- Rabbinic Judaism (2nd–18th century)
Basic beliefs and doctrines
- Key People:
- St. Paul the Apostle
- Martin Buber
- Philo Judaeus
- Jeremiah
- Ezra
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Judaism is more than an abstract intellectual system, though there have been many efforts to view it systematically. It affirms divine sovereignty disclosed in creation (nature) and in history, without necessarily insisting upon—but at the same time not rejecting—metaphysical speculation about the divine. It insists that the community has been confronted by the divine not as an abstraction but as a person with whom the community and its members have entered into a relationship. It is, as the concept of Torah indicates, a program of human action, rooted in this personal confrontation. Further, the response of this particular people to its encounter with God is viewed as significant for all humankind. The community is called upon to express its loyalty to God and the covenant by exhibiting solidarity within its corporate life on every level, including every aspect of human behavior, from the most public to the most private. Thus, even Jewish worship is a communal celebration of the meetings with God in history and in nature. Yet the particular existence of the covenant people is thought of not as contradicting but rather as enhancing human solidarity. This people, together with all humanity, is called upon to institute political, economic, and social forms that will affirm divine sovereignty. This task is carried out in the belief not that humans will succeed in these endeavors solely by their own efforts but that these sought-after human relationships have their source and their goal in God, who assures their actualization. Within the community, each Jew is called upon to realize the covenant in his or her personal intention and behavior.
In considering the basic affirmations of Judaism from this point of view, it is best to allow indigenous formulations rather than systematic statements borrowed from other traditions to govern the presentation.
God
An early statement of basic beliefs and doctrines about God emerged in the liturgy of the synagogue some time during the last pre-Christian and first Christian centuries; there is some evidence to suggest that such formulations were not absent from the Temple cult that came to an end in the year 70 ce. A section of the siddur that focuses on the recitation of a series of biblical passages (Deuteronomy 6:4–9; Deuteronomy 11:13–21; Numbers 15:37–41) is named for the first of these, Shema (“Hear”): “Hear, O Israel! the Lord is our God, the Lord alone” (or “…the Lord our God, the Lord is one”). In the Shema—often regarded as the Jewish confession of faith, or creed—the biblical material and accompanying benedictions are arranged to provide a statement about God’s relationship with the world and Israel (the Jewish people), as well as about Israel’s obligations toward and response to God. In this statement, God—the creator of the universe who has chosen Israel in love (“Blessed art thou, O Lord, who has chosen thy people Israel in love”) and showed this love by the giving of Torah—is declared to be “one.” His love is to be reciprocated by those who lovingly obey Torah and whose obedience is rewarded and rebellion punished. The goal of this obedience is God’s “redemption” of Israel, a role foreshadowed by his action in bringing Israel out of Egypt.
Unity and uniqueness
At the center of this liturgical formulation of belief is the concept of divine singularity and uniqueness. In its original setting, it may have served as the theological statement of the reform under Josiah, king of Judah, in the 7th century bce, when worship was centered exclusively in Jerusalem and all other cultic centers were rejected, so that the existence of one shrine only was understood as affirming one deity. The idea acquired further meaning, however. It was understood toward the end of the pre-Christian era to proclaim the unity of divine love and divine justice, as expressed in the divine names YHWH and Elohim, respectively. A further expansion of this affirmation is found in the first two benedictions of this liturgical section, which together proclaim that the God who is the creator of the universe and the God who is Israel’s ruler and lawgiver are one and the same—as opposed to the dualistic religious positions of the Greco-Roman world, which insisted that the creator God and the lawgiver God are separate and even inimical. This affirmation was developed in philosophical and mystical terms by both medieval and modern thinkers.
Creativity
This “creed,” or “confession of faith,” underscores in the first benediction the relation of God to the world as that of creator to creation. “Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who forms light and creates darkness, who makes peace and creates all things.” It adds the assertion that his activity is not in the past but is ongoing and continuous, for “he makes new continually, each day, the work of creation”; thus, unlike the deity of the Stoic worldview, he remains actively present in nature (see Stoicism). This creed also addresses the ever-present problem of theodicy (see also evil, problem of). Paraphrasing Isaiah 45:7, “I form the light and create darkness; I make peace, and create evil,” it changes the last word to “all” (or “all things”). The change was clearly made to avoid the implication that God is the source of moral evil. Judaism, however, did not ignore the problem of pain and suffering in the world; it affirmed the paradox of suffering and divine sovereignty, of pain and divine providence, refusing to accept the concept of a God that is Lord over only the harmonious and pleasant aspects of reality.
Activity in the world
The second and the third benedictions deal with divine activity within the realm of history and human life. God is the teacher of all humanity; he has chosen the people of Israel in love to witness to his presence and his desire for a perfected society; he will, as redeemer, enable humanity to experience that perfection. These activities, together with creation itself, are understood to express divine compassion and kindness as well as justice (judgment), recognizing the sometimes paradoxical relation between them. Taken together, they disclose Divine Providence—God’s continual activity in the world. The constant renewal of creation (nature) is itself an act of compassion overriding strict justice and affording humankind further opportunity to fulfill the divinely appointed obligation.
The basically moral nature of God is asserted in the second of the biblical passages that form the core of this liturgical statement (Deuteronomy 11:13–21). Here, in the language of its agricultural setting, the community is promised reward for obedience and punishment for disobedience. The intention of the passage is clear: obedience is rewarded by the preservation of order, so that the community and its members find wholeness in life; while disobedience—rebellion against divine sovereignty—shatters order, so that the community is overwhelmed by adversity. The passage of time has made the original language unsatisfactory (promising rain, crops, and fat cattle), but the basic principle remains, affirming that, however difficult it is to recognize the fact, there is a divine law and judge. Support for this affirmation is drawn from the third biblical passage (Numbers 15:37–41), which explains that the fringes the Israelites are commanded to wear on the corners of their garments are reminders to observe the commandments of God, who brought forth Israel from Egyptian bondage. The theme of divine redemption is elaborated in the concluding benediction to point toward a future in which the as-yet-fragmentary rule of God will be brought to completion: “Blessed is his name whose glorious kingdom is for ever and ever.”
Otherness and nearness
Within this complex of ideas, other themes are interwoven. In the concept of the divine creator there is a somewhat impersonal or remote quality—of a power above and apart from the world—which is emphasized by expressions such as the trifold declaration of God’s holiness, or divine otherness, in Isaiah 6:3: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts….” The development of surrogate divine names for biblical usage, as well as the substitution of Adonai (“my Lord”) for the tetragrammaton (YHWH) in the reading of the Bible itself, suggests an acute awareness of the otherness of God. Yet the belief in the transcendence of God is mirrored by the affirmation of God’s immanence. In the biblical narrative it is God himself who is the directly active participant in events, an idea that is emphasized in the liturgical narrative (Haggada; “Storytelling”) recited during the Passover meal (seder): “and the Lord brought us forth out of Egypt—not by an angel, and not by a seraph, and not by a messenger….” The surrogate divine name Shekhina, “Presence” (i.e., the presence of God in the world), is derived from a Hebrew root meaning “to dwell,” again calling attention to divine nearness. The relationship between these two affirmations, otherness and nearness, is expressed in a Midrashic statement, “in every place that divine awesome majesty is mentioned in Scripture, divine abasement is spoken of, too.”
Closely connected with these ideas is the concept of divine personhood, most particularly illustrated in the use of the pronoun “thou” in direct address to God. The community and the individual, confronted by the creator, teacher, and redeemer, address the divine as a living person, not as a theological abstraction. The basic liturgical form, the berakha (“blessing”), is usually couched in the second person singular: “Blessed art thou….” This relationship, through which remoteness is overcome and presentness is established, illuminates creation, Torah, and redemption, for it reveals the meaning of love. From it flow the various possibilities of expressing the divine-human relationship in personal, intimate language. Sometimes, especially in mystical thought, such language becomes extravagant, foreshadowed by vivid biblical metaphors such as the husband-wife relation in Hosea, the “adoption” motif in Ezekiel 16, and the firstborn-son relation in Exodus 4:22. Nonetheless, although terms of personal intimacy are used widely to express Israel’s relationship with God, such usage is restrained by the accompanying sense of divine otherness. This is evident in the liturgical “blessings,” where, following the direct address to God in which the second person singular pronoun is used, the verbs are with great regularity in the third person singular, thus providing the requisite tension between nearness and otherness, between the personal and the impersonal.
Modern views of God
The Judaic affirmations about God have not always been given the same emphasis, nor have they been understood in the same way. This was true in the Middle Ages, among both philosophers and mystics, as well as in modern times. In the 19th century, western European Jewish thinkers attempted to express and transform these affirmations in terms of German philosophical idealism. Later thinkers turned to philosophical naturalism, supplemented with the traditional God language, as the suitable expression of Judaism. In the first half of the 20th century the meaningfulness of the whole body of such affirmations was called into question by the philosophical school of logical positivism. The destruction of six million Jews in the Holocaust raised the issue of the validity of concepts such as God’s presence in history, divine redemption, the covenant, and the chosen people.
Israel (the Jewish people)
Choice and covenant
The concluding phrase of the second benediction of the liturgical section—“who has chosen thy people Israel in love”—clearly states that God’s choice to establish a relationship with Israel in particular was determined by divine love. The patriarchal narratives, beginning with the 12th chapter of Genesis, presuppose the choice, which is set forth explicitly in Deuteronomy 7:6–8 in the New Jewish Version:
For you are a people consecrated to the Lord your God: of all the peoples on earth the Lord your God chose you to be His treasured people. It is not because you are the most numerous of peoples that the Lord set His heart on you and chose you—indeed you are the smallest of peoples; but it was because the Lord loved you and kept the oath He made with your fathers that the Lord freed you with a mighty hand and rescued you from the house of bondage, from the power of Pharaoh king of Egypt.
Later rabbinic traditions on occasion sought to base God’s choice upon some special merit of Israel, and the medieval poet and theologian Judah ha-Levi suggested that the openness to divine influence originally present in Adam continued only within the people of Israel.
The background of this choice is the recurring disobedience of humankind narrated in Genesis 2–11 (the stories of Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, Noah, and the Tower of Babel). In the subsequent chapters of Genesis, Abraham and his descendants are singled out not merely as the object of the divine blessing but also as its channel to all humanity. The choice, however, demands a reciprocal response from Abraham and his lineage. That response is obedience, as exemplified in the first instance by Abraham’s readiness to leave his “native land” and his “father’s house” (Genesis 12:1). This twofold relationship was formalized in a mutually binding agreement, a covenant between the two parties. The covenant, thought by some modern biblical scholars to reflect the form of ancient suzerainty treaties, indicates (as in the Ten Utterances, or Decalogue) the source of Israel’s obligation—the acts of God in history—and the specific requirements those acts impose. The formalization of this relationship was accomplished by certain cultic acts that, according to some contemporary scholars, may have been performed on a regular basis at various sacred sites in the land before being centralized in Jerusalem. The content of the covenantal obligations thus formalized was Torah. Israel was bound in obedience, and Israel’s failure to obey provided the occasions for the prophetic messages. The prophets, as spokespersons for God, called the community to renewed obedience, threatened and promised disaster if obedience was not forthcoming, and sought to explain the covenant’s persistence even when it should have been repudiated by God.
The choice of Israel is expressed in concrete terms in the requirements of the precepts (mitzwot, singular mitzwa) that are part of Torah. The blessing recited before the public reading of the pentateuchal portions on Sabbath, festivals, holy days, fasts, and certain weekdays refers to God as “He who chose us from among all the peoples and gave us His Torah,” thus emphasizing the intimate relationship between the elective and revelatory aspects of God.
Israel’s role was not defined solely in terms of its own obedience to the commandments. Abraham and his descendants, for example, were seen as the means by which the estrangement of disobedient humankind from God was to be overcome. Torah was the formative principle underlying the community’s fulfillment of this obligation. Israel was to be “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (Exodus 19:6) functioning within humanity and for its sake. This task is enunciated with particular earnestness in the writings of the Prophets. In Isaiah 43–44, Israel is declared to be God’s witness and servant, who is to bring the knowledge of God to the nations, and in 42:6–7 it is described as a “covenant of the people, to be a light of the nations, to open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the prisons, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house.” This double motif of a chosen people and a witness to the nations, joined to that of the righteous king, developed in the biblical and postbiblical periods into messianism in its several varieties.
The intimate relation between choice, covenant, and Torah determined the modality of Israel’s existence. Religious faith, far from being restricted to or encapsulated in the cult, found expression in the totality of communal and individual life. The obligation of the people was to be the true community, in which the relationship between its members was open, in which social distance was repudiated, and in which response to the divine will expressed in Torah was called for equally from all. One of the important recurring themes of the prophetic movement was the adamant rejection of any tendency to limit divine sovereignty to the partial area of “religion,” understood as the realm of the priesthood and cult. Subsequent developments continued this theme, though it appeared in a number of other forms. Pharisaic Judaism and its continuation, Rabbinic Judaism, resolutely held to the idea of the all-pervasive functioning of Torah, so that however the various Jewish communities over the centuries may have failed to fulfill this idea, the self-image of the people was that of a “holy community.”
Israel and the nations
The double motif of “treasured people” and “witness” was not without its tensions as it functioned in ongoing history. Tensions are especially visible in the period following the return from the Babylonian Exile at the end of the 6th and the beginning of the 5th century bce. It is, however, doubtful whether the use of such terms as nationalism, particularism, or exclusivism are of any great help in understanding the situation. Emphasis has, for example, been laid upon Ezra 9:2 and 10:2, in which the reestablished community is commanded to give up wives taken from “the peoples of the land.” This is taken as an indication of the exclusive and nationalistic nature of Judaism, without reference to the situation in which a harassed contingent of returning exiles sought to maintain itself in a territory surrounded by politically unfriendly if not hostile neighbors. Nor does this recognize that foreigners were admitted to the Jewish community; in the following centuries, some groups engaged in extensive missionary activities, appealing to the individuals of the nations surrounding them to join themselves to the God of Israel, the one true God and the creator of heaven and earth.
A more balanced view recognizes that, within the Jewish community, religious universalism was affirmed by the same people who understood the nature of Jewish existence in politically particularistic (i.e., nationalistic) terms. To neglect either side is to distort the picture. In no case was the universalism disengaged from the reality of the existing community, even when it was expressed in terms of the ultimate fulfillment of the divine purpose, the restoration of the true covenantal relationship between God and all humankind. Nor was political particularism, even under circumstances of great provocation and resentment, misanthropic. The most satisfactory figure in describing the situation of the restored community, and one that continues to be useful in dealing with later episodes, is that of the human heartbeat, made up of two functions, the systole, or contraction, and the diastole, or expansion. There have been several periods of contraction and of expansion throughout the history of Judaism. The emphasis within the abiding tension has been determined by the historical situation in which the community has found itself. To generalize in one direction or the other is fatal to an understanding of the history and faith of the “holy community.”
The people and the land
Closely related to the concept of Israel as the chosen, or covenant, people is the role of the land of Israel. In the patriarchal stories, settlement in Canaan is an integral part of God’s fulfillment of the covenant. The goal of the Israelites who escaped from Egypt and of those who returned from the Babylonian Exile is the same land, and entry into it is understood in the same fashion. As there was the choice of a people, so there was the choice of a land—and for much the same reason. It was to provide the setting in which the community could come into being as it carried out the divine commandments. This choice of the land contrasts significantly with the predominant ideas of other peoples in the ancient world, in which the deity or divinities were usually bound to a particular parcel of ground outside of which they lost their effectiveness or reality. Although some such concepts may very well have crept into Israelite thought during the period of the kings (from Saul to Jehoiachin), the crisis of the Babylonian Exile was met by a renewal of the affirmation that the God of Israel was, as Lord of all the earth, free from territorial restraint, though he had chosen a particular territory for this chosen people. Here again the twofold nature of Jewish thought becomes apparent, and both sides must be affirmed or the view is distorted.
Following the two revolts against Rome (66–73 ce and 132–135 ce), the Jews of the ever-widening dispersion continued, as they had before these disasters, to cherish the land. Once again it became the symbol of fulfillment, so that return to it was looked upon as an essential part of messianic restoration. The liturgical patterns of the community, insofar as they were concerned with natural phenomena (e.g., planting, rainfall, harvest, and the annual cycle) rather than historical events, were based on geography, topography, and agricultural practices of the land. Although some Jews continued to live in the land, those in the distant dispersion idealized it, viewing it primarily in eschatological terms—their destination at the end of days, in the world to come. The 11th-century poet Judah ha-Levi not only longed for it in verse but also gave it a significant role in his theological interpretation of Judaism and eventually sought to return to it from his native Spain.
It was not, however, until the 19th century that the land began to play a role other than the goal of pilgrimage or of occasional settlement by pietists and mystics. At the end of the 19th century the power of the territorial concept was released in eastern Europe in a cultural renaissance that focused, in part, on a return to the land and, in western and central Europe, in a political movement coloured by nationalist motifs in European thought. The coming together of these two strains of thought gave rise to Zionism. This predominantly political movement reflected a dissatisfaction with the overall status of the Jewish people in the modern world.
The political emphasis of Zionism aroused considerable opposition from three competing views of the status of the Jewish people. The first opposition came from some traditionalist Jews (now called “Orthodox” or “ultra-Orthodox”) who were convinced that the Jewish nation must remain a solely religious community in the Diaspora and even in the land of Israel. They accepted the political rule of the Gentiles until the time when God will send his messiah to redeem the Jewish people by supernaturally returning all of them to the land of Israel in order to rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem.
The second opposition came from acculturated Jews in western Europe and North America who believed that Jews are part of larger secular polities and that their role in them should be that of a communion of like-minded religious believers, similar to that of the Catholic and Protestant denominations.
The third opposition came from some eastern European Jews who maintained that the Jewish people should seek their own national status in the territories in which they were presently living, similar to the resurgence of nationalism among a number of smaller nations living under the Austro-Hungarian or Russian empires. It was not until the Nazi Holocaust in the middle of the 20th century that the vast majority of Jews regarded Zionism, if not as the solution to the “Jewish question,” then as something the Jews could not very well survive without. After this time, Jewish opposition to Zionism was confined to peripheral groups on the right who still saw Zionism as pseudo-messianism and to peripheral groups on the left who still saw Zionism as isolating Jews from more important universalist goals.
Modern views of the people Israel
The nature of the people Israel and of the land of Israel has been variously interpreted in the history of Jewish thought. In modern times some interpretations have been deeply influenced by contemporary political and social discussions in the general community. Thus, for example, Zionist theoreticians were influenced by concepts of political nationalism on the one hand and by socialist ideas on the other. Further, the challenge to traditional theological concepts in the 19th century raised issues about the meaning of the choice of Israel, and Jewish thinkers borrowed from romantic nationalism ideas such as the “genius” of the people. In the 20th century, attempts were made to approach the question sociologically, dismissing the theological mode as unhelpful. The concept of the chosen people was accordingly understood as indicating a specific role deliberately undertaken by the Jewish people and similar to that espoused by other groups (e.g., manifest destiny by the American people). The establishment of the State of Israel motivated some thinkers to call for a repudiation of the idea, in keeping with the position that normal existence for the Jews requires the dismissal of such concepts. Although only a small minority of Jewish thinkers espoused this position, the concept of the choice of Israel was not without theological difficulties. In the late 20th century there were also some important attempts by Jewish thinkers to develop a theology of election.
The most important scholarship on the concept of “chosenness” was Michael Wyschogrod’s The Body of Faith (1983) and David Novak’s The Election of Israel (1995). Wyschogrod held that the people of Israel were elected because of God’s exceptional love for them and that God’s love existed prior to the revelation to Moses on Mount Sinai. Novak also accepted the traditional belief that God formed a unique relationship with Israel but maintained that God extends his covenant to the world and that the particularity of Israel’s election is implicated in the general covenant with the world and vice versa.