What Is The Wisdom That Knows Everything? A
Rabbinic Encounter with Levinas' Talmud
Ira F. Stone
Reconstructionist Rabbinical College
I have been invited to provide a rabbinic
perspective on Levinas' Talmud work. I have
presumably been given this assignment because I am a
Rabbi. The very structure of the assignment
identifies and affirms the dichotomy that Emmanuel
Levinas articulates in "The Temptation of Temptation"
between Knowledge, the province of philosophers, and
Wisdom, the province of Torah.
Critiquing philosophy, or the Western tradition
that it under girds, is easy enough to do. But to do
so without casting a critical eye on the Torah
tradition of the Rabbis at the same time would be to
miss what I as a Rabbi find most compelling in
Levinas' Talmudic work. To imagine that there is a
harmonious tradition of Torah Wisdom standing at the
ready awaiting the turn of the West and her
philosophers desiring to learn its secrets is truly
to miss the radical nature of Levinas' work. The
audiences of his Talmudic lectures were primarily
Jewish, and through the intellectual leadership of
the French-Jewish community he addressed in person, I
believe, his audience was precisely the traditional
Jewish community and her Rabbis. The Talmudic
readings confront the constraining ontological
categories of the Rabbinate just as Otherwise Than
Being, or Beyond Essence and Levinas'
philosophic oeuvre confronted the tradition of
Western thought from Thales of Miletus to Martin
Heidegger. Therefore, to respond as a Rabbi to
Levinas' Talmudic readings is to either hear and
internalize their critique or to reject them
specifically on the grounds that they depart from the
ossified canons of interpretation acceptable in the
Rabbinic academy.[1]
So, all I can say in response to Levinas is that
he is right. There is a Wisdom that challenges
knowledge, and Rabbinic readers of Talmud have been
as likely to choose knowledge over Wisdom as any
group of Philosophers. But I will go further and
point out that in his critique of Rabbinic ontology,
he is neither alone or the first. On the contrary, he
is part of a tradition, particularly centered among
Lithuanian sages, but not restricted to them, who
have tried to guide their community of faithful away
from the temptation of knowledge back to the
responsibility for wisdom. This tradition can be
called somewhat imprecisely Mussar.[1] While it can be
said to reach back into the Talmudic period itself,
it is embodied in the relatively modern period by the
Gaon of Vilna, Rabbi Elijah ben Solomon, continued by
his student and Levinas' indirect teacher Rabbi
Chayyim of Volozhin, and beyond them to Rabbi Joseph
Zundel of Salant and then the Salanter Rav, Rabbi
Israel Lipkin the founder of the modern Mussar
movement.
However, my interest here is not in intellectual
history. Rather, my interest is in shedding more
light on precisely what Levinas means by "the wisdom
which knows everything without experiencing it" (NTR
34). In knowing this wisdom, what does one know? To
shed light on this question and in light of the
intellectual genealogy just outlined, I would like to
briefly present a text in response to a text—a
Rabbinic response indeed.
Yet first we must make some preliminary remarks.
For in the title of my commentary, do I not
approximate the flaw that Levinas feared he too had
overlooked in putting exponents on words? Can not
wisdom that knows everything be read as an
exponential? And does not the philosophic, political,
and religious tenor of our time also call out for
action in place of interpretation as stridently as
Levinas heard that call on the morning of his
presentation? And how did Levinas' resolution to the
scruples he shared answer both of his initial
hesitations? The impossibility of escaping all
discourse appears directed at those calling for a
cessation of interpretation. What about the problem
of putting exponents on words? Of course, the need
"to put some questions to the comrades even at the
moment when the world is changing" remains. And the
"inability to escape the horizon of this questioning
speech" clearly is the justification, if you will, or
if you prefer, the inevitability that inescapable
discourse is precisely contained in the inevitable
potential of words to take exponents. Exponential
words are the words of true discourse, and it is the
Talmud's ability to model a methodology for
discovering the exponents of words that makes it so
precious to Levinas. Thus, his opening remark, rather
than serving as the disclaimer it is usually thought
to be, serves as part of that "wisdom that knows
everything" upon which Levinas endeavors to expound.
In part, I would suggest, it is the possibility of
the exponentiation of language and the access to
wisdom or even truth which is always only a receding
glimpse dependent on the intrusion of infinity into
the seeming totality of words. Thus, it is only by
way of textual interpretation, the exponentiation of
words, that we can both understand and overcome the
Temptation of Temptations.
The text is from the commentary of the Gaon of
Vilna on the Book of Proverbs. We read in the first
chapter, verse 7: "Fear of the Lord is the beginning
of knowledge, fools despise wisdom and discipline."
It would not be in keeping with Levinas' tradition of
approaching his texts through the particulars of his
life situation for me not to preface my
interpretation of this passage by explaining that,
moments after I received the news of my mother's
death, I began to recite to myself the verse from the
Book of Proverbs: "Listen, my son, to the
Mussar of your father and do not spurn the
Torah of your mother" (Proverbs 1:8). Though I
was certainly very familiar with it, I had never
systematically studied the Book of Proverbs before
and cannot account for the appearance of this verse
in my consciousness. I used the verse as the basis
for the eulogy that I delivered at my mother's
funeral and then determined that the Book of Proverbs
with its high moral tone would just barely fit into
the category of Sacred literature that one is
permitted to study during the days of shiva,
the seven days of mourning. Knowing that I would be
left alone for hours at a time, studying the Book of
Proverbs seemed a better choice than most other
reading material that I could use during those hours.
In fact, despite an active community of consolation
that filled my shiva house continuously
throughout the afternoon and evening, after the early
morning service I was left to myself. I filled that
time learning the Book of Proverbs accompanied by the
commentary of the great Gaon of Vilna. Through the
eyes of the Gaon, I found that I had entered a
profound world, a world that delved into the very
secrets of Jewish thought and connected that to the
world of Mussar. Through this study, I was
able to begin to appreciate the connection between
the Gaon's teaching and the Mussar of the
Mussar Movement that had always been claimed, but
whose self-evidence had previously escaped me.
I did not expect that my mother would have
appreciated the content of my study. But for me, and
after all I was the mourner, the act of dedicating
the quiet morning hours of my shiva to this
study in her memory had a powerful effect. Not only
was it comforting and therefore healing in the
conventional sense; its insights also helped me to
sort out the many feelings I had during that week:
feelings about my mother, my family, even about my
community and individuals in that community as they
visited me.
For the sake of brevity, I begin with the second
verse, skipping a complicated understanding of
exactly what a proverb is that the Gaon offers in his
commentary to verse one. The verse reads
לָדַעַת חָכְמָה וּמוּסָר להָבִין אִמְרֵי בִינָֽה
To know Hochma, Mussar; to understand words of
discernment (Bina.)
Given these rubrics, this first book takes up the
general subject of the order that they will appear
and their deeper significances and relationship one
to the other. First is the generalization derived
from the words: To Know: This explains that
the intent or goal of this book is knowledge of
Hochma Mussar, and an understanding of
Bina.
To know Hochma: means not to fall
under the power of the Yetzer HaRa to turn
aside one's feet and follow after it and not to be
persuaded by its seductions. Thus wisdom is given a
very specific meaning. It is the knowledge of ethical
choice, but not just the knowledge only but the
ethical choice itself properly made.
On the other hand "to [know]
Mussar," as it were, means that if
one's Yetzer HaRa gains mastery over a person
that person is able to muster the discipline to break
it as it is written: (Isaiah 49:9) "saying to the
prisoners, 'Go free,' To those who are in darkness
'Show yourselves'" Namely, those who are already in
the clutches of the Yetzer HaRa are prisoners
under its hand and its power is heavily upon them,
they will be freed by virtue of Mussar,
discipline; and others of them who are in darkness
and do not see the light and don't recognize their
own foolishness, by virtue of the Torah it
will be revealed to them and they will recognize
their foolishness. Thus Mussar either requires
Torah or leads to Torah, or perhaps
both. But Torah is clearly distinguished from
wisdom, for one thing, and, as we'll see below, its
relation to the basic categories of statutes, laws
and Mitzvot is also not one of simple identity.
However, having brought Torah into the mix,
the Gaon is quick to derive from the next term To
discern words of discernment: that even if
they break their Yetzer and their appetite
they be seen to break it in the way of the
Torah and not by seeming to be more righteous
than what is written in the Torah, for
example, one who not only fasts all through the week
(apparently a laudable asceticism) should certainly
not also fast on the Sabbath. Trying to be more pious
than the Torah is not permitted. The Gaon is clearly
aware that an important part of Mussar is
avoiding the prideful righteousness that such
pietistic concern can breed.
The Gaon concludes his remarks on this second
verse with the following remarkable comment; "Thus
the secrets of heaven and earth and man are
connected. And this is the foundation of Torah and
Commandments and Middot as it is written explicitly
by Isaiah (1:2) but we don't expand upon this for
those who understand will understand." The verse in
Isaiah that the Gaon is referring to reads: "Hear O
heavens and give ear, O earth for I have spoken: I
reared children and brought them up-and they have
rebelled against me." The obvious point is that the
verse connects heaven, earth and humankind. Less
obvious is the reason "we don't expand upon this." It
could be because the message of the verse is
particularly negative. It is a prophecy against a
sinful Israel promising the wrath of God as
punishment for their sins. It could also be because
there is a deeper, more mysterious meaning to the
verse and to this connection, a kabalistic meaning
that the Gaon would naturally be hesitant to expound
in a general commentary on a biblical book. This
might account for the use of the word "sod" in the
sentence above "This is the foundation of Torah,
Commandments and Middot." The sentence could be read,
"This is the secret of Torah. Commandments and
Middot." That is, that heavens, earth and humans are
connected. This is a powerful teaching and, I
believe, is both the secret and the foundation of the
Gaon's reading of the Book of Proverbs.
7 יִרְאַת יהֹוָה רֵאשִׁית דָּעַת חָכְמָה וּמוּסָר
אֱוִילִים בָּֽזוּ
The beginning of Knowledge is fear of Adonai,
fools scorn Wisdom and Discipline.
Above, in verse 2, the Gaon has already defined
wisdom: to not fall under the power of the Yetzer
Hara. The question that opens the book is: What
knowledge is necessary in order to grasp this wisdom?
Wisdom and knowledge are not only differentiated as
two different types of content or information, but
rather are differentiated as pertaining to two
different dimensions of human consciousness. Yet they
are closely linked together. Knowledge consists of
information, or content; Wisdom is an action. It is,
for all intents and purposes an ethical action,
albeit initially understood negatively. To be wise is
to be able to resist, control and transform the
seductions of the Yetzer HaRa. Knowledge is
the information or content that makes this
possible.
At this early point in our commentary, then, it
becomes necessary to speak about the Yetzer
HaRa. Usually translated as the evil inclination
and combined in Rabbinic thought with its
counterpoint, the Yetzer HaTov or the good
inclination. Traditional sources teach us that human
beings are created with both a Yetzer HaRa and
a Yetzer HaTov. Without a Yetzer HaRa a
person would fail to marry, take a job or build a
house. In other words, the normal acts of ego
gratification, both physically and psychologically,
depend upon the Yetzer HaRa. In this light I
believe it is more accurate to translate the term
Yetzer HaRa, as the inclination to serve the
self, and therefore to translate the term Yetzer
HaTov as the equally indigenous inclination of
human consciousness to serve another.
In this context then, we can interpret the Gaon's
teaching about wisdom. To restrain the Yetzer
HaRa is to restrain the inclination to serve the
self, instead allowing for the inclination to serve
another. If this is wisdom then knowledge must be the
intellectual or philosophical content that will allow
this service to appear compelling to the individual.
The individual who does not find it compelling to
restrain his or her inclination to serve him or
herself is thus characterized as a fool.
The Gaon supports this reading of the text by
referring to Mishna Avot (3:9) that teaches: "One
whose fear precedes wisdom, his wisdom will endure,
etc." He explains that this means that one who has no
fear of God distains wisdom, meaning more
specifically: "he rejects the yoke" which is opposite
what the one who does have feat of God. He then
explains more precisely what constitutes distain and
how fear of God is related to knowledge. When one
possesses fear of God one endeavors to learn the
details of how to conduct himself in the world, for
the fear of God motivates him to want to conduct
himself in a certain way and when a person wants
something and finds it he treasures and guards it.
But if he doesn't have this motivation and does not
restrain himself from sin, even if he is learned he
doesn't desire goodness and doesn't find satisfaction
because he hasn't learned the elements regarding what
he should be cautious about—"for whatever is not
ready to mind one does not act upon"—Therefore, even
if one is learned he distains Mussar and Wisdom and
they are not established for him.
Notes
[1] See Ira F. Stone,
Reading Levinas/Reading Talmud: An
Introduction (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication
Society, 1998).
[2] In this regard, see Ira F.
Stone, A Responsible Life: The Spiritual Path of
Mussar (New York: Aviv Press, 2007).
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