One Step Back, Two Steps Forward

When looking for insight into “What is a Human?” – the theme of our congregation’s grant and program with Scientists in Synagogues – the Medieval period is not the usual or instinctive time period to study. Bracketed by the Classics, the Ancient Greeks and Romans, on the one hand, and the Enlightenment, on the other, it is often dismissed as a backwater period of religious authoritarianism, persecution, and censorship, and the assumption is that there is little to nothing for us Enlightened Moderns to learn from those poor, ignorant Medievals. Add to this the fact that we were looking to bring together scientific and religious perspectives on the central theme of “What is a Human?”, and I think the attendees’ expectations were tepid at best.

I taught two sessions on this topic, which followed up on two given by our Rabbi on Biblical and Rabbinic perspectives on our theme, and they were to bridge the gap for us into the sessions we had planned for the modern period. I chose to focus on Maimonides (1138-1204), who is sometimes called “the Great Eagle” of Medieval Jewish thought, and Spinoza (1632-1677), a person whose work is often recognized as heralding the end of the Medieval period – though he remained steeped within and continued to draw from it throughout his life and work.

Maimonides, with his emphasis on human reason and intellect as the unique bond that connects us with the divine – our image of Him and His likeness – presents us with a vision of humans as intellectually capable moral beings endowed with, and dutifully bound to, the rational project of discerning scientific causal truths. For him, the pursuit of knowledge, both material and metaphysical, though equally rational and scientific, is not only commendable but essential to our fulfillment, our telos, as human beings. His deeply rationalist approach to Biblical texts challenged the conventional interpretations of his time, urging us to engage in critical inquiry and seek understanding beyond the surface. Maimonides ran up against our collective notions of the Middle Ages as an anti-scientific, pre-modern, dogmatically religious world, and made us question the idea that religion and science are mutually exclusive by approaching the idea that they are, in fact, interdependent.

Spinoza’s philosophy, contending with Descartes’ groundbreaking rethinking of metaphysics and (Christian) theology and operating in a post Copernican revolution world, is presented as geometrically rational, building on set axioms and definitions, and only putting forth what can be proven therefrom. It is, in turn, pantheistic, and offers a radical reimagining of our relationship with Deus sive Natura, God or Nature, Cause and Effect, Infinite Cause and Infinite Existence. For Spinoza, to be human is to recognize, accept, and endeavor to understand our intricate interconnectedness within the lawful and necessary causal matrix of nature, and to strive for an adequate understanding of the world through the rational lens of scientific inquiry. His deterministic view of all of existence challenges traditional religious notions of a creator God (seen as separate from creation), human free will, the possibility of and desire for miracles, and much more. It invites us to embrace a more lawful, causally necessary and deterministic – read: rational and scientific – understanding of our place in the divine cosmos and order, as well as to eschew notions of the miraculous, of freewill, and of a personal God of History. Reading Spinoza forced us grapple with the logical conclusion to what Maimonides introduced: a worldview that sees little to no difference between the object of science and the object of religion, and how the two must be understood, indeed practiced and lived, in such a world.

Together, we saw how both Maimonides and Spinoza conceived of the rational human endeavor of understanding the causal nature of things – that is, Science – as absolutely vital for humanity. At the same time, we saw how both thinkers recognized the ultimately finite human understanding of what is in essence an infinite scientific project – and how this gap, intellectually and politically speaking, necessitates religion. What’s more, the two thinkers recognized that, over time, the two societal forces of science and religion need to work together for the sake of human development, evolution, peace and safety, and even happiness.

Throughout our discussions, one theme was intentionally given pride of place and bore great fruit: the intrinsically necessary, if pre-modern, connection between religion and science in human self-understanding and the quest for Truth. These two domains, we saw, are not mutually exclusive, but rather complementary and interdependent aspects of the human experience. Viewing them as anything but can have major and disastrous consequences for the full complexity and diversity of human experience and existence.

Both Maimonides and Spinoza understood this fundamental Truth and did what they could for their respective times and places to popularize it, or at least make it less heretical or politically dangerous a position to hold. Maimonides encoded his thoroughgoing rationalism in his Guide of the Perplexed, a book claiming to be about biblical exegesis, and was at great pains to show in it, among other things, that Judaism can have firm footing in even the most radical of scientific worldviews, thus encouraging us to be more rational. Spinoza, on the other end of the spectrum, tried to show that we need not sacrifice what makes us human – our emotions, our love of God and neighbor, and especially our ethics and virtuous religions – on the cold altar of reason, and that reason is in fact the only thing that can achieve these most human of needs and desires. As such, our sessions were a living testament to their projects, furthering their cause but centuries later.

During our discussions, I witnessed firsthand the transformative power of continued intellectual engagement with Jewish history and texts. The participants in our classes, who had a wide range of backgrounds, professions, and levels and types of religious observance, brought their unique perspectives to the table. Together, we embarked on a journey of discovery, challenging our (modern) assumptions and expanding our horizons in ways that promoted deep reflection only available to those with more, shall we say, “life experience” than I’m used to in an undergraduate classroom. Attempting to revive a moribund period of over 1,000 years of Jewish history, allowing it to become relevant for one’s immediate self-understanding, is not something done lightly or easily, but Maimonides and Spinoza were consistently mentioned by the participants at the following events. References to the medieval period were not received obscurely, but engaged and appreciated, proving we were indeed successful.

In closing, perhaps the most profound lesson we learned from Maimonides and Spinoza is the importance of humility in the pursuit of Truth, and how, in turn, certainty is both necessary though extremely dangerous. Both thinkers, despite their towering intellects, engaged in their respective lives and projects with a deep sense of humility and reverence for the mysteries of the divine/existence itself and the limits of human reason. They understood that human reason, our understanding of God and the universe, is inherently limited, and that true wisdom, indeed political wisdom par excellence, lies in acknowledging the vastness of what we do not know while being content with what we do and, at the same time, being politically savvy to motivate learning ever more.

To put it differently: Certainty, upon which so much depends, is ultimately a distant, perhaps even messianic, goal, and the political itself is to be found in the attempt to further the rational project – admitting a current lack of certainty, without undermining the stability said “certainty” currently provides or even the possibility of attaining it at all.

Perhaps a bit less profound, though equally important, and a point of pride for myself, was the idea that Jewish history, and Medieval Jewish history at that, had so much to say on these and so many other modern issues, including and especially the central thematic idea of “What is a Human?” This was eye opening for many in attendance and it injected a bit of vitality into what can sometimes be seen as a languid, sometimes even irrelevant, period of Jewish history.

At the end of both sessions, I was delighted to see conversations continuing in the hallways and parking lot afterwards, and in the following weeks and at the next sessions (which went deeper into the modern period with discussions of evolution and then artificial intelligence), I was further delighted to hear questions making references to Maimonides and Spinoza, most often focusing on questions of radical determinism and the denial of free will.

In turn, our sessions were also a living testament to the larger Jewish “project” as a whole, which is to bring the history, texts, and people of our tradition to bear on all aspects of life. If I may be allowed a distinctly hypermodern expression in closing: FTW! (for the win!)

(This post is part of Sinai and Synapses’ project Scientists in Synagogues, a grass-roots program to offer Jews opportunities to explore the most interesting and pressing questions surrounding Judaism and science. “What Is a Human?” was a series of seminars held at Temple B’nai Or in Morristown, NJ.)