will, and the most willful, “stiff-necked” people—the ones best fitted to serve that Will—are Jews. “The creativity of the Jew is sui generis and so abundantly manifest as to require no elaboration.” The Jews is “man par excellence.” The non-Torah world, by contrast, has sunk into deification of, first, the human mind, then the human will. In its ‘pluralism,’ it now deifies even the emotions, a suicide of the intellect comparable to that which Eidelberg imputes to Christianity.

Eidelberg returns to Plato for an explanation of this. He advances a Nietzschean interpretation of Socrates’ last words: “I owe a cock to Asclepius” means that life is a disease, an absurdity. When Socrates “told the Athenians that the unexamined life was not worth living, he was, in principle, condemning Athens (and the bulk of mankind) to death….” (One might reply that if life is absurd, then Socrates in fact condemned the bulk of mankind to life, leaving the philosopher as the one who learns to ‘die.’) “Socrates conquered all his emotions—all save ne, the desire for truth.” Having severed this “emotion” from the others, Socrates effectually unleashes them. The artificial constraints he recommends must eventually fail. Only the “discipline of the Torah” provides the necessary restraints on these innocent but indeterminate forces of the soul. The standards for discipline “cannot be determined by categories of reason nor by logical inference from the facts of experience if only because life is infinitely richer than any set of mental concepts or accumulation of empirical data”—an argument opposed to the philosophers’ contention that no legal system can respond sufficiently to the range of human circumstance. In setting standards, the Torah neither suppresses nor indulges the emotions; it guides them to assist men to fulfill “the Torah program for overcoming the cyclicality of nature and the death principle.” Obviously, unaided human reason cannot know the “Infinite Halacha” on which this overcoming depends. As for “emotions” other than the eros  of intellect, Eidelberg restates the difficulty noticed by Leo Strauss, Stanley Rosen, and others. “It is always the case that the adherent of any reductionist or emotive theory of ideas or mentality runs into the paradox of exempting his thought from its own conclusions—an exercise in self-deification, a sort of parody of the Biblical verse, ‘My thoughts are not your thoughts.'” Unfortunately, these ‘gods’ characteristically lack the gracious restraint of Hashem.

Eidelberg titles his tenth and final chapter “The Conquest of Death.” In the course of advancing a non-Kabalistic interpretation of the Eden story, he offers some hints on how to interpret the Torah. By eating from the Tree of Knowledge, Adam asserted that he, not God, ‘owned’ the Garden. He thereby subordinated his higher, God-perceiving faculties to his senses or sensuous desires—in the very act of searching for knowledge. In descending to a lower level of existence, man caused tension between his mind and his body, yielding death on the one hand and shame on the other. Had Adam and Eve then eaten from the Tree of Life their misery would have been eternal. As it is, Socrates was right; life, for “anthropocentric man,” is “sickness unto death.” God allowed man to redeem himself by effort, by the sweat of his brow. But “to go beyond the finite, but without leaving the domain of reason, the Kabala of the Torah is necessary.” It can yield a science whose units of measurement “synthesize quantity and quality” and enable man to “create matter,” overcoming the merely natural principle of conservation of energy. Quedusha, the “nonphysical energy” that nonetheless can govern the physical world, “distinguishes and separates Israel from the nations.”

Thought’s enemy, complacency, will find no refuge in this book. Eidelberg makes good his promise to challenge “many cherished convictions, skeptical and dogmatic alike.” In doing so, he leaves one wanting to see more detailed and extensive treatment of his theme. This eros for completion could easily reach an impasse, however. [5]  In order to fully understand Judaism as Eidelberg represents it, one needs instruction in the esoterics of the Torah and the Talmud. To receive this, one must become Jewish—that is, one must decide the issue in advance, at least provisionally. (Else one must become the greatest dissembler in the world.) The Torah master can thus argue that for all practical purposes the Torah master is to the philosopher what the philosopher says he is to the non-philosopher: a man who knows both the true life of the mind and the false life, thus enjoying the advantages over men who ‘know’ only the false.

Does God smile?

 

Notes

1. By “true revelation,” I do not refer to the subjective experience of the prophet, which may or may not be rational, but rather to what the prophet says.

2. See Chaim Zimmerman: Torah and Reason: Insiders and Outsiders of Torah. Jerusalem: “HED” Publications, 1979.

3. Put another way, Socrates can be said to argue, in effect, that those who want justice more than anything else must commit acts of injustice to obtain their end. ‘Do you want justice that much?’ he may be said to ask. Socrates, a lover of wisdom primarily if not exclusively, clearly does not want justice that much.

4. This does not prevent a man of anava from recognizing himself as the wisest of mortals, if this is the fact. There is no merely conventional view of humility, here.