From Martin Buber’S Iand Thou to Mikhail Bakhtin’Sconcept of ‘Polyphony’ 21

Home , Albrecht Goes, Aleida Assmann, Chesed, Hans Joas, Heinz Schmidt, Hugo Bergmann

Dialogue as a Trans-disciplinary Concept Studia Judaica

Forschungen zur Wissenschaft des Judentums

Begründet von Ernst Ludwig Ehrlich

Herausgegeben von Günter Stemberger, Charlotte Fonrobert und Alexander Samely

Band 83 Dialogue as a Trans-disciplinary Concept

Martin Buber’s Philosophy of Dialogue and its Contemporary Reception

Edited by Paul Mendes-Flohr

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Paul Mendes-Flohr Introduction: Dialogue as aTrans-DisciplinaryConcept 1

Jürgen Habermas APhilosophy of Dialogue 7

Julia Matveev From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to Mikhail Bakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 21

Jeffrey AndrewBarash Politics and Theology: The Debate on Zionism between Hermann Cohen and Martin Buber 49

Samuel Hayim Brody Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? Martin Buber,Anarchism, and the Ideaofthe Political 61

Ran HaCohen Bubers schöpferischer Dialog mit einer chassidischen Legende 89

Irene Kajon Religio Today: The Concept of Religion in Martin Buber’sThought 101

Karl-Josef Kuschel Martin Buber und das Christentum 113

Yoram Bilu Dialogic Anthropology 141

Andreas Kraft Jüdische Identität im Liminalen und das dialogische Prinzip bei Martin Buber 157 VI TableofContents

HenryAbramovitch The Influence of Martin Buber’sPhilosophy of Dialogue on Psychotherapy: His Lasting Contribution 169

Alan J. Flashman Almost Buber: Martin Buber’sComplex Influence on Family Therapy 183

Aleida Assmann Dialogic Memory 199

Contributors 215

Subject index 217 Paul Mendes-Flohr Introduction: Dialogue as a Trans-DisciplinaryConcept

In amoment of disarming candor,Buber explainedtoafriend who was seeking to promotehis appointment to the faculty of the Hebrew University: “Ichbin kein Universitätsmensch”–Iamnot auniversity person.¹ By this confession, written just before he left Germanyfor Eretz Yisrael in March 1938, Buber meant that he did not fit into – nor did he care to fit into the disciplinary classifications of the university.His appointment to the facultytothe Hebrew University of Jerusalem was delayedbymanyyears, primarilybecause those advocating his appointment– such as Gershom Scholem and even the president of the fledglinguniver- sity,Judah Leon Magnes – could not convince their colleagues that Buber was indeedaUniverstätsmensch. WasBuber aphilosopher?Tobesure, he wroteextensively on philosophical themes, but his mode of exposition did not quite conform to the accepted disqui- sitional protocol of academicpublications. Washeascholarofcomparative religion (Religionswissenschaft), which he taught as a Honorarprofessor or adjunct professor at the University of Frankfurt? Washeabiblical scholar? After all he translated (initiallywith Franz Rosenzweig) the Hebrew Scriptures into German, wroteinnumerable essays and (by1938) no less thanfour major books on biblical subjects?Was he ascholarofHasidism and mysticism?Orperhaps he was an arthistorian, having also written about art?Hewas of course all these, yetnot quite any. He lacked aclear disciplinary profile. Finally, after ten years of negotiations acompromise was reached and he was granted apro- fessorship in social philosophy, which soon evolvedinto the foundingchair of the Hebrew University’sdepartment of sociology.² Although Buber had studied sociologyand social philosophywith the likes of GeorgSimmel and Wilhelm Dilthey,and edited ahighlyacclaimedseries of forty monographs in social psychology, Die Gesellschaft,one would hardlyregardhim in the strict sense aso- ciologist.

 Buber to S. H. Bergmann, letterdated 16 April 1936.Buber, Briefwechsel aus sieben Jahr- zehnten, ed. Grete Schaeder(Heidelberg: VerlagLambertScheidner,1973), vol2:589.  On the complex trajectory of Buber’sacademic career,see my article “Buber’sRhetoric,” in: Martin Buber:AContemporaryPerspective,ed. Paul Mendes-Flohr (Jerusalem: The Israel AcademyofSciences and Humanities/Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2002), 1–24. 2 Paul Mendes-Flohr

In aword, he wasapolymathofexceptionallearning, afacttowhich his friend Franz Rosenzweig attested in aletterexplainingwhy he had invited Buber to join thefaculty of the FreiesJüdisches Lehrhaus in Frankfurt am Main:

Iwould nothaveinvited him … hadInot been utterlyconvinced from theveryfirst moment of hisabsolutegenuineness,tobeexact,the integritythathas slowly takenhold of him. … Idonot knowofanyoneelse whoisashonest as he is withrespect to spiritual andintellectualmatters, andasdependableinhuman affairs. Idonot readilyemploy superlatives….[YetImust acknowledge that]Buber is for me an imposing savant (Ge- lehrter). Iamnot easily impressedbyknowledge,becauseImyselfhavesome. … But in comparisontoBuber’slearning,Iregard myself adwarf (Gegen Bubers Gelehrsamkeit aber emfinde ich mich als einen Zwerg.). In thecourseofmyconversationswithhim,every time Iseektosay somethingnew,Iencounter acommandingerudition – withoutatrace of pretentiousness – not only in Germanand foreignliterature ‘about,’ butalsointhe primarywritings of individuals whosenames Ihardlyknow. That Iamalsoimpressed by his Judaic andHebrew knowledgesaysless, although in recent years Ihavedeveloped acertain sense andlearned to distinguish betweena‘little’ anda‘great’ [knowledge in Jewishmatters]. Thereare areasofJudaica in whichheiscertainly in thestrictest senseof thetermanexpert(Fachmann).³

Buber’sreading wasnot only voraciousbut catholic,coveringencyclopedicin- terestsinthe human andsocialsciences, theartsand literature. Theenormous breadthofhis intellectual universe is alsoregisteredinthe catalogue of his personal library of over 40,000 volumesand from thethematic scopeofhis writings. Buber’sinterdisciplinary horizons arealso reflectedinthe criticaled- itionofhis writings that arecurrentlyinpreparation initiallyunder the joint sponsorshipofthe Berlin-Brandenburg AcademyofSciences, andsince 2009 withHeinrich Heine University of Düsseldorf,and TheIsrael AcademyofSci- encesand theHumanities,will comprise some 21 volumes, some containing twobooks,and each volume dedicatedtoaspecifictheme.For example:

Myth andMysticism Hasidism Psychology andPsychotherapy PhilosophicalAnthropology Chinese Philosophyand Literature Pedagogy Philosophy of Religion Philosophy of Language Messianismand Eschatology

 RosenzweigtoEugen Meyer,letterdated 23 January 1923,inRosenzweig.Der Mensch und sein Werk:Gesammelte Schriften,Part 1: Briefe und Tagebücher,ed. Rachel Rosenzweigand Edith Rosenzweig-Scheinmann, II: 883. Introduction: Dialogue as aTrans-DisciplinaryConcept 3

Judaism Christianity Zionism PoliticalPhilosophy Social andCultural Theory TheoriesofTranslation Theaterand Literature Art Criticism andArt History

Indeed, Buber’sinterests were trans-disciplinary.What ultimatelycharacterizes hisworkinthese multifarious fields is theprinciple of dialogue,which he employed as acomprehensive hermeneutic method. As an interpretivemethod,dialogue hastwo distinct butultimately conver- gentvectors.The firstisdirectedtothe subject of one’s “investigation”:one is to listen to thevoice of theother andtosuspend allpre-determinedcategories andconcepts that onemay have of the other; dialogue is,first and foremost, the art of unmediatedlistening. In asense Buber’sprinciple of dialogue ex- tendsIsaac Newton’smaxim: Hypothesesnon fingo: Ifeign no hypotheses. Dia- logue is,ofcourse,morethanamethod ensuring maximum objectivity; dialogue hasmanifestcognitive andthus existentialsignificance.Bylistening to theOther attentively,byallowing thevoice of the Other to penetrate, so to speak, one’sverybeing, to allowthe wordsofthe Other – articulatedacous- tically and viscerally – to question one’spre-establishedpositionsfortifiedby professional, emotional, intellectual andideological commitments,one must perforce be opentothe possibilityofbeingchallenged by that voice. As Eugen Rosenstock-Heussy putit: Respondo etsimutabor, Irespond, although Iwillbechanged; “Irespond,even though Imay change in the process!” Gen- uine dialogue thusentails arisk, the ‘danger’ that by trulylisteningtothe other – be the otheranindividual, atext, aworkofart – thatone might, indeed, be changed, transformedcognitively andexistentially. On amoreprosaic butnolesssignificantlevel,Buber envisioned dialogue as ascholarlyconversation conductedbetween various disciplinary perspectives.Inhis studyofthe originsofthe biblicalconceptionofMessianism, Kö- nigtumGottes,henot onlydrewupon the canon of biblical scholarship,dem- onstratingamasteryoftextual skills finelyhoned by exhaustive philological analysis(grounded in anuanced knowledgeofancient Near Eastern languages), but alsouponarchaeology,history,and sociology.Incidentally, in this monumental study, Buber was in particular beholden to thework of Max Weber, whom he knew personally and whom he effusively extolled in thepref- 4 Paul Mendes-Flohr aceofthe volume as “amostextraordinary person” (einaußenordentlicher Mensch).⁴ And it is Weber who comes to mind when adjudging Buber’stransdisciplina- ry disposition. In his memorable lecture of 1918 Science as Vocation (Wissen- schaft als Beruf)Weber bemoaned the imperious, but giventhe inherent logic of modern science anecessary drive to disciplinary specialization:

In our time, the internal situation [of scholarship is] conditioned by the fact that [it] has entered aphase of specialization previouslyunknown and that this will forever remain the case. Not onlyexternally, but also inwardly, matters stand at apoint where the individual can acquire the sureconsciousness of achievingsomethingtrulyperfect in the field of scienceonlyifheisastrict specialist.All work that overlaps neighboringfields … is bur- dened with the resigned realization that at best one provides the specialist with useful questions upon which he would not so easilyhit from his specialized point of view. … Onlybystrict specialization can the scientific worker (Wissenschaftler)become fullycon- scious… that he has achieved somethingthat will endure. Areallydefinitive and good ac- complishment is todayalwaysaspecializedaccomplishment.⁵

And whoever lacks this “passionate devotion,” as Weberput it,tospecialized research –“without this strangeintoxication, ridiculedbyevery outsider”–“you have no calling for science and youshould do something else.”⁶ Nearlyseventy years after Weber pennedthis plea for asober resignation to “the fateofour times”⁷ that knowledge must be pursuedbyway of oftenradical- ly divergent disciplinary paths and with the circumscribed toolsofthe specialist, JürgenHabermas questioned whether specializationhas not gone too far.With respect to the social sciences,helamented thatthey are each locked into a “re- strictive line of inquiry” creating acondition of “mutual incomprehension,” such that the adherents of different methodologicalapproaches “scarcelyhaveany- thing to saytoone another.”⁸ Such scholarlyautism,Habermas suggested, pre- vails in the humanities as well. Farmore distressing,inHabermas’sview,isthe resulting isolation of the academic inquiry from the “life-world,” the real life of human beingstowhich he believes science should ultimatelyserve. Twoalternative responses to stem the centrifugal tendencies to disciplinary fragmentation have emergedinthe last decades,which have witnessed an ever-

 Buber, Königtum Gottes (Berlin: Schocken Verlag, 1932)  Max Weber, “ScienceasaVocation,” in: From Max Weber:EssaysinSociology, trans.and ed. by H. H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills (London: Routledge &KeganPaul, 1948), 134f.  Ibid., 135.  Ibid., 155.  Habermas, TheoryofCommunicativeAction,trans.Thomas McCarthy(Boston: Beacon Press, 1989), vol. 2: 375. Introduction: Dialogue as aTrans-DisciplinaryConcept 5 increasingattentiontointer-disciplinary scholarship. The first has been acall to put ahalt to the fragmentation of knowledge due to what is perceivedasinordi- nate specialization by development of an epistemological synthesis, yielding it is hoped acomprehensive unifiedtheory of knowledge.Wary of the theoretical monism implied by such asynthesis, other scholars have called for what Charles Camic and Hans Joas have recentlydescribed as a “dialogical turn.” ⁹ Focusing on the social sciences, Camic and Joas observethat:

Rather than decry the multiplicity of theories,methods,and research findings and then seek their integration in aunifyingframework, the characteristic of this response is that it welcomesthe presenceofaplurality of orientations and approaches as an opportunity for productive intellectual dialogue. ¹⁰

The intention of dialogue – Camic and Joas underscore – is not astrategy to promote some ultimatesynthesis, but simplytofoster cross-disciplinary conversation. “Dialogue among different intellectual perspectivesisaparamount objective in its own right.” Further,they remark, “in contrast to programs for synthesisthat would minimize intellectual differences, or pluralist alternatives that would neglect their productive interplay, the dialogical approach is”– and here Camic and Joas cite one of the leadingproponents of the dialogical turn in the social sciences,David N. Levine –“one that connects different parts of the community [of scholars], while fullyrespectingwhat appeartobe irreducible differences.”¹¹ Levine, incidentally, is explicitlyindebted to Buber and his teachingthat dialogue takes place in an ontological space – das Zwi- schenmenschliche – that arisesbetween one human being and another when they meet as two independent,utterlyautonomous subjects, ameeting Buber more poeticallycalled eine Ich-DuBeziehung,anI-Thou relation. Weber had perhaps alsosuch adialogue in mind when he parenthetically noted in the citation we brought from his lecture “Science as aVocation” that the specialist mayturn to otherdisciplinesinorder to garner “useful questions upon which he would not so easilyhit from his own specialized point of view.”¹² To be sure, Weberacknowledgedthis form of inter-disciplinary dialogue in less buoyant terms than Camic and Joas;nor would he of course endorse Buber’son-

 TheDialogical Turn: New Roles for Sociology in the PostdisciplinaryAge,eds.Charles Camic and Hans Joas,(Landham, Maryland: Rowman and Littefield, 2003).  Ibid., 5  Ibid., 9f.The citation is fromLevine, Visions of the SociologicalTradition (Chicago:The Uni- versity of Chicago Press, 1995), 297.  Weber, “ScienceasaVocation,” 134f. 6 Paul Mendes-Flohr tological presuppositions. What he would regard as crucial is the urgent need for a trans-disciplinary conversation. In support of the dialogical turn we may also conscript Goethe. In contrast to romanticism, which he defined as an illness, the great poet celebrated classicism as sanity. The early romantic poet and philosopher Novalis, it is said unwittingly provided the key to a fuller understanding of Goethe’s judgment by his assertion that the essence of romanticism is to transform a single event or individual fact into an absolute and general explanatory principle. In contrast, classicism, according to Goethe, while recognizing several principles as fundamentally independent of one another, although closely interconnected and organically related. Only by virtue of their organic interrelatedness are these disparate principles capable of creating and forming humanity’s spiritual world.¹³ Buber shared this conviction that our spiritual universe is comprised of a multitude of ontically independent and irreducible voices, which are to be brought into harmony though dialogue, a conversation that unfolds in the ontological space of das Zwischen- menschliche – in dem Treffpunkt des Zwischenmenschlichen. The objective of this volume is to explore the reception of Buber’s philosophy of dialogue in some of the disciplines that fell within the purview of his own writings: Anthropology, Hasidism, Inter-Faith Encounter, Psychology, and Conflict Resolution, especially as it bears upon the seemingly intractable Isra- eli-Palestinian conflict that so profoundly exercised Buber. The transdisciplinary perspective that this volume seeks to promote is inspired by a statement that Buber gave towards the end of life in response to a request that he summarize his life’s work in one succinct thesis. His reply was: “Ich habe keine Lehre, aber ich führe ein Gespräch” – I have no doctrine, but I conduct a conversation. It is this conversation we wish to continue in this symposium. And if I may add a Buberian sentiment, we will exchange ideas and listen to one another, “risking” the danger that we might change our opinions along the way.

 Cf. Dimitri Gawronsky, “Ernst Cassirer: His Life and Work”,inThe Philosophy of Ernst Cas- sirer, ed., P. A. Schlipp (La Salle, IL, 1973), 34f. Jürgen Habermas* APhilosophy of Dialogue

On 24 November 1938, Martin Buber,who had emigrated to Palestine just eight months before, wrotetohis friend and son-in-lawLudwigStrauss: “To judge by anecessarilyvaguemessagefrom Frankfurt,all of our possessions in Hep- penheim seem to have been destroyed.”¹ The Kristallnacht pogroms undoubtedly mark adeep caesurainBuber’slong and incomparablyproductive career.The next twenty-seven active years at the Hebrew University certainlygiveweight to the second part of his adultlife. But Buber,at60, was alreadyaworld-re- nowned figure when he reached this safe harbour.Atthe time, he could already look back on afull life in the German-speaking world, devoted from the start to the Jewish cause.This circumstancemay explain the honourable but far from obvious invitation extended to me,aGermancolleague, to deliverthe inaugural lecture in this newlyestablished series. Forthis,Iwould like to express my gratitude to the members of the Israel Academy.² Historical representations of Jewishcultureinthe German Empire and in the Weimar Republic depict Martin Buber not onlyasaleading figure in the Zionist movement but more specificallyasthe authoritative spokesman of aJewish cultural renaissancethat enjoyed the support of ayounger generation.³ The Jung Judah movement, which took shape around 1900 within the orbit of the other youth and reform movements, understood this awakening as the birth of amodern Jewishnational culture. Buber made himself its spokesperson when he delivered his first programmatic speech at the Fifth Zionist Congress in Basel in 1901. Following his publicationsonthe hasidicStories of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslavand The Legend of the Baal Shem Tov, the wider public also regarded him as the spiritual leader of so-called culturalZionism. In 1916,Buber realized his long-cherishedplan of publishing amonthlyJewish periodical. Der Jude pro-

* Originallydelivered in May2012 as the inaugural lectureofthe annual Martin Buber Lectureof the Israel AcademyofSciences and Humanities,Jerusalem,and published in the Proceedings of the Academy, VIII/6(2013). Publishedherewith the kind permission of Professor Habermas and the Israel Academy.  TuviaRübner and Dafna Mach, eds., Briefwechsel Martin Buber – Ludwig Strauß (Frankfurt a.M: Luchterhand, 1990), 229.  The present text has much benefited from the careful editingofDeborah Greniman of the Aca- demy’sPublications Department.Prof. Paul Mendes-Flohr kindlyread the editedtextand made some importantcorrections.  Martin Brenner, Jüdische Kultur in der Weimarer Republik (Munich:C.H.Beck, 2000), 32ff. 8 Jürgen Habermas vided the intellectuallyambitious platform that brought togethersuch diverse writers as Franz Kafka, Arnold Zweig, GustavLandauer and EduardBernstein. Buber’sfriendship with Franz Rosenzweigacquired major importance. In 1920,after returningfrom the war with his book TheStarofRedemption,Rose- nzweigopened the Jüdisches Lehrhaus in Frankfurt,which was destinedtobe- come amodel for similar institutions throughout the republic. With his program of ‘New Learning’,Rosenzweigchannelledthe impulses of the contemporary adulteducation movement in adirection that could not fail to be congenial to Buber.Asheannouncedinhis opening address,Rosenzweigsupported ‘alearning in reverse order.Alearning that no longer starts from the Torahand leads into life, but the otherway round: from life, from aworldthatknows nothing about the Law, or pretends to know nothing,backtothe Torah. This is the sign of the time’.⁴ Rosenzweigsecured Buber as apermanent lecturer in the Lehrhaus and his closest collaborator.The famous Bible translation based on the leitmotifs discernible in the original Hebrew was alsoaproduct of their cooperation. In retrospect,the list of lecturers at the Lehrhaus is made up almost exclusively of famous names – including, among others, LeoBaeck,Siegfried Kraca- uer,Leo Strauss, Erich Fromm, Gershom Scholem, S. Y. Agnon, Ernst Simon and Leo Löwenthal. If we read todayinMichael Brenner’shistoricalstudy⁵ thatMar- tin Buber was the ‘most prominent teacher’ in this circle and ‘the most famous German-Jewish thinker of the Weimar period’,weneedn’tscratch our heads over aletter written in his support by the dean of the University of Frankfurt’sphil- osophical faculty.When Walter F. Otto applied to the Education Ministry in 1930 to transformthe lectureship that Buber had occupied since 1924 into asal- aried honorary professorship, he could confine himself to the laconic statement that therewas nobodymore suitable than Buber, “who is so well known thatone can dispense with adetailed description of his achievements.”⁶ Buber resigned from this chair in 1933,immediatelyafter Hitler’saccession to power,without waiting for the purge that would strip the UniversityofFrankfurt of one third of its faculty. In 1953, acouple of years before Ibegan my academic career at this same university in the role of Theodor Adorno’sassistant,Iencountered Martin Buber on asingle occasion (though onlyinthe midst of ahugeaudience of stu-

 Franz Rosenzweig, ‘Upon Openingthe Jüdisches Lehrhaus’,inidem, On JewishLearning,ed. Nahum Norbert Glatzer (New York: Schocken Books,1955), 98.  Brenner, Jüdische Kultur (above, note 3), 90,96.  Notker Hammerstein, Die Geschichte der Wolfgang Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am Main (Neuwied: Luchterhand, 1989), vol. 1: 120. APhilosophy of Dialogue 9 dents). Buber had returned to Germanyfor the first time after the war and the Holocaust.Time and again my wife and Ihaverecalledthat memorable evening in LectureHall no. 10 at the University of Bonn – lesssothe content of the lecture thanthe moment of Buber’sappearance,when the clamour in the overflowing auditorium suddenlyfell still. Theentire audience rose to its feet in aweas Federal President Theodor Heuss,asiftounderscorethe extraordinary nature of the visit,solemnlyescorted the comparatively small figure of the white-haired, bearded old man, the sagefrom Israel, down the long passageleadingfrom the row of windows to the podium. Seen through the lens of memory,the entire evening becomes focused on this single dignified moment. What Idid not understand at the time was that this scene also embodied an essentialidea in Buber’sphilosophy: the power of the performative,which over- shadows the content of what is said. Imustconfess that todaymyreflections on the public role playedbyBuber in the earlyyears of the Federal Republic are tinged with acertain ambivalence. In those years he featured centrallyinJew- ish–Christian encounters, which happened to link up with his earlier and similar initiativesinthe Weimarera.These encounters certainlywerenot devoid of seri- ous substance, and they willhavefostered acritical attitude on the part of many. However,they also fit into the then-pervasive intellectual climate, which responded to amuddled need for an inward-lookingand a-political assimilation of the “recent past”–agenre to which Adorno attached the label “jargonofau- thenticity.” In post-war Germany, Martin Buber,the reconciliatory religious interlocutor,was the antipode of the implacable Gershom Scholem, who opened our eyes duringthe 1960s to the obverse side of such casual invocations of the so- called German–Jewish symbiosis. Ladiesand gentlemen, youhavenot invitedmehere to speak on the religious author and wise man, the Zionist and popular educator Martin Buber. Buber was aphilosopher as well, and as such, towardthe end of his life, he rightlybecame the twelfth laureate in the pantheon of those honoured by inclusion in the distinguished Living Philosophers series, following,among others, John Dewey,Alfred North Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, Ernst Cassirer,Karl Jas- pers and Rudolf Carnap.Inthat framework, some of the best minds in the discipline engaged in the discussion of his work.⁷ At its centre wasand still is the I–Thou relationship around which Buber’sphilosophicalthought crystal- lized. Iwilladdress his thought,firstly, by situating this philosophicalidea in

 Paul Arthur Schilpp and MauriceFriedman, eds., ThePhilosophy of MartinBuber (La Salle, IL: Open Court,1967). Amongthe participants in this volume of critical evaluations of Buber’sphi- losophywereGabriel Marcel, Charles Harthorne, Emmanuel Levinas,Emil Brunner,Max Brod, Hans Ursvon Balthasar,Jacob Taubes, C. F. vonWeizsäcker,Helmut Kuhn and Walter Kaufmann. 10 Jürgen Habermas the history of philosophy. Iwould then like, secondly, to explain the systematic import of this foundational idea by hinting at the implications thatcan be drawn from Buber’sapproach, independentlyofhis owninterests. Iwill conclude, thirdly, with the characteristic philosophical achievementsofreligious authors as translators from one domain into another.InMartin Buber’scase, the humanist groundingofhis Zionism can be understood in terms of the translation of particular religious intuitions into generalizing philosophical concepts. (1) Buber wrote his dissertation on Nicholas of Cusa and Jakob Böhme. Aside from his loveofHasidism,⁸ which had arisen partlyinresponse to the emergence of the Frankist sects inspired by Sabbatai Zvi, the question arises of whether Buber alreadythen had some inkling of the astounding affinity between the imagery invoked by Böhme and that limned by the doctrines of Jewishmysticism – an affinitytowhich Scholem would later draw attention with an anecdote about the visit of the Swabian Pietist F. C. Oetinger to the kabbalist Koppel Hecht in the Frankfurt ghetto.⁹ Buber himself describes his breakthrough to the major philosophical insight thatwould shape the remainder of his work in the manner of a conversion extendingoverthe years of the First World War. Whereas up to that point he had interpreted his religious experience in mystical terms, as withdraw- al into an extraordinary dimension, he henceforth rejected the loss of self into unification with an all-encompassingdivinity.The place of this absorbing and dissolving contact was now taken by adialogical relationship to God that is as it werenormalized, though it is not levelled down. Contrary to the speechless mystical experience, this relationship between the individual and God as asecond person is mediated by words. In his old ageBuber described his repudiation of mysticism in stark words:

Sincethen Ihavegiven up the ‘religious’ which is nothingbut the exception, the extraction, exaltation or ecstasy ….The mystery is no longer disclosed, it … has made its dwellinghere where everythinghappens as it happens.Iknow no fullness but each mortal hour’sfullness of claim and responsibility.Though far from beingequal to it,Iknow that in the claim Iam claimed and mayrespond in responsibility … If that is religion then it is simply all that is lived in its possibility of dialogue.¹⁰

These words summarize the inspiration underlying the reflections on which Buber had been workingsince 1917and which he publishedin1923under the

 On Buber’sinterest in Hasidism see Hans-Joachim Werner, MartinBuber (Frankfurt a/M–New York: Campus,1994), 146ff.  Gershom G. Scholem, Major Trends in JewishMysticism (New York: Schocken, 1995), 238.  Martin Buber, ‘Autobiographical Fragments’,inSchilpp and Friedman, ThePhilosophy of Martin Buber (above,note 7), 26. APhilosophy of Dialogue 11 title Ich und Du (Iand Thou). His later writingsare footnotes to this major work. The interpersonal relationship with God as the “eternal Thou” structuresthe linguistic network of relations in which every person always alreadyfinds himself or herself as the interlocutor of otherpersons: “to be man meanstobethe being that is over against other human beingsand god.”¹¹ As can be read off from the system of personal pronouns,however,the situation of human beingsinthe world is conditioned by the fact that this ‘being over against’ must be differentiated into twodifferent attitudes,depending on whether those who are ‘over against’ one are other persons or other objects. The interpersonal relationship between afirst and asecond person, between an ‘I’ and a ‘Thou,’ is different in kind from the objectifying relationship between athird person and an object,between an ‘I’ and an ‘It’.Any interpersonal relationship calls for the reciprocal interpenetration of the perspectivesthat those involved direct to each other,such that each participant is capable of adopting the perspective of the other.Itispart of the dialogical relationship that the person addressed can assume the role of the speaker,just as, in turn, the speaker can assume that of the addressee. In contrast with this symmetry,the observer’s gaze is fixed asymmetricallyupon an object – which cannot return the gaze of the observer. In relation to this differencebetween the I–Thou and the I–It relationship, Buber provides compellingphenomenological descriptions. He discovers acor- respondingdifferencebetween the roles of the respectivesubjects who say ‘I.’ In the one relationship, the ‘I’ features as an actor,inthe otherasanobserver. An actor ‘enters into’ an interpersonal relationship and ‘performs’ this relationship, usually by means of aspeech act.This performative aspect of speech is different from the content and the object of communication; that is, we must distinguish the performative aspect of the conversation from its content.Because those involved do not spy or eavesdrop upon one another as objects, but rather open themselvesupfor one another,they encounter each other in the social forum de- limited by dialogue and, as contemporaries, become narrativelyinvolvedineach other’sstories.They can bothoccupy the sameplace in social space and historical time onlywhen they encounter each other as second persons in this performative attitude. Moreover,anencounter assumes the form of making the other present in his or her entirety.This ‘making the otherpresent’ as aperson forms the compass within which the perception of the otherisselectively focused on the features that are essential to the individual person herself, rather than

 Ibid., 35. 12 Jürgen Habermas shifting at will from one detail to the next,asinthe case of the observation of an object. Buber describes in somewhat flowery terms this priority of the performative in the encounter: “The primary word I-Thou can onlybespoken with the whole being.The primary word I–It can never be spoken with the whole being.”¹² To be sure, the observer also acts, insofar as he has to ‘adopt’ an objectifyingattitude towardthe object; but, in actu, the performative aspect completelydisappears for him behind the object itself, the theme of his perception or judgment. Intentione recta,the observer disregards his own situation; by attending to something in the world as if it were ‘from nowhere’,heabstracts himself from his own anchoring in social space and livedhistorical time.This first moveofjuxtaposing actor and observer is too simple, however.Evenacting subjects often have shielded egos; they,too, can screen themselvesoff and treat theirinterlocutors not as second persons but as objects – not as partners in dialogue, but instrumentally, like a doctor operating on the bodyofapatient,orstrategically, like aclever bank manager palming off loans upon his customers. From the perspective of culturalcriticism, these monological modes of action can even become the dominant mode of interaction in society as awhole. Against the background of his overall sceptical attitude towardthe progressive expansion of the social domains of strategic and purposive-rational action in the course of social modernization,¹³ Buber’spractical interest focused narrowly on acouple of outstanding face-to-facerelationships such as friendship or love. Even within the setofcommunicative actions, these samples of intimacy constitute onlyamarginal segment,but they are emblematic of what Buber calls ‘dialogical being’.What stands out in this ideal type of unprotected encounter,in which the participants are ‘turned towardeach other’ in authentic togetherness, are those performative aspectsthatare otherwise hiddenbythe thematic or content aspects of conversations and interactions. Buber shares this attention to the performative with other versions of contemporary existential philosophy, which try as well to uncover,beneath the ‘what’ of the supposed ‘essence’ of human beings, the buried mode and modal- ity of this life, the ‘how’ of its being-in-the-world –which oscillates in turn between authentic and inauthentic being.For the distinguishing feature of human life is that it is up to the individual to lead it,and this effort can fail. Phe- nomenology, historicismand pragmatism share this interest in the performative

 Martin Buber, Iand Thou,trans.,Ronald Gregor Smith (New York: Continuum, 1957), 11.  Ibid., 56: “But in times of sickness it comesabout that the world of It,nolonger penetrated and fructified by the inflowingworld of Thou as by livingstreams but separated and stagnant,a giganticghost of the fens,overpowers man.” APhilosophy of Dialogue 13 character of life as it is lived. In this respect all modern philosophers are heirs of the Young Hegelians, who initiated the de-transcendentalization and deflation of reason – what Marx had called the ‘decomposition’ of Hegel’sabsolute spirit. This philosophical movement situates reason itself in social space and historical time. It takes as its goal the embodiment of reason in the human organism and in social practice – thatis, in the cooperative ways in which communicatively so- cializedsubjects copewith the contingencies and conflicts of their environment. Buber was as alert to this Young Hegelian heritageashewas to the affinity of his thinking with contemporary existential philosophy. He engaged with Feuerbach, Marx and Kierkegaard as intensively as with Jaspers, Heideggerand Sartre. What sets him apart within this extended family, however,isthe attention he paidto the communicative constitution of human existence, which he describes, following Wilhelm vonHumboldt and LudwigFeuerbach, in terms of aphilosophyof dialogue.¹⁴ (2)The point of departure is the phenomenon of being spoken to: ‘Life means being addressed’¹⁵ such that the one must ‘confront’ the other,and this in atwofold sense. The person addressed must allow himself to be confronted by the other,bybeing open to an I–Thou relationship; and he must take astance on what this other says to him, in the simplest case with a ‘Yes’ or a ‘No.’ In being willing to be called to account by another person and to be answerable to her, the individual addressed exposes herself to the non-objectifiable presenceof the other person and recognizes her as anon-representable sourceofautono- mous claims. At the sametime, she subjects herself to the semantic and discur- sive commitments imposed by languageand dialogue. By the same token, the reciprocity of the reversal of roles between addressee and speaker lends the dialogical relationship an egalitarian character.The willingness to accept the dialogical obligations imposed by the other is boundupwith apattern of attitudes that is as egalitarian as it is individualist.However,Buber is not painting an iren- ic picture. Exactlyinthe most intimate relationship, the other must be taken se- riouslyinher individuated nature and be recognized in her radical otherness.¹⁶ In the need to balance these twocontradictory expectations – Buber speaks of

 On Humboldt, see Martin Buber, Zwiesprache,inidem, Das dialogische Prinzip (Heidelberg: Lambert Schneider,1979), 178; on Feuerbach, see Buber, Das Problem des Menschen (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus,1982), 58ff. On the stimuli that Buber receivedfromhis contemporaries,see especiallyMichael Theunissen, TheOther: Studies in the Social Ontology of Husserl, Hei- degger,Sartre, and Buber,trans., by Christopher Macann (Cambridge:MIT Press, 1984), §46.  Buber, Zwiesprache (above, note14), 153.  Martin Buber, Die Frageanden Einzelnen,inidem, Das dialogische Prinzip (above,note14), 233; on this issue, see Werner, Martin Buber (above, note 8), 48ff. 14 Jürgen Habermas

“expansion into its own being and turning to connection”¹⁷ – he identifiesthe sourceofthe unease generallylurkinginthis kind of communicative socializa- tion. To be sure, the religious author radicalizes the philosophyofdialogue into the ‘true conversation’ in which the finger of God is at work; but the inquiry of the philosopher alsooffers interesting points of contact for the deflated post-metaphysical mode of analysis.Inthe years since Buber set out this idea, the relevant discourses have branchedout in different directions. Let me begin with the most important and highlycontroversial question: What is more fundamental,self-consciousness and the epistemic relationship of the self with itself, or the communicative relationship with the other in dialogue? Which of the two can claim priority over the other – monological self-relation or dialogical mutuality?Inhis 1964 postdoctoral dissertation, Michael Theunissen positioned Buber’sphilosophyofdialogue as an alternative approach to Husserl’sderiva- tion of the lifeworld from the constitutive acts of the transcendental subject.¹⁸ Imay refer in this context – and not merelybyway of local interest – to the question Nathan Rotenstreich once posed to Buber: “whether reflection itself is but an extraction from the primacy of mutuality or whether mutuality presupposes reflection.”¹⁹ In classic mentalist terms,Rotenstreich defends the primacy of reflection against the interpersonal relation. Accordingtothe mentalist argument,realiz- ing arelation between afirst and asecond person presupposes that the subject who is capable of using the word ‘I’ has alreadydifferentiated himself from another subject; and this act of differentiation presupposes in turn an antecedent epistemic relationship to self, because asubjectcannot distance himself from other subjects without first having perceivedand identifiedhimself as asubject.²⁰ The fraught tenor of Buber’sdetailedresponse to his Jerusalem colleague shows that this controversy turns on adeep-seated paradigm dispute. Are human beingsbasically cognitivesubjects who first relatetothemselvesreflex- ivelyinthe same objectifying attitude as that in which they relatetosomething

 Iand Thou (above, note 12),87.  Theunissen, TheOther (above, note 14), 291.  Nathan Rotenstreich, “The Right and the Limitations of Martin Buber’sDialogical Thought,” in: Schilpp and Friedman, ThePhilosophy of Martin Buber (above, note 7), 124f.  Ibid., pp. 125f.: “If we do not grant the status of consciousness of one’sown self we arefac- ing the riddle how could ahuman beingrealize that it is he as ahuman beingwho maintains relations to things and to livingbeings and is not just submergedbut amounts to atwofold attitude of detachment (i.e., in the I–It-relation) and attachment (in the I-Thou-relation) … Howis it possible to be both detached and attached without the consciousness of oneself as aconstitutive featureofthe whole situation?” APhilosophy of Dialogue 15 in the objectiveworld?Inthat case, what sets them apartfrom all otherliving beingsisself-consciousness.Ordoes one subject first become aware of himself as asubject in communication with the other?Inthat case, it is not self-con- sciousnessbut languageand the corresponding form of communicative sociali- zation that is the distinguishing feature of human existence. Buber conceivesofhuman beingsnot primarilyassubjects of cognition but rather as practical beingswho have to enter into interpersonal relationships in order to cope, through cooperation, with the contingencies of the objective world. In his view,human beingsare distinguished, too, by their ability to distance themselvesfrom themselves – but not in the manner of self-objectification: “It is incorrect to see in the fact of primal distance areflectingposition of aspec- tator.”²¹ The feature that sets human beingsapart from animalsisnot self-reflection in the sense of turningareiteratedsubject–object or I–It relationship upon oneself. Our livesare instead performedinthe triadic communicative relationship between afirst and asecond person while communicating about objects in the world.²² The phenomenon of self-consciousness is derivedfrom dialogue: ‘The person becomes conscious of himself as sharing in being,asco-existing’.²³ In advanceofany explicit self-reflection, the subject is caught up in an interpersonal relationship and first becomes aware of herself performatively by adopting the perspective of the other towards herself: “The Ithat(first) emergesisaware of itself,but without reflectingonitself so as to become an object.”²⁴ Buber has arather special justification for the priority of the dialogical relationship over self-consciousness: the apriori of prayer.Buber accords the relationship with the ‘eternal Thou’ aconstitutive status. And because the encounter with the original wordofGod structures all possible conversations within the world, Buber can assert: “Nothing helps me so much to understand man and his existenceasdoes speech.”²⁵ Note: ‘speech,’ and not languageassuch! Like Rosenzweig, Buber participates in his ownway in the linguistic turn of twentieth-century philosophy.²⁶ Understandablyenough, he has no interest in asemantics which, in Richard Rorty’swords, is merelyacontinuation of seventeenth-century epistemology by language-analytical means. Wittgenstein’sturn

 Martin Buber, ‘Replies to my Critics’,inSchilpp and Friedman, ThePhilosophy of Martin Buber (above, note7), 695.  Karl-OttoApel, ‘Die Logos-Auszeichnungder menschlichen Sprache’,inidem, Paradigmen der Ersten Philosophie (Berlin: Suhrkamp, 2011).  Buber, Iand Thou (above, note 12),52.  Ibid.  Buber, ‘Replies to my Critics’ (above, note 21), 696.  On this see Apel, Paradigmender Ersten Philosophie (above,note 22), Part I. 16 Jürgen Habermas to the use of languagewas more congenialtoBuber’sview.Atany rate, he had the importantand correct intuition thatwithout the dialogicallycreated ‘between’ of an intersubjectively shared background, we cannot achieveobjectivity of experience or judgment – and the converse is true as well. With his analysis of the twofold perspective of the I–Thou/I–It relation, Buber directs attention to the interpenetration of two equallyfundamental relationships: the intersubjective relationship between addressee and speaker (which is constitutive for communication), on the one hand,and the intentional and objectifyingrelation to something in the world (about which bothcommu- nicate), on the other.The mutual perspective operatingbetween Iand Thou makes the sharing of intentions towardsobjects in the world possible, while individual perceptions of something in the world acquire theirobjectivity onlyby the fact that they are shared between different subjects. This complex relationship is reflected in the competent use of the system of personal pronouns and of the associatedreferential terms.The very knowledge of competent speakers about how to use personal pronouns and deictic expressions, which forms the pragmatic frame for anypossiblecommunication, depends upon the systematic interpenetration of I–Thou and I–It relations. Allow me to mention in passing an empirical confirmation of this philosophical proposition that is very close to Buber’sfundamental insight.Inpsycholog- ical experiments on languagedevelopment,Michael Tomasello has demonstrated the relevanceofthe triadicrelationship for interactions with children at the prelinguistic stage.²⁷ Children of around twelve months follow the pointing ges- tures of caregivers (or point with their own fingers) in order to draw the attention of the otherperson to certain thingsand to share their perceptions with them. At the horizontal level, mother and child alsograsp each other’sintentions through the direction of gaze, so that an I–Thourelation – i.e., asocial perspective – arises which enables them to direct their attention to the same object in the vertical I–It direction. By means of the pointinggesture – soon also in combination with mimicry – children acquire knowledge shared intersubjectively with the mother of the jointlyidentified and perceivedobject,and on this basis the gesture then ultimatelyacquires its conventional meaning. (3) Martin Buber did not pursue further the obvious path of developing his dialogical-philosophical approach in terms of aphilosophyoflanguage.²⁸ Na- than Rotenstreich alreadycriticized him, not entirely without justification, for fo-

 Michael Tomasello, TheCultural Origins of Human Cognition (Cambridge:HarvardUniversity Press, 2000); idem, Origins of Human Communication (Cambridge:MIT Press,2008).  See JürgenHabermas, PhilosophischeTexte (Frankfurt a.M: Suhrkamp, 2009), II: Rationali- täts-und Sprachtheorie. APhilosophy of Dialogue 17 cusing on the performative aspect of the I–Thou relationship, on the ‘how’ of the ‘making-present’ of the other person, while neglectingthe cognitive aspect of the I–It relation, that is, the representation of astate of affairs and the corresponding truth claims. Buber’swell-taken critique of the fixation of the major philosophical traditions on the cognitive grasp of beings, on the self-reflection of the knowing subject and the representative function of language, often slides too quickly into culturalcriticism. In lumpingall objectifying stances towardthe world together with the objectivistic tendencies of the age, he throws the baby out with the bathwater by exposing them all to blanket suspicion. On the other hand, there is atrivial reason whyBuber did not exhaust the theoretical potential of his own approach: his overriding interest in issues of ethical-existential self- understanding.The weak normativity that is alreadyinherent in the pragmatics of linguistic communication as such is eclipsed by the strongethical normativity of bindingoughts and authentic life projects. Buber the philosopher cannot be detached from the religious author.Hebe- longstothe small set of distinguishedreligious authors with philosophicalam- bitions reachingfrom Kierkegaard, Josiah Royce and William James, through the young Ernst Bloch, Walter Benjamin and EmmanuelLevinas, up to contemporaries such as Jacques Derrida. These thinkers continued under the changed con- ditionsofmodernity alabour of translation that could take place in an incon- spicuous, osmotic wayaslong as Greek metaphysics was administered and developedunder the auspices of the theologians of the Abrahamic religions after the closure of the Academy.Once this fragile symbiosis was dissolvedby nominalism, the subversive and regenerative forceofanassimilation of religious semantics by the rational discourse of philosophycould unfold onlyinthe broad daylight of advancingsecularization. The philosophersnow had to ‘out’ themselvesasreligious authors, as it were, if they wanted to salvage untapped semantic contents from the well articulated wealth of the great axial religions by their translation into generallyacces- sible philosophical concepts and discourses.Conversely, apluralistic public has something to learn from these authorspreciselybecause,inamannerofspeak- ing,they pass religious intuitions through aphilosophical sieveand thereby strip them of the specificity and exclusivity lent them by their original religious communities. Thisroleofthe religious author in modern times mayalsoexplain the position that Martin Buber assumedinthe political public arena. His disagreement with Herzl is well known. ForBuber,the Zionist project was more than just apolitical undertaking whose aim was first the state’sfoundationand later its self-assertion as asovereign Jewishstate. But not every interpretation of culturalZionism was incompatible with such aproject; in some readings,cultural Zionism was meanttocomplement national power politics. Buber per- 18 Jürgen Habermas ceivedthe remaining difference from the perspective of areligious author who wanted to ground the project of aJewishnational cultureinthe concepts of a philosopher.Hewas interested in ajustification of Zionismissuing not only from an ethno-nationalperspective – ajustification grounded in normative terms and in arguments intended to convince everybody. Buber thought thatitwas necessary to justify the Zionistidea in humanist terms.That would be unsurprising from aKantian point of view.But Buber was no more aKantian or aNeokantian than Gershom Scholem, Ernst Simon or Hugo Bergmann. Thisgeneration of German-Jewish intellectuals took theirin- spiration, in the spirit of acontemporary philosophyoflife, from Herder’searly romantic discovery of the nation, of languageand of culture, rather than from the tradition of the Enlightenment proper.Onthe one hand, from theirperspec- tive,the meagrerational substance left of religion after Kant,Cohen and the science of Judaism was too little;more interesting,for them, was the mysticalun- dersideofreligion or the dark side revealedbyBachofen. On the other,they had forgotten neither the household deities who presided over their parental homes – Spinoza and Lessing,Mendelssohn and Kant,Goethe and Heine – nor the nationalism behind the everydaydiscrimination to which they had been exposed in their European homelands. The moral sensitivity with which this generation of Zionists reflected on and analyzed the so-called Arab problem from the very beginning,around 1900,tothe end of their days,testifies to the rather cosmopolitan and individualist perspective from which they wishedtheir national project to be understood.²⁹ It is true thatBuber,the existential philosopher,did not have an adequate sociological-conceptual frame at his disposal. He treats ‘the social,’ too, against the backdrop of an ideal-type embodying – as the counterpart of the authentic I– Thou relationship – an “essential We.”³⁰ Yetoutlines of apolitical theory are discernible. In 1936,while stillinGermany, Buber subjected Carl Schmitt’sfriend- foe idea to adevastatingcritique.Herecognizes that these categoriesarise “at times when the political community is threatened”,but “not at times when it is assured of its survival.” Therefore, accordingtoBuber,the friend-foe relation is not fit to serveasthe “principle of the political.” He sees this instead “in the striving (of apolitical community) towardthe order proper to it”.But communal life, founded in languageand culture, still has priority over Hegel’s Not-und Ver- standesstaat,the institutions of the modern state: “The person belongstothe community into which he was born or in which he lands, whether he wants to

 Buber, Die Frageanden Einzelnen (above,note 16), 254f.  Idem, Das Problem des Menschen (above, note 14), 116. APhilosophy of Dialogue 19 make something of this or not.”³¹ Nor is thereany necessary correlation between the grown nation and acoextensive state consciouslyconstituted by its citizens. Buber was not aliberalnationalist.Itiswell known that Buber at times could well conceive of abi-national state for Israel.³² But whether nation or state, the normative justification of all social and political forms of coexistenceultimatelydepends on the authentic and considered positions of theirindividual members. What is right or wronginapolitical sense is alsofounded in the ‘interpersonal space’ of dialogue. Each individual must conscientiouslybear aresponsibility of which s/he cannot be relieved by the group. This individualism findsexpression in the remarkable statement that true belonging to the community “includes the experience of the limits of this belonging,” an experience, however, “that escapes definitive formulation.”³³ This humanist vision could not easilybereconciled with the political reali- ties, of course; and after the foundingofthe state,the goal of asingle state that would unite citizens of Jewish and Arab nationalityonanequal footing had in anycaselostits fundamentum in re. Thepolitical humanism of these German- Jewishoutsiders, notwithstanding their influencewithin the educational system, is aclosed chapter.Does this conclusionalso hold for the philosophicalstimulus that once informed this high-minded program?Tobesure, Buber’sspirit liveson in the weak discourse of academiaunder different assumptions and in adifferent theoretical context (I am thinking,for example, of Chaim Gans’ book on the ‘morality of the Jewish state’).³⁴ We must acknowledge without sentimentality that traditions come to an end; onlyinexceptional situations can they be recovered with a ‘tiger’sleap into the past’,and even then onlyinanew interpretation and with different practical consequences. With his imageofatiger’sleap, what

 Idem, Die Frageanden Einzelnen (above, note 16), 241.  Steven Aschheim has described the position of the intellectuals unitedinBrit Shalom and later in Ichud: ‘This,then, was anationalism that was guided essentiallybyinner cultural stand- ards and conceptions of morality rather than considerations of powerand singular group interest.Its exponents were united – as manysaw it,inhopelesslynaïvefashion – by their opposition to Herzl’sbrand of “political” Zionism both because they had distastefor his strategyof alliances with external and imperial powers and because they did not hold the political realm or “statehood” to be an ultimatevalue: their main goal was the spiritual and humanist revival of Judaism and the creation of amoral community or commonwealthinwhich this mission could be authenticallyrealized. To be sure, it is not always easy to separate the moregen- eral German and “cosmopolitan” ingredients from the recovered, specificallyJewish and religious dimensionsoftheir vision.’” Aschheim, Beyond the Border:The German-JewishLegacy (Princeton:Princeton University Press, 2007), 16.  Buber, Die Frageanden Einzelnen (above,note 16), p. 241.  Chaim Gans, AJust Zionism,Oxford, UK: OxfordUniversity Press, 2008. 20 Jürgen Habermas

Walter Benjamin had in mind was seizing hold “of amemory such as it flashes up at amoment of danger.”³⁵ Perhaps this beautiful and endangered country, which is overflowing with history,has toomanymemories. We,too, in our comparatively comfortable Europe, have manoeuvred our- selvesinto adead end. Everyone knows that the European Union has to found itself anew.But there are no signs of this occurring, anywhere.

 Walter Benjamin, ‘Theses on the PhilosophyofHistory’,inidem, Illuminations (English transl. by Harry Zohn), New York: Schocken, 1968, VI and XIV. Julia Matveev From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to Mikhail Bakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’

Bakhtinianscholars and Buber’scommentators tend to treat the relation between Martin Buber and Mikhail Bakhtin differently. The former, with very few exceptions,introduce Bakhtin’sdialogism either as developedindependently of Buber or as incompatible with his teachingofthe ‘I–Thou’ relationship. The possibilityoftalking about Buber’sinfluenceonBakhtin is mostlyavoided or de- nied because of the absence of explicit references to Buber in Bakhtin’swritings. The latter,stressing striking conceptual similarities between both thinkers,neither exclude nor asseverate Buber’spossibleimpact on Bakhtin. The problem of influenceremains open.Itispreciselythis unresolvedproblem that has inspired the present paper,devoted to an investigation of Buber’sinfluenceonBakhtin’s concept of dialogue, on which his book Problems of Dostoevsky’sArt elaborated. This investigation is divided into two parts.The first part reconstructs the history of the origin and rise of Bakhtin’sstudyofDostoevsky and posits the question of the influenceofBuber’sclassic work Iand Thou on Bakhtin’sthought. In the second part anumber of significant parallels between Buber’sand Bakhtin’scon- cepts of artistic creativity as one of the forms of dialogue willbeanalyzed.

Bakhtin’sfirst major work entitled Problemy tvorchestvaDostoevskogo (Problems of Dostoevsky’sArt), renamed Problems of Dostoevsky’sPoetics in the second, considerablyrevised and enlargededition in 1963, appeared in Leningrad in 1929.Not onlywas this asignificant contribution to Dostoevsky studies, but also it was Bakhtin’sfirst and foremost philosophicalproject in which his great concept of dialogism (“polyphony”)was initiallyannounced to the world. Our knowledge of Bakhtin’sbiographyupto1929and hence of the period he had been at work on his 1929 book on Dostoevsky is very sketchy. From Bakhtin’s correspondence with Matvey Kagan,¹ we know thathebegan workingonhis studyofDostoevsky at least from 1921.Inaletter to Kagandated January 18, 1922,hewrites, “Iamnow writing awork on Dostoevsky,which Ihope to finish

 Matvey Isaevich Kagan(1889–1937), philosopher and Bakhtin’sclosest friend. 22 Julia Matveev very soon….”² Accordingtothe Petrograd newspaper Zhizniskusstva (The Life of Art), seven months later,inAugust 22–28,1922, amonograph by Bakhtin on Dostoevsky was finishedand beingprepared for publication. However,this book was first printed onlyseven years later,in1929. Caryl Emerson, the most knowledgeable Bakhtinianscholar in the United States, the author of several highlyregarded books on Bakhtin and the translator of Bakhtin’swork, claims in the editor’sprefacetothe second English edition of Problems of Dostoevsky’s Poetics (1984): “This1922manuscript has not survived, so we do not know its relationship to the 1929 published text.”³ Also, Tzvetan Todorov,another re- nowned Bakhtinianscholar workinginFrance and the author of the monograph Mikhail Bakhtin: TheDialogical Principle,has claimed: “In 1929 he [Bakhtin] published abook: TheProblems of Dostoevsky’sWork;itisknown that an earlyversion, probablyquite different from the published one, had been completed as earlyas1922.”⁴ Exactlywhen Bakhtin wrote his Dostoevsky book of 1929 is not clear,even today. There is no evidence that “this 1922 manuscript,” which Bakhtin had been workingonatleast from 1921,was sent to press.Neither draft pages nor afinal copy of this manuscript are known to be extant; what remains of it are the letter from Bakhtin to Kagan, the newspaper notice in which the Dostoevsky book was announced in August 1922 as forthcoming—both cited above—and myths about its disappearance. Accordingtothe testimonyofSamson Broitman, who knew Bakhtin personally, Bakhtin claimed thatthe book was written four or five years prior to its publication,⁵ that is, in 1924 or 1925,thereby making it clear that the 1922 manuscript had indeednot been finished. Moreover,inhis text published in 1929,Bakhtin refers to critical literature mostlypublished (in Russia and Germany, and in both languages) duringthe period from 1922 to 1925.The text alsoincludes references to the bookspublished in 1926⁶ and 1928.⁷ These references are actually

 Quoted in K. Nevelskaja, pseud., ed. M. M. Bakhtin &M.I.Kagan (pomaterialam semeinogo arkhiva – Materials from aFamilyArchive), Pamjat no. 4(Paris:YMCA Press, 1981), 263.  See Caryl Emerson,trans. and ed., editor’sprefacetoMikhail Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoev- sky’sPoetics (Minneapolis:University of MinnesotaPress, 1984), xxxix.  Tzvetan Todorov, Mikhail Bakhtin: TheDialogical Principle in Theoryand HistoryofLiterature, vol. 13 (Minneapolis:University of MinnesotaPress 1998), 4.  S. N. Broitman, Dvebesedy sM.M.Bakhtinym (Two Conversations with M. M. Bakhtin) in S. N. Broitman and N. Gorbanov,eds., Khronotop (Dagestan: Dagestanskii gosudarstvenyi universitet, 1990), 112.  Max Scheler, Wesen und Formen der Sympathie (1926). From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to MikhailBakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 23 not just corrections made in an earlier Dostoevsky text,which was completed at the end of 1922 as announced in TheLife of Art (but for unknown reasons failed to appear) and onlyrevised seven years later for the book’sfinal publication. Rather,they are proofs that the 1929 publication is the result of reworking and rewritingthe same book which, although published in 1929,was started in 1921.Moreover,reworkingofthe Dostoevsky book was atask that occupied Bakhtin again thirty years laterin1961–62.⁸ Itwould be, therefore, not wrong to assume that Bakhtin wrote his studyofDostoevsky’snovels in stages. Thus, the process of writing can be described as follows: he abandons his first 1922 version, but then, rewrites it in 1924– 25,and not once,but over and over again, never reallyfinishing this work, even in 1929. It is important to note at this point that the references in the 1929 version show that the period between 1922 and 1925 was most intensive and extraordi- narilyproductive for Bakhtin. It is preciselyduring thattime frame that Bakhtin read the great majority of the booksand articles in different disciplines that af- fected his work on Dostoevsky.The following works,quoted by Bakhtin to which he gave great attentioninhis studyofDostoevsky,should be mentioned here first of all: S. A. Askoldov, Religiosno-eticheskoe znachenieDostoevskogo (Reli- gious-ethical Meaning of Dostoevsky), 1922;Otto Kaus, Dostoevski und sein Schicksal⁹ (Dostoevskyand His Fate), 1923;B.M.Engelgardt, Ideologiecheskij roman Dostoevskogo (Dostoevsky’sIdeological Novel), 1924;V.Komarovich, Roman Dostoevskogo “Podrostok” kak khudozestvennoe edinstvo (Dostoevsky’s Novel TheAdolescent as an Artistic Unity), 1924;L.P.Grossman, Put’ Dostoevsko- go (Dostoevsky’sPath), 1924;and Poetika Dostoevskogo (Dostoevsky’sPoetics), 1925.Bakhtin’spolemic with these scholars occupies the central place in his discussion of the key theoretical and methodological problems of critical literature on Dostoevsky. Needless to say, that along with the explicit polemic with scholars quoted by Bakhtin thereisahiddenpolemic with other philosophers not mentioned in his studyofDostoevsky.The philosophicalsignificance of German–Jewish thought for Bakhtin, in general, and the influenceofHermann Cohen and Ernst Cassirer on his philosophy, in particular, werealreadywidelydiscussed by manyBakhti-

 F. M. Dostoevsky, Pisma [Letters] (Moscow:Leningrad, 1928), vol. 1; and G. Simmel, Gete [Goethe] (Moscow:Izd. Gosudarstvennoj academii khudozestvennykhnauk, 1928). Russian translation.  M. M. Bakhtin, “TowardaReworkingofthe Dostoevsky Book,” in Problems of Dostoevsky’s Poetics,ed. C. Emerson (Minneapolis: University of MinnesotaPress, 1984), 283–302.  Bakhtin quotes Kaus in German. 24 Julia Matveev nian scholars.¹⁰ Brian Poole’sarchival work¹¹ has uncovered notebooks in which Bakhtin made copious notes from Cassirer’swork. Pool has argued that several pages of Bakhtin’s Rabelais and His World (1965) are lifted word-for-wordfrom Cassirer’s TheIndividual and the Cosmos in Renaissance Philosophy (1927), without referencetothe original. Furthermore, accordingtoPool, the ethics described in Bakhtin’swork Author and HeroinAesthetic Activity (written between 1920 and 1927)are mostlyderivedfrom asourceBakhtin does not even mention, namely, the phenomenologyofMax Scheler,whose text TheEssence and Forms of Sympathy merited a58-pagesynopsis in anotebook of Bakhtin’sfrom 1926.¹² It is, therefore, not surprising that Bakhtin does not mentionBuber in his Dostoev- sky book.¹³ But if, as Broitman testifies,the book was writtenin1925, or at least no earlier than 1924,thatis, ayear or two after the appearance of Buber’sphil- osophical essay Ichund Du (I and Thou), 1922–23,could Bakhtin not have been familiar with Buber’swork, which – preciselyatthis time—layatthe very coreof

 See CarylEmerson, TheFirstHundred Years of MikhailBakhtin (Princeton NJ:Princeton Uni- versity Press, 1997), 230 –231. On the influence of the Marburgschool on Bakhtin’saesthetics, see Brian Pool, Nazad kKaganu [Back to Kagan] in Dialog-Karnaval-Khronotop,ed. N. A. Pankov (Vitebsk,1995), no. 1, 38–48.  Brian Pool, “Bakhtin and Cassirer: The Philosophical Origins of Bakhtin’sCarnival Messian- ism,” South Atlantic Quarterly 97,3/4 (Summer/Fall 1998): 537– 578.  Brian Pool, “From Phenomenology to Dialogue: Max Scheler’sPhenomenological Tradition and Mikhail Bakhtin’sDevelopment from ‘TowardaPhilosophyofthe Act’ to His StudyofDos- toevsky,” in KenHirschkop and David Shepherd, eds., Bakhtin and Cultural Theory,2nd edition (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001), 109–135.  To the list of German philosophers,whose concepts Bakhtin borrowed without acknowledg- ing his sources,wecan add, though onlyhypothetically,Jacob Boehme. It seems to be morethan apurecoincidencethat Bakhtin’scentral notion of ‘polyphony,’ by which he means “aplurality of independent and unmergedvoices and consciousnesses, […]with equal rights and each with its own world, [which are] combine[d] but not mergedinthe unity of some spiritual event” (Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoevsky’sPoetics,6,13), resonates with Jacob Boehme’sconception of the Spirit as adivine, polyphonicallytuned organ, in which every voiceand every pipe, in pipingout its own tone, echoed the eternal Word (Boehme deals with this theme in chapter 14 of his De signaturarerum (The SignatureofAll Things),1635. And although Bakhtin insists that the term “polyphony” is onlyamusical term, “asimple metaphor” (22),and he never,as we will see, reallydisplayedany familiarity with specific theological sources,weknow from his lectures on Kant giveninthe mid-1920s that he was familiar with German Christian mysticism (See K. G. Isupova, ed., M. M. Bakhtin: Proetcontra. vol. I, St.Petersburg: Izdatelstvorus- skogo christianskogo gumanitarnogoinstituta, 2001,73–74,lecture6,Nov.16, 1924) and there- forehis notion of ‘polyphony’ might be of amorereligious character than has been recognized in anyofthe literatureonBakhtin. From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to MikhailBakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 25 his interest?Hardly likely. Some Bakhtinianscholars¹⁴ as well as Buber’scommentators,such as Maurice Friedman¹⁵ and Steven Kepnes,¹⁶ stress striking ter- minological and conceptual similarities between Buber’s ‘I–Thou’ teaching and Bakhtin’sconcept of dialogism introducedinProblems of Dostoevsky’sArt. The most explicit example is the correlation between Buber’sconcept of “the eternal Thou” and Bakhtin’sconcept of “the third party.” Friedman points this out as “the most surprising resemblance”¹⁷ between Buber and Bakhtin. The point is that,like Buber,Bakhtin does not reduce the dialogical ‘I–Thou’ relationship to the relation between men alone.For him the saying of “Thou” takes place

 Nina Perlina, “Bakhtin and Buber:Problems of Dialogic Imagination,” Studies of Twentieth CenturyRussian Literature 9:1(1984): 13–28.Perlina argues that Bakhtin has an affinity with Buber.She writes that Bakhtin and Buber “belongedtothe same culturalepoch” (26) and prob- ably arrivedattheir conclusions simultaneouslythrough their commonfascination with Cohen’s philosophyand their interest in Goethe, Christ,and Socrates (22). However,asMauriceFriedman stresses, “likemost other Bakhtin critics she has very little understanding of Buber.” See Maurice S. Friedman, Martin Buber:The Life of Dialogue,4th ed., revised and expanded (London and New York: Routledge,2002),354.Amongthe papers devoted to Bakhtin and Buber,see also A. B. Demidov, “Osnovopolozenija filosofii komunikazii Idialoga” (The Foundations of aPhilos- ophyofCommunication and Dialogue) in Dialog-Karnaval-Khronotop,vol. 4, ed. N. A. Pankov (Vitebsk 1992),5–35.Demidov places Bakhtin’sconcept of the ‘I–Thou’ relationship in the larger European context. Of special interest for him arethe ‘I–Thou’ categories elaborated by Karl Jas- pers,Martin Buber,and SemyonFrank. ForCarylEmerson’sremarks on the Bakhtin–Buber debates in the late1990s,see in her publication TheFirstHundred Years of Mikhail Bakhtin,225– 227. See also E. A. Kurnosikova, Problema Ya-Tyvzerkale refleksii (The I–Thou Relationship through Mirror Reflection) in Mikhail MikhailovichBakhtin vSaranske: Ocherkzizni Idejatelnosti (Bakhtin in Saransk: ASketch of His Life and Work), ed. G. B. Karpunov,etal. (Saransk: Izda- telstvoSaratovskogouniversiteta, 1989), 170 – 172.  Friedman, Martin Buber:The Life of Dialogue,Appendix B, Martin Buber and Mikhail Bakh- tin: TheDialogue of Voices and the Word That Is Spoken,353 – 366.SpeakingofBuber’sinfluence on Bakhtin, Friedman points to the fact that Bakhtin himself said in an interview, “But Buber is aphilosopher. And Iamvery much indebted to him, in particular for the idea of dialogue. Of course, this is obvious to anyone who reads Buber.” Ibid., 353. Friedman quotes these passages from Josef Frank in “The Voices of Mikhail Bakhtin,” The New York Review of Books (October 23, 1986), 56.Frank, however,had cited Maiia Kaganskaia’sessay “Shutovskoi khorovod,” Sintaksis 12 (1984): 141. Friedman is obviouslynot familiar with Kaganskaia’sliterary essay, which is amix- ture of fact and fantasy.Inthis essayKaganskaia also writes: “RecentlyIhave met Bakhtin on the Champs-Elysées; he was wrapped in awhite toga with an epitaphwritten in Latin. He stood at the border between the Renaissanceand the Middle Ages.” Ibid., 144Inthe light of this vi- gnette, the source appears not to be credible.  Steven Kepnes, TheText as Thou: Martin Buber’sDialogical Hermeneutics and Narrative The- ology (BloomingtonIN: Indiana University Press, 1992),63–71.  Friedman, Martin Buber:The Life of Dialogue,357. 26 Julia Matveev in man’srelation with the world, that is, with “the world order,nature,”¹⁸ the world of physical objectsand different objective phenomena, and this includes the saying of “Thou” to God. In his analysis of Dostoevsky’scharacters,hewrites that for them “to conceive of an object meanstoaddress it;” the Dostoevskian hero “does not acknowledge an object without addressingit,”“does not think about phenomena, he speaks with them,”¹⁹ he thinks and talks about the world and its order, “as if he weretalking not about the world but with the world.”²⁰ Theworld, to which one addresses oneself dialogically, becomes a “Thou” for the speaker;hereacts to it,hesees himself “personally insulted by the world order,personally humiliated by its blind necessity” and “casts an energetic reproach at the world order,evenatthe mechanical necessityofna- ture.”²¹ “But while speaking […]with the world,” Bakhtin says,the hero “simultaneously addresses athird party as well: he squints his eyes to the side, toward the listener,the witness, the judge,”²² he speaks “to God as the guilty party re- sponsiblefor the world order.”²³ And this “third,” Friedman claims,²⁴ is an application of Buber’sconcept of the “eternal Thou,” accordingtowhich “in each Thou we address the eternal Thou.”²⁵ Moreover,Bakhtin makes use of such characteristic Buberian terminology and concepts as ‘meeting/encounter’,²⁶ ‘three spheres in which the world of relation arises’,²⁷ ‘affirmation of the being addressed’ (transformed by Bakhtin into

 Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoevsky’sPoetics,236.  Ibid., 237.  Ibid., 236.  Ibid.  Ibid., 237.  Ibid., 248.  Friedmann asserts,however,that the Bakhtinian scholar Michael Holquist has previouslyar- rivedatthe conclusion that “if thereissomethinglike aGod concept in Bakhtin, it is surelythe superaddressee” (thirdparty). See Friedmann, MartinBuber:The Life of Dialogue,358. See also CarylEmerson and Michael Holquist,eds., M. M. Bakhtin: Speech Genres and Other Late Essays (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999), Slavic series,no. 8, xviii.  Martin Buber, Iand Thou,2nd edition, trans.R.GregorSmith, (New York: Scribner/T.& T. Clark, 1958), 22.  The German word Begegnung used by Buber means both “meeting” and “encounter.” Ac- cordingly,inEnglish editions of Buber’sworkthis term appears in both variants in the translation. In Bakhtin’sstudyofDostoevsky,wefind also both variants: vstrecha [meeting] and stol- knovenie [encounter].  In investigatingthe dialogic life of the Dostoevskian heroand his ‘I–Thou’ attitude to the world and himself, Bakhtin describesthree spheres of relation (akin to Buber’sthreespheres in which the world of relation arises:man’slife with nature, with other men, and his life with ‘spiritual beings;’ see Buber, Iand Thou,21–25): (1) “the world order,nature,” (2)the From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to MikhailBakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 27 his owncharacteristic terminologyof‘dialogical addressivity’), ‘making the other present’ or ‘seeing the other from within’ (which Bakhtin variouslycalled ‘seeing the man in man’ [italics in original], ‘the intimate contact with someone else’sdiscourse about the ownself and the world’,and ‘penetrating in someone else’sdeepest “I”‘). Furthermore,heshares certain emphases, for example, the radical distinctionwhich he, like Buber,makes between ‘dialogue’ and ‘dialectic’,aswellasbetween the ‘dialogical relationship’ and the ‘subject–object relation’.Inview of the chronological precedence of Buber’swork Iand Thou with regard to Bakhtin’sDostoevsky book, it is by no means implausible that Bakh- tin’suse of some of Buber’skey concepts suggests Buber’sdirect impact on Bakhtin’sdevelopmentasdialogical thinker.Besides, the fact that Bakhtin was introduced to Buber’swork is indisputable. Bakhtin’sother work Forms of Time and Chronotope in the Novel (1937–38) is the striking evidence of this statement:

[…]the motif of meetingisone of the most universal motifs,not onlyinliterature (it is dif- ficulttofind awork where this motif is completely absent) but also in other areas of culture and in various spheres of public and everydaylife. In the scientific and technical realm where purelyconceptual thinkingpredominates, there are no motifs as such, but the concept of contact is equivalent in some degree to the motif of meeting. In mythological and religious realms the motif of meeting plays aleadingrole, of course: in sacred legends and Holy Writ (both in Christian works such as the Gospels and in Buddhist writings) and in religious rituals.The motif of meetingiscombined with other motifs,for example that of apparition (“epiphany”)inthe religious realm. In those areas of philosophythat arenot strictlyscientific,the motif of meetingcan be of considerable importance(in Schelling, for example, or in Max Scheler and particularlyinMartin Buber).²⁸

However,itishard to explain whyafter having read Buber and mentioninghim in his work of the late 1930s, Bakhtin insists on the originality of his idea of dialogism, writing in 1961: “After my Dostoevsky book,but independentlyofit, the ideas of polyphony, dialogue, unfinalizability,etc., werewidelydeveloped.”²⁹ But it seems highlylikelythat the reason for the absence of Buber’sname in Bakhtin’sDostoevsky book—in bothversions, its earliest publication in 1929 and the 1963second edition—was purelypolitical.

sphereofhuman relationships,inwhich the relation “of I with another and with others takes place,” and (3) “the sphereofideas (but not of ideas only)”,see Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoev- sky’sPoetics,236,280,and 32, respectively.  M. M. Bakhtin, TheDialogic Imagination,ed. Michael Holquist (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1981), 98–99.  Bakhtin, TowardaReworking of the DostoevskyBook,285. 28 Julia Matveev

SergeiAverintzev,who met Bakhtin in the 1970s, claims that the lack of references to Buber’swork and the absenceofhis name in Bakhtin’sDostoevsky studydoes not point to the fact that Bakhtin was not influenced by Buber alreadyinthe 1920s. “As Ifirst met Bakhtin,” Averintzev says, “Iasked him directly […]why he did not refertoBuber. ‘Youknow how it was in the 1920s’ was his reluctantanswer.Although the termanti-Zionismhas been invented by us later.”³⁰ On the basis of Averintzev’stestimony, we can not onlyposit the influence of Buber on Bakhtin’sconcept of dialogism, but also understand the reason whyBakhtin could not refer to Buber at that time. In Russia of the early1920s, Buber was quite well known as both aZionist and religious thinker,but most likelyprimarily as the formerrather thanthe latter.His speech givenatthe Fifth Zionist Congress on Jewish art as well as his Three Speeches on Judaism weretranslatedinto Russian and publishedinJewish journals³¹ as well as in books.³² (The Three Speeches on Judaism were translated in 1919 by I. B. Rumer,³³ acousin of the poet Ossip Mandelstam.) It is clear that both dimensions of Buber’sphilosophymade it impossible for Bakhtin to mention Buber’sname in the Dostoevsky book. The years 1922–1929 wereatime of what was called “proletarianization” in all areas of culturallife. The campaign to proletarianize Soviet culture(known also as the anti-religious campaign, which began in 1922 and reached its peak in 1928)aimed at eliminating religion from Russian culture in order to form a new,atheistic Communist culture. The Bolshevik ideologysought the wholesale rejection of religion, which in the words of Karl Marx was “the opiate of the masses.” Nadezhda Mandelstam, the wife, and later widow,ofOssipMadelstam, recalls in her memoirs Hope Against Hope (1970)thatinthe middle twenties “even such hackneyed expressions as ‘thankgod’ wereregarded as aconcession to religion,” not to mention that anyreference to God was something thatno-

 Quoted in Mikhail Gasparov, “Iz razgovorovS.S.Averintzeva” [From Conversations with S. S. Averintzev] in Sapisi Ivypiski [Notes and Extracts] (Мoskwa: Novoe literaturnoeobozrenie, 2008), 110.Itiscrucial to note here that Averintzev,who with SergeiBocharov,has editedBakh- tin’swritings:M.M.Bakhtin, Estetika slovesnogotvorchestva [The Aesthetics of Verbal Creation], eds., S. S. Averintzeva and S. Bocharov (Moscow:Iskusstvo, 1979), also notes in his commenta- ries to this publication that Bakhtin had greatlyadmired Buber (389).  His speech at the Fifth Zionist Congress was published in the weeklynewspaper Budusch- nost (Future or Futurity)in1902.  M. Buber, Evreiskoe iskusstvo:Referat, chitannyi na VSionistskomkongresse [The speech at the Fifth Zionist Congress on Jewish Art] (Charkov,1902).  M. Buber, Obnovlenie evreistva: Perevod snemezkogo (Renewal of Judaism: Translationfrom German), trans. I. B. Rumera (Moscow:Safrut,1919). From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to MikhailBakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 29 body “officiallycould afford to do.”³⁴ This campaign against religion as such was accompanied by intensified assaults not onlyonthe RussianOrthodoxChurch and all Christian religious organizations, groups,and circles,but also on Jewish religious institutions. During the years 1922–1929 not onlychurches,Christian theological institutes,and religious associations among the intelligentsia were closed down, but also synagogues and traditionalinstitutions of Jewish education, such as the yeshiva and the cheder. Religious propaganda in general was prohibited and it became forbidden to even print religious books and Jewish cal- endars. Theauthorities clamped down on expressions of Jewish nationalism, be they expressionsofthe Jewish religion or Zionism. Zionistactivities and Zionist publications wereconsidered to be anti-Soviet activity and counter-revolutionary agitation against Soviet Russia. During these years there weremassarrests of Zionists, accused of having close ties with foreign countries united against the Soviet government.Infact,for almost the samereasons—foreign connections and oppositiontothe Soviet regime—manyleadingreligious thinkers,Christian and Jewish (such as Nikolai Berdjaev,Lev Schestov,Fedor Stepun,and Lev Kar- savin, to name onlyafew) were arrested and expelled from Russia,not to mention scholars who committed themselvestothe Christian religion rather than to Marxism. The stated purpose of these arrests was to purge publicand academic institutions of thosewho wereconsidered enemies of the people. Bakhtin himself was arrested around January 7, 1929 (othersources sayon December 24,1928), as aminor figureinthe Voskresenie,³⁵ an intellectual “un- derground” religious–philosophicalgroup with which Bakhtin was associated in the 1920s. The subject of most burningconcern for the majority of the Voskrese- nie group, which included two Protestants,two Roman Catholics who were for- merlyRussian Orthodox, and several Jews, was the German philosophyofreli- gion. Forinstance, in 1926,writing to Kagan, Lev Pumpiansky (a philosopher and literary scholar, one of the leading representatives of the so-called Bakhtin Circle and aprominent member of the Voskresenie group, arrested in 1928)described the meetingsofthe Voskresenie circle thus: “Allthese years, and espe- ciallythis one, we have kept busy dealingwith theology. The circle of our closest friends remains the same: Yudina [the pianist], Bakhtin, Tubiansky [the Indic scholar] and myself.”³⁶ In 1928–1929 several members of his circle werearrested. Bakhtin was condemned to five years incarceration in the concentration camp at Solovki; for healthreasons,however,his sentencewas commuted to exile in Ka-

 Nadezhda Mandelstam, Hope Against Hope,trans.fromthe Russian by Max Hayward, The Modern Library:New York 1990,90.  The group’sname, Voskresenie, means both “Sunday” and “resurrection.”  Quoted in Nevelskaja, M. M. Bakhtin IM.I.Kagan,266. 30 Julia Matveev zakhstan. The publication of Problems of Dostoevsky’sArt coincided with its author’sarrest and exile in May1929. In those years of the growingrestrictions on religious activities and public discussions of theological questions, references to religious discourse and religious philosophyofall belief systems had to be deleted from scholarlytexts. Forexample, we know thatseveral references to religious discourse weredeleted from an earlyversion of another of Bakhtin’stexts, Author and HeroinAesthetic Activity,from roughly the same period.³⁷ The omission of anymentionofBuber,a German-Jewish religious philosopher and aZionist,inBakhtin’s1929book on Dostoevsky is, hence, also not surprising. But by the late 1930s the official position on Zionism in the USSR beganto changetoamore favorable one. It is preciselyatthis time that Buber’sname appeared first in Bakhtin’swork. By the early1960s Soviet anti-Zionism,merged with Soviet anti-Semitism, started again and intensified after the 1967Six Day War.³⁸ And again at preciselythis time, anyacknowledgment of Buber’swork is absentinBakhtin’sDostoevsky book of 1963.³⁹

The purpose of the present paper is not onlytoelucidatewhy Buber’swork is not acknowledgedinBakhtin’sstudy of Dostoevsky,but also, more importantly, to show how Bakhtin applied Buber’sideas from Iand Thou to the fields of literary criticism and scholarship. Acharacteristic example is Bakhtin’sconcept of artistic creativity,which plays amajor part in his analysis of Dostoevsky’s “non-objectified” and “non-monological,” that is, “dialogical” and “polyphonical,” mode of “artistic visualization” (Bakhtin’sterms) and representation of the world, and which can be regarded as the application of Buber’smodel of the ‘I–Thou’ relationship of man with spiritual entities (geistige Wesenheiten or as R. Gregor Smith translates it, “spiritual beings”⁴⁰)that illustrates this relation-

 See Averintzev‘sand Bocharov‘scommentaries to this text: M.Bakhtin, Avtor igeroi (Author and Hero),ed. S. G.Bocharov (St. Petersburg: Izdatelstvo “Azbuka” 2000), 322–25.  Also known as the 1967Arab-Israeli War.  It is importanttonotethat in the 1970smanyofBuber’sworks werewithdrawn from the public libraries in the USSR and moved to special departments of restricted access.See in Kratkaja ebreiskaja enziklopedia (Short Jewish Encyclopedia) (Jerusalem: Carmel, 1982),vol. 1, col. 552– 554.Atthat time references to government-suppressed literaturecould lead to arrest.Not sur- prisingly, we do not find in Bakhtin’sworkany reference to Buber in the 1970s, as well.  Buber, Iand Thou,22. From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to Mikhail Bakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 31 ship from the realm of art.The investigation of the similarities between Bakhtin and Buber proceeds in two steps.Inthe first,wewill consider section eleven in I and Thou in which Buber explicates his view of human spiritual creative activity and which is an essential part of his teachingofthe ‘I–Thou’ relationship. The second step analyzes Bakhtin’sexposition of this activity—drawninto discussion of Dostoevsky’sdialogic feeling for the world⁴¹ and “his artistic perception of the world”⁴² in the categories of coexistence and interaction – all this, in Bakhtin’s own words, “prepared the soil in which Dostoevsky’spolyphonic novel wasto grow”⁴³ and is apparent,asheshows us, in the wayafictional character is represented in Dostoevsky as well as in the very principle of novelistic construction created by Dostoevsky,that is, in “the unity of apolyphonic novel.”⁴⁴ Also be- longingtothis analysis is aconsideration of Bakhtin’scritical remarks on the traditional methodsused at thattime for interpretingofDostoevsky’swork. This last step, we would stress,examines Bakhtin’sview of the process of creation in close connection with Buber’sunderstanding of the creative act (considered in the first step). In Buber’sterms this is arelational event thattakes place between twoseparate existing beings—an artistand asensed form (Gestalt)—and becomes present to us through the mediation of thosefieldsofsymbolic communication, such as literature, sculpture,and music. Finally, it should be mentioned here that having said that Bakhtin was introduced to Buber’swork I and Thou alreadyinthe 1920s, we shallpresent Bakhtin’sstudyofDostoevsky following the original 1929 edition of his Dostoevsky book.Thus, the expansions included by Bakhtin in his second 1963edition will be not examined here.⁴⁵

 The present paper does not deal with the question of whether Bakhtin, constructingan imageofDostoevsky as the creator of the polyphonic novel, presents in his book an objective view of Dostoevsky’saesthetics or not.For an in-depth treatment of this question, see Katerina Clark and Michael Holquist, Mikhail Bakhtin (Cambridge MA and London: HarvardUniversity Press, 1984), 276; Joseph Frank, Dostoevsky: TheStir of Liberation, 1860–1865 (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1986), 346;Gary Saul Morson and Caryl Emerson, Mikhail Bakhtin: TheCreation of aProsaics (StanfordCA: Stanford University Press, 1990), 231; and René Wellek,“- Bakhtin’sView of Dostoevsky: ‘Polyphony’ and ‘Carnivalesque,’” DostoevskyStudies I(1980): 31–9.  Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoevsky’sPoetics, 29.  Ibid., 31.  Ibid., 16.  Sincethe first Russian edition of Bakhtin’s Problems of Dostoevsky’sArt (1929) does not exist in English, all references to this book will be citedaccordingtothe second English edition of Bakhtin’srevisited version of Problems of Dostoevsky’sPoetics (1963) and to Appendix Iof that edition, wherewefind the passages from the original edition of the Dostoevsky book (M. M. Bakhtin, Problemy tvorchestvaDostoevskogo,Leningrad: Priboi 1929). However,all quo- 32 Julia Matveev

Now we will consider section eleven in Buber’sessay Iand Thou more closely,attemptingtohighlight the unique aspectsofhis dialogic aesthetics,which left distinct traces in Bakhtin’sconcept of artistic creativity.Atthe basis of Bub- er’saestheticposition lies the conviction that the work of art is neither an im- pression of objectivity nor an expression of subjectivity.Rather,itisthe witness of the ‘I–Thou’ relationship between the artist or “onlooker” as Buber calls him (in Smith’stranslation, the “beholder”⁴⁶)and the Gestalt which arises out of the stream of perception, proves to be something uniqueand meaningful and calls on the artist to perform acreative act:

This is the eternal source of art: aman is faced by aform [Gestalt], which desires to be made through him intoawork. This form is no offspringofhis soul, but is an appearance [Er- scheinung⁴⁷]which stepsupto it and demands of it the effective power.The man is concerned with an act of his being. If he carries it through, if he speaks the primaryword out of his beingtothe form which appears,then the effective power streams out,and the work arises.⁴⁸

As Buber explains to us in the following paragraphs,this form which the artist meets outside as wellaswithin the soul does not spring from his own imagination and alsodoes not originate in his past experience or,inBuber’sown formulation,itisnot “an image” of his “fancy” (ein Gebild der Einbildung)nor “athing among the ‘inner’ things,”⁴⁹ familiar and known, alreadyexperienced, and placed in the ordered scheme of things. On the contrary,such aform rises to meet his senses “through grace”⁵⁰ in the present moment of intense perception, revealing itself as something unexpected, exclusive,not on apar with other thingsin“the world which is experienced.”⁵¹ And though the visualization of form is an ability that is alreadypresent in the perception of the artist,the form does not arise out of him and thereforeout of detached subjectivity,but out of life. That is, it emergesinto view (the German term Erscheinung mayloose- ly be called “emergence-into-view”)inthe real intercourse of the artistwith his

tations from the secondEnglish edition will be corrected and brought in conformity with the 1929 Russian edition.  Buber, Iand Thou,25.  In R. GregorSmith’stranslation, this term has been translated intoEnglish as ‘appearance,’ but it mayalso be translated as ‘apparition’ (or ‘epiphany’). Interestingly,preciselythis theological term has been used by Bakhtin in his comments—quoted above—on the motif of meetingin Buber‘swork. See Bakhtin, TheDialogic Imagination,98–99.  Buber, Iand Thou,24.  Ibid., 25.  Ibid., 26.  Ibid., 25. From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to MikhailBakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 33 surroundingreality.This means consequentlythatart,according to Buber,cannot be understood as autonomous of reality,assomething existing onlyasacon- tent of one’ssingle experience or imagination. At the same time, Buber’spoint is not thatart making its discoveries in the outside world dealswith real actual objects (Gegenstände). What the artistisfaced with is not plain reality,but the Ge- stalt,which maybetermed ‘vision’ that lacks aconcrete imageand is thus a “vision without image.”⁵² One “can neither experience nor describe the form,” says Buber, “if atest is made of its objectivity[Gegenständlichkeit]the form is certain- ly not ‘there’” but “the relation in which [one] stand[s] to it is real.”⁵³ In his concept of human creative activity,Buber ascribes enormous importance to what takes place between the artist and the form in the reality of that relation. This relation, to his mind, plays an infinitelygreater part in aesthetic experience than has been hitherto thought. In order to explain this part of Buber’sconcept of the human relation to creative work, it becomes necessary to characterize his central concept of Iand Thou with greater precision. The basic premise of Buber’sexposition of the life of dialogue is that there is no ‘I’ in itself; ‘I’ exists onlyeither in the relation ‘I–Thou’ (Ich–Du–Beziehung)or‘I–It’ (Ich–Es–Verhältnis). These twocombina- tions—‘I–Thou’ and ‘I–It’—are two primary principles or two “primary words,”⁵⁴ as Buber terms them, governing man’sattitude to his ownself and to the worldinwhich he lives. This “twofoldness” runs through every human activity.But whatever we do, Buber says,the ‘I’ that speaksthe primary word ‘I– Thou’ sees the world in adifferent waythan the ‘I’ of ‘I–It’ and,tobesure, the ‘I’ can pass from the realmof‘Thou’ to the realm of ‘It’ and back again, thus chang- ing its ‘I–It’ relation to the ‘I–Thou’ relationship.

 In his 1956 essay What Is Common to All [Dem Gemeinschaftlichen folgen] published in the Neue Rundschau Buber,speakingofthe English novelist Aldous Huxley,describes this act thus: “In fact,the artist is removed from the commonseeinginhis decisive moments and raised into his special formative seeing; but in just these moments he is determined throughand through,to his perception itself, by the drive to originate,bythe command to form. Huxley understands this manner of seeingeverythinginbrilliant coloration and penetratingobjectivity not onlyas‘how one should see’,but also as ‘how things areinreality’.What does that mean concretely? What we call reality always appears onlyinour personal contact with things which remain unper- ceivedbyusintheir own being; and there exists personal contact which, freer,moredirect than the ordinary,represents things with greaterforce,freshness,and depth.” Martin Buber, What Is Common to All, in: Judith Buber Agassi(ed.), Martin Buber on Psychology and Psycho- therapy:Essays,Letters, and Dialogue, Syracuse University Press 1999,102.  Buber, Iand Thou,25.  Ibid., 19. 34 Julia Matveev

The man enteringinto the ‘I–It’ or subject–object relation views the world as ‘It’ (Es–Welt), that is, the world of indifferent and neutral objects, standing before him, external to him, and existing in and for themselves. And “the primary connection of manwith the world of It,” Buber writes, “is comprised in experiencing [italics in original]”.⁵⁵ In order to “‘find [his]bearings’ in the world”⁵⁶ sur- roundinghim, man’sdesire is to experience it.More precisely, this means to ob- servethe world, to approach it from various points of view,tostudy it in parts, to analyze it objectively, andthen to connect the “objective products” of human spirit together into “manifold systems of laws”⁵⁷—“the lawoflife,”“the lawof the soul,”“the social law,” or “the culturallaw.”⁵⁸ In thatrelation, the ‘I’ declares itself to be “the experiencing I,”⁵⁹ thatis, the bearerofknowledge,and the world round about to be the object that “permits itself to be experienced.”⁶⁰ Taking up of this attitude to the world, the man speaks “the wordofseparation” through which “the barrier between subjectand object has been set up.”⁶¹ In Iand Thou,Buber considers another attitude to the world—the ‘I–Thou’ relationship—which does not involveobjectification, as the combination of ‘I– It’ does.The ‘I’ of ‘I–Thou’,standing,asitwere, face to face with the world, tran- scends objectification. “When Thou is spoken,” writes Buber,the man “has no thing for his object [Gegenstand],”⁶² but is concerned throughout with how his being relates to the world that surrounds him. Here, the man sees the world not as the sum totalofthingstobeexperienced, but as the wholeness and unity of being,which “is opened to him in happenings,[…]affects him,”⁶³ fills his life, touches him, “stirs in the depth” of his soul, and “givesitself”⁶⁴ to him. Correspondingly, “the I of the primary word I–Thou makes its appearance as person”⁶⁵ who rises abovethe neutral attitude to the world and takes up the personal attitude to the reality around him, that is, “becomes conscious of

 Ibid., 48.  Ibid., 50.  Ibid., 30.  Ibid., 62.  Ibid., 55.  Ibid., 21.  Ibid., 35.  Buber says that “when Thou is spoken, thereisnothing. […]When Thou is spoken, the speaker has no thing [italics in original]; he has indeed nothing. But he takes his stand in relation.” Ibid., 20.  Ibid., 42.  Ibid., 43.  Ibid., 67. From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to Mikhail Bakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 35 himself as sharing in being, as co-existing”⁶⁶ and thus affirmsthat reality as “a being [which] neither merelybelongstohim nor merelylies outside him.”⁶⁷ In this case, the man desires with his whole being—and in Buber “the primary word I–Thou can be spoken onlywith the whole being”⁶⁸—“the full sharing in being”⁶⁹ and the more direct “contact with the Thou”⁷⁰ (die Berührung des Du) rather than the information about its essence. Andifthis act is performed by man as “the [italics in original] act of [his] being”⁷¹ in relation to the ‘Thou’,if it is an act of “affirmation of the being addressed”⁷² and of “response of man to his Thou,”⁷³ and if there is a “mutual giving,” saying ‘Thou’ to what meets him, the man giveshimself to it,inturn, it says ‘Thou’ to him and givesitself to him,⁷⁴ in this case, that act can be the sourceofcreative inspiration and also the sourceofspirit.⁷⁵ Forinthis case, man’sattitude to the world is lifted to ahigher spiritual planeofbeing,though “it does not help to sustain [him] in life, it onlyhelps [him] to glimpseeternity.”⁷⁶ By this Buber means eternal values, atrue order of being,independent of time and socio-historical changes, “the eternal Thou,” and “divine meaning in the life of the world,”⁷⁷ to be sure, not the meaning of “‘another life’,but that of this life of ours, not one of a world ‘yonder’ but that of this world of ours.”⁷⁸ Such an attitude to the world is associated in Buber’s Iand Thou with the dialogical life. This view on the relationship of man to the world forms the foundation of Buber’sconcept of human relations with ‘spiritual beings’ in the realm of art. The latter is also “twofold.” But Buber believes that onlythe ‘I’ of ‘I–Thou’

 Ibid., 68.  Ibid., 67.  Ibid., 16 and 26.  Ibid., 68.  Ibid., 67.  Ibid.  Ibid., 30.  Ibid., 48.  Ibid., 43.  What Buber means by “spirit” is not “intellect.” Ibid., 37. “Spirit in its human manifestation,” he argues, “is aresponse of man to his Thou.” Ibid., 48. “Spirit” he writes, “is not like the blood that circulatesinyou, but likethe air in which youbreathe. Man livesinthe spirit, if he is abletorespond to his Thou. He is ableto, if he enters intorelation with his whole being. Onlybyvirtue of his power to enter intorelation is he able to live in the spirit.” Ibid.,49.Onthe meetingbetween ‘I’ and ‘Thou’ as the source of ‘action’ and ‘creative inspiration,’ Ibid., 22,24–26.  Ibid., 43.  Ibid., 83.  Ibid., 105. 36 Julia Matveev can have atrue relationship with the form, for thatform is not an object but a ‘Thou’ which is “disclosed to the artistashelooks at what is over against him.”⁷⁹ Objectification destroysit, making it into an ‘It’. “If [the artist] [does] not serveitaright,” writes Buber,ifhe“turn[s] aside and relax[es] in the world of It,”“it is broken.”⁸⁰ Thus, to getaccess to the form, it is for him ‘to step into direct contact with it’ through activity.And this activity does not by anymeans implyamerely ‘objective’ observation of the form apart from anyper- sonal relation to it or neutral description of the general qualities of the form and integration of parts in asynthetic or an analytic wayinto an artificial totality (what is usuallymeant by ‘synthesis’). Quite to the contrary,agenuine ‘I– Thou’ relationship of the artist to the form consists in affirming its existing wholeness,its unity,its “exclusiveness,”⁸¹ its true ‘otherness’,and its independence from anyexternal standard or rule prescribed by formal laws of artistic canons as well as from the artist’sown stylistic preferences.This relationship “includes asacrifice and arisk;” these are two conditionsfor seeing and “bodying forth”⁸² the form as a ‘Thou’:

This is the sacrifice: the endless possibility that is offered up on the altar of the form. For everythingwhich just this moment in playran through the perspective must be obliterated; nothingofthat maypenetrate the work. The exclusiveness of what is facingitdemands that it be so. That is the risk: the primary word can onlybespoken with the whole being. He who giveshimself to it maywithhold nothingofhimself.⁸³

Accordingtothe aboveparagraph, the first condition is the affirmation of the form as existing being,assomething which is reallyactive of itself, something more than apassiveobject of the artist’sexperience but with rights equalto those of the artist.This condition means alsothe confirmation thatthe form can dictate the mode of expression, thus “the endless possibility” to expressit ‘otherwise’ must be sacrificed “on the altar of the form.” The second condition implies ‘mutual giving’,the openness of the artist,asapartner,tohis vis-à-vis (Gegenüber), the wholeness of the form vis-à-vis man’swholeness, for they pre- suppose one another,but also “the directness” of the relationship between the two—“no system of ideas, no foreknowledge,and no fancy,” Buber adds in the next paragraph, “intervene between I and Thou.”⁸⁴ These two conditions

 Ibid., 50.  Ibid., 25.  Ibid.  Ibid.  Ibid.  Ibid., 26. From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to Mikhail Bakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 37 characterize the true ‘I–Thou’ relationship as distinct from the ‘I–It’ relation. And it hardlyneedstobeemphasized thatonlythe former, in Buber’sview,allows the artist an intimate glimpse into the depths of what is presented to him. What the form presents, then, or,moreprecisely, opens up to the artist is aportal into “the heavenofThou,”“the cradle of the Real Life,”⁸⁵ and also into “the star- ry heavenofthe spirit.”⁸⁶ “Andyet Ibehold it [i.e., the form],” Buber continues in the first person discourse, “splendid in the radiance of what confronts me […] Ibehold it […]asthat which exists in the present.[…]Itaffects me, as Iaffect it.”⁸⁷ It follows aprocess of interaction between forces going from the formto the man and from the man to the form, aprocess in which the effect of ‘I’ on the form is as creative as thatofthe form on ‘I’ and which is thus by its nature the dialogical relationship. The aim of creative work, as set in the final passages of section eleven, is to “draw forth” that which is disclosed to the artist,to“body it forth,” to give it aesthetic “shape,” and finallyto“lead the form across”—in and through his work—“into the world of It,”⁸⁸ where it becomesathing, “an object among objects […]fixed in its size and its limits.”⁸⁹ But,Buber insists, even after becomingathing,the work of art is always readytobecome someone else’s ‘Thou’ or,moreexactly, it can be re-encountered by someone else as his ‘Thou’,for “from time to time,” he writes, “it can face the receptive beholder in its whole embodied form.”⁹⁰ This lastquotation is of significant importance for understanding Buber’s concept of art,which, as could be argued, frees the experience of art from its basis in the external, material existenceofthe artwork. As Buber contends in the previous section, the work of art,which was produced by an ‘I–Thou’ relationship and becomes present to us by wayoflanguageorsound, is not just “the verse made up of words” nor “the melodymade up of notes” but “a unity” (Einheit), alived unity of the life of dialogue, aunity which indeed can be “scattered into these many pieces,”⁹¹ but if we do this,itceases to be that which it actuallyis, and we are left onlywith athing among things, able to be experiencedand described as asum of qualities. But,for Buber,the work of art cannot be left as athing.The mystery of mutual action,the creative burning of the spirit in it,the eternal values which it bears in itself,aswell as the

 Ibid., 24.  Ibid., 51.  Ibid., 25.  Ibid.  Ibid., 30.  Ibid., 25.  Ibid., 24. 38 Julia Matveev effects of art on man cannot be described in this wayatall. To properlyinterpret the work, the interpreter must takethe attitude of a “receptive beholder.” That is to say, he does not simplyexperience awork of art nor does he concern himself in the first place with partial qualities and isolated ‘contents’ or formal laws of technique and style, limiting his relationship to art to the subject–object relation. Rather,hefinds himself ‘bodilyconfronted’ by the work as a ‘Thou’ that stands over against him, fullypresent in the unity of the whole, and breeding the response in him.⁹² At this point it remains to be seen how Bakhtin makes use of Buber’sconcept of the ‘I–Thou’ relationship with geistigeWesenheiten. First of all, Bakhtin’s interpretation of the wholeness and unity of Dostoevsky’swork proves to be a significant confirmation of Buber’sattitude towardthe work of art as ‘Thou’ that requires the affirmation of its ‘otherness’ as well as its wholeness and unity,which is more than aframework of the material arranged by the author in his work and not just the matter of the sum total of formal devices. Bakhtin’smonograph, Problems of Dostoevsky’sArt,opens with the clarifica- tion that the present book offers adifferent view of Dostoevsky’swork thanany of the earlier and still popularapproaches to Dostoevsky—socio-historical, ideological, and psychological—and suggests studying the Dostoevskian novel as “genuine polyphony.”⁹³ This type of novel, Bakhtin argues, is an entire “universe”⁹⁴ unto itself, i.e., it “does not fit anyofthe preconceivedframeworks or historico-literaryschemes that we usuallyapplytovarious species of the Euro- pean novel,”⁹⁵ but it is comprehensible as a “wholeness”⁹⁶ and “an organic unity”⁹⁷ in its own right.Tobesure, Bakhtin emphasizes that the latter does not lend itself “to an ordinary pragmatic interpretation at the level of the plot”⁹⁸ or to “amonologic understanding of the unity of style,”⁹⁹ that is, it cannot be understood justinterms of generic and compositional features of the novel and is different in principle from a “mechanical”¹⁰⁰ or technical unity of fixed elements in the author’sdesign. Moreover,Bakhtin refuses to accept “the ulti-

 See also Kepnes’ interpretation of Buber’sdialogic aesthetics.Kepnes’ work focuses on the problem of the interpretation of the work of art and the response to the text as ‘Thou’.Kepnes, TheText as Thou, 23–26.  Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoevsky’sPoetics,6.  Ibid., 16.  Ibid., 7.  Ibid., 8.  Ibid., 14.  Ibid., 7.  Ibid., 15.  Ibid., 16. From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to MikhailBakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 39 mate whole”¹⁰¹ of Dostoevsky’swork as aresult of “the author’ssynthesis” or of “the unified, dialecticallyevolving spirit,understood in Hegelian terms,”¹⁰² i.e., “the spirit of the author himself, objectified in the whole of the artistic world he had created.”¹⁰³ For, as he understands it,this is the unity of adialogicallyper- ceivedand understood world, that is, “ahigher unity,aunity,sotospeak, of the second order,the unity of apolyphonic novel”¹⁰⁴ which has to do with “Dosto- evsky’sartistic vision”¹⁰⁵ and “his artistic perception of the world,”¹⁰⁶ whereas the novel itself is merelyamaterial embodiment of it. Furthermore, in Bakhtin’scritiqueof“the methodological helplessness”¹⁰⁷ of the critical literature on Dostoevsky,unable “to understand the profound organic cohesion, consistency and wholeness of Dostoevsky’spoetics,”¹⁰⁸ we find the striking parallel with Buber’sunderstanding of the ‘I–It’ relation to art which involves objectification as well as direct application of scientific–objectified methodsofanalysis¹⁰⁹ and thereforeblocks avenues to the understanding of artwork as ‘Thou’. All of the Dostoevskian scholars, Bakhtin claims, werefaced throughout with separate problems in particular spheres of Dostoevsky’swork and none of them with all its complexity.Asaresult, Dostoevsky’swork has been studied as “some sort of conglomerate of disparate materials,”¹¹⁰ to be considered from different pointsofview. Critics either devoted themselvestoaninvestigation of the ideological content in Dostoevsky’snovels, “seeking aboveall purelyphilo- sophical postulatesand insights” expressed “in the pronouncements of Dostoev- sky (or more preciselyofhis characters),”¹¹¹ or “took Dostoevsky’sworld as the ordinary world of the socio-psychological European novel”¹¹² that givesusin- sight into the psychic and mental life of man, and, accordingtothis,investigated the consciousness of Dostoevsky’sheroes,tobesure, chieflythe psychological content of their consciousnesses. However,the object of Bakhtin’smost vehe- ment attacks is not as much this ‘taking in pieces’ of Dostoevsky’swork as

 Ibid., 18.  Ibid., 26.  Ibid., 277.  Ibid., 16.  Ibid., 5.  Ibid., 29.  Ibid., 6.  Ibid., 8.  See Buber’sdiscussion of knowledge in Buber, Iand Thou,p.50.  Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoevsky’sPoetics,8.  Ibid., 276.  Ibid., 9. 40 Julia Matveev first and foremost the consistent “objectification”¹¹³ and “monologization”¹¹⁴ of the world represented in Dostoevsky.AsBakhtin’soutline of the peculiarfeature of the critical literatureonDostoevsky demonstrates,these are two basic attitudes of critical thought to Dostoevsky’swork, typical as well for the narrowly ideological treatment of his work as for the purelypsychological approach. The formerconsiders the Dostoevskian novel as “aphilosophical monologue”¹¹⁵ with divided roles,thatis, as amere playofthe intellect¹¹⁶ concernedwith the arrangement and rearrangementofthe ideas and “philosophicalstances,each defendedbyone or another character,”¹¹⁷ turned into objects through which the author manages to issue his speech. The naïverealism of the latter—that fell into adependence upon the so-called ‘sciencesofman’,psychologyand psychopathology—“swims in too shallow waters.”¹¹⁸ Here, Bakhtin argues, Dostoev- sky’swork and the world he created in it,regarded as “the objectified world”¹¹⁹ of the old and traditionalEuropean novel, has been reducedtothe studyofa fragmentary part of that world—of “psyches” of the heroes, “psyches perceived as things”¹²⁰ among other thingsinthe “world corresponding to asingle and unifiedauthorial consciousness,”¹²¹ to be sure, such thingsthat have minds and act by psychological laws. The fact that we have to engage here with quite different objects, says Bakhtin, presented “after all, in the languageof art,and specificallyinthe languageofaparticular variety of novel,”¹²² and not with “amaterialized psychic reality,”¹²³ has been simplyignored. Both approaches, Bakhtin summarizes, are equallyincapable of visualizing “adialogicality of the ultimate whole”¹²⁴ (Buber would saythat they do “not know the dimension of the Thou”¹²⁵)that permeate all of Dostoevsky’sworks, in which nothing and nobodybecomes “an object for the other”—“and this con- sequentlymakes the viewer [i.e., the author himself]also aparticipant,” and not

 Ibid., 12.  Ibid., 10.  Ibid., 9.  Speakingofthe philosophical plane in the Dostoevskian novel, Bakhtin notes that it is not an “abstract playingwith ideas.” Ibid., 24.  Ibid., 5.  Ibid., 9.  Ibid.  Ibid.  Ibid., 9.  Ibid., 20.  Ibid., 13.  Ibid., 18.  Buber, Iand Thou,71. From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to MikhailBakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 41 adetached “all-encompassing”¹²⁶ observer.Inclarifyingthis point,Bakhtin insists thatboth approaches simply replace the wholeness and unity of Dostoev- sky’sworkbyatotalization of the whole, perceivedeither as aso-called ‘objective’ description of the external, empirical world, or as a ‘subjective’ romantic realism, or as a “philosophyinthe form of anovel.”¹²⁷ This is why, says Bakhtin, “all the major monographs on Dostoevsky […]contribute so little towardunder- standing”¹²⁸ what he formulatesas“Dostoevsky’sfundamental task.”¹²⁹ This task comprises “destroyingthe established forms of the fundamentally monologic (homophonic) European novel” [italics in original] and “constructingapoly- phonic world,”¹³⁰ i.e., apolyphonic spaceinwhich there is no objectification and which is neither objectivenor subjective but is pure activity and intense dialogic interaction of “independent and unmergedconsciousnesses”¹³¹ and “pure voices”¹³² joined together in the unity of some spiritual event.This insight,as must alreadybeevident,demonstrates alsothat for Bakhtin as for Buber to gain access to the original Thou-ness of the work of art means to understand it properly. Now,attention must be drawntoBakhtin’sdefinition of the Dostoevskian novel as anovel in which dialogue is real, present,and performed, which sounds like Buber’sdefinition of the work of art as the witness of the life livedinthe dialogue. Here, it needs to be said that,inBakhtin’sunderstanding,the polyphonic novel created by Dostoevsky is not areportofthe dialogical life of other people observed from without or avision of the imagination or aphilosophical theory that Dostoevsky’sworkrepresents or exemplifies. That would be “possibleinanovel of the purelymonologic type as well, and is in fact often found in that sort of novel,”¹³³ as Bakhtin tells us. He emphasizes that pol- yphonyisnot so much the content or the theme as the immanent structure of the Dostoevskian novel which displays aliving interaction and fullyrealized dialogic contact of the writer’s ‘I’ with another and with others. AccordingtoBakhtin’s interpretation, the attitude of the author to his hero is thatof‘I–Thou’.Dostoev- sky,hewrites,does not see his hero as a “voiceless object of the author’s

 Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoevsky’sPoetics,18.  Ibid., 26.  Ibid.  Ibid., 8.  Ibid.  Ibid., 6.  Ibid., 53.  Ibid., 10. 42 Julia Matveev words”¹³⁴ or “acreated thing;”¹³⁵ he does not construe an “objectified imageof the hero”¹³⁶ or use his hero as “merelymaterial”¹³⁷ or “an explanatory function”¹³⁸ in his work. Rather the hero is for him afree and autonomous subject, afullyvalid ‘thou’—“thou art,”¹³⁹—and he makes him present in his wholeness, that is, portrays him as “acarrier of afullyvalid word”¹⁴⁰ on himself and the world and is interested in him as apersonality “with equal rights and […] with its own world.”¹⁴¹ Moreover,the author appears not in the aspect of an external authority over the hero, superiortohim, but the author’sdiscourse is, as it were, “dialogically addressed [italics in original] to him,” as if to another person, so that “the author speaks not about acharacter,but with him [italics in original].”¹⁴² In Bakhtin’sview,such adialogic relationship between the author and his characters as performedinthe workofart is not invented. It is rather arepresentationofwhat Dostoevsky found and discovered in reality itself and what continues to be repeated in the work of art.Inthis regard,when Bakhtin calls Dostoevsky the innovator “in the realm of the novel as an artistic form”¹⁴³ and “the creator of the polyphonic novel”¹⁴⁴ and “polyphonic world,”¹⁴⁵ he does not mean that Dostoevsky as an artist created aworldof his own, which is not deduced from, or generatedby, anything and is, as it were, produced by the author out of himself, and hence “in essence […][is] fab- ricated from beginning to end.”¹⁴⁶ Rather,hemeans by this something quite similar to Buber’sformula regarding the task which confronts the artist who “is faced by aform which desires to be made through him into awork” and is concerned with realization—“to produce is to draw forth, to invent is to find,to shape is to discover.Inbodying forth Idisclose.”¹⁴⁷ More significant parallels with Buber’sview on human creative activity or, more specifically, on the relationship between the artist and the Gestalt,are

 Ibid., 63.  Ibid., 64.  Ibid., 53.  Ibid., 54.  Ibid., 49.  Ibid., 10.  Ibid., 63.  Ibid., 6.  Ibid., 63.  Ibid., 276.  Ibid., 7.  Ibid., 8.  Ibid., 65.  Buber, Iand Thou,24and 25. From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to MikhailBakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 43 still to be found in Bakhtin’sdiscussion of “Dostoevsky’screative vision,”¹⁴⁸ which we will be examining in some detail below.Particularlyillustrative is the notion of “vision” in itself. In Bakhtin’sstudy of Dostoevsky this notion, like Buber’snotion of Gestalt in Iand Thou,isbound up with the process of artistic creation. Moreover,similar to Buber,Bakhtin associatesthis notion with the sourceand the origin of the work of art.FollowingBuber’sclaim that the Ge- stalt is not “the offspringofthe [artist’s] soul” or “athing among the ‘inner’ things” reflected and expressed in his work, Bakhtin argues that “the soil in which Dostoevsky’spolyphonic novel was to grow” is neither Dostoevsky’s “worldview in the ordinary sense of the world”¹⁴⁹ nor his own thoughts,evaluations, and points of view¹⁵⁰ transformed into artistic images of his novels. Rather, it is his artistic vision of the “now,” in the present,and is aresultofthe interaction between the author and the world around him and adiscovery of something outside of him, something which is expressedasyet by no one and calls to be made into awork of art,something which is both new and eternal but at the same time something that refers to the world of men, in which people’slives and interrelations between human beingsunfold.Such a “vision,” according to Bakhtin, impliesthe artist’s “extraordinary capacity” and “gift”¹⁵¹ to “penetrate”¹⁵² into the deepestand most intense layers of life,¹⁵³ to see beyond the ob- servable material of reality and superficial forms of life, to see “the world in terms of interaction and coexistence,”¹⁵⁴ to conceive all its contents and forces as coexistingsimultaneouslyamong people, on different planes, in the external objective social world¹⁵⁵ and in “the depths of the human soul,”¹⁵⁶ and “to guess at their interrelationships in the cross-section of asingle moment.”¹⁵⁷ In describ- ing Dostoevsky’sartistic vision of the dialogic natureofthe human world, Bakh- tin also emphasizes that this vision—although it does reflect “the objective com-

 Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoevsky’sPoetics,28.  Ibid., 29.  Ibid., 186–198.  Ibid., 30.  Bakhtin quotes VyacheslavIvanov whodefined “Dostoevsky’srealism as arealism based not on cognition (objectified cognition), but on ‘penetration,’” and, indeed, the former affirms this definition. However,inBakhtin’sopinion, Ivanov “did not show how this principle […]becomes the principle behind Dostoevsky’sartistic visualization of the world, the principle behind his artistic structuringof[…]the novel.” Ibid., 11.  Ibid., 30.  Ibid., 30 –31.  Ibid., 27.  Ibid., 277.  Ibid., 28. 44 Julia Matveev plexity […]and multi-voicedness of Dostoevsky’sepoch”¹⁵⁸—is different from that which is concerned with concrete social order or certain problems connected with human inner life or human relationships in one specific limited epoch. Like Buber,hecharacterizes this vision in terms of ‘openingupaportal into eternity’ (to paraphrase Buber’swords¹⁵⁹). Dostoevsky’sartistic vision, he says,rises abovetime; it is “the triumph over time” and “overcomingtime in time;”¹⁶⁰ it is directed upon the essential in life and valid “for anyepoch and under anyideol- ogy;”¹⁶¹ it is addressed to the eternal,¹⁶² to adifferent order of existenceinde- pendent of “all concrete social forms (the forms of family, social or economic class, life’sstories),”¹⁶³ that is, to “the abstract sphere of pure relationship, one person to another,”¹⁶⁴ to oneself, and to the whole world¹⁶⁵ and inevitably leads up to the relation between man and God.¹⁶⁶ Thus Bakhtin stresses that “if we were to seek an imagetowardwhich this whole world [i.e., Dostoevsky’s polyphonic world] gravitates, an imageinthe spirit of Dostoevsky’sown worldview,then it would be the church as acommunion of unmergedsouls,wheresin- ners and righteous men come together.”¹⁶⁷ “But even the imageofthe church,” Bakhtin insists, “remains onlyanimage, explaining nothing of the structure of the novel itself.”¹⁶⁸ Like Buber,hebelieves that “artistic vision” is not an “image” that can be described or expressedinaconventional symbol, but something that

 Ibid., 30.  Ibid., 79.  Ibid., 29.  Ibid., 278.  In Bakhtin’sown words,onlythingswhich are “essential” areincorporated into Dostoev- sky’sworld; “such things can be carried over into eternity.[…]That which has meaningonlyas ‘earlier’ or ‘later’,which is sufficient onlyunto its own moment,which is validonlyaspast,oras future, or as present in relation to past or future,isfor him [i.e., for Dostoevsky] nonessential and is not incorporated into his world.” Ibid., 29.  Ibid., 264, 278, and 280.  Ibid., 265.  Ibid., 237.  Foranextensive discussion of the religious/theological aspects of Bakhtin writings,see L. A. Gogotishvilyand P. S. Gourevitch, ed., M. M.Bakhtin kakfilosoph (Bakhtin as Philosopher) (Moscow:Naauka, 1992),221–252; Carol Adlam, et al., eds., Face to Face: Bakhtin in Russia and the West (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 45 – 53;Ruth Coates, Christianity in Bakhtin: God and the Exiled Author (Cambridge:Cambridge University Press, 1998); Anton Simons, “The Author’sSilence:Transcendence and Representation in Mikhail Bakhtin” in Flight of the Gods: Philosophical Perspectives on NegativeTheology,eds.Ilse N. Bulhof and Laurens TenKate (New York: Fordham University Press, 2000), 353–374.  Bakhtin, Problems of Dostoevsky’sPoetics, 26–27.  Ibid., 27. From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to MikhailBakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 45 after being embodied in awork of art mayopen up, affordingaglimpse of new sides of human life. Moreover,for Bakhtin as for Buber the creative act does not mean amere mirroringofwhat is revealedtothe artist into the artwork. This act presupposes sacrifice.And although Bakhtin does not use this term, he posits nevertheless that the creation of “apolyphonic world,” which permits onlycertain artistic means for revealing and representing itself, implies the act of offering the will to domination and authoritarian control for the sake of “the artistic will of polyphony.”¹⁶⁹ The latter,heexplains, is “awill to combine many wills, awill to the event” that strivesfor “aunity of ahigher order than in homophony,”¹⁷⁰ therefore “the monologism of an artistic world,”¹⁷¹ dominatedbythe author’sauthoritar- ian voice, must be destroyed. This is apparent,asBakhtin shows us, in the very principle of novelistic construction created by Dostoevsky. Thus Bakhtin writesthat “the affirmation of someone else’sconsciousness— as an autonomous subjectand not as an object—is the ethico-religious postulate determiningthe content [italics in original] of the [Dostoevskian] novel.”¹⁷² But this ethico-religious principle governing Dostoevsky’sworldview “does not in itself createanew form or anew type of novelistic construction.”¹⁷³ In saying this, Bakhtin tends to link the creation of the polyphonic novel to aesthetic, artistic activity rather thantoethical activity,tobesure, for him, the former presupposes the latter.Therefore, he insists thatthe unity of Dostoevsky’sworld –“agenuine polyphony,” in which “acombination of several individual wills takes place” and “the boundaries of the individual will” and “asingle voice” are in principle ex- ceeded—cannot under anycondition be reduced “to the empty unity of an individual act of will.”¹⁷⁴ That is why, to his mind, Dostoevsky shifts “the dominant”¹⁷⁵ or “the center of gravity”¹⁷⁶ in this new kind of unity from “a

 Ibid., 21.  Ibid.  Ibid., 57.Thus Bakhtin writes that “Dostoevsky’smajor heroes are, by the very natureofhis creative design, not only objects of authorialdiscourse but also subjects of their own directly sig- nifying discourse. [italics in original] In no way, then, can acharacter’sdiscourse be exhausted by the usual functions of characterization and plot development,nor does it serveasavehicle for the author’sown ideological position (as with Byron,for instance). The consciousness of a character is givenassomeone else’s [italics in original] consciousness,another consciousness, yetatthe same time it is not turned into an object,isnot closed,does not become asimple object of the author’sconsciousness.” Ibid.,7.  Ibid., 10.  Ibid., 11.  Ibid., 21–22.  Ibid., 13. 46 Julia Matveev monological sermon,”¹⁷⁷ from “amonologicallyformulated authorial worldview,”¹⁷⁸ and from “arealization of one’sown privatepersonality” to an “inter- nallydialogic approach”¹⁷⁹ to the characters created by him, none of which becomes an integraland unified voice or mergeswith the voice of the author himself, that is, serves “as amouthpiece for the author’svoice,”¹⁸⁰ but each “sounds, as it were, alongside the author’swordand in aspecial waycombines both with it and with the full and equallyvalid voices of other characters.”¹⁸¹ “The very distributionofvoices and their interaction,” Bakhtin emphatically stresses, “is what matters to Dostoevsky,”¹⁸² and what he, as the artist, is concerned with is not the expressionofasole and single writer’s ‘I’¹⁸³ but the “fundamental task” which he set for himself ¹⁸⁴ and which, as Bakhtin defines it,is “the realization of the polyphonic project,”¹⁸⁵ that is, the transformation of his special polyphonic artistic vision—which cannot be subject to artistic assimilation from the “monologic position”¹⁸⁶—into an “artisticallyorganized coexistence and interaction of spiritual diversity.”¹⁸⁷ With this,weconclude our surveyofthe similarities between Bakhtin’sand Buber’sviews on artistic creation, although we are far from having exhausted the subject. We have onlytouched upon several basic principles of their aesthetic position, which should by now be apparent and which have underlain our thesis – advanced from the very beginning of the present paper – on Buber‘sinfluence on Bakhtin. This survey clearlyreveals the importance of Buber’s ‘I–Thou’ phi- losophyfor literary studies in general and for understanding of Bakhtin’sconcept of polyphonyinparticular. Buber’sideas expressed in Iand Thou shed additional light on the problem which was central to Bakhtin, namely,the problem of how to understand aliterarytext as both the product of asingle author and the intersection of several unmergedvoices or,inother words, how to deal with the

 Ibid., 14.  Ibid., 13.  Ibid., 11.  Ibid., 14.  Ibid., 5, see also 51.  Ibid., 7.  Ibid., 279.  Ibid. In chap. 5, sect.iii, TheHero’sDiscourse and NarrativeDiscourse in Dostoevsky,Bakh- tin also speaks of weakening authorial discourse as connectedwith Dostoevsky’sartistic task to break down the monologiccanon.  Ibid., 65.  Ibid., 204.  Ibid., 18;see also 78.  Ibid., 31. From Martin Buber’s Iand Thou to MikhailBakhtin’sConcept of ‘Polyphony’ 47 phenomenon of atext whose multivoicedness contradictsthe reigning notionsof authorship.

Jeffrey Andrew Barash Politicsand Theology: The DebateonZionism between Hermann Cohen and Martin Buber

In 1915,shortlyafter the outbreak of the First World WarinEurope, Hermann Cohen published apamphlet expressingnationalistic convictions in favorof the German war effort,inwhich he at the same time underlined the Jewish historical contribution to German cultureand politics. On the basisofhis reflections in this pamphlet,entitled Deutschtum und Judentum,Cohen argued for the legitimacy of aspecificallyJewish minority as an essential component of the German national identity.Followingthe appearance of this pamphlet,Cohen published an article entitled “Religion und Zionismus. Ein Wort an meine Kommilitonen jüdischen Glaubens” (Religion and Zionism. AWord Addressed to Fellow Mem- bers of the Jewish Faith) in which he sharplycriticized fellow JewishGermans who, instead of devoting theirefforts to the promotion of German cultural ideals and political goals in atime of war,wereconcerned aboveall with the creation of aseparate Jewishpolitical entity.Cohen’swritingsonthis theme were asourceof passionate commentary in this period among broad segments of the German intelligentsia.They provided the occasion for afamousdebate Cohen engaged in with the young Martin Buber who, in direct response to Cohen’scritique of Zion- ism, articulated an influential argument in favorofthe creation of aJewish “homeland.”¹ Buber presented this plea in the article “Völker,Staaten und Zion. Brief an Hermann Cohen”,(Peoples, Nations and Zion. ALetter to Her- mann Cohen), which appearedinthe journal Der Jude,inJuly1916.Inresponse to this critique Cohen publishedafurther article entitled “Antwort aufdas offene Schreiben des Herrn Dr.Martin Buber an Hermann Cohen” (AnAnswer to the Public Writing of Dr.Martin Buber addressed to Hermann Cohen). Buber then answered this response with the article, publishedinthe September 1916 issue of

 In the earlydecades of the Zionist movement the so-called Endziel (ultimateobjective)was deliberately ill-defined and thus debated. The reference to a “homeland” (Heimstätte)served to maintain the ambiguity.Itwas onlywith the rise of Hitler to power and the intensificationof anti-Semitism that the movement decisively defined its objective to be the foundingofasov- ereign political state. Buber was affiliatedwith those Zionists whoevenatthis juncture rejected this envisioned Endziel. On the debates within the Zionist movement regarding its ultimate political objective,see BenHalpern, TheIdeaofthe JewishState (Cambridge:HarvardUniversity Press, 1961), ch.1. 50 JeffreyAndrewBarash

Der Jude: “Der Staat und die Menschheit.Bemerkungen zu Hermann Cohens Antwort” (TheStateand Humanity.Remarks on Hermann Cohen’sResponse). It would reach beyond the framework of this brief essaytoprovide adetailed reexamination of the arguments advanced by Hermann Cohen and Martin Buber for and against the creation of aJewishhomeland,which have aroused great interest in recent years. Iwill focus, rather,onthe specifically political dimension of the debate. In highlighting the political ramifications of their pleas for and against the creation of aJewish State, Cohen and Buber each articulatedwhat seem to me to be paradoxical attitudes towardpolitics,expressingfrom divergent perspectivesthe complexity of Jewish political theologyinthe period of the First World War. Iwill begin by examining what Itake to be paradoxical in Hermann Cohen’s political opposition to Zionism and then,inabrief analysis of the critique directed against him by Martin Buber,argue that Buber’spolitical interpretationofJu- daism led him to embrace aposition which was no less paradoxical than that of his opponent.AsIwill suggest,the paradoxeswhich theirrespective political positions involvereflect both the specific problem of Jewishpolitical existence during this period of the Great Warthatsubsequent decades have done little to at- tenuate, and the more general difficulty,which is hardlylimited to theories elaborated by Jewish thinkers, of reconcilingtheologyand politics in 20th century conceptions of the State.

The paradoxical character of Hermann Cohen’sattitude towards Jewishpolitical existencecomestolight in his pamphlet Deutschtum und Judentum,which takes to task anyattempt on the part of German Jews to establish aState beyond Ger- man borders.Cohen’sargument drawsupon what he takes to be aprofound kinship between Germanity and Judaism basedonahistorical relation reaching back to the bible and to Greek antiquity.This kinship derivesfrom what was for him central to both Jewish and German Christian culture: their “idealism”. Accordingtothis argument idealism led Jewish thinkers,beginning with Philo of Alexandria, to seek acommon ground between the Old Testament and Plato as abasisfor ethical truth, and this quest similarlyinspired seminal Ger- man thinkers of the late middle ages and the Renaissance,such as Nicholas of Cusa. In alaterperiod and in asomewhat different perspective,Cohen identified idealismwith the German Reformation in its emphasis on spirituality and on the role of individual conscienceinthe quest for justification (Rechtfertigung)before God alone,independent of worldlyinfluences. ForCohen, the central place that The DebateonZionism between Hermann Cohen and Martin Buber 51 medievalthinkers such as Maimonidesaccorded to the transcendence of one God as the creator of the world, in opposition to all forms of polytheism and pan- theism which identify God with an immanent nature, had anticipated the Ger- man Reformation; it wasassuch the “emblemofProtestantisminmedieval Ju- daism.”² Adeep affinity became manifest in the idealistemphasis that both German Jews and German Protestants placed on individual judgment,ason the intellect and the pursuit of learning.Itwas confirmed by the importance both groups attributed to ethical action freelychosen in light of rationaldeliber- ation that Kant’sphilosophysubsequentlybrought to fruition. In bothJewish and GermanProtestant contexts idealism found further expression in the liturgical role they each accorded to music. Cohen at the same time downplayedwhat had long been taken to be the radical distinction between Judaism and German Protestantism: the Jewishinsistence on the role of Halakha or lawand of works, as opposed to the Protestant belief in justification by faith. FollowingGrotius,as Cohen pointed out,the Protestant tradition revivedthe doctrineofnatural law which acknowledgedanexplicit sourceinMosaic law. And here Cohen drew support for his interpretationfrom the works of the great 19th century Aristote- lian scholar,Adolf Trendelenburg, who in his book on natural lawhad written that:”Perhaps no legislation, not even thatofRome, has done so much as the Mosaiclaw to propagatethe feeling for lawamong the cultivated nations.’“³ The full political ramifications of Cohen’sbroad historicalsketch come to light in his interpretation of the affinity between German Protestantism and Ju- daism thatcrystallized duringthe centuries following the Protestant Reforma- tion. He underlined aboveall the role of German humanism thatfound its classical expression in Herder’s Briefe zu Beförderung der Humanität. This work, for Cohen, expressing the religious conviction that mankind movesforward toward an ever higher expression of its humanity,brought to fulfillment Enlightenment hope, most eloquentlyvoiced by Lessing, concerning the future development of human culture. Herder’sphilosophicalformulation of this hope was of para- mountimportance for later generations, and its insight was more profound than that of his great Jewishcontemporary Moses Mendelssohn who, in his book Jerusalem,abandoned anyprospect of general advancementfor humanity. Herder’sefforts showed here aprofound affinitywith an earlier Jewish tradition of messianism, and it was important for Cohen in this perspective thatHerder

 “Wahrzeichen des Protestantismus im mittelalterlichen Judentum”,Hermann Cohen, Deutsch- tum und Judentum (Giessen: Töpelmann, 1915), 11.  “Vielleicht hat keine Gesetzgebung, selbst nicht die römische, solche Verdienste um das Ge- fühl des Rechts unter den Kulturvölkern, als die mosaische.” Ibid., 12–13.Unless otherwise indicated, all translations aremyown. 52 Jeffrey Andrew Barash developedhis insight in his reflection on ancient Judaism and on the Old Testa- ment in his work Über den Geist der ebräischen Poesie. Herewediscover the deepestsourceofthe kinship between “Deutschtum” and “Judentum”,for Cohen, duringthe earlyperiod of the First World War:

At this highpoint,everyone should once againfeel the inner community between German- ity and Judaism. Forthe concept of humanity originatedinthe messianism of the prophets of Israel. And, even aside from Herder,thereisnodoubt that the biblical spirit had amost profound impact on German humanism. Messianism, however,isthe foundation of Juda- ism; it is its crown and its root. It constitutes the creative and dynamic basis of monotheism, as Herder had alreadystressed: ‘As Jehovah was unique, the creator of the world: so was He also the God of all humans,ofall races’.And messianism is its supreme result. Ad- mittedlyitwas linked from the beginningtonational politics and to national religiosity.⁴

Whereas Jewishthinkers such as Mendelssohn no longer comprehended original JewishMessianic conceptions, German Protestants such as Herder revivedthem and therebyprovided an essential impulse to the later development of Judaism in Germanyand in Europe as awhole. In the contemporary context of the First World War, Cohen underlined the mission of GermanChristians and Jews alike to promotethe rebirth of anew sense of ethical purpose leading beyond the limits of nationalistic perspectivesoriented in terms of narrow material interests. This requires the creation of aconfederation of nations which would alone be capable of ensuring lasting peace. Cohen speculatedthat this future confederation would permitdifferent nationalities and religions to co-exist in peace in the framework of modern nation-states, and it would enable different nation-states to remain at peace with each other;this is the inner truth of the idealismofboth German Jews and Christians (especiallyProtestants), issuing from acommon sourceinBiblical religiosity and Greek philosophy, and it is the ultimategoal of the messianic ideal. Farfrom requiringthe assimilation of the Jews, the messianic ideal calls for the ongoing existenceofJudaism, which continues to provide auniquecon- tribution to Germanculturaland political life as awhole. In the future, the es-

 “An diesem Hauptpunktesollte nun wiederum jedermanndie innere Gemeinschaft zwischen Deutschtumund Judentum fühlen. Denn der Begriff der Menschheit hat seinen Ursprung im Messianismus der israelitischen Propheten. Undesdürfte, auch abgesehen vonHerder,ausser Zweifel stehen, dass der biblischeGeist auch im deutschenHumanismus als tiefsteUrsache gewirkt hat.Der Messianismus aber ist der Grundpfeilerdes Judentums;erist seine Krone und seine Wurzel. Er bildet das schöpferische Grundmotivdes Monotheismus,das Herder schon her- vorhebt: ‚WarJehovader Einzige,der Schöpfer der Welt:sowar er auch der Gott aller Menschen, aller Geschlechter‘.Und er ist seine höchsteKonsequenz. Freilich war er vonAnfanganmit der nationalenPolitik, wie mit der nationalen Religiosität verbunden.” Ibid., 28. The DebateonZionism between Hermann Cohen and Martin Buber 53 sentialpurpose of Jewish monotheism would be to serveasanindispensable bulwark for ethical culture.⁵ As interpreted by Cohen in Deutschtum und Judentum,messianism was not simplyabiblical image, nor was it limited to the sphere of religious faith. Well beyond the domain of pure religion, it engaged the political authority of the State which,inits capacity to dominate and harmonize the discordthat arises from religious and ethnic (“racial”)differences, no longer rests on an arbitrary exercise of power,but on an ethical conviction and amoral purpose that come to fruition in the process of historical development.Cohen’sphilosophy as awhole provides acurious mix of messianic prophetism and philosophyof history derivedfrom German idealism, especiallyofthe Kantian variety. This bringsustothe central point:atradition of GermanProtestants reaching in the modern period from JohannKaspar Lavater to Paul de Lagarde, and up to Cohen’scontemporary,the economist GustavSchmoller,took Jews in Germany to task who had maintained their distinctive religious identity.And the question had often arisen concerning whythe Jews, if they soughttobecome Germans, should let their religion stand as abarrier between them and the vast majority of theirChristian co-citizens?Why did they not adopt the Christian religion as ameans of assimilating and erasing the last differencesseparating the Jewish minorityfrom GermanChristians?Insubsequent years, of course, the accent placed on insurmountable racialdistinctions would render such questions wholly irrelevant,but they remained important in the period of the First World War. Cohen attempted to provide aconvincing answer to these questions on the basis both of arguments in favorofJewishexistenceinGermanyand against Zionistpleas for the separation of Germans and Jews through the creation of a JewishState in Palestine. Cohen’sreasoning on this matter was expounded aboveall in his 1916 article “Religion und Zionismus” and in his response in the sameyear to Martin Buber’srebukeofthis article; in these writingsheela- borated on the arguments presented in Deutschtum und Judentum in favorofthe continued existence of Judaism as aseparate religion in the German nation state. In the space of this short essayIwill not attempt to reconstruct the whole gamut of Cohen’sobjections to Zionism, but Iwill focus on the curious mix he concoct- ed between messianism and politics. Herethe argument concerning history as the arena of development of the political authority of the State,inspired by messianic ethical principles, provided the basis for what he termed “political reli-

 “Der Monotheismus des Judentums ist das unerschütterliche Bollwerk für alle Zukunft der sit- tlichen Kultur.” Ibid., 40. 54 Jeffrey Andrew Barash giosity” (politische Religiosität),⁶ in terms of which he presented his objection against the establishment of aseparate homeland for all Jews. AccordingtoCohen’sinterpretation, the Jews had forfeited anyparticular political vocation following the destruction of the second temple during Roman antiquity.Although the Jews never subsequentlycreated apolitical society,they wereable to maintain themselvesasareligious group, in spite of their dispersal among the nations. Without the support of aJewishState, the Jews werethus able to maintain their distinctive religious identity throughout the centuries. The continuity in this identity indicated to Cohen thatJewish religiosity,and aboveall the messianic ideal it sustained, does not correspond to aparticularly Jewishpolitical structure but,onthe contrary, can onlybeperverted by attempts – such as thoseofthe Zionists – to imposesuch astructure upon it.Ifthe Jews are indeedGod’schosen people, they are not chosen to be representativesofa particularState but,asmediators between God and all of humanity, of the messianic ideal itself. In his initial critique of Zionism, “Religion und Zionismus”, Cohen wrote in this respect: “He who reserves the fundamental teachings of Ju- daism for the Jewishpeople deniesthe unique God of messianic humanity. We recognize the election of Israel onlyasthe historical mediation in view of the Di- vine election of humanity.”⁷ It is for this reason, accordingtoCohen, thatZionist attempts to bind Jewishreligiosity to apolitical principle forsake Judaism in its very essence. Zionism harks backtoanancient period of political autonomyof the Jewishpeople which it seeks to re-enact.The prophets,however,look forward to the messianic destinyofall humanity and therefore, following the destruction of the second temple, they can onlysanction the Jewishdiasporain view of the future redemption of mankindasawhole. Hereweapprehend acurious paradoxthat runs throughout Cohen’sargument.HestatedinDeutschtum und Judentum, and reiteratedinhis critique of Zionism, that the Jews werenot the uniquerepresentativesofthe messianic principle, for they shared this with German Protestants.Inthis vein, Cohen went to the point,inhis response to Buber’sprotest against his initial critique of Zion- ism, of rephrasing this idea in the strongest of terms: “ThereforedoIlovein the unity thatthe GermanSpiritmanifests in its science as in its State the Prov-

 “Antwort aufdas offene Schreiben des Herrn Dr.Martin Buber an Hermann Cohen.” Jüdische Schriften,vol. 2(Berlin: Schetschkeu.Sohn, 1924),336.  “Undwer das Judentum in seiner Grundlehre grundsätzlich für das jüdische Volk reserviert hält, der verleugnet den einzigenGott der messianischen Menschheit. Die ErwählungIsraels erkennen wir nur als die geschichtliche Vermittlung für die göttliche Erwählungder Menschheit an.” Hermann Cohen, “Religion und Zionismus.” Jüdische Schriften,vol. 2: 32. The DebateonZionism between Hermann Cohen and Martin Buber 55 idential path towardattainment of the messianic goal.”⁸ This statement,however,bringstolight acurious paradoxinCohen’sinterpretation as awhole: if Ger- man Christians are capable of representing the messianic ideal, what possible argument could be advanced in favorofthe survival of Jewish religiosity in Ger- many? To my mind, Cohen presented no satisfactoryanswer to this question, neither in Deutschtum und Judentum,nor in his pronouncements against Zionism, nor in his 1917rebuttal of the arguments of GustavSchmoller,who explicitly raised doubts concerning the claims of Jews to equal rights in Germany given their refusaltoabandon religious separatism.⁹ This question intenselypreoccupied Cohen in the years before his death in 1918. Hislastposthumouslypublished work, Religion der Vernunft aus den Quel- len des Judentums,was nonetheless not able, anymore than his earlier writings, to provide asatisfactory answer to it.Inthis final work, he elaborated his reflection on the essentiallypolitical character of Jewishmessianism which he con- trasted with the otherworldliness of Platonism that he qualified as utopian and eschatological. Jewishmessianism in this final work was now alsocontrast- ed with Christian messianism which, in its insistenceonotherworldliness, assumed an essentiallyeschatological form.¹⁰ Messianism, in contradistinction to eschatology,seeks to realize its ethical purpose in the real political world. But this insistenceonthe political character of messianism onlyhighlights the profoundlyparadoxical character of the notion of “political religiosity” that he applied to the Jewish faith: if, indeed, as Cohen reiterated in Religion der Ver- nunft,messianism findsits sourceinOld Testament prophecyand if the Jews are direct bearers of amessianic ethical mission, then we are led to the conclusion thatapeople which, over the centuries, has been deprivedofany particular form of political existencehas been chosen to fulfill humanity’seminentlypolit- ical task. It is ultimatelythis paradoxthat comes to light in the idea of aprovi- dentiallyguided unfoldingofthe historicalprocess which is propelled by the political messianism of the Jewish people.

 “Darum liebe ich in der Einheit,die der deutsche Geist in seiner Wissenschaft und seinem Staat darstellt, den Wegder Vorsehungzur Erreichungdes messianischen Ziels.” Hermann Cohen, “Antwort aufdas offene Schreiben des Herrn Dr.Martin Buber an Hermann Cohen.” Jü- dische Schriften,vol. 2: 340.  Hermann Cohen, “Betrachtungen über Schmollers Angriff.” Jüdische Schriften,vol. 2: 381–397.  Hermann Cohen, Religion der Vernunft aus den Quellen des Judentums.Eine jüdische Religion- sphilosophie (Wiesbaden: Fourier,1978), 357–392. 56 Jeffrey Andrew Barash

Buber’searlypolitical ideas concerning Zionismcame to expression most nota- blyinhis attitude towardone of the principle theoretical sources of this movement,the culturalZionism of Achad Haam. In an article published in Hebrew in 1902, “The Renaissance of the Spirit,” Achad Haam considered thatthe movement towardemancipation and assimilation of the Jews since the period of the eighteenth centuryEnlightenment or “Haskalah” had led to aloss of Jewish identity and Jewish culturalvitality.This weakening of Judaism could onlybe counteracted through the creation of aJewish State in which areturn to the He- brew languageand afortificationofthe principles of Jewish learning would lead to ageneral revival of Jewishculture.¹¹ Buber adopted asimilar line of argument, which at the sametime aimed to surmount what he took to be Achad Haam’s narrow culturalism and intellectualism. Buber’sassessment of Achad Haam’s work in the discourse “Die Erneurerungdes Judentums” (The Renewal of Juda- ism), the third of his early Reden über das Judentum (Addresses on Judaism)published in 1911, was at once admirative and critical of this earlytheory of cultural Zionism, which Buber soughttoenrich in light of popularreligious themesin- spired by the Chassidic movement and through an intensified focus on messianism. In “The Renewal of Judaism,” Buber referred to messianism as “Judaism’s most deeplyoriginal idea.”¹² The brand of messianism Buber advocated, as he reiteratedinthe critique of Cohen he presented in the article “Peoples, States, and Zion,” initiallypublished in 1916,wenthand in hand with the bringing to an end of the Jewishdiasporathrough the creation of aJewish homeland. This Zionist messianism found an important sourceinthe mid-nineteenthcentu- ry writingsofMoses Hess,which he evoked in his critique of Hermann Cohen: “We lack the country through which to fulfill the historic ideal of our people; this ideal is none other than the rule of God on this earth, the messianic time that all of our prophets announced.”¹³ And here Buber presented acogent critique of the messianic principles articulatedbyHermann Cohen: “Judaism maywellbetaken up in messianic humanity,tobemelted into it; we do not,

 Achad-Haam, “Die Renaissancedes Geistes” (1902), Am Scheidewege,vol. 2, tr.Israel Fried- länder (Berlin: Jüdischer Verlag,1913), 115.  “[…]die am tiefsten originale Idee des Judentums”,Martin Buber, “Die Erneuerungdes Ju- dentums.” Reden über das Judentum (Berlin: Schocken, 1932), 58.  “Unsfehltdas Land, um das historische Ideal unseres Volkes zu verwirklichen, welches kein anderes Ideal ist als die Herrschaft Gottes aufErden, die messianische Zeit,die vonallen unseren Prophetenverkündet worden ist.” Martin Buber, “Völker,Staaten und Zion. Brief an Her- mann Cohen.” Die Jüdische Bewegung (Berlin: JüdischerVerlag, 1920), 43. The Debate on Zionism between Hermann Cohen and Martin Buber 57 however,consider that the Jewish people must disappear among contemporary humanitysothat amessianic humanity might arise.”¹⁴ Buber’saffirmation of Zionism, however,raises the immediate question concerning the specifically political principles which the foundation of the Jewishhomeland might involve. Buber’swritings, however,remained vagueonthis point and Cohen, in his response to Buber’scritique, clearlyidentifiedthis weakness in his adversary’spo- sition. Cohen broughttolight,indeed, the whollyparadoxical character of Bub- er’svariety of political messianism, lyinginhis attempt to combine it with Zionismand thus with nationalparticularism. In his answer to Cohen’scritique of Zionism, Buber retorted that the Zionist goal of establishing anational homeland for the Jews could hardlybelimited in its significance to the particularnationalexistenceofthe Jews; it was at the same time “supranational” (übernational)inscope. “We want Palestinenot ‘for the Jews,’” as he wrote, “we want it for humanity,since we want it for the fulfillment of Judaism.”¹⁵ In his remarks on Buber’sresponse, Cohen did not fail to point out the highlyproblematic character of this mixtureofJewish universalism with the politics of Zionism, which focused on the national existenceofthe Jews alone. Cohen did not hesitatetovoice the suspicion that the claim to universalism of the political principles of Zionismwas in reality no more than ameans of pro- moting the sheer quest for power typical of particular nations. In his later article “Der Staat und die Menschheit.BemerkungenzuHermann Cohens Antwort” (The State and Humanity.Remarks on Hermann Cohen’sresponse),Buber addressed this crucial point.Hestatedthat his brand of Zionism soughttoavoid preciselythe empty quest for power so typical of all forms of nationalism: “Ihaveheard and seen,” he wrote, “toomanyofthe results of the empty need for power.” But,without further addressingthis problem, he simply reiteratedhis initial statement: “We want Palestine not ‘for the Jews,’ we want it for humanity,since we want it for the fulfillment of Judaism.” At this point Buber added afurther remark which, in view of his previous pronouncements, is at once puzzling and problematic: “In the work of the new humanity,toward which we aim, the specific violence of Judaism cannot be avoided – the violence that was once the strongest impulse for humanity towardthe true life.”¹⁶ In his

 “In der messianischen Menschheitmag das Judentum dereinst aufgehen, mit ihr verschmel- zen; nicht aber vermögenwir einzusehen,dass das jüdische Volk in der heutigenMenschheit untergehen müsse, damit die messianischeerstehe.” Ibid.  “Wirwollen Palästina nicht ‚für die Juden‘:wir wollen es für die Menschheit,denn wir wollen es für die Verwirklichung des Judentums.” Ibid., 44.  “Ichhabevon den Werken des leeren Machtbedürfnisses zu viel gesehen und gehört”; “Am Werk der neuen Menschheit,das wir meinen, kanndie spezifische Gewaltdes Judentums nicht 58 Jeffrey Andrew Barash critical remarks on Cohen’spolitical position, Buber did not clarify the precise sense of this “specific violence” of Judaism nor did he define the political form that the Jewish “homeland” was to assume. We learn onlythatthis homeland was to be made independent of the preoccupations of nations (Getriebe der Völker)and of “external politics” (der äusserenPolitik enthoben)sothatitmight marshal “all forces toward the inner elaboration and thereby the fulfillment of Judaism.”¹⁷ Buber’sreaction against contemporary expressions of nationalism is understandable in view of the catastrophic resultsofthe politics of national interest that werebeing pursued in the First World War. But his idea of ahomeland foundedonthe quest for spiritual goals and emancipated from the normal polit-

entbehrt werden – die Gewalt, die einst dem Menschen den stärksten Antrieb zum wahrhaften Leben gab.” Martin Buber, “Der Staat und die Menschheit.Bemerkungen zu Hermann Cohens Antwort”, Die Jüdische Bewegung,p.61. On Buber’scritique of Cohen see Paul Mendes-Flohr, FromMysticism to Dialogue. MartinBuber’sTransformation of German Social Thought (Detroit: Wayne StateUniversity Press,1989), 109–110.  “[…]alle Kräfteumden innerenAusbauund damit um die Verwirklichung des Judentums.” “Der Staat und die Menschheit,” 61.Lessthan twoyears later,Stefan Zweig,inanundated letter presumably written in late 1917orearly1918, expressed his reservations concerningBuber’sconcept of aJewish StateinPalestine. “SinceIam most clearlyresolved”,hewrote, “the morethe dream threatens to become areality,the dangerousdream of aJewish Statewith canons,flags, orders, to prefer the painful idea of the diaspora, the Jewish fatemorethan the Jewish well- being. (“Denn ich bin ganzklar entschlossen,jemehr sich im Realen der Traumzuverwirkli- chen droht,der gefährliche Traumeines Judenstaates mit Kanonen, Flaggen, Orden, gerade die schmerzliche Idee der Diaspora zu lieber,das jüdische Schicksal mehr als das jüdische Woh- lergehn.”)Inhis answer to Zweig dated February 4th 1918, Buber responded as follows: “For today, onlythis – that Iknow nothingofa‘Jewish Statewith canons,flags,and orders’,not even in the form of adream.What will happen depends upon those whomake it happen, and preciselyfor this reasonmust those likeme, whothink in terms of humanity and of mankind, also determine what develops, here, where in these times the creation of anew community depends on human action. Idonot conceive as validyour historical conclusions regarding the new people, which is to be engendered from old stock. If Jewish Palestine will provetobethe end of amovement,that was onlyspiritual in content, then it will be the beginningofamove- ment that will bringthe Spirit to fulfillment.” (“Heute nur dies, dass mir voneinem ‘Judenstaat mit Kanonen,Flaggen, Orden’ nichts bekannt ist,auch nicht in der Form eines Traums.Was werden wird, hängtvon denen ab, die es schaffen, und gerade deshalb müssen die wie ich menschlich und menscheitlichGesinnten bestimmendmittun, hier, wo es wieder einmal in den Zeiten in die Hand vonMenschen gelegt ist,eine Gemeinschaft aufzubauen. Ihregeschichtlichen Schlussfolgerungenkannich für das neue Volk, das hier ausaltem Blute werden soll, nicht gel- tenlassen. Wenn ein jüdisches Palästina das Ende einer Bewegung sein wird, die nur im Geisti- genbestand,sowirdesder Anfangeiner Bewegung sein, die den Geist verwirklichen will”), Martin Buber, Briefwechsel aus sieben Jahrzehnten (Heidelberg: Verlag Lambert Schneider, 1972), vol. 1: 524– 26. The DebateonZionism between Hermann Cohen and Martin Buber 59 ical preoccupations that the existence of astate entails is nonetheless highlypar- adoxical. Indeed, Buber’searlypolitical messianism savoredofparadox, albeit for reasons that wereradicallyopposed to the messianic “political religiosity” championed by his adversary,Hermann Cohen. Nonetheless,inspite of their implacable hostility to each other’spositions, Cohen and Buber shared one common conviction standing at the heart of the paradoxthat – for opposite reasons – characterizes their respective standpoints: each believed thatthe political goals advocated by the Jewish people necessarilyinvolvedthe redemption of all humanity – either because the Jews, while destined to remain stateless, wereatthe same time the wellspring of universal political aims, or because, in their quest for aparticular state, their politics necessarilyengaged aspiritual universality.Inthe last analysis,these two divergent concepts of politics were each fatefullytied to the ideal of political messianism, stemmingfrom the conviction that the pursuit of political aims essentiallyfulfills asacred mission. If this ideal was hardlylimited to Jewish political thought, nor to the troubled period in which Cohen and Buber wrote, their opposing political positions paradox- icallyconverged in an unquestioned willingness to interpret political principles in light of theology.

Samuel HayimBrody Is TheopoliticsanAntipolitics?

Martin Buber,Anarchism, and the Ideaofthe Political

We havecome to recognize that the political is the total, and as aresult we know that any decision about whether something is unpolitical is always a political decision... – Carl Schmitt, “Preface to the Second Edition” of Political Theology (1934)

Hereisthe serpent in the fullness of its power! – Martin Buber, “Letter to Gandhi” (1939)

Introduction:The Shape of the Theopolitical Problem

“Antipolitics,” writes Michael Walzer, “is akind of politics.”¹ Thispuzzling statement occurs in Walzer’srecent discussion of the Bible, which he calls “apolitical book,” but one that has “no political theory” in it; its writers are “engaged with politics” but are “not very interested in politics,” although he admits that “writers who are uninterested in politics nonetheless have alot to saythat is politi- callyinteresting.” Walzerhas always been aclear writer,and if this series of statements seems convoluted, this maybedue to the subject matter itself. Close examination of the relationship of religion and politics has away of calling into question our very understanding of the natureofboth “religion” and “politics” as distinct and separate spheres that can each be described according to its own special set of characteristics. This, of course, is an inconvenient state of affairs for university departments like PoliticalScience and Religion, which would like to assume thatthe objects of their studydoinfact exist. This essayexcavates and explicates the potential contribution of Martin Buber to the contemporary resurgence of interest in the borders between religion and politics, through an examination of the category “theopolitics” in Buber’s mature work, particularly Königtum Gottes (1932), as well as his later biblical writings.² Interest in Buber,both during and after his lifetime, has centered on

 Michael Walzer, In God’sShadow:Politics in the HebrewBible (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012), xiii.  The essayispart of alargerproject on Buber’stheopolitics. That project addresses manytop- ics beyond what spaceallows here,including the historical contextoftheopoliticsinWeimar Germanyand its manifestation in aunique form of Zionism. What follows,however,will 62 Samuel HayimBrody his introduction of Hasidism to Western audiences,aswellashis “philosophyof dialogue” as represented by Ich und Du (1923). During the vogueof“religious existentialism” in the 1950s and 60s Buber was abest-seller; the waning of this trend dimmed his star somewhat,and he settled into his current position: an important figure in Jewish ethics, who is stillread in Protestant seminaries and liberal rabbinical schools as an exemplar of modernJewishthought outside the strictures of halakha.³ Fewscholars have focused on Buber’spolitical thought, and thosewho do often complain about theirlack of company. Robert Weltsch, for example, writes: “To manyitmay appear that Martin Buber is not apolitical scientist. He is regarded as areligious thinker and as asocial philosopher,not as aman of politics. Such aclassification, however,would be afallacy.”⁴ Twenty years later,Steven Schwarzschild remarks thatlittle has changed:

Much has been written about virtuallyall the vast and diverse aspects of the life and works of Martin Buber.His political philosophyand activities areastrikingexception to this state of affairs,although socio-political matters wereclearlyoffundamental importance to him… In at least some instances this exception is made tendentiously: Buber’sreputation is to be used for institutional and political self-advancement,but the natureofhis political thought and programme would resist such purposes.⁵

Whether for the reason Weltsch suggests, that scholars simply do not see Buber as apolitical writer,orfor the more insidious reason proposed by Schwarzschild, that they find the topic dangerous,itremains the casetwo more decades later that thereisnodefinitive treatment of Buber’spolitics.⁶

focus primarilyonthe theoretical tenets of theopoliticsasitrelates to other discourses that ex- amine the border between religion and politics.  One could further speculateonthe reception of Buber’s “successors” as applesofthe schol- arlyeye in the 1970sand 80s:Scholem’sseeminglyhard-headed and scientific interpretation of Jewish mysticism displaced Buber’s “romantic” vision of Hasidism, while Levinas’sontologyof alterity came into fashion for those whowereattracted to the “philosophyofdialogue.” Levi- nas’spopularity,sometimes mediated through the prism of Jacques Derrida, in turn contributed to the “stayingpower” of Heideggerand Rosenzweig,both acknowledgedinfluencesonLevinas, as the discourse of “existentialism” faded into that of “postmodernism.”  Robert Weltsch, “Buber’sPolitical Philosophy,” ThePhilosophy of MartinBuber,The Library of LivingPhilosophers Volume XII, eds.PaulArthur Schilpp and MauriceFriedman (La Salle, IL: Open Court Press,1967), 435 – 449.  Steven Schwarzschild, “ACritiqueofMartin Buber’sPolitical Philosophy: An AffectionateReap- praisal,” ThePursuit of the Ideal: JewishWritings of Steven Schwarzschild,ed. MenachemKellner (Al- bany: SUNY Press, 1990),185 – 207. Originally publishedas“ACritiqueofM.Buber’sPolitical Philos- ophy—An AffectionateReappraisal,” LeoBaeck Institute Yearbook XXXI,1986, 355– 388.  Some scholars denythat he has apolitics at all: “…[T]he two poles of Jewish life that would hold [Buber’s] primary interest [were] the cultural and the spiritual.With the exception of his Is TheopoliticsanAntipolitics? 63

Weltschisright that scholars and the general publicalike have simplybeen more interested in other aspects of Buber’swork. But surelyitisnot that Buber just happens to be seen as anon-political writer,but that something about his work actively encourages the formationofsuch aperception. Politics seems to be consistentlysubordinatedtoother elements in his thought,lacking the proper independent treatment it receivesinwriters we recognize as belonging to the political theory canon. The latter insight has been articulatedmost explicitlyby those who treat Buber as aphilosopher.Evenwhen Buber is recognized as having apolitics,and even when this politics is investigated with respect,itischar- acterized as an adjunct to his philosophy: the political utopia Buber soughtis related to his existential meditations on the I-Thou relation.⁷ Thisstance makes eminent sense if we takeontology (or ethics) to be first philosophy, and read the philosophyofdialogue as Buber’sontology (or ethics). From the dialogical perspective,Utopia is that configuration of society with the fewest possibleobstaclestothe fundamental human desire for acommunity based on recognition and mutual concern. Social structures thatdiscouragesuch regard, and demand subservience to laws of instrumentality,such as the state and the market, obstruct I-Thou encounters, although they maystill take place under these conditions.Such social structureswould be transformed in utopia, and would constituteadirect connection between Buber’sphilosophyand his politics. Bernard Susser sums up this approach: “[F]ederalism as Buber understands it is the principle of dialogue writ large and socialized.”⁸ Thus, it would seem that one could achieveamore political readingofBuber simplybybracketingphilosophyand attemptingtoisolate apolitical doctrine. However,significant disciplinary tendencies still militate in the direction of clas- sifying Buber as “really” an ethicist or “really” atheologian. Foremost among these is the idea that if politics is to be treated as asubjectinits ownright,

later efforts on behalf of Brit Shalom,agroup committed to the reconciliation of Zionism and Arab nationalism, Buber was not particularlyinterested in politics and so did not himself produce abodyofliteratureonthe topic, although he wroteoccasionallyonpolitical matters.” Gilya Gerda Schmidt, MartinBuber’sFormativeYears: From German CulturetoJewishRenewal, 1897– 1909 (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1995), 118. Schmidtexcludes Brit Shalom from her judgement that Buber is non-political, but Howard M. Sachar,whomshe cites, includes them within this judgement: “The Brit Shalom was an ideological, not apolitical, group.” Sa- char, AHistoryofIsrael, From the Rise of Zionism to Our Time (New York: Knopf, 1986), 180.  Paul Mendes-Flohr, “The Desert Within and Social Renewal—Martin Buber’sVision of Uto- pia,” New Perspectives on Martin Buber,ed. Michael Zank (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 219–230, 220.  BernardSusser, “The Anarcho-Federalism of Martin Buber,” Publius 9.4(Autumn 1979),103– 116,104. 64 Samuel HayimBrody then one must focus aboveall on the special rules or laws that are inherent to politics as adistinct sphere of life, what Max Weber called its Eigengesetzlichkeit or autonomy. The idea that politics is acraft demanding special knowledge is as old as Plato’sinquiry into the areté or excellence of the statesman. But the idea of the autonomy of politics,the claim that politics issues its own laws to itself, maybemuch younger.⁹ When Machiavelli is cited as the founder of modern political science,itisusually because he is said to have emancipated politics from its subordination to ethics or religion, enablingittobestudied as an autonomous realm.Politicaltheorists maythen be defined as those who follow in Ma- chiavelli’sfootsteps,placing the recognition of the autonomyofpolitics at the foundation of their work. There is alogical slippagehere, however.Merelytoacknowledge that politics is acraft,like shipbuilding or medicine,demanding aparticulartalent or excellence, is not yettodeclare it autonomous, because it is not yettosay what the telos or purpose of politics is. The areté of aknife is to cut,and the areté of aship is to sail; each possesses its areté to the extent to which it succeedsinfulfilling these purposes. One must posit apurpose for politics, then,inorder to define “the areté of the statesman.” Both Platoand Aristotle, in different ways,dosub- ordinatepolitics to a telos,namely the Good. With Machiavelli, however,the movethat allows his laser-like focus on political technique is preciselythe refusal to articulate any telos for politics beyond the desire of the prince to “maintain his state,” that is, to continue being aprince.¹⁰ In line with what Weber called the rationalization of every sphere of human life, this isolation of the technique of politics can then be maintainedasthe sine qua non for the existenceofpolitical science as ascholarlydiscipline. This claim, in turn, serves as the foundation for manyshades of political “realism,” includingWeber’sown distinctionbetween a politics foundedinanethics of responsibility,which pays political science its due, and one rooted in an ethics of conviction, which allows comprehensive conceptions of the good to determine political action.The latter politics is vulnera- ble to criticism in the terms usedbyWalzer,as“antipolitics,” since by refusingto

 As we will see, Buber’sview is that the autonomyofthe political is at least as old as the Is- raelite monarchy.  Here Iprescind from the debates swirling around how the Machiavelli of ThePrince does or does not differ from the Machiavelli of the Discourses;whether one or both should reallybeper- ceivedasrepublican or even radicallydemocratic, rather than in the serviceoftyranny, etc. The point is not what the real Machiavelli, whose true doctrineshad to be uncovered by revisionist scholarship, said, but what the Machiavelli who “founded modern political science” said. See Gisela Bock, Quentin Skinner,and Maurizio Viroli,eds., Machiavelli and Republicanism (Cam- bridge:Cambridge University Press, 1993). Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 65 stipulate that the purpose of politics is to maintain the state, it refusestoallow politics its autonomous existence. The plea for objectivity that inaugurates political science, namely the demandthat we describe the world as it is,and not as we think it ought to be, ends up smugglingontology and ethics through the back door as it first tells us how the world really is,and then demands that we recognize this state of affairs in order to be responsible. Weber,asthe preeminent social scientistofhis day, sets the terms of the discussion for much Weimar political thought. Maturity in politics for Weber is defined by the ability to recognize and endurethe irreconcilable clashes of value between ethics and religion, on the one hand, and politics on the other.Mean- while, the rationalization of every sphere of life attendant to modernity encourages the growth of bureaucracy,which in turn endangers “the political” itself, defined in aNietzschean manner as Herrschaft [authority/domination] of one person or group of people over another.These basic claims serveasthe nodal point around which numerous “symmetrical counter-concepts” form concerning the question of the autonomyofpolitics.¹¹ Here Iwill seek to define Buber’stheopolitics as one such counter-concept,and to place it into dialogue with another, the “political theology” associatedwith CarlSchmitt.Following Christoph Schmidt,Iarguethat theopolitics functionsasaradical inversion of political theology: Buber uses “theopolitics” onlytodefine the proper relationship of the religious to the political, while “political theology” describes what theopolitics becomes if it betraysits proper task.¹² Theopolitics concerns itself with the same Weberian problems as does political theology—from secularization and technicity to representation and charisma—and thinks through them with ahighlysim- ilar vocabulary,but it comes to diametricallyopposite conclusions on one point

 Heinrich Meier speaks of the “conceptual symmetry” between Carl Schmitt’spolitical theol- ogyand LeoStrauss’spolitical philosophy; “Preface to the American Edition” of TheLesson of Carl Schmitt: Four Chapters on the Distinction between Political Theology and Political Philosophy, Expanded Edition,trans. Marcus Brainardand Robert Berman (Chicago:University of Chicago Press, 2011), xv.The phrase recalls Reinhart Koselleck’suse of the term “symmetrical counter- concepts” in his description of Schmitt’sFriend-Foe dichotomy, “adescription of oneself or of one’sFoe that is open to simultaneous use by both sides.” Futures Past: On the Semantics of His- torical Time (Cambridge:MIT Press,1985), 197.  Schmidt, “Die theopolitischeStunde. Martin Bubers Begriff der Theopolitik,seine prophet- ischen Ursprünge, seine Aktualität und Bedeutungfür die Definition Zionistischer Politik,” Die theopolitische Stunde: Zwölf Perspektiven auf das eschatologische Problem der Moderne (Mün- chen: Wilhelm Fink Verlag, 2009), 205–225. See my translation of arevised version of this essay, “The Theopolitical Hour: Martin Buber’sConcept of Theopolitics, its Prophetic Origins, and its Relevanceand Significancefor the Definition of Zionist Politics,” in Jacques Picardet al., eds., Thinking JewishModernity (forthcoming). 66 Samuel Hayim Brody after another.Both question the continuingintellectual validityofthe liberal border between religion and politics, but to radicallyopposed ends: if political theologydeploys the power of the divine in the service of the authoritarian state, theopolitics denies anypossibility whatsoever of legitimizing institutional human power.Ifpolitical theologyborders on the fascistic, theopolitics is its anarchistic antipode.¹³ But acloser look at the scene laid out by Webermust pre- cede consideration of Schmitt and Buber.

A ‘Bourgeois’ Politician:Secularism, Polytheism, and Anarchism in Max Weber

WolfgangMommsen argues foraconnectionbetween Weber’spolitical doctrines and hisconceptionofscholarship.BothdatetoWeber’searly studies of theincreas- ingpopulation of Polish migrantagriculturalworkers in the East Elbian region, as demonstrated by his 1895inaugural address at theUniversityofFreiburg. Weber argued againstprotectionist policies that would artificially freeze Germanagriculture at its current point of development; neither did he favorallowingthe high rate of Polish immigration to continue,despitethe fact that the Junker landlords benefited economicallyfromemployinglower-paid Poles.Weber’sprimary concern wasthe Germancharacterofthe national economy, and to that end he supportedstate sub- sidization of German small farmers in EastElbia, even if this ranafoul of the Junkers andthe march of capitalism. “Ostensiblypurescientificvalue systemsofwhatever varietyalwaysappeared to standinthe wayofsuch aconsciouslynational economic policy,” accordingtoMommsen. “ThereforeWeber strove to refute thevery exis- tenceofscientifically-valid normative categories.Atthe outset,his programfor a value-free sciencerestedlargely on an effort to establish theideal of the national

 Vincent W. Lloydhas helpfullydelineated threesenses in which the term “political theology” is used in recentdiscussions:1)anarrow sense, in which it refers to claims made by Schmitt concerning the roleofreligious concepts in political theory;2)anextremelybroadsense, in which the phrase is interchangeable with almost anyform of the conjunction “religion and politics”;3)a“sectarian” sense, in which it refers to abranch of theology (usuallyChristian) that deals with political matters. Vincent W. Lloyd, “Introduction” to Race and Political Theology,ed. Vincent W. Lloyd(Stanford: StanfordUniversity Press,2012), 1–21.Ideal with political theology in the first,narrowsense, sincethe context in which it emergedand had its original reception is relevanttomydiscussion. My portrayal of it as fascistic and in the serviceoflegitimation maybe contested as ahistorical readingofSchmitt; it is, however,merely intended to conveyBuber’s own conception of where theopoliticsstood. Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 67 stateasthe sole indisputablestandard.”¹⁴ Mommsen’s “therefore,” controversial amongcontemporaryadherents of Weber’ssociology,may be toostrong. Nonethe- less,hedemonstratesaconnection betweenWeber’sunderstandings of powerand of scholarship that others have sincebroadened anddeepened.¹⁵ Weberhimself onceput it this way:

Politics is atough business,and those whotake responsibility for seizingthe spokes of the wheel of political development in the fatherland must have strong nerves and should not be too sentimental to practice secular politics.Those whowish to involvethemselvesinsec- ular politics must aboveall be without illusions and…recognize the fundamental reality of an ineluctable eternal war on earth of men against men.¹⁶

This eternal war, accordingtoWeber,iswhat social science, includingthe science of politics, must acknowledge from the very beginning if it is to maintain its status as ascience. And this science, in turn, is the necessary basisof“secular politics.” As Leo Strauss would later comment: “Conflict was for Weber an unambiguous thing,but peace was not: peace is phony, but war is real.”¹⁷ This view of conflict as fundamental naturallyextends to the realm of values. Reason is incapable of judging between irreconcilablydifferent value-systems—some scholars, drawing on Weber’sown imageofincommensurable values as warring gods demanding allegiance, have called this his “polytheism.”¹⁸ The metaphor of cosmic warfare mayclue us in thatWeber will not opt for the Anglo-American liberal responsetowhat John Rawls much more mundanely calls “the fact of rea- sonable pluralism,” namelythat the public sphere should avoid making decisions about ultimate values. ForWeber,this is simply impossible; political decisions always refer to values and are ultimatelynon-rational. Thisisone more reason that they cannot be basedupon an objectivesocial science, and this is also whythe increasingbureaucratization of politics, the attempt to make it function accordingtoset regular laws, endangers the ability of politics to pre- serveaspace for individual decision at the highest level.¹⁹

 Wolfgang J. Mommsen, Max Weber and German Politics, 1890–1920,trans. Michael S. Stein- berg(Chicago:University of Chicago Press, 1984), 40.  Cf. e.g., Sheldon S. Wolin, “Max Weber:Legitimation, Method, and the Politics of Theory,” Political Theory 9(1981), 401–23.  Ibid., 41 (emphasis).  LeoStrauss, Natural Right and History (Chicago:University of Chicago Press,1950), 65.  David Owen and TracyB.Strong, “Introduction: Max Weber’sCalling to Knowledge and Ac- tion,” in The Vocation Lectures,trans.Rodney Livingstone (Indianapolis:Hackett,2004), xlvii- xlviii.  “…if youchoose this particular standpoint,you will be servingthis particular godand will giveoffense to everyother god…As long as life is left to itself and is understood in its own terms, 68 Samuel HayimBrody

Weber defined himself on manyoccasions as arepresentativemember of his class, a “bourgeois” politician. Thismeant,onthe one hand, thathelacked sym- pathyfor the claims of the dying aristocratic landownerclass, which was strug- glingduringthe Wilhelmine period to hold on to its oligarchic privileges; on the other hand, he cast askeptical eyeonthe quest of the organized workingclass to seize power,whetherthrough political means or direct economic actions such as strikes.With respect to the latter group, he argued forcefullythat Marxism could have validity either as adiagnostic scholarlyapparatussubmitting falsifiable claims to social science in an attempt to increase understandingofmoderncap- italist societies, or as apurelyethically-derivedcall to overthrow an unjust social order,but never both. Since the majority of the organized workingclass in Ger- manyoperated through the German Social-Democratic Party (SPD), which was officiallycommitted to an “orthodox” formulation of Marxist doctrine, this meant that therewerefew socialist activists who framed their work in amanner acceptable to Weber; when he came across them, however,hetreated them with great respect and even befriended them. Such figures,includingthe sociologist Robert Michels and the playwright Ernst Toller,weremost often closertoanar- chist syndicalism or Tolstoyan thought thantoMarxism, as the anarchist tradition lacked the Marxist aversion to depicting the struggle for socialism as volun- tarist and dependent on the workers’ ownactions, rather thanasaninevitable consequenceofthe march of the forces of history. Despite his friendlypersonal relationship to figures such as Michels and Toller,however,Weber considered the anarchist quest for asociety freefrom domination as the very paradigm of utopianism in politics. In fact,Mommsen argues, Weber basedhis famous description of the “ethics of conviction” on Mi- chels.²⁰ Weber took for granted that the anarchist society was both impossible and undesirable (because it would eliminate Herrschaft,aprimary sourceof human excellence, leadingtoableak world of Nietzschean “last men”), but he admitted that this was avalue-judgment and that he could not dismiss it on the basis of reason. Rather,heshifted the grounds of disagreement onto the question of the ethics of practice, depicting an anarchist committed to revolution no matter what the short-term consequences of revolutionary actions might be,

it knows onlythat the conflict between these gods is never-ending…Which of the warringgods shall we serve?” Weber, “ScienceasaVocation,” in TheVocation Lectures,26–7. Strauss points out herethat this is arecipefor literal pandemonium, in the full sense implied by its Greek ety- mology; Natural Rightand History,45.  Mommsen, “RobertoMichels and Max Weber:Moral Conviction versus the Politics of Re- sponsibility,” in Political and Social TheoryofMax Weber: Collected Essays (Chicago:University of Chicago Press,1989), 88. Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 69 in contrasttoaresponsible politician concernedprimarilywith taking responsibility for such short-term consequences. This contrastreaches its sharpest point when it touches the question of violence, for it is at this point thatitreaches what Weber considered the very borders of politics itself:

In the last analysis the modern statecan onlybedefined sociologicallyinterms of aspecific means [Mittel]which is peculiar to the state,asitistoall other political associations, namelyphysical violence[Gewaltsamkeit]. ‘Every stateisfounded on force [Gewalt]’,as Trotsky oncesaid at Brest-Litovsk. That is indeed correct.Ifthere existed onlysocial forma- tions in which violencewas unknown as ameans, then the concept of the ‘state’ would have disappeared; then that condition would have arisen which one would define, in this particular sense of the word, as ‘anarchy’.²¹

ForWeber,the stateisthe onlylocus of thepolitical today.The political is defined by thedeploymentofthe meansofviolence by associatedgroupsofpeople; thestate concentrates the “legitimate” useofsuch violenceinone association in particular, which then claims amonopolyofthis means.HereWeber’s “polytheism” manifests in theformofacontrastbetweensecularism and theethics of conviction: “Anyone whomakes apact with the means of violence, for whatever purpose—andevery politician does this…is becominginvolved, Irepeat, withthe diabolical powers that lurk in allviolence.”²² To attempt to create asociety consistingonlyofformations “in which violencewas unknownasameans” would be to attempt “anarchy.” This, of course, is what many in Weber’soriginal audience of student radicals had been attempting to do—for Weber,they were seekingakingdom “notofthis world.”²³ It is this specificgoal, Iargue,and theway in which manyinMunich in 1919 sought to achieveit, thatlinksMartin Buber and Carl Schmitt to central themes of Weberian thought. Both were concernednot just withthe surface-level questionofwhetherthe Bavarian Revolutionwould have good or bad consequences, but with thechallengeposed by anarchism andnon-violencetothe very exis- tenceand coherence of the “political sphere.” Schmitttried to solve theproblem by

 Weber, “The Profession and Vocation of Politics,” in Political Writings,ed. Peter Lassman and Ronald Speirs (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 310.  Ibid., 364–5.  The ‘Politikals Beruf’ lecturewas deliveredtothe FreiestudentischeBund of the University of Munich. Weber resisted giving the lectureatfirst,until the convener,rectorImmanuel Birn- baum, threatened to have Kurt Eisner give it instead; even then, he urgedthat Birnbaum replace him with Friedrich Naumann, founder of the German Democratic Party,a“representative Ger- man politician.” See Strong, “Introduction,” xxxv. 70 Samuel HayimBrody assimilating the kingdom of God to Weber’spolitical; Buber by proclaimingthat “there is no political outsidethe theopolitical.”²⁴

The Charis aboveEvery Law: Anarchy, Legitimacy,and TheologyinBuber and Schmitt

BothBuber andSchmitt were presentinMunichduringthe revolution of late 1918–1919,between theend of theWorld Warand thedawnofthe Weimar Repub- lic. Schmittwas workinginthe censorship office of theregionalmartial lawad- ministration at thetime, while Bubercametolecture andtovisit hisbestfriend of twenty years, theanarchist Gustav Landauer,animportantfigureamong the revolutionaries.²⁵ ForbothBuber andSchmitt, thevisionofthe anarchists wouldbecomeaseminalinfluence—aresource forthe former,abête noire for thelatter—whicheachwould articulate within thefield of Weberian politicalcon- cerns. Schmitt’s Politische Theologie (1922) hadits originsinafestschriftfor Weber, whileBuber’stheopolitics, firstfully articulatedinKingship of God,admitsits debtsnot just to Weber’s Economy andSociety,withits famous sociology of domination, butalsotohis magisterialrepresentationofIsraelite life in AncientJuda- ism. Therelationship betweenanarchism andthe kingdom, or kingship,ofGod, stands behind each thinker’sgrappling with thenatureofrepresentation, the role of charisma in authority, thestate of emergency, thenatureofsecularization, theethicsofpolitical decision-making, andthe politicalsignificanceofrationali- zation andtechnicityinmodernity.But whereasWeber argued that onehad to choose either secularpolitics/polytheism or theotherworldlyanarchist kingdom of God, Schmittand Buberrejectedthis choice in opposite ways:for Schmitt, ase- cularizedtheologywas at work behind and for thelegitimationofpoliticsand domination,while forBuber,the kingship of Godwas itself this-worldly,embrac- ingand encompassing secularpoliticsevenatits most anarchistic.

 “…denn es gibt keine politische Sphäre außer der theopolitischen.” Martin Buber, Königtum Gottes (originallypublished 1932, now available in Martin Buber WerkausgabeBand 15:Schrif- tenzum Messianismus,ed. Samuel Hayim Brody[Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus,2015], 174). Kingship of God,trans.RichardScheimann (Amherst,NY: Humanity Books,1967), 136.  Gopal Balakrishnan writes that Schmitt “experienced at first hand the tension and insecurity generated by the political polarization of the city when his office was broken into by aband of revolutionaries,and an officer at anearby table was shot.” The Enemy:AnIntellectual Portrait of Carl Schmitt (New York: Verso, 2000), 20. Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 71

Although Schmittdoesnot explicitly deal with Buber, andBuber rarely deals with Schmitt, they fitintoeachother’srespectiveworldviewsasperfect foils.²⁶ From Buber’spoint of view,Schmitt epitomizes theexcesses of modern power-politics; from Schmitt’spoint of view,Buber wouldatfirst appear to epitomizean anti-political tendency to remove personal strife from societyand to transform politicsand government into administration by eliminatingdomination.²⁷ LeoStrauss once notedthatfor Schmitt, “theultimate quarreloccursnot betweenbellicosity andpacifism(or nationalismand internationalism)but betweenthe “authoritarian and anarchistic theories.”²⁸ Iargue that if this is so,and ifSchmitt takes up the authoritarianposition, Martin Bubermight just be thecontemporaryofSchmitt’s whomostradically assumesthe anarchistposition. Schmitt,who mayhaveattended Weber’spublic lecturesinMunich at the time, alsocame to place violence at the center of his concept of the political. This is stated most famouslyinthe “friend-enemy” criterion of Conceptofthe Po- litical (1932), but can be seen alreadyinhis first major work, PoliticalRomanti- cism (1919), which, while ostensiblyconcerned with the correct understanding of an eighteenth-century phenomenon, can easilybeseen as an oblique response to his contemporarycircumstances.²⁹ Schmitt argues that political ro-

 Buber’sreferencestoSchmitt begin with “The Questiontothe Single One” of 1936,originallya lecture in November 1933,his only explicitreference; Between Manand Man (New York: Routledge, 2002), 46–97.Healso criticizes Schmitt,without referringtohim by name,in“The Validity and Lim- itation of the Political Principle” (1953),referring to “teachers of thelaw…who, obedient to thistrait of thetimes,defined theconceptofthe political so that everythingdisposed itself withinitaccording to the criterion ‘friend-enemy,’ in whichthe concept of enemyincludes ‘the possibility of physical killing.’ The practiceofstates hasconvenientlyfollowed theiradvice.” In Pointing theWay,ed. and trans. MauriceFriedman (New York: Schocken Books, 1957),216.  Whether Schmitt read Buber is not known. Ludwig Feuchtwangersent Schmitt alengthyre- view of Kingship of God he had written anonymously; Schmitt’sreplyimplies that he read Feuchtwanger’sessaycarefully(“Über Martin Buber kann ich nicht mitsprechen, doch habe ich IhreKritik aufmerksam und mit Nutzen gelesen.”), Carl Schmitt /LudwigFeuchtwanger:Brief- wechsel 1918–1935,ed. Rolf Rieß (Berlin: Duncker &Humblot,2007), 377– 379, 381–382. Ithank Thomas Meyer for directingmetothis source. It was Buber who, as part of the series of monographs he edited, Die Gesellschaft,first published Franz Oppenheimer’s Der Staat,which Schmitt singles out for condemnation in 1932 as “the best example” of “the polarity of state and society” which has as its aim “the destruction of the state.” TheConcept of the Political, Ex- panded Edition,trans. George Schwab (Chicago:University of Chicago Press, 2007), 76.  LeoStrauss, “Notes on Carl Schmitt, TheConcept of the Political,” trans. J. Harvey Lomax, in Concept of the Political,113.Strauss is quotingSchmitt himself in the latter part of this sentence: “Ihavepointed out several times that the antagonism between the so-called authoritarian and anarchist theories can be traced to these formulas,” Concept of the Political,60.  Originallypublished as Carl Schmitt-Dorotic, Politische Romantik (München: Duncker & Humblot,1919). Second, expandededition: Carl Schmitt, Politische Romantik (München: Dunck- 72 Samuel HayimBrody manticism is found on both the left and the right; it occurs wherever one seeks to avoid afinal political decision, since romanticism aestheticallyprefers to leave all options open and not to confine reality within the limits of the single outcome that attends anydecision: “In commonplacereality,the romantics could not play the role of the egowho creates the world. They preferred the state of eternal be- comingand possibilitiesthat are never consummated to the confines of concrete reality.This is because onlyone of the numerous possibilitiesiseverrealized.”³⁰ The roots of this position are found in Malebranche and his philosophyofocca- sionalism, which treatsGod as the onlytrue agent in the world; everythingelse is simplyanoccasion for God’saction. By centering all order in God in this way, Malebranche reduced the agencyofhuman action; political romanticism inherits this outlook,and thereforeitisalways “at the disposal of energies that are un- romantic, and the sublime elevation abovedefinition and decision is trans- formedinto asubservient attendance upon alienpower and aliendecision.”³¹ We can hear an echo here of Machiavelli’swarning that the good prince will come to ruin among so manywho are not good; Schmitt,however,has shifted the terrain from the unwillingness to take violent action to decision itself—for the political romantic, Schmitt claims, decision itself is violence and therefore must be avoided. Thisisthe origin of the preference for “eternal discussion,” which will soon become atheme of Schmitt’scritiques of liberalparliamentari- anism.³² Schmitt was anxioustosever the perceivedlink between romanticism and Roman Catholicism, and in Roman Catholicism and Political Form (1923)he went on to arguethat not onlywas the Church not romantic, it was in fact poised to become the last remaininghomeoftrue political “form” on Earth.³³ Marxist socialism, anarchist syndicalism, and American capitalism all line up on the side of the increasingde-politicization of the world that comes with increased rationalization of industry. “There must no longer be political problems,onlyor-

er &Humblot,1925). Cf. Carl Schmitt, Political Romanticism,trans. GuyOakes (NJ:Transaction Publishers, 2011).  Ibid., xv.  Ibid., xiv.  Schmitt, Die geistesgeschichtliche Lage des heutigen Parliamentarismus (München: Duncker &Humblot,1923); cf. Schmitt, TheCrisis of ParliamentaryDemocracy,trans. Ellen Kennedy(Cam- bridge,MA: MITPress, 1988).  Schmitt, Römischer Katholizismus und politische Form (Hellerau: JakobHegner Verlag, 1923); second, revised edition München: Theatiner-Verlag,1925. Cf. Schmitt, Roman Catholicism and Po- litical Form,trans. G. L. Ulmen (Westport,CT: GreenwoodPress,1996). Is TheopoliticsanAntipolitics? 73 ganizational-technical and economic-sociological tasks.”³⁴ If these ideologies continue to spread, onlythe Roman church will preserveWeberian Herrschaft against the onslaught of modern bureaucracy.True representationempowers one person to act in the name of another—to act freely, without needing to check back with the represented to re-confirm authority,inthe manner of the workers’ and peasants’ councils of the revolution. The Pope, as the Vicarof Christ,isinfallible and sovereign; his decisions carry weight because of his representative function,and therefore do not depend on the personal charisma of the holder of the office. This interest in the ability of true representation to maintain the personality of decision even beyond the charismatic stageofauthority is repeatedagain in Schmitt’sfamousclaim in Political Theology: “Sovereign is he who decides the state of exception.”³⁵ Schmitt was keenlyaware of the potential of religious faith to undermine such personal human sovereignty,however,and in his later yearswroteofthe need to “de-anarchize Christianity”:

The most importantsentenceofHobbes remains:Jesus is the Christ.The power of such a sentence also works even if it is pushed to the margins of aconceptual system of an intellectual structure, even if it is apparentlypushed outside the conceptual circle. This depor- tation is analogous to the domesticationofChrist undertaken by Dostoevsky’sGrand In- quisitor.Hobbes expresses and grounds scientificallywhatDostoevsky’sGrand Inquisitor does:torender harmless Christ’simpact on the social-political realm; to de-anarchize Christianitywhilestill leavingitwith acertain legitimizingeffect and in anycase not to renounceit. Aclever tactician renounces nothingunless it is totallyuseless.Christianity was not yetspent.Wecan thus ask ourselves: to whom is the Grand Inquisitor closer, the Roman church or Thomas Hobbes’ssovereign?Reformation and Counter-Reformation revealed themselvesasrelated in direction. Name me your enemy, and Iwill tell you whoyou are. Hobbes and the Roman church: the enemyisour own question as form.³⁶

 Ibid., 65.Schmitt holds that “American financiers,industrial technicians,Marxist socialists, and anarchic-syndicalist revolutionaries unite” on this point,with the result that “The modern stateseems to have actuallybecome what Max Weber envisioned: ahugeindustrial plant.”  Schmitt, PoliticalTheology:Four Chapters on the Concept of Sovereignty,trans.George Schwab(Chicago:University of Chicago Press, 2005), 1.  Carl Schmitt, Glossarium:Aufzeichnungen der Jahre 1947–1951,ed. EberhardFreiherr von Medern (Berlin: Duncker&Humblot, 1991), 243. Cited in the combined translations of Raphael Gross, Carl Schmitt and the Jews:The “JewishQuestion,” TheHolocaust, and German Legal Theo- ry,trans.Joel Golb (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007), 85 – 86,and Tracy B. Strong, “Carl Schmitt and Thomas Hobbes: Myth and Politics,” in Schmitt, TheLeviathan in the State TheoryofThomas Hobbes:Meaning and Failure of aPolitical Symbol,trans. George D. Schwab and Erna Hilfstein (Chicago:University of Chicago Press,2008), xxiv. Weber had also mentioned the Grand Inquisitor in “Politics as aVocation,” as acogent analysis of the problems attending an ethics of conviction; see “Profession and Vocation of Politics,” 14. 74 Samuel HayimBrody

Theclaim hereisthat despiteits ostensiblereference to theChurch in Dostoevsky’s text,the GrandInquisitor more closelyresembles themodern stateitself, as repre- sentedbyHobbes’ Leviathan. Schmitt does Machiavelli one better here:lip service to the minimalist formula that “Jesusisthe Christ” is sufficient to claim absolute divine authority forhuman sovereignty and to short-cut apocalyptic attempts to de-legitimize thestatebymeans of theology.Furthermore, as Tracy Stronghas pointed out, “the leviathan (as mortal God, henceasChrist/Messiah) holdsback the kingdomofGod on this earth or at least makes no movetobringitabout. This is whythis is politicaltheology and nottheologicalpolitics.”³⁷ Inone of his moreovertlyantisemiticmoods,Schmitt claims that it was Spinoza, thefirst “liberal Jew,” whoundidthe great serpentand “mortal god” Leviathan by denying it the right to theformula “Jesusisthe Christ” in thenameofreligious freedom.³⁸ Unlikethe aristocratic reactionaries with whom he associated duringthe Weimar era, Schmitt presented himself as highlypreoccupied with political legitimacy per se and not merelywith the legitimacy of the new liberal-democratic Republic. Forpolitical theorists concernedwith legitimacy, anarchism often plays arole analogous to thatplayedbyskepticism for philosophersconcerned with the ultimategroundingoftruth claims: it is like aboogeyman, lying in wait, suggesting by its very existencethe possibilityofthe necessary failureofall projects of legitimation. Schmitt’sstudent turned critic, Waldemar Gurian, sees Schmitt as always seeking a “highest instance of decision” that would bring an end to his “despair at an anarchyidentified behind all its facades.”³⁹ Indeed, Schmitt pays far more attention to anarchist thoughtthan manyofhis contemporaries. Like Weber,herespects the anarchists’ clear-cut opposition to his line of thinking, in away thatliberals do not.Hedescribes the conflict between the optimistic anthropology he ascribes to anarchism and the pessimistic anthropologyofthe Counter-Revolution as “the clearest antithesis in the entire history of political ideas.”⁴⁰ Schmitt’swords about his hero Donoso Cortés could justas easilybeapplied to him: “[He] was contemptuousofthe liberals while he re-

 “Carl Schmitt and Thomas Hobbes,” xxv.  Schmitt, Leviathan,57. This claim called forth avigorous response from LeoStrauss, whoin- sisted upon the whollysecular natureofthe Hobbesian serpent-state, seeingHobbes and Spino- za not as rivals but as collaborators in the construction of the modern secular polity.See Miguel Vatter, “Strauss and Schmitt as Readers of Hobbes and Spinoza:Onthe Relation between Polit- ical Theology and Liberalism,” New Centennial Review,2004,4(3): 161–214.  Paul Müller [Waldemar Gurian], “Entscheidung und Ordnung:Zuden Schriften vonCarl Schmitt,” Schweizerische Rundschau: Monatsschriftfür Geistesleben und Kultur 34 (1939): 566– 76,567– 68. CitedinGross, Carl Schmitt and the Jews,92–3.  Schmitt, Political Theology,55. Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 75 spected atheist-anarchist socialism as his deadlyfoe and endowed it with adia- bolicalstature.”⁴¹ However,there is astrangedualitytoSchmitt’sview of anarchism. On the one hand,hesees anarchism as atheistic and dependent upon aradicallyopti- mistic view of human nature as essentiallygood. He links it intimatelytothe progressive secularization and rationalization of modernity and to the corresponding increaseoftechnicity.Inthis sense, anarchism is aligned with liberalism and Marxism, the other secularizing and depoliticizing forces descended from the Americanand French revolutions.Onthe other hand, Schmitt’srhetorical presentation of anarchism emphasizes its radicalism;the bloodlessness of the technical society is balanced out by the “Scythian fury” of Bakunin, “the greatest anarchist of the nineteenth century,” who “had to become in theory the theologian of the anti-theological and in practice the dictator of an anti-dictatorship.”⁴² In this sense, anarchists would be the very incarnation of the political, which Schmitt defines as “the most intense and extreme antagonism, [which] becomes that much more political the closer it approachesthe most extreme point,that of the friend-enemygrouping.”⁴³ Anarchists embodyafascinating paradoxfor Schmitt: by declaring war against the political, they instantiate the political.⁴⁴ As Strauss recognized, Schmitt does not see the anarchist ideal as utopian and admits that he does not know whether it can be realized. Rather,hesimply abhors it.Initherecognizes apowerful enemy.⁴⁵ Throughout his near-obsession with anarchism, Schmitt always figures it as atheistic and as committed to an irrevocablyoptimistic anthropology.Martin Buber’stheopolitics, however,arguablyrepresents aform of anarchism that lacks these qualities. Moreover,itshares Schmitt’sconcerns about the inhuman- ity of technicity and places equivalent emphasis on the necessity of decision. In Kingship of God, Moses,and TheProphetic Faith,aswell as in anumber of shorter essays and occasional writingsonZionism, Buber provides adetailed account of a “direct theocracy,” what we might call an anarcho-theocracy, atheopolitical

 Ibid., 63. It is open to question whetherSchmitt shares the positionofCortés in this section of Political Theology. Iwould arguethat he does,despiteostensiblydistancinghimself.  Ibid., 50,66. The use of this epithet for Bakuninisone hint that Schmitt does identify with Cortés, who also warned in an oxymoronic fashion about the dangers of “dictatorship of the dag- gers,” meaninganarchists.  Schmitt, Concept of the Political,29. Thus,according to this definition, one cannot reallybe coherentlyanti-political, sincethe stronger one’senmity to politics,the morepolitical one is.  Sorelisrelevanthere. See “Irrationalist Theoriesofthe Direct Use of Force,” TheCrisis of ParliamentaryDemocracy,trans. Ellen Kennedy(Cambridge:MIT Press, 1988), 65– 76.  Strauss, “Notes on Concept of the Political,” 113. 76 Samuel Hayim Brody situation in which the “dangerousness” of man figures centrally.⁴⁶ If thereisone passagethatcondenses most of Buber’stheopolitical thesis into asingle statement,itisthe beginning of Chapter Eight of Kingship of God:

The covenant at Sinai signifies,according to its positive content,that the wanderingtribes accept JHWH ‘for ever and ever’ as their King. According to its negativecontent it signifies that no man is to be called kingofthe sons of Israel. ‘Youshall be for Me akinglydomain’, ‘therewas then in Jeshurun aKing’;this is exclusive proclamation also with respect to a secular lordship:JHWH does not want,like the other kinglygods,tobesovereign and guar- antor of ahuman monarch. He wants Himself to be the Leader and the Prince. The man to whom he addresses His will in order that he carry it out is not onlytohavehis powerinthis connection alone; he can also exert no power beyond his limited task. Aboveall, since he rules not as aperson actinginhis own right,but as ‘emissary’ [Entbotener], he cannot transmit power. The realcounterpart of direct theocracy is the hereditary kingship…There is in pre-kinglyIsrael no externality of ruler-ship; for there is no political sphere except the theo-political,and all sons of Israel aredirectlyrelated (kohanim in the original sense) to JHWH, Who chooses and rejects,gives an order and withdraws it.⁴⁷

In this single passage, we see diametricallyopposite positions from each of Schmitt’smentioned so far: God is literallyruler,and not merelydeployed by human authority as alegitimating metaphor;authority inheres in charisma, and does not outlast it in the form of anyinstitutional office; representation is direct,rather than indirect.Schmitt had opposedthe direct-democratic tendency that he sawinforming all the forces descendingfrom the French Revolution, in which representation is reallynomore than delegation, atask being handed out to arepresentative to be performed. This, however,isexactlythe role of Buber’s charismatic leader,who is givenatask by God and retreats into the background once he carries it out.Inthis Buber was perhaps inspired by his friend Gustav Landauer,and the instance of the Bavarian CouncilRepublic (the Auftrag is giventothe Volksbeauftragter).

 The term “theo-political” makes its first appearance in Kingship of God in connection with a discussionofthe Jand E “sources” or redactional trends;Buber holds that the texts designated as Jmaterial originate amongearlycircles of courtlycompilers, “resolutelyattentive to religious tradition, but in the treatment of contemporary or recent history prone to aprofane-political tendency[profane-politischen Tendenz],” Kingship of God, 17.The Ematerials,onthe other hand, originateamong the circle of the neviim,the prophets. These stand in contrast to the Jcircle, as they are “independentofthe court, supported by the people, less gifted in narration, but inspired in message,experiencingand portrayinghistory as atheo-political occurrence [die Ge- schichte als ein theopolitisches Geschehen], contendingfor the interpenetration of religion and politics against every principle of partition which would placethem in opposition.” Ibid.  Kingship of God,136 (emphasis in original). Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 77

Buber distinguishesbetween the “pre-state” [vorstaatliche]and the post-monarchical conceptions of divine kingship. Prior to the institution of ahuman monarchy, the divine melekh demands of His subjects total, unconditional devotion, of which the ritual symbol is sacrifice. With the founding of the monarchy, however,the divine demandiscompromised by those of the human monarch, from tithes to service in war, and the result is akind of secularization, asepara- tion of the religious from the political.⁴⁸ God “is not content to be ‘God’ in the religious sense,” to claim onlyinner devotion, but demands outer devotion as well, not just in ritual but in the full conduct of life, not justfrom the individual but from the people as awhole:

The strivingtohavethe entirety of its life constructed out of its relation to the divine can be actualized by a people in no other waythan that,while it opens its political beingand doing to the influence of this relationship, it thus does not fundamentallymark the limits of this influenceinadvance, but onlyinthe course of realization experiences or rather en- dures these limits againand again.…He will apportion to the one, for ever and ever chosen by Him, his tasks,but naked powerwithout asituationallyrelated task he does not wish to bestow. He makesknown His will first of all as constitution—not constitution of cult and customonly, also of economyand society—He will proclaim it againand againtothe changinggenerations, certainlybut simplyasreply to aquestion, institutionallythrough priestlymouth, aboveall, however,inthe freedom of His surgingspirit,through every one whom His spirit seizes. Theseparation of religion and politics which stretches through historyishereovercome [aufgehoben]inreal paradox. (119,emphasis in original).⁴⁹

Buber’spolemic here is directed against both kingsand scholars—especially those who take the side of kingsorwho make it easiertodoso. The warning against marking the limits of divine influence “in advance,” along with the claim that God’swill determines cult and custom as well as “economyand society” [Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft,the title of Weber’smagnum opus in sociology], stronglysuggest thatWeberian political realism cannot be reconciled with the faith of Israel. The position is radicallyilliberal, in thatitexcludes the pos-

 Buber thus has alow opinion of KingSolomon. He sees a “syncretistic faithlessness” in the man who, “as hospitable as aRoman emperor,allotted holyhigh-places to the melakhim of the neighboringpeoples.” Kingship of God,118. Buber reads Solomon’spious proclamation that one’s “heart should be satisfied with YHVH” (I Kings8:61) as acrafty retreat from the unconditional insistenceonheart and soul and might (Deut.6:5).  The term aufheben,often translated “overcome” or “sublate,” is heavilyfreighted with He- gelian philosophical ballast,but Buber hereplaces the “sublation” historically prior to the separation of church and statecharacteristicofthe liberal order. 78 Samuel HayimBrody sibility of separate “spheres” for religion and for politics. The very idea of “religion” as a “sphere” unto itself is an impoverishment of divinerule.⁵⁰ The tendency towards direct theocracy expresses itself in two ways.First in the community’schoice of acharismatic leader,whom it recognizesastempora- rilyinhabited by the charis of divine spirit.⁵¹ This is the caseofMoses, Joshua, and the various shoftim in the Book of Judges. The second aspect of theocracy occurs between the death of one charismatic leader and the rise of another one. We might refer to this interregnummost appropriatelyasanarcho-theocracy. There is literallyno(human)ruler in Israel and there are no corresponding institutions. The separate tribes tend to their own business, confident that YHVH still rules as Kingevenwhen He declinestoissue new orders. Internally, the people feel themselvestobe underaninvisiblegovernment; externally, there appears to be no governmentatall. To explain the movement between these two stages, Buber turns to Weber’s analysis of charisma and its “routinization” (he also borrows from Weber the concept of “hierocracy,” rule by priestsorsome other religious caste claiming to speakfor the divine, as aname for what is most commonlycalled “theocracy,” in contrasttotrue, direct theocracy,which is the topic of KingshipofGod).⁵² The historical form of direct theocracy,accordingtoBuber,isacharismatic leadership in which the recipient of the temporary charis is recognizedtohold acom- mission to some limited and particular task (never to unlimited leadership). But what is charis,exactly? AccordingtoBuber, “thereishere no charisma at rest, onlyahovering one, no possession of spirit,onlya‘spiriting’,acomingand going of the ruach;noassurance of power,onlythe streams of an authority

 Ibid.,119 (emphasis in original). In this sense, Buber sees the moment of the institution of the monarchynot as amoment of increased “theocratization,” as Weber had argued in Ancient Ju- daism,but in fact as adramatic secularization of the theopolity.Itisthe moment in which the fearsome terror of war causes the people to lose faith in the task for which they wereelected. Unlike Schmitt,who sees secularization as beginninginmodernity with the seventeenth-century transformation of theological concepts into political concepts, Buber sees it as takingplacein the ancient past,whenthe people of Israel first abandoned their true divine Kingfor the comfort of human rule. And unlikeSchmitt,who adopts Weber’sview of rationalization/secularization as an irreversible process,Buber sees it as potentiallyreversible at anytime, if the people simply heed the prophetic call to turn, to return.  The continual use of the Greek term charis here,rather than aHebrewterm, maybeanother indicationofWeber’sinfluence. Charis has connotations of gratuitousness,offree gift,compa- rabletothe Hebrew Chesed.  Buber acknowledgesthat Weber’saccount of hierocracy in Economy and Society does not “touch upon our problem,” but he appropriates the term anywaybecause it aids him in drawing the contrast to theocracy. Kingship of God,215 n.15. Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 79 which presents itself and moves away.…Authority is bound to the temporary proof of the charisma.”⁵³ Charisma is thus afleeting,passingquality,evenfor the recognized charismatic, and it requires proof through deeds. But its very transience renders charisma supreme: “The charis accordinglystands superiortoevery enchantment [Zauber]aswell as every law[Gesetz].”⁵⁴ Problems occur,however,with anyef- fort “to exercise theopolitics even when it is amatter of lettingthe charis hold swaybeyond the actual charisma,”⁵⁵ or in Weberian terms, to base an enduring institutional structure upon manifestations of charis. The most fundamental is the question of succession. Adying charismatic leader leavesthe community with these options: 1) Waiting for asuccessor to have an epiphanyand to demonstrate his or her qualifications (allowing an interregnum,potentiallyendangering the cohesion and continuity of the community); 2) Securing continuity by one of the following methods: i. The charismatic leader himself namesand designates asuccessor; ii. Upon his death, the followers identifyand acknowledge the qualified candidate; iii. The community recognizes the possibility of transmitting charisma through blood ties or ritual anointing and coronation [Salbung und Krö- nung](aprocess that can lead to hierocracy).

Buber prefers the first option, waiting: “Certainlythe faithful wait for the grace as that alone which they want to follow,and the most faithful of all profess to do it in order to have to follow no one.”⁵⁶ He alsoclaims, however,that the Bible itself favors the first option; accordingtoBuber,the history of pre-stateIsrael knows onlyone instance of the transfer of charisma to asuccessor,namely the succession to Moses by Joshua.⁵⁷ That succession is unique, since Joshua dies without renewingthe process, without establishing asuccession principle, and without leaving anyclues regarding the structure of permanent institutions. The arrival at full anarcho-theocracy,however,and the open embraceofthe interregnum on the part of its supporters,sharpens what Buber calls the “para-

 Kingship of God,140.  Ibid.  Ibid., 141.  Ibid., 149.  In aremarkable literary-critical footnoteonthis passage, Buber actuallysuggests an emen- dation of Numbers 27:18 – 21,the callingofJoshua, so as to eliminateall referencestoEleazar the priest,references which are “to be dismissed as hierocratizingrevision.” Ibid., 215, n.21. 80 Samuel Hayim Brody doxoftheocracy.” This paradoxconsists in the fact that “the highestcommit- ment accordingtoits nature knows no compulsion,” that it applies in all its “existential depth” [existentielle Tiefe]onboth individual and general levels. Forthe individual, it is possibleatany time to “either strive toward acompletecommun- ity out of free will[Gemeinschaft aus Freiwilligkeit], adivine kingdom, or,letting himself be covered by the vocation thereto, can degenerate to an indolent or bru- talized subordination.”⁵⁸ On apolitical level, the same principle confirms “the rightful possessor of the commission, the ‘charismatic’ man,” in his authority, yetalsosanctions the misappropriated and abusedauthority of pretenders and the empty license [leere Herrschaftslosigkeit]ofthosewho indulge in “crass licentiousness and enmity not merelytoorder [Ordnung]but to organiza- tion [Gestaltung].”⁵⁹ Theocracy is thus “astrongbastion for the obedient,but also at the same time can be ashelter to the self-seeking behind which he exalts his lack of commitment as divine freedom..⁶⁰ This double-tiered double bind produces an existencefraught with conflict:

The resultofthis is that the truth of the principle must be foughtfor,foughtfor religio-politically. The ventureofaradical theocracy must thereforelead to the bursting-forth of the opposition latent in every people. Those, however,who in this fight represent the case for divine rulership against that of ‘history’,experience therein the first shudder of eschatology.The full, paradoxical character of the human attitude of faith is onlybegun in the situation of the ‘individual’ [Einzelnen]with all its depths;itisdeveloped onlyinthe realre- lationship of this individual to aworld which does not want to be God’s, and to aGod who does not want to compel the world to become His.The Sinai covenant is the first step visible to us on the path through the dark ravine between actualization and contradiction. In Israel it led from the divinelyproudconfidenceofthe earlyking-passages first of all to that first form of resignation with which our Book of Judges ends. ⁶¹

However heightened and theologically-inflected this rhetoric maybe, Buber in- tends to remain within the realm of historicaldescription. The “first shudder of eschatology” occurs for the partisans of the kingship of God when they imagine asociety in which all are reconciled to divine rule and no longer seek to usurp or undermine it; in other words, asustainable anarcho-theocracy.More- over,Buber believes that he is describingageneral phenomenon of which the

 Ibid., 138.  Ibid., 149. Notethat while Scheimann’stranslation has “anarchy” here, Buber actuallyuses Herrschaftslosigkeit to describe this negativecondition, whereas elsewhereheuses anarchische to positively describe the characteristicpsychological inclination to freedomofdesert tribes.I have therefore substituted “license” for “anarchy.”  Kingship of God, 148  Ibid., 139. Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 81 story of Israel as presented in the Bible is onlyone instance.Recognition of the paradoxoftheocracy leadstothe breakout of conflict and opposition within every people, and within every people the two sides are the same: they “contend in the same name,and always without aclear issue [Ausgang]ofthe quarrel.”⁶² What Buber here counterposes to divine rulership and calls “history,” he refers to elsewhereasRealpolitik,and what he calls Realpolitik is identifiable once again, still elsewhere, as political theology.⁶³ Schmitt sawthe decision on the state of emergency as the act that irrevoca- blylocates sovereignty.Whoever decides that this is the moment that the laws are suspended reveals the ultimatedependence of lawonhis personal authority. Schmitt analogizes the state of exception to the miracle in theology, conceived as aradical interruption of the ordinary course of things. In Buber’spicture, however,interruption occurs in the ordinary course of thingsitself. The injunc- tion to wait reflects avery real dependence on God as the actual sovereign. The Philistines are attacking, and God’sresponse—to empower aleader to organize resistanceortoallow the attack to proceed—will decidewhether astate of emergency reallyexists or not.The human desire to institute amonarchyfor the purposes of defence already reflects the decision,having been made by the people, that astate of emergency in fact exists. They have mistaken the anarchyofinter- regnum, which is theocracy,for the anarchyofemergency, which is chaos. The people have usurped the sovereignty.Alreadyin1918, in “The HolyWay,” which he dedicatedtoGustavLandauer upon its publication ayearlater, Buber called this moment “the true turning point of Jewishhistory.”⁶⁴

 Ibid., 148. The form and natureofthis conflict,however,can vary.For example,Buber con- trasts the “spiritual” polemic of the anti-monarchical judgesand prophets against their fellow Israelites with the “attitude of opposition, determined by religious commandment and urging on to the most gruesome massacres,” assumed by the Kharijitesect of earlyIslam to the whole bodyoftheir co-religionists.Ibid., 159.Buber otherwise finds that the Kharijites mirror the anarcho-theocratic attitude found in Judges in almost every respect (except that “the Khar- ijites want to prevent anyone fromrulingupon whom the Spirit does not rest; by Gideon’s mouth, however,the person on whom the Spirit rests says that he does not want to rule.” Ibid.,160.”  “History” is aterm with manyvalencesinBuber;here, in quotation marks to show that it is beingspoken by the opponents of anarcho-theocracy,itrefers to the notion that the temporal realm of human activity is governed by the lawofforce and necessity.See “What Is to Be Done?” in Pointing the Way,and “The Question to the Single One” in Between Manand Man.  Buber, “The Holy Way: AWord to the Jews and the Nations,” in On Judaism,ed. Nahum Glat- zer (New York: Schocken Books,1995), 117. This is anotable change from his earlier,moretyp- icallyZionist positionthat the turningpoint of Jewish historywas the loss of the state. 82 Samuel Hayim Brody

Thus the contemporary proponents of Realpolitik and political theologycan be considered analogous to those Israelites who misunderstand and abuse the anarcho-theocracy. And they have asimilar program: the establishment of an au- thoritarianstate. In times of peace, they mayhavelittle success, but in times of military crisis, they can capitalize on the people’sfear and defeat the theopolitical faction, the one that urgesthe continual, faithfulwaiting on YHVH. They demand and are granted an enduringmonarchy, with astanding army, like all the other nations have.Buber sees the influenceofthese ancient Israelite political theologians in everythingfrom the redaction of the Book of Judges, wherein what wereoriginallytwo competing polemics, an anti-monarchical and apro- monarchical, become glued together in such away thatthe book assumes a pro-monarchical bias, to the inception of messianism in Israel, when the eventu- al failureand loss of the monarchygiverise to the dream of its restoration:

Then for the first time does the people rebel against the situation which the primitive-prophetic leaders tried, ever anew and ever alikeinvain, to inflame with the theocratic will towardconstitution. The idea of monarchic unification is born and rises against the repre- sentativesofthe divine kingship. And the crisis between the two grows to one of the theocratic impulse itself, to the crisis out of which thereemergesthe human kingofIsrael, the follower of JHWH (12:14), as His ‘anointed’, meshiach JHWH, χριστòςκυριου.”⁶⁵

The shift to Greek at the end of this passageissignificant: the first “messiah” is none other than the human king of Israel, the institutional achievement of the political theologians. He stands behind all the subsequent messiahs, including “Christ the Lord.” LikeSchmitt,Buber here sees “messiah” as acategory thatbe- longstothe authoritarian state; like Dostoevsky,hepits it against God. Ultimately, for Buber,political theologyisaform of idolatry.InKingship of God idolatry comesintwo main forms. The first Buber calls Baalization: the tendency to associate YHVH, the mobile leader-god of the tribe, with the baalim,the stationary fertility gods of the land. In TheProphetic Faith (1950) Buber describes the wayinwhich Elijah combats this tendencybydemonstrating once and for all that YHVH is not onlythe God of the heavens but also of the earth, and that the people do not need to placate anyother powers to achieveagricultural success. Farmoreinsidious than Baalization, however,isthe second idolatry,which Buber calls Molechization. The people understand that the king is responsible for the increase of the tribe’snumbers and for its political success, and that the proper gratitudefor this is the dedicationofthe first-born. YHVH, through the dramatic story of the Akedah and through the institution of the semikha,

 Kingship of God, 162. Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 83 both of which substitute an animal for ahuman sacrifice,indicatesthat he is willing to substitute the intention to sacrifice oneself and one’schildren for the sacrifice itself. Some, however,preciselyout of their zeal to servetheir King with the service they deem proper to him, make the mistake of going too far: they pass their children through fire. While Buber actuallyshares Schmitt’sworries about technicity and its attendant draining of the vitality from human life, he does not locate this danger in the increase of administration and the decrease of politics. He asserts rather the precise opposite: thatthe share of qualitative “humanity” in life increases as the share of “politics” decreases. “Politics,” as an independent sphere with its own rules, is nothing but arebellion against God and as such adenial of human nature; “thereisnopolitical realm outside the theopolitical.” The creation of politics as aseparate sphere can onlyoccur as aresult of asophisticated version of Molechization. Of course the people still paylip service to God; they saythat the king is God’sanointed and that his will is God’swill. But when they sacrifice their children to form his fifties and his hundreds, when they allow him to set up altars to the gods of neighboring peoples, “the theocratic principle begins to lose its comprehensive power and to be limited to the merely-religious in order finallymerelytoprovide the intangible shielding of autocracy,asinEgypt and Babylon.”⁶⁶ In this sense,theopolitics declarespolitical theologyitself to be idolatry;anarcho-theocracy declares human authority itself to be usurpation. An interesting resultofthese differences is their effect on Schmitt’scriterion of the political,the notorious friend/enemydistinction.Itcannot be said that Buber’spicture of the ancient Israelite theopolity,and the implications he drawsfrom it,are terriblypacific. In fact,they are radicallytension-filled, far more than we might expect from athinker so heavilyassociated with the idea of “dialogue.” Buber sees adivision not merelywithin the ancient Israelite theopolity,between the faithful theo-politicians and the idolatrous political theologians, but adivision that continues throughout the whole history of Judaism, and in fact thatbreaks out within every people. But it would be impossibleto make this conflict the criterion of adedicated, independent “political sphere.” Instead, this division, which Buber calls “the true front,” divides every individual against himself and every people against itself, and the struggle on this front, which contra Schmitt and Weber can never become the defining principle of a violent conflict between distinct parties, is the onlytrue theopolitical fight:

So long as God contends against the idols thereprevails for the people aclear demarcation: one’sown and that which is alien stand in opposition to one another.Itisamatter of with-

 Kingship of God, 91. 84 Samuel Hayim Brody

standingthe allurements of the alien and to keep one’svows to one’sown. But where God rises against the idolization of Himself the demarcation is clouded and complicated. No longer do two camps stretch out oppositetoone another:here JHWH, there Astarte!, but on every little spot of ground the truth is mixed with the lie. The struggle of exclusiveness is directed toward unmixing, and this is ahard,anawesome work.⁶⁷

Buber expressed this same sentimentthree yearsearlier,inaeulogyfor Landau- er,when he wrotethat “the true front runs through the heart of the soldier; the true front runs through the heart of the revolutionary.” HereBuber,like Landauer himself, is more anarchistic even than most anarchists, denying them the battle against the State as an external forceunless it begins with the battle against the State in ourselves. He seeks to disarm thatState of one of its greatest weapons: the idolatrous languageofreligious legitimation, or political theology.

Conclusion: Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics?

Buber’stheopolitics was refined and elaborated duringthe course of the 1920s, culminatinginthe publication of Kingship of God in 1932. This work was itself originallyintended to be merelythe first installmentinatrilogyonDas Kom- mende,the ComingOne of Israelitemessianism, but the rise of the Nazis and the flight to Palestine interrupted Buber’swork on this project,and parts of it appeared instead in Buber’sseparately-issuedbiblical works,including Moses, TheProphetic Faith,and TwoTypes of Faith. The 1920swerebookended for Buber by the murder of his friend Landauer on May2,1919 by reactionary Frei- korps troops under contract from the SPD,and the publication of his aforemen- tioned eulogyfor his friend in 1929;inbetween, Buber taught at the Lehrhaus, published Iand Thou,and embarked upon the new translation of the Bible with Rosenzweig. There is another figure on whom Buber reflects at the begin-

 Ibid., 112. Morecould be said about the roleofviolenceinBuber’spicture, sincehepresents military defense as aprimary function of the ancient Israelitecharismaticleader.Here, however, Ican onlyrefertoBuber’sown mobilization of theopolitics in the serviceofaradical critique of mainstream Zionism, and also note this Buber-inspired remark of Martin Luther KingJr. in opposition to aconception of non-violencethat,like Weber’s, would exclude those committed to it even from strikes, boycotts,orother direct action: “Imust confess that Iamnot afraid of the word ‘tension.’ Ihaveearnestlyopposed violent tension, but thereisatype of constructive non- violent tension that is necessary for growth… Toolong has our beloved Southland been bogged down in atragic effort to live in monologuerather than dialogue.” King, “Letter fromBirming- ham Jail,” in Why We Can’tWait (New York: Signet Classic, 2000), 67– 68. Buber is referredto explicitlyafew pageslater. Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 85 ning and the end of the next decade: MahatmaGandhi. If Landauer’sanarchism raised the question of the borders of the political for Buber,Gandhi’swork posed it in its trulytheopolitical form, as apuzzle:

So far as Gandhi acts politically, so far as he takes part in passingparliamentary resolu- tions,hedoes not introduce religion intopolitics,but allies his religion with the politics of others.Hecannot wrestle uninterruptedlywith the serpent; he must at time getalong with it because he is directedtowork in the kingdom of the serpent that he set out to de- stroy… The serpent is, indeed, not onlypowerful outside, but also within, in the souls of those wholong for political success… There is no legitimatelymessianic,nolegitimately messianically-intended, politics.But that does not implythat the political spheremay be excluded from the hallowingofall things.The political ‘serpent’ is not essentiallyevil, it is itself onlymisled; it,too,ultimatelywants to be redeemed.⁶⁸

This reflection, with its imageofpolitics as aserpent(redolent of Schmitt’sdiscussion of Leviathan), is echoed nine yearslater in Buber’sfamous letter to Gan- dhi: “Youonce said, Mahatma, that politics enmesh us nowadays as with serpent’scoils from which there is no escape however hard one maytry.You said youdesired, therefore, to wrestle with the serpent.Hereisthe serpentinthe fullness of its power! Jews and Arabs…”⁶⁹ The Zionist project served as Buber’s arena for the contemporary conflict between theopolitics and political theology; Buber sawGandhi react against the political-theological formofZionism, and he attempted to enlist him in the service of the theopolitical form. The eulogyfor Landauer relates an anecdotethat can serveasamicrocosm for manyofthese points. “Iwas with [Landauer] and several other revolutionary leaders in ahall of the Diet buildinginMunich”:

The discussionwas conducted for the most part between me and aSpartacus leader,who later became well known in the secondcommunist revolutionary government in Munich that replacedthe first,socialist government of Landauer and his comrades.The man walked with clankingspurs throughthe room;hehad been aGerman officer in the war. Ideclined to do what manyapparentlyhad expected of me—to talk of the moral problem; but Iset forth what Ithoughtabout the relation between end and means.Idocumented my view fromhistorical and contemporary experience. The Spartacus leader did not go into that matter.He, too, sought to document his apology for the terror by examples. ‘Dzertshin- sky,’ he said, ‘the head of the Cheka, could signahundred death sentencesaday, but with an entirelyclean soul.’‘That is, in fact,just the worst of all,’ Ianswered. ‘This “clean” soul youdonot allow anysplashes of blood to fall on! It is not aquestion of “souls” but of re-

 Buber, “Gandhi, Politics, and Us,” in Pointing the Way,129,137.  Buber, “Letter to Gandhi,” in Pointing the Way,145. 86 Samuel HayimBrody

sponsibility.’ My opponent regarded me with unperturbedsuperiority.Landauer,who sat next to me, laid his hand on mine. His whole arm trembled.⁷⁰

The anecdote shows that Buber and his interlocutors distinguished between an abstract “moralproblem” and the consummatepolitical question of “the relationship between end and means.” Weber,citing Trotsky approvingly,had defined violence as the meansthat defines the state and thereby the political itself; here, the Spartacist leader echoesthis line.⁷¹ Buber,bycontrast, seems to be ar- guing something other than “what manyapparentlyhad expected” of him, namelythat purity of means are required to guarantee purity of soul. Rather, he claims that aconsonance of ends and meansbelongs, precisely, to the politics of responsibility. He is unable to convince his opponent of this claim; the last line indicatesthat the martyred Landauer at least shared his outlook, but it alsolinks it to Landauer’sfate. The career of the Bavarian Revolution is defined by several stages: the pres- idency of Eisner ends in electoral defeat and assassination, following which a period of turbulence sees the establishment of not one but two “Bavarian Coun- cil Republics,” the first of which is associatedwith Landauer and the anarchists, and the second with the Communists. The latter had ahabit of treatingthe former as though they werepolitical children, insufficientlygrounded in the recognition of the necessity for violence and party leadership; they referred derisively to the “Bavarian Coffeehouse Republic.”⁷² Typical of this type of criticism is the claim that anarchists are toobohemian, which is to saythat they mix up their aesthetics with their politics; they are unable to see and practice the pure politics. This judgment is echoed by anumber of historians;Landauer himself is called “impractical” and “excessivelyromantic” even by proponents of revolutionary change, and “saintly, unpolitical, and inept” by its opponents.⁷³ Like

 Martin Buber, “Recollection of aDeath,” in Pointing the Way,ed. and trans.MauriceFried- man (New York: Schocken Books,1974), 119.  Buber does not identify this figure, but it is most likelyEugen Leviné (1883–1919), who served in the German armyinWorld War1,joined the KPD (the Communist Party of Germany), and is said to have orderedthe shootingofhostagesbythe Red Guards towards the end of April 1919,when hostage-takingfailed to prevent Friedrich Ebert from ordering the destruction of the Second Council Republic and the reinstatement of JohannesHoffmann as Minister-President of Bavaria in May.  Gabriel Kuhn, “Introduction” to Erich Mühsam, Liberating Society from the State and Other Writings:APolitical Reader (Oakland: PM Press, 2011), 20 n60.  “Impractical romantic anarchism,” James Joll, TheSecond International, 1889–1914 (New York: Harper &Row,1966), 64; “excessively romantic,” George Woodcock, Anarchism: AHistory of Libertarian Ideasand Movements (Toronto:University of TorontoPress,2009), 363; “saintly, Is Theopolitics an Antipolitics? 87

Weber,these historians, even when they are unsympathetic to communism, are able to characterize the Communist revolutionaries as politically “realistic,” because the Communists recognize the necessity of the state and of state violence. The anarchists,who denythis necessity,seem to come from an extra-political world, defined as aesthetic or religious.Somehavetaken this critique to heart,and taken up the epithet “antipolitical” as abadge of honor; acontemporary edition of Landauer includes two volumes called Antipolitik.⁷⁴ What Buber’stheopolitics claims is that these historians are unwittingly a party to the conflicts they attempt to objectivelydescribe. In taking the side of “realism,” in allowing politics its autonomy, they fall in with one of the oldest forms of idol-worship, and takethe part of Messiah against God. This is by no means surprising,since the party of realism has almostalways outnumbered the theopolitical faithful. It is even possible to be committed to realism in aro- manticway,exaltingone’sown probity and willingness to make hard choices; Goethe himself exalted Schwerer Dienste tägliche Bewahrung, “dailyachievement of difficult tasks,” and ayoung romantic could make aslogan from these words as wellasfrom anyothers of that poet.⁷⁵ One can do the same with Weber’s “Pol- itics means slow,strongdrilling through hard boards.”⁷⁶ What is necessary is to define the exactnatureofwhat is being praised and what condemned,and this is what Buber and Schmitt are each attemptingtodointheir opposing ways. Is theopolitics an antipolitics?Yes, if “politics” is an autonomous realm that prescribes itself its ownlaws. No, if one recalls with Walzer that “antipolitics is a kind of politics,” in this case one oriented towards the realization on earth of the kingship of God in the form of ahuman community whose self-conception is that of God’ssubjects. In Buber’sview this community—which is always emerging and never quite fullypresent in the world, though it could be—is called “Israel.” It is, much like Augustine’scity of God, not to be confused with anygroup of people thatmay call themselvesbythis name,and its work is always atheopolitical work. There is much more to be said about the role of this concept in Bub- er’sunderstanding of biblical history,and his application of it to contemporary

unpolitical, and inept,” Amos Elon, The Pity of It All: APortrait of the German-JewishEpoch, 1743–1933 (New York: Picador,2002),351.  GustavLandauer, Antipolitik. Ausgewählte Schriften, Band 3.1,ed. Siegbert Wolf. Hessen: AV Verlag, 2010.  As indeed Buber himself did, proclaimingthat “no revelation is needed other than this”; MauriceFriedman, Martin Buber’sLife and Work:The Early Years, 1878–1923 (Detroit: Wayne StateUniversity Press, 1988), 20.The line occurs in the seventh stanza of Goethe’s “The Testa- ment of the Ancient Persian Faith”,fromthe West-östlicher Diwan,where it is italicized.  “The Profession and Vocation of Politics,” 369. 88 Samuel Hayim Brody

Zionistpolitics. But for now,this is wherethe discussion of Buber’srelationship to the borders of the political maycome to aclose. Ran HaCohen Bubersschöpferischer Dialog mit einer chassidischen Legende

Martin Bubers Werk zum Chassidismus spielteeine entscheidende Rolle in der Gestaltungdes Bildes dieser osteuropäischen religiösen Massenbewegung in der westlichen Gesellschaft,jüdisch wie nicht-jüdisch gleichermaßen. In einer großen Zahl vonWerken, die Buber seit dem ersten Jahrzehnt des 20.Jahrhunderts ver- öffentlichte, und in welchen er sich immer weiter mit den stilistischenund theoretischen Fragen auseinandersetzte, die die Bearbeitung der chassidischen Stoffe benötigte,¹ „leisteteBuber zweifellos einen entscheidendenBeitrag zum Bekanntheitsgrad der chassidischenBewegungimWesten,“ wie G. Scholem be- zeugte;² „Die Werke hinterließen bei den Lesern einen starken Eindruck, da sie ihnen ein bislang unbekanntes Gebieterschlossen,“ schrieb Shmuel H. Berg- mann.³ Bubers Werk zum Chassidismus war das Themamehrerer Diskussionen und Forschungen, deren Ansatz jedoch meistens philosophisch war.⁴ Im Fol- genden soll anhand einer chassidischen Legende die Artund Weise der Buber- schen Bearbeitung prototypischillustriert werden; auch wenn der Ansatz und die

 Vgl. im Vorwort zu Martin Buber, Die Erzählung der Chassidim (Zürich: Manesse Verlag, 1949), 11ff.  Gerschom Scholem, „Peruscho schel Martin Buber la-chassidut“ [Hebr.], in idem, Dewarim be- go (Tel Aviv:AmOved, 1982), 361.  Shmuel H. Bergmann im Eintrag „Buber,“ Encyclopaedia Hebraica [Hebr.] (Jerusalem: Ency- clopaedia PublishingCompany, 1959), Bd. 7: 681.  Gershom Scholem, „Martin Buber’sInterpretation of Hasidism,“ Commentary 32 (1961):305–16; Rivkah Schatz-Uffenheimer, „Man’sRelation to God and World in Buber’sRenderingofthe Hasidic Teaching,“ in Paul Arthur Schilpp and MauriceFriedman, eds., The PhilosophyofMartin Buber (La Salle: Open Court Publishers, 1967), 403–34;StevenD.Kepnes, „AHermeneutic Approach to the Buber-Scholem Controversy,“ Journal of JewishStudies 38 (1987): 81–98;MauriceFriedman, „Interpreting Hasidism: The Buber-Scholem Controversy,“ Yearbookofthe Leo Baeck Institute, Vol. 33 (1988), 449–67;Laurence J. Silberstein, „Modes of Discourse in Modern Judaism: The Buber-Scholem Debate Reconsidered,“ Soundings 71 (1988): 657– 81;Moshe Idel, „Martin Buber and Gershom Scholem on Hasidism: ACritical Appraisal,“ in AdaRapaport-Albert,ed., Hasidism Reappraised (London: The Littman Library of Jewish Civilisation, 1996), 389–403;Martin Buber, „Replies to My Critics,“ in Paul Arthur Schilpp and MauriceFriedman, eds., ThePhilosophy of Martin Buber (La Salle: Open Court Publishers, 1967), 731– 41;Jon D. Levenson, „The Hermene- utical Defense of Buber’sHasidism: ACritique and Counterstatement,“ Modern Judaism 11 (1991): 299–320; Jerome Gellman, „Buber’sBlunder:Buber’sReplies to Scholem and Schatz-Uffen- heimer“, Modern Judaism 20 (2000): 20–40. 90 Ran HaCohen

Methodologie hier eher literarisch sind, ⁵ soll auch die ideelle Dimension des Textes in den Vordergrundrücken.

*** Die erste Bubersche Bearbeitung unserer Legende findet sich in seinem 1928 erschienenen Band Diechassidischen Bücher mit etwa 30 kurzen Geschichten über den wichtigen chassidischen Rabbi Jaakob Jizchak vonPžysha, den sogenannten „Heiligen Juden“ oder „Jehudi“ (1765 – 1813).⁶ Der vollständigeText Bubers lautet wie folgt:

Können und Wollen Über Land wandernd traf der Jehudi einst aufeinen umgestürzten Heuwagen. „Hilf mir doch den Wagenaufzurichten!“ rief ihm der Besitzer zu. Er versuchtees, aber es gingnicht vonstatten. „Ich kann nicht“,versicherteerendlich. Der Bauer sah ihn streng an. „Du kannst“,sagteer, „aber du willst nicht.“ Am Abend dieses Tags sprach der Jehudi zu seinen Schülern: „Heuteist es mir gesagtworden. Wirkönnen den Namen Gottesaufrichten, aber wir wollen nicht.“

Gemäß westlichen Konventionen gelesen, handelt es sich hier um eine Anekdote mit einer deutlich moralischen Dimension. Der Text weist eine Zweiteilungauf, die sich auch in den beiden Absätzen widerspiegelt. Zunächst wird die Szene mit dem Rabbi als Protagonisten und dem Bauern als Antagonistenaufgebaut; danach folgt zum Abschluss die Moral, die der Rabbi seinen Schülern mit aufden Weg gibt.Zeitlich werden die beiden Szenen durch einigeStunden („Am Abend dieses Tages“)voneinander abgesetzt.Die Moral der Anekdoteist chassidisch-religiös

 Weitere literarischeEinsichten bieten u.a. Dan Laor, „Agnon and Buber:the story of afri- endship or,the rise and fall of the ‘CorpusHasidicum’“,in: Paul Mendes-Flohr,ed., Martin Buber,a Contemporary Perspective (Jerusalem/Syracuse: The Israel AcademyofSciences and the Huma- nities/Syracuse University Press, 2002), 48–86;Baruch Kurzweil, „Gogu-Magogle-Martin Buber“ [Hebr.], in idem, Le-nokhach ha-mewukha ha-ruchanit schel dorenu (Ramat Gan: BarIlan University Press, 1976), 69 – 76;Akiva Ernst Simon, „Martin Buber we-emunat jisra’el“ [Hebr.], Iyun 9(1958): 13–50;Martina Urban, „Retelling Biblical Mythos through the Hasidic Tale: Buber’s ‘Saul and David’ and the Question of Leadership“, Modern Judaism 24 (2004): 69 – 78;Shmuel Werses, „Ha- chassidut be-asspaqlarja beletristit: ijjunim be-Gogu-Magog shel Martin Buber“ [Hebr.], in idem: Mi-laschon el laschon (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1996), 168–207.  Die chassidischen Bücher (Berlin: Schocken Verlag,1928), 529. Unverändert wiederholtin Hundert chassidische Geschichten (Berlin: Schocken Verlag,1935),21und in Die Erzählungen der Chassidim (Zürich: Manesse, 1949), 719, wie auch in der hebräischen Version des Letzteren, Or Ha- Ganuz (Tel Aviv:Schocken, 1946). Allerdings fehlt sie im Kapitel über den „HeiligenJuden“ im 1922 erschienenen Der groβeMaggid und seine Nachfolge (Berlin: Schocken Verlag, 1922),164–174; vermutlich lerntesie Buber erst nach 1922 kennen. Bubersschöpferischer Dialog mit einer chassidischen Legende 91 begründet –„den Namen Gottes aufrichten“ ist im kabbalistischen Kontext als Bezeichnungfür die Erlösung zu verstehen. Der Titel „Können und Wollen“ deutet jedoch bereits an, dass hier auch eine allgemeinere Lehreabzulesen ist,die Bubers hauptsächlich nicht-chassidische, selbst nicht-jüdische Leserschaft ansprechen soll. Wiestehen aber die beiden Teile der Anekdotenun zueinander? Konkreter gefragt: Wielässt sich die moralische Botschaft im zweiten Teil ausdem ersten Abschnitt ziehen?Bei näherer Betrachtung taucht hier ein Problem auf. Nehmen wir zunächst tentativan, dass der Rabbi eine statische Figurist,derenEinstellung im Laufe des Erzählten unverändert bleibt.Wollteeralso tatsächlichden Wagen aufrichten, konnte es aber nicht,sowiderspräche die Anekdoteihrer eigenen Moral; denn diese soll ja gerade zeigen, dass das Können dem Wollen folgt,was in dieser Lesart nicht gegebenwäre. Dieser Interpretationsversuch scheitertalso. Eine alternative Hypothese wäre, dass der Rabbi vonvornherein den Wagennicht aufrichten wollte, also nur so tat,als ob er es versuchte. Dieser Ansatz ist höchst unwahrscheinlich, würde er doch den Rabbi als unehrliche Figurdarstellen und damit seiner Funktionals positivemProtagonisten entgegenstehen. Der Leser ist daher gezwungen zu dem Schluss zu kommen, dass der Rabbi keine statische sondern vielmehr eine dynamische Figurist,die im Laufe der Anekdoteselbst etwas Neues erfährt,und sich infolgedessen wandelt.Diesent- spräche auch Bubers dialogischer Philosophie. Das Wesen entsteht und formt sich erst durch die Begegnung,durch den Dialog mit dem Anderen: „Der Mensch wird am Du zum Ich.“⁷ Der modern-westliche Leser ahnt hier auch den romantischen Ansatz: Gerade die Begegnung mit dem „ungebildeten“ und „naturnahen“ Bauern verändert die Einstellungdes buchgelehrtenRabbi.Um zu dieserInterpretation zu gelangen, muss der Leser jedoch die elliptisch wirkende Handlunggewisserma- ßen ergänzen. Er muss nämlich davonausgehen, dass es letztendlich doch ge- lungenist,den Heuwagen aufzurichten, und dass damit das Können tatsächlich dem Wollen gefolgt ist.Dies geht jedoch nicht direkt ausimText hervor,sondern muss vielmehr – gemäß den kulturabhängigen Erwartungen und Schemata – ergänzt werden, die der Text beim modern-westlichen Leser aktiviert.Dement- sprechend lässt sich auch die BeziehungzwischenAnekdoteund Moral nach- vollziehen: Erst durch den Vorwurf des Bauern wurde der Wille des Rabbi groß genug, um das mutmaßlich erfolgte Aufrichten des Wagens zu ermöglichen. Das Können folgt dem stärker gewordenen Willen. DieseLehre überträgt der Rabbi nun

 Martin Buber, Ich und Du (Berlin: Schocken Verlag,1936), 36. 92 Ran HaCohen im zweiten Teil der Geschichte aufden Namen Gottes und die Erlösung,indem er den Heuwagen allegorisch als den Namen Gottes auffasst.

*** Eine Weiterentwicklungerlebte diese AnekdoteinBubers 1940/41auf Hebräisch und 1949 aufDeutsch erschienenem chassidischen Roman Gog und Magog.⁸ Der Erzähler im folgenden Auszugist der „Heilige Jude“ selbst,eine Hauptfigur im Roman. Die Anekdotesteht diesmal in einer Rahmenerzählung: Die Chassidim sitzen in Lublin um einen großen Tischund jeder vonihnen muss eine Geschichte erzählen. Jaakob Jizchak – der „Heilige Jude“–erzählt sogar zwei:

„Meine zweite Geschichte“,sagte Jaakob Jizchak, „ist wohlnoch kürzerund noch bündiger als die erste.Sie heißt: ›Wieich bei einem Bauern in die Lehreging‹.Als ich nämlich, nachdem ich Apta verlassen hatte, aufder Wanderschaft war,traf ich aufeinen riesigen Heuwagen, der umgestürzt war und quer über die Straße lag. Der Bauer,der danebenstand, rief mir zu, ich möchteihm den Wagenaufrichten helfen. Ichbesah mir den: wohl, ich habe kräftige Arme, und auch der Bauer schien was zu vermögen, aber wie sollten zwei Männer die ungeheureLast heben? ›Ich kann nicht‹,sagteich. Da schob jener mich an. ›Du kannst‹,rief er, ›aber du willst nicht‹.Das fuhr mir ins Herz. Bretter waren zur Hand, wir stemmten sie unterden Wagen, hebeltenmit all unsrer Kraft,das Gefährt schwankte, hob sich, stand, wir luden das Heu wieder drauf, der Bauer strich den noch immer zitternden und keuchenden Ochsen über die Flanken, sie zogen an. ›Laß mich eine Weile mit dir hinterher gehen‹,sagte ich. ›Geh nur mit,Bruder‹,antwortete er.Wir gingenmitsammen. ›Ich möchtedich etwas fragen‹,sagte ich. ›Frag nur,Bruder‹,antworteteer. ›Wiekam dir in den Sinn‹,fragteich ihn, ›daß ich nicht will?‹›Das kam mir in den Sinn‹,antworteteer, ›weil du gesagthattest,du könntest nicht.Niemandweiß, ob er etwas kann, eh er’sversucht hat‹. ›Aber wie kamdir in den Sinn‹,fragteich weiter, ›daß ich kann?‹›Das‹,antworteteer, ›kammir nur so in den Sinn.‹ ›Washeißtdenn das, nur so?‹ fragteich. ›Ach, Bruder‹,sagte er, ›was bist du für ein Presser! Nungut,eskam mir in den Sinn, weil man dich mir in den Weggeschickt hat.‹›Meinst du etwa gar‹,fragteich, ›dein Wagensei gestürzt, damit ich dir helfen könne?‹›Wasdenn sonst, Bruder?‹ sagteer.“⁹

Auffällig in dieser Bearbeitung ist die Verdichtung der Darstellungmittels aus- führlicherBeschreibungvon Gefühlen, Tatsachen und des inneren Dialogsdes Rabbi – alles den Konventionen des modernen Romans entsprechend. Die zweiteiligeStruktur bleibt hier zwar erhalten, wurde aber modifiziert: Die Prot- agonisten in der ersten Szene sind nachwievor der Bauer und der Rabbi, dieser spricht allerdings in dieser Geschichte nicht zu seinem Schüler,sondern zu seinen

 Außer der hebräischen und deutschen Versionen, die Buber selbst verfasste, wurde der Roman in viele Sprachen übersetzt,u.a.ins Englische (Forthe Sake of Heaven, 1945), Spanische, Nie- derländische, Italienische, Tschechische, Ungarische, Polnische und Japanische.  Martin Buber, Gogund Magog (Heidelberg: VerlagLambertSchneider,1949), 47 f. Bubersschöpferischer Dialog mit einer chassidischen Legende 93

Freunden, mit denen er zusammen sitzt.Dieser Wechselist bezeichnend,daerden dialogischen Charakter des Textes stärkt,der in dieser Bearbeitung des Stoffes zentral ist.Die Hierarchie vonLehrer und Schülern wird durch die Gleichwer- tigkeit der Freunde ersetzt.Der dialogische Charakter der Begegnung zwischen Rabbi und Bauer wird wesentlich durch die ausführliche Konversation am Ende der Szene verdichtet.Auch der sehr verbindliche Charakter des Gesprächs, der durch das Duzen und durch die gegenseitige, sich viermalwiederholendeAnrede „Bruder“ betont wird, trägt zur Stärkungdes dialogischen Charakters bei. Die Geschichte, deren Handlungauf den ersten Blick unverändert bleibt,zeigt bei nähererBetrachtung eine Anpassungandie bereitsinder ersten Bearbeitung vermuteten Erwartungendes modern-westlichen Lesers.Andersals in der zuvor untersuchten Anekdote, wo garnicht erst der Versuch unternommen wird,den Wagenaufzurichten, kommt es in der zweiten Geschichte nach dem Vorwurf des Bauern tatsächlichzum Versuch, und erwartungsgemäß gelingt es auch, den Wagenwiederaufzurichten. Wasdie Moral betrifft,sogibt es in dieser späteren Bearbeitung mehrere Ebenen. Zunächstgibt es eine allgemein-menschliche Moral, die bereits im Titel der ersten Version angedeutet wurde, diesmalabereindringlicher in dem Satz „Niemand weiß, ob er etwas kann, eh er’sversucht hat“ zum Ausdruck gebracht wird. Darüber hinaus lässt sich auch eine mystische, neuromantische Dimension der Moral ausdieser zweiten Episodeherauslesen: „›Meinst du etwa gar‹,fragte ich, ›dein Wagensei gestürzt,damit ich dir helfenkönne?‹›Wasdenn sonst, Bruder?‹ sagteer.“ Sie erinnert etwa an die bekannteAussageBubers, alle Reisen hätten eine heimliche Bestimmung,die der Reisendenichtahnt.Zudem knüpft sie an dasbekannteMotivder Mystik an, es gäbe keine Willkürlichkeit,daalles, was aufder Welt passiere,einen – wenn auch verborgenen – Grund habe. Stärker noch als in der ersten Bearbeitung,wird hier die „Weisheit“ der Figurdes Bauern zugeschrieben. Waresinder ersten Bearbeitung noch der Rabbi, der die Moral zog und seinem Schüler mit aufden Weggab,soist es hier der Bauer,der die Lehre aus der Geschichte artikuliert.Diesspiegeltsich auch im Titel wider,die der Erzähler der Geschichte selbst gibt,nämlich „Wieich bei einem Bauern in die Lehreging.“ Noch stärker wirkt der Titel, liest man diese Geschichte in ihrem Kontext; denn diese Anekdotefolgt unmittelbar aufeine andere mit der Überschrift „Wieich bei einem Schmied in die Lehreging“:¹⁰ Beide Titel verweisen also aufdie Beschei- denheit des gelehrten Rabbi, wie auch aufseine demütigeBereitschaft vonjedem, auch vonals einfach, ihm gesellschaftlich und intellektuell unterlegen geltenden Personen, zu lernen.Damit ist hier ein bekanntes Motivaufgegriffen, das sich in

 Ebd., 45. 94 Ran HaCohen vielen literarischenTraditionen ausmachen lässt,nicht zuletzt im Talmud.¹¹ Die chassidisch-religiöse Moral fehlt übrigens auch in dieser Bearbeitung nicht.Sie wird aber erst ein paar Absätze später im Roman deutlich und kommt, ebenfalls dialogisch gestaltet,inder aufdie Geschichte folgenden Diskussion unter den Freunden zum Ausdruck.¹² Die Entwicklungzwischen den beiden Bearbeitungen Bubers – vom „Können und Wollen“ in Die chassidischen Bücher zu „Wieich bei einem Bauer in die Lehre ging“ in Gog und Magog – kann zusammenfassendals Anpassunganeine moderne Leserschaft bezeichnet werden. Sie betrifft die „Lösung des Problems“ auf der Handlungsebene, die in der ersten Bearbeitung erkennbar ist,indem der gescheiterteVersuch vordem Vorwurf durch einen gelungenen Versuch nach dem Verwurfersetzt wurde. Darüber hinaus wurde eine allgemein-menschliche Di- mension der Moral hinzugefügt und das Dialogische stark erweitert.Protagonist und Antagonistwurden durch gleichwertige Gesprächspartner – den Rabbi einerseits und seine Freunde andererseits – ersetzt,womit das Autoritätsgefälle, das vorallem zwischen Rabbi und Bauer bestand, nivelliert wurde. Die eher elliptische Anekdoteinder ersten Bearbeitung wurde in der zweiten gemäß bekannterlite- rarischerSchemataund unter Einfluss der dialogischen Philosophie Bubers er- gänzt,erweitert und grundlegend angepasst.

*** Im Folgenden wollen wir die VorlagezuBubers Bearbeitungen, die chassidische Quelle selbst,genauer in den Blick nehmen.Eshandelt sich um das 1914(nur 14 Jahre vorder ersten Bearbeitung Bubers) in Petrikauerschienene Sefer Sichot Chajim vonChajim Me’ir Jechi’el vonMoglince.¹³ Die folgende Übertragung aus

 Vglz.B.Talmud Erubin 53b: „R. Jehošuá b. Hananja sagte:Lebtagsbesiegtemich niemand als eine Frau,ein Knabe und ein Mädchen“ usw.(Lazarus Goldschmidt, Übers., Der Babylonische Talmud, 3. Aufl. (Königstein i.T.:Jüdischer Verlag 1980), 2. Bd., 160.  „Es sei“,erklärteSimon, „aber was hat deine zweite Geschichtemit Lublin zu tun?“ Der „Jude“ war mit einem Schlage,wie er damals beim Anblick des Rabbi errötet war,leichenblaß geworden. „Da redet ihr immerzu“,sagte er,ohne aufzusehen, leise, aber so, daß es stärker zu hörenwar als ein lauter Ruf, „vomExil der Schechina, da klagt ihr,daß sie in der Fremde um- herirrt,erschöpft hinsinkt,amBoden liegt.Und das ist kein Gerede, es ist ganz wirklich so, ihr könnt ihr aufder Landstraße der Welt begegnen. Aber was tut ihr,wenn ihr ihr begegnet?Streckt ihr ihr die Hand entgegen? Helft ihr ihr vomStaub der Landstraße auf? Undwer sollte ihr auf- helfen, wenn nicht die Männer vonLublin?“ Ebd., 49.  Chajim Me’ir Jechi’el, Sefer Sichot Chajim (Perikau 1914), 9. Am Schluss Or Ha-Ganuz – der hebräischen Ausgabedes Die Erzählungen der Chassidim – verzeichnete Buber die Quellen seiner Bearbeitungen. Bubersschöpferischer Dialog mit einer chassidischen Legende 95 dem Hebräischen bleibt dem Text möglichst wortwörtlich treu, die häufigen Ab- kürzungenwurden allerdings aufgelöst.

E[in] M[al] wanderteder H[eilige]Jude, [sein] A[ndenken] z[um Leben] i[m] J[enseits], mit seinen Schülern im Feld, und sie begegneten einem Unbeschnittenen, der einen WagenHeu führte. Und der Wagenwar umgestürzt. Der Unbeschnittene rief zum H[eiligen] Juden und seinen Schülern, [ihr] A[ndenken] z[um Leben] i[m] J[enseits], sie sollen ihm helfen, den Wagenaufzurichten und das Heuzuladen. Und sie gingen, um ihm das Heu laden zu helfen, konnten ihm mit ihrerKraft aber nicht helfen. Der Unbeschnittene wurde aufsie zornigund sagte ihnen in polnischer Sprache, „Mozesz ale nie chcesz“ [=„Du kannst es, willst aber nicht,“ polnisch], d.h., er war aufsie zornig, weil die das Heu hätten heben können, es aber nicht wollten. Darauf sagte der H[eilige]Jude zu seinen Schülern:

„Ihr hört,was der Unbeschnittene sagt: Er sagt uns, dass wir den [Buchstaben] ‘H’ im Namen [Gottes] erheben können, dass wir es aber nicht wollen,“ s[o] w[eit seine] h[eiligen] W[orte].

Auffällig ist einmal die Mehrsprachigkeit,die in Bubers Bearbeitungen den lite- rarischenSprachkonventionen seiner Zeit vollständig zum Opfer fiel. Der Text ist grundsätzlich Hebräisch, und zwar rabbinisches Hebräisch, mit geringer Beach- tung der klassischenGrammatik, beinhaltet aber auch einen Satzauf Polnisch. Im Hintergrund lässt sich auch nochdas Jiddische hören, die Alltagssprache der Chassidim, in welcher die Anekdote, sofern sie einer konkreten Wirklichkeit entsprach, tatsächlichstattgefunden hat.Der jiddische Hintergrundist unent- behrlichzum Verstehen der Anekdote, denn sie beruht aufeinem Wortspiel: „der [Buchstabe] ‘H’ im Namen Gottes“ [=JHVH, Jehova] – der hebräischen Name dieses Buchstaben ist Hey – ist eine Anspielungauf das Heu, jiddisch Hey,das die Chassidim heben sollten. Die Übertragung der Moral vondem Heuwagen aufGott beruht alsoinder Vorlagenichtauf einer Allegorie, wie in Bubers Bearbeitung, sondern aufder Klangähnlichkeit zweier verschiedener Wörter aufHebräisch und Jiddisch. Aufder Handlungsebene geht es in der Vorlageumden gescheiterten Versuch zu helfen, und zwar vordem Vorwurfdes Bauern, genauwie in Bubers erster Bearbeitung.Damit ist die „Richtung“ vonBubers Bearbeitungen bestätigt: seine zweiteBearbeitung ist vonder Vorlageweiter entfernt als die erste. Ein weiterer Unterschied zwischen der Vorlageund Bubers Bearbeitungen lässt sich in Hin- blick aufdie Akteureerkennen. In der Vorlagesind es „der Jude“ und seine Schüler,die zusammen spazierengehen; bei Buber wandert „der Jude“ allein. DieserUnterschied zwischen Vorlageund Bearbeitung ist bereits Bubers Schüler und Freund, dem Philosophen und Pädagogen Ernst Simon (1899–1988), aufgefallen.¹⁴ Simon wollte es als Betonungdes Dialogischen verstehen: Die Ge-

 Simon, „Martin Buber ve’emunat yisra’el“ (s.o., Anm. 5), 34. 96 Ran HaCohen genüberstellung vonRabbi und Bauer wirke stärkerdialogisch als die einer ganzen chassidischen Schulklasse und der Figureines Bauern. Auch die Di- mension des Wunders komme besser zur Geltung, wenn die Szene nur ausBauer und „dem Juden“ besteht,als wenn eine Gruppe vonSchülern involviert ist; denn das Aufrichten des Heuwagens – und damit die Macht des Willen – sei umso bemerkenswerter,jewenigerPersonen daran beteiligensind. Aufdiese letztere AussageSimons wollen wirspäter noch zurückkommen.Vorerst ist zu bemerken, dass diese Modifikation der involvierten AkteureBuber dazu veranlasst hat,die Anekdoteinzwei zeitlich (in den Bearbeitungen immer weiter voneinander)ge- trennteSzenen zu unterteilen.Dadie Schüler ausliterarischenÜberlegungen im ersten Teil der Anekdoteunpassend geworden waren, musste die zweite, spätere Szene „am Abenddieses Tages“ fingiert werden, um Raum für die moralische Schlussfolgerung zu schaffen,die nun nicht mehr,wie in der Vorlage, bereits an Ort und Stelle, also beim Heuwagen im Feld, erfolgte. Besonders auffällig ist für den „modernen“ Leser zweifelsohne die mehrmals wiederholte Bezeichnung „Unbeschnittener“ für den vonBuber einfach als Bauer bezeichneten Antagonisten. Am Anfang des 20.Jahrhunderts, als Buber begann, seine Bearbeitung chassidischer Texte zu veröffentlichen, gabesdurchaus jüdi- sche Bauern,sowohl in Europa wieauch in Palästina; Bubers Bauer wird aller- dingsweder explizit als Jude noch als Nicht-Jude beschrieben, seine Gruppen- identität bleibt einfach dahingestellt, und ist im Text völlig irrelevant.Nicht so in der chassidischen Vorlage. Hier wurde die Bezeichnung „Unbeschnittener“– hebr. ‛arel,eine eindeutig pejorative Bezeichnung mit Bezugnahme aufdie Kör- perlichkeit,deutlich pejorativerals gängige wie nochri, goj oder akum – nicht wenigerals vier Mal wiederholt.Außerdem geht ausdem Text hervor,dass der „Unbeschnittene“ Polnisch spricht – eine weitere Bestätigung, in der Form des telling,seines „Unbeschnittenseins“,was gleich darauf, als showing,durch seine Aussageauf Polnisch nochverstärktwird. Darüber hinaus wird der „Unbe- schnittene“ als zornig dargestellt. Auch seine lakonischen Worte, die er an „den Juden“ richtet,wirken misstrauisch und respektlos. Hier ist Bubers Anpassungam radikalsten: Im Sinne der „deutsch-jüdischen Symbiose,“ oder eines egalitären Humanismus im allgemeinen, wurdedie feindliche Gegenüberstellung Jude-Un- beschnittener durch einen verbindlichenDialog zwischen dem Rabbi und dem nicht explizit als Nicht-Jude bezeichneten Bauern ersetzt.

*** Wasist aber der Sinn der chassidischen Anekdoteinihrem ursprünglichen Kontext?Warum wird das „Unbeschnittensein“ des Antagonisten so sehr betont? Um dies besser zu verstehen – denn vonunseren Erwartungen und Schemataals Leser müssen wir uns gerade verabschieden – wollen wir jetzt den tatsächlichen Bubersschöpferischer Dialog mit einer chassidischen Legende 97

Kontext der Vorlageheranziehen. Unmittelbarnach der bereits zitiertenVorlage steht der folgende Text,der mit einer deutlichen Leseanweisungbeginnt:¹⁵

Undeine Geschichte wie diese passiertea[uch] dem Sabba Kadischa ausRadoschitz, [sein] A [ndenken] z[um Leben] i[m] J[enseits]. E[in] M[al] am Markttaggingder h[eilige]R[abbi], um bei einem Unbeschnittenen einen WagenHolz zu kaufen. Undder Unbeschnittene wolltefür das Holz vier Gulden, und der h[eilige]R[abbi] wollte nicht mehr als drei Gulden ausgeben, und als sich der h[eilige]R[abbi] mit ihm nicht einigenkonnte,kehrte er ihm den Rücken, und der Unbeschnittene rief ihm in polnischer Sprache nach, „Poprawcie to kupicie“ [=„Verbesser, dann kaufe“,polnisch], und der Radoschitzer verstand nicht,was er sagte, und fragte einen Juden, der dabei war, „was schreit der Unbeschnittene, was habe ich ihm angetan?“,und derjenige Jude legteihm aus, dass der Unbeschnittene ihm sagt, „as er sol sech ferbesseren, wet er kennen koifen“ [„Wenn er sich verbessert,wirderkaufen können“,jiddisch] und der SabbaKadische hat d[arüber] gesagt: „selbst der Unbeschnittene sieht ein, as ich badarf sech zu ferbesseren [=“dass ich mich verbessern soll“,jiddisch]“,und sofort schloss er sich zu Hause ein und untersuchteseine Taten.

Die beiden aufeinanderfolgenden Anekdoten weisen auffälligeÄhnlichkeit in Struktur,Handlungund Stil auf, die auch deren Verfasser bzw.Sammler nicht entging. In beiden geht es um eine Begegnung zwischen einem Rabbi und einem so genannten „Unbeschnittenen“,eine Bezeichnung,die hier sogar sechsmal wiederholtwird. In beiden Texten ist der Nicht-Jude aufden Rabbi böse, spricht einen kurzen Satz aufPolnisch, und verschwindet dann. Daraufzieht der Rabbi eine chassidisch-religiöseLehre mittels Dekontextualisierung der Worte seines Antagonisten. Diese Dekontextualisierung ist nichtals Missverständnis zu deuten; der Rabbi interpretiert die Worte des Nicht-Juden absichtlich außerhalb deren ursprünglichen Kontextes, der für den Rabbi keine Relevanz hat. Die Bedeutung der beiden Anekdoten versteht sich ausder kabbalistischen Lehreder Funken.¹⁶ Nach der lurianischen Kabbala waren bei der Schöpfung der Welt die göttlichen Funken in unreine Abgründe gefallen; es ist die Aufgabe der Gerechten, diese Funken ausdem Abgrund zu retten und einzusammeln, um dadurch die Erlösung der Welt zu beschleunigen. Um dieses Einsammeln der Funken geht es auch in den Anekdoten: Der Rabbi sammelt die heiligen Funken ausdem unreinen Abgrund. Je unreiner der Abgrund, desto größer ist auch das Verdienst des Rabbi. Deshalb muss die „Unreinheit“ des Nicht-Juden möglichst betont werden, und es muss gerade ein „Unbeschnittener“ sein – also weder Jude noch einfach ein Nicht-Jude – wie die Texte so oft wiederholen. Der Bauer bzw.der Marktverkäufer wird also als zorniger,frecher,ungebildeterund polnisch redender

 Jechi’el, Sefer Sichot Chajim [s.o. Anm. 13], 9f.  Siehe Gershom Scholem, Kabbalah (Jerusalem: Keter,1974), 138f. 98 Ran HaCohen

„Unbeschnittener“ beschrieben, um damit die Tiefe des Abgrundes und das Verdienst des Rabbi hervorzuheben.

*** Diese ausder chassidischen Quelle selbst hervorgehendeInterpretation ändert den Sinn der Heuwagen-Legende entscheidend. Demzufolge geht es in der Vorlage nämlich weder um „Können und Wollen“ noch um „bei einemBauern in die Lehre gehen“.Vielmehr geht es um die Fähigkeit des Rabbi – mittels „schöpferischer“ Ausdeutung – die göttlichen Funken ausdem unreinen Abgrund einzusammeln. Die beiden Figuren, Rabbi und Bauer,stehen nicht analog zueinander, sondern sind gerade als Antipoden angelegt, als heiliger Rabbi und unreiner Unbe- schnittener.Sie sind in der Legende nicht gleich-, sondern einander gegenüber- gestellt, und diese Gegenüberstellungwird im Text möglichst zugespitzt.Nur der Rabbi kann die heiligen Funken einsammeln und die moralischen Schlüsse ziehen, keinesfalls aber der Unbeschnittene,wie in Bubers zweiter Bearbeitung.Auch vonder Bescheidenheit und Lernbereitschaft des Rabbi kann in der ursprüngli- chen Legende keine Rede sein. Hier entsteht die Größe des Rabbi vielmehr ausder Geringschätzung des Nicht-Juden heraus. Es versteht sich nun, dass in dieser Urfassungder Geschichte ein Dialog zwischendem Rabbi und dem so genannten Unbeschnittenen ausgeschlossenist,dadieser dem Geist der ursprünglichen Legende völlig widerspräche. Eine Frage, die offen bleibt,ist,obder Heuwagen in der chassidischen Vorlage tatsächlichaufgerichtet wurde. Der Text äußert sich dazu nicht,man kann aber annehmen, dass es dazu nicht gekommen ist,sowie auch in der zweiten Legende das Holz nicht verkauft wurde. Aufjeden Fall ist diese Fragedem chassidischen Text völlig fremd.Esgeht dem Text wohl nicht um den Wagen, sondern um das Heu; und auch nicht um das tatsächliche Heu, sondern um seine Umdeutungals Buchstaben des Namen Gottes.Das Verhältnis zum so genannten Unbeschnitte- nen ist keine Ich-Du-Beziehung, sondern eine Ich-Es-Beziehung.Erselbst,seine Probleme und seine Äußerungen dienenlediglich dazu, das Verdienst des Rabbi zu unterstreichen;darüber hinaus sind sie belanglos. Aufgrund der impliziten Annahme des Lesers,dass der Wagendoch aufgerichtet wurde (s.o.), wird die Machtder literarischen Konventionen und der Buberschen Bearbeitung sichtbar, die sogar einen einfühlsamen und hochgebildeten Leser wie Ernst Simon irre- zuführen vermochten.

*** Zusammenfassend kann man feststellen, dass Buber,wenn auch mittels sehr geringer Modifikationen im Text,den ursprünglichen Charakter der chassidischen Legende grundlegend verändert hat.Inder ersten Bearbeitung genügte der Aus- Bubersschöpferischer Dialog mit einer chassidischen Legende 99 tausch des „Unbeschnittenen“ durch die Figurdes Bauern, um den Charakter des Erzählten wesentlich zu ändern. In der zweiten Bearbeitung wurde die Umge- staltungweitergeführt und zugespitzt,ineine Richtungallerdings,die bereits in der ersten Bearbeitung erkennbar war.Sowurde die chassidische Legende, deren Lehreetwa folgender Maßen lautet: „Auch in den unreinsten Umgebungen, nämlich bei einemzornigen Nicht-Juden,weiß der Rabbi einenheiligen Funken zu finden,“ zu einer Anekdotemit universell-menschlicher Moral, mit dem Tenor: „Wo ein Wille ist,daist auch ein Weg,“ oder „Vonjedem, auch voneinem ein- fachenBauern, kann man etwas lernen.“ Kann man also Buber eine Verzerrung,jasogar Verfälschung des Chassidis- mus vorwerfen?Die Frage, inwiefern Bubers Darstellungdes Chassidismus dem wirklichenChassidismus treu ist,war bekanntermaßen das Thema einer hitzigen Diskussion zwischenBuber,seinen Anhängern und seinen Kritikern, mit Ger- schom Scholem als dem Bekanntesten unter Letzteren.¹⁷ Gerade die hier behan- delteLegende kann die beiden Positionen verdeutlichen. Einerseits,wie bereits gesagt,ist Bubers Bearbeitung des chassidischen Stoffes alles andere als histo- ristischtreu. Buber hat die Legende ausihrem ursprünglichen Kontext heraus- gerissen und ihr seineeigene, ihr aber fremde Moral zugeschrieben. In dieser Hinsicht ist die historistische Kritik an Buber gerechtfertigt; man könntefast von einer Vergegnung – wieBuber eine verfehlteBegegnung zu bezeichnen pflegte – sprechen, in welcher Buber den Quellen seineeigene Auffassung aufdrückte. Andererseits weist gerade dieser re-interpretative Vorgang die größte Ähnlichkeit mit dem chassidischen Text selbst auf, denn schließlich hat Buber den Text der Legende genauso behandelt,wie derenProtagonist – der „Heilige Jude“ nämlich – mit der Aussagedes Nicht-Juden im Text umging. In dieser Hinsicht ist Bubers Bearbeitung zwar nichthistoristisch, jedoch dem Geist der Vorlageals lebendiger Tradition treu geblieben, wie Buber selbst zu seiner Verteidigungsagte. Es ging Buber nicht um eine historistische Wiedergabe seiner chassidischen Vorlage, sondern um einen Dialog mit ihr als lebendigem Wesen, um eine Begegnung im vollen Sinne, die etwas Neues schafft.

 Siehe oben, Anm. 4.

Irene Kajon Religio Today: The Concept of Religion in Martin Buber’sThought

The aim of my contribution is to bring out the originality and contemporary rele- vanceofBuber’sconcept of religion. First,Ishalltry to show how original this concept is compared with the meaningsthathavebeengiven to the Latin term religio in the history of thought and culture. This term has been adopted by various European languages: in present usage,the German word Religion,English religion,French religion,Spanish religión,and Italian religione have the same meaning the Latin term religio had. Therefore, probingthe denotations attributed to the original Latinterm perforceentails pondering the phenomenon of religion in present dayEurope and in all the societies influenced by European culture – from Western to Eastern countries.Second, Ishalltry to show how relevant Bub- er’sconcept of religion is for us, giventhe often unfortunate consequences religio,ifcharacterized by violence and intolerance, has. The following exposition is divided in three parts. In the first Ishallfocus on the various meanings religio had in the Romanand Christian world, and note the historical impact these conceptions of religio have had up to present-day society. In the second part of the paper,Ishall consider the meaning that Buber givesthe term “religion,” with particular reference to Ichund Du (1923). Specifically, Iwill highlight his distinctive interpretation of religion as the onlypossibleway out of the existential crisis of contemporary man. In the third part,Ishalltry to clarify brieflyhow through meditations on biblical and philosophical texts – which he publishedinthe forties and fifties of the previous century – he sought to illumi- nate for his readersameans to re-appropriatereligion.

The term religio: Does it derive from relegere or religare?

In the Roman world it was Cicero(106–43 BCE) who provided an etymologyof the word religio when he distinguishesitfrom superstitio (superstition). In his work De naturadeorum he writes:

Accipimus […]deorum cupiditates, aegritudines, iracundias.[…]Cultus autemdeorum est optimus idemquecastissimus atque sanctissimus plenissimusque pietatis ut eos semper pura, integra, incorrupta et menteetvoce veneremur.Non enim philosophi solum, 102 Irene Kajon

verum etiam maiores nostri superstitionem areligione separaverunt.Nam qui totos dies precabantur et immolabant ut sibi sui liberi superstites essent superstitiosi sunt appellati, quod nomen patuit postea latius.Qui autem omnia quae ad cultum deorum pertinerent dil- igenterretractarent et tamquam relegerent,sunt dicti religiosi ex relegendo ut elegantesex eligendo tamquam adiligendo diligentes, ex intellegendo intellegentes; his enim in verbis omnibus inest vis legendi eadem quae in religioso. Itafactum est in superstitiosoetreligio- so alterum vitii nomen, alterum laudis.¹

We receive […]the desires, diseases and furies of the gods. […]But the cult of the gods is excellent,absolutelypureand holy, and full of piety so that they areworshipped with both an uncorrupted mind and voice. Not onlythe philosophers, but our ancestors tooseparated superstition from religion. Those whooffered prayers and sacrifices every daysothat their children might survive them arecalled superstitious, aword[whose meaning] was extended afterwards, while those who diligentlyreconsidered and seemed to be goingoverand over again everythingthat concerned the cultofthe gods,are called religious from relegendo (reread),just as they arecalled elegant from eligendo (elect) and diligent from diligendo (favour), and intelligent from intellegendo (understand); all these verbs have the same force as “re-read” in religious.Inthis waythe superstitious and the religious acquired aname that was either reprehensible or praiseworthy.

Ciceroascribes to the word religio ameaning that corresponds exactlytothe conception then current in ancient Rome regarding the proper attitude one was to assume towards the gods: those who follow scrupulouslythe ceremonies and practices established by tradition are deemed religious;those who love their children more thantheir parents,and so are incessantlyintroducing new forms of worship and prayer,almostasifthey wanted to forcethe gods to protect and defend their progeny,evenafter their death, are superstitious. Religio in the Roman world is expressed through the link between past and present,and between the individual and the gods who dominate every particularaspect of life: religio consisted of liturgical and sacred practices in pre-determined times and places,either to be held in certain seasons of the year or on certain set occasions, or,inthe case of events that weresurprising or unexpected, of practices that could be introduced without breakingthe rules that allow continuity between generations, however differentlythose rules might be applied. In the Christian worlditwas the Church Father Lactantius (250 –327) who in disputing Cicero’sconception of religio,also dwelt on the term’setymology. In book four, “De vera sapientia et religione”,ofhis work Divinae Institutiones,Lac- tantius, like Cicero, underlines the differencebetween religio and superstitio:

Quae cum ita se habeant,utostendimus,apparetnullam aliam spem vitae homini esse pro- positam, nisi ut abjectis vanitatibus et erroremiserabili, Deum cognoscat et Deo serviat,

 Cicero, De naturadeorum,II, 70 – 72. Religio Today: The Concept of Religion in Martin Buber’sThought 103

nisi huic temporali renuntiet vitae, ac se rudimentis justitiae ad cultum verae religionis instituat.Hac enim conditione gignimur,utgeneranti nos Deo justa et debita obsequia praebeamus;hunc solum noverimus,hunc sequamur.Hoc vinculo pietatis obstricti Deo et religati sumus;unde ipsa religionomen accepit, non ut Cicero interpretatus est, arelegendo. […]Haec interpretatio quam inepta sit,exreipsa licet noscere. […]Sisemel facere, optimum est,quantomagis saepius?[…]Quod argumentum etiam ex contrario valet: si enim totosdies precari et immolare criminis est; ergo et semel. […]Nimirum religio veri cultusest,superstitio falsi. Et omnino quid colas interest,non quemadmodumcolas, sed quid precere. […]Superstitiosi ergo qui multosacfalsos deos colunt.Nos autemreligio- si, qui uni et vero Deo supplicamus.²

Things beingaswehaveshown, it is clear that human life is givennoother hope than knowingGod and serving God, oncevanities and wretched errorhavebeen abandoned, re- nouncingthis earthlylife and dedicatingoneself to the principles of justicegoverningthe practice of the true religion. In fact we were created [literally, generated], so that we might offer the right and proper signsofsubmission to the God who has created [generated] us, that we might know Him onlyand follow Him only. With this bond of piety we aresubju- gated and bound to God; religion receivedits name from this and not,asCicero interpreted it,from “re-read”.[…]One can see from the thingitself how inappropriate this interpretation is. […]Ifdoingsomethingonceonlyisexcellent,how much moresocan it be to do it moreoften?[…]This argument also holds ex contrario: if it is acrime to prayand sacrifice every day, then it is to do so even once. […]Ofcourse, religion is the cult of the truth, and superstition the cultofthe false. And onlywhat youadorematters, not how youadoreit, but what youpray. […]Sothose whoadoremanyfalse gods aresuperstitious,while we are religious because we pray to the one true God.

Lactantius,wemay note, does not understand Cicero’sthought regarding the opposition of religio and superstitio: he simplyidentifies superstitio with an excessive repetition of acts of worship rather than with an attitude of the soul regarding those actions which involve arupture between fathersand sons, the past and the present,asmentioned above. UnlikeCicero, Lactantius does not regard conduct as fundamental to religio,but knowledge of the true God.The God that Lac- tantius appeals to is the God who enters into relation with the individual, with- drawshim from the world, and ensureshis salvation in eternal life. Religion owes its name not to the heart and mind going back over what has already been done, to relegere,but to being bound to aGod who made himself known to men by cominginto the world, to religare. What is essentialtoreligio are truth as astate of thingsrevealed to men, and the relation between man and God: this relation isolates man from the world, obliges him to go back inside himself, to find in his inner life the presenceofaGod who redeems him by suffering on his behalf on the cross and rising again to eternal life. Religio means

 Lactantius, Divinae Institutiones,IV, 28. 104 Irene Kajon the bond between God and man: God will save him if he believes in Him and follows His example. In the history of European culture, these two contrasting meaningsofthe term religio – one current in the ancient world, the other affirmedatthe time of the formation of Christian theology – have been interwoven and have given rise to various manifestations. Accordingly, religio became further enriched and took on new connotations. Andthis interweaving and enrichment took place despite the Church’sconflict with paganism at the time of the decline of the Roman Empire. In order to appreciatehow religious practice and profession of the truth of the kinship of manwith God wereequallycelebratedand placed in close connection as two sides of the believer’slife, one need but consider the fact that in manyplaces the Church took over the pre-existing cult of the divin- ities worshipped, for instance,bythe peoples residingonthe borders of the Em- pire that it had converted, transformingitaccordingtoits owntheological teachings. The intimate relation between religious practice and confession is also attested to by the fact that conscientious adherencetoceremonialand liturgical rules was conjoined in mediaeval Christian civilisation with the elaboration of the doctrines concerning the revelation, and by the fact that the link between man and God was not considered by Christianityinthe modernage,particularly by Protestantism, as independent of the actions performedinthe world. But the history of religio is also ahistory rivenbywarsand tragic conflicts – areality thatraises until this very dayunresolvedproblems,which are inherent in religio conceivedinterms of these two meanings. In fact, religio as the reiter- ation of acts designed to praise the divinity or to pray for health and prosperity for oneself and those close to one – one’sfamily, one’scommunity,one’speople – might be considered as the precursor of religio as aformoflife characterizinga givengroup of human beingsand setting them apart from other groups and in- commensurable with them. And religio as the relation of man with aGod who redeems man contingent on belief in His revelation, beyond the use of reason or attention towardshuman relations in this world, might be seen as the precursor of religio as the unshakable affirmation of atranscendent truth and its attendant criticism of away of life inspired onlybyhuman experience.Inthe first case, there is the risk of religious pluralism without anypossibility of communication between different religious communities,and the consequent engen- dering of self-enclosure, of aconservative posture bound by rules and regulations, wary of all that is new as posing adanger and menace. In the second case there is the risk of dogmatism and intolerance towards thosewho do not share the truth proclaimed by the religious authorities and institutions founded on revelation. While in the first case the human being runs the risk of beingen- chained to the conditions of one’sbirth, to the group he belongsto, and to col- Religio Today: The Concept of Religion in Martin Buber’sThought 105 lective custom, at the loss of individual freedom, in the second case the human being runs the risk of being crushed by atruth that does not admit discussion and differences.Truth in this latter case is imposed on everybody: onlybyrecog- nizing it,isredemption possible, and every other attitude towards God is judged false. Religio,then, whether it derivesfrom relegere or from religare,contains el- ementsthat harbinger religious conflicts. Of course, thepath leadingfromCiceroand Lactantiustoour eraisalongone. Butthe ideas of religio that they sustain arenot wholly innocent of theevilsthat religio produces in our ageand oursocieties. On the other hand,contemporaryphi- losophythat does not appeal to religion – eitherbecause of itssceptical, naturalistic or historicisttendencies,orbecause it has turned towards mysticism, in thewakeof Nietzsche andthe late Heidegger – doesnot seem able to offer an alternative to re- ligionfor those whowant to affirm humanism or defend thedignity of man.³

Religion in “Ich undDu”

Throughout the various stages of Buber’swork, the term “religion” has been inflected with distinctive meanings: it is never used in either the sense of aseries of practices connected with adivine cult,orinthe sense of arelation between man and atranscendent God,inthe sense thatcrystallized in the earlycenturies of the Christian era. In the lecture entitled Jüdische Religiosität,given in Prague in 1913,latercollected in VomGeist des Judentums (1916), and then in Reden über das Judentum (1923),⁴ Buber opposes Religiosität as aproductive,creative forceto Religion as aseries of forms, ceremonies and doctrines originallyinstantiated by this force. While Religion in Judaism denotes aheritagehanded down in along tradition, the father who teacheshis children about the God in whom they should believe, and inculcates obedience to ritual and liturgical precepts, Reli- giosität means the individual’schoice and decision and the children setting themselvesfree to find their own path to the Absolute. Thus, this earlytext by Buber distinguishes religio in two different moments, one subjective or personal in character,full of vitality,and the other objectiveand stable: the first moment

 On the nihilistic trend in contemporary philosophy, elucidated – amongothers – by Karl Löw- ith, Leo Strauss, Emmanuel Levinas,and the necessity for contemporary thoughttotakeup againKant’sprogram of the defenceofhuman rights against empiricismonthe one hand, and metaphysical dreams on the other,see Irene Kajon, ContemporaryJewishPhilosophy.AnIn- troduction (London: Routledge,2006).  Martin Buber, VomGeist des Judentums (Leipzig: Kurt Wolff, 1916); Reden über das Judentum (Frankfurt a. M.: Rütten &Loening,1923); 2. ed. (Berlin: Schocken Verlag,1932). 106 IreneKajon proves able to give new impulsetothe second when this becomes onlyasign without asignification. This revitalization of the objectivestructure of religion through asubjective moment is inspired by the dialectic between the “life” and the “forms” propounded by GeorgSimmel, one of Buber’sphilosophyteach- ers in Berlin in 1898–99.⁵ But it was onlyduring World WarOne that Buber elaborated his idea of religion as the very reality of the relation (Beziehung)between I, Thou – whether belongingtothe world of nature, plant or animal, or human being,or“spiritual entities,” that is, works that have come to be through the creative human spirit – and the eternal Thou (God). Religion is the very fact of this relation, the lyrical-dramatic moment of human existence, the miraculous event that indicates to manhis humanity, the most precious moment of his life. In her book Buber’sWay to “Iand Thou”,⁶ RivkaHorwitz analyzes Buber’s lectures “Religion als Gegenwart” that he delivered at the behest of Rosenzweig at the “Freies JüdischesLehrhaus” in Frankfurt from January to March 1922. She also examines the correspondence between Buber and Rosenzweigregarding the lecture. Horwitz’sstudyreveals that in May1922Buber gave the title of Ich und Du to the text that emergedfrom these lessons. He had not yetgiven up, however,his original plan of writing awork in five volumes whose aim wastodescribe Religion or,more precisely, Religiöses Leben,and explore how it takes shape and the different forms it has in human existence. Thisplan came to naught.But Ich und Du,which was readyfor the press in December 1922,still contains the signs of this broader project: the word Religion is preciselydefined when its meaning in the text is differentiated from that of ordinary usage, formed through the pre- dominant directions of the history of European culture. There are passages in Ichund Du in which the term “religion” appears in inverted commas.These passages do not present the author’sconcept of religion so much as that of some modernphilosophers (Buber seems to be thinking partic- ularlyofSchleiermacher’s On Religion and Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, though he does not mention them) or the common wayofconsideringreligion. We find, for example, an appealtothe “religiöse Situation” of maninthe third part of the book:here Buber discusses the “antinomy” and “paradox” of

 On Buber’seducation, cf. MauriceFriedman, Martin Buber’sLife and Work,(New York: Dut- ton, 1981), vol. 1: “TheEarly Years1878–1923.”GeorgSimmel expounds his thoughtonthe relation between the “life” and the “forms” in “Der Begriff und die Tragödie der Kultur,” in Simmel, Philosophische Kultur.Gesammelte Essais (Leipzig: A. Kroner,1911), 245–277.  RivkaHorwitz, Buber’sWay to “Iand Thou”:AnHistorical Analysis and the FirstPublication of Martin Buber’sLectures “Religion als Gegenwart” (Heidelberg: Lothar Stiem, 1978). About Buber’s path towards Ich und Du,cf. also Paul Mendes-Flohr, Vonder Mystikzum Dialog. Martin Bubers geistige Entwicklung bis hin zu “Ich und Du” (Königstein i.T.:Jüdischer Verlag,1979). Religio Today: The Concept of Religion in Martin Buber’sThought 107 human existencethatisboth in time and in the eternal, in the finite and in the infinite, in necessity and in freedom, and cannot escape these contrasting real- ities, although one maytry to reconcile them in thought.⁷ Or we find an appeal to the “religiöser Mensch” when he recalls how religion is beyond the pure ethical moment,inasphere in which man is alone before God in silence and detached from the world.⁸ In other passages, however,itisthe author himself who offers his meditation on Religion (this time without inverted commas) starting from the very event to which the Religionen allude and whose deeper sense he is seeking. In the final pages of Ichund Du Buber writes:

Das ewigeDukann seinem Wesen nach nichtzum Es werden;weilesseinem Wesen nach nicht in Mass und Grenze, auch nichtindas Mass des Unermesslichen unddie Grenzedes Unbegrenzten gesetztwerdenkann.[…]Und doch machen wirdas ewige Du immerwieder zum Es, zum Etwas, machen Gott zum Ding – unseremWesen nach. Nichtaus Willkür. […]Das ausgesagte Wissen und das gesetztetun derReligionen – woher kommen sie? […]Die Erklärung hat zwei Schichten. Die äussere, psychische erkennen wir,wennwir denMenschen fürsich, vonder Geschichte abgelöst betrachten; dieinnere, faktische,das Urphänomender Religion,wennwir ihn sodannin die Geschichtewiedereinstellen.Beide gehörenzusammen.⁹

The eternal Thou cannot by itsvery nature become It;for by virtue of its nature itcannot be established in measure and bounds,not even in the measure of the immeasurable, or the bounds of boundlessbeing. […]And yetinaccordance with our nature we arecontinuallymak- ingthe eternal Thou into It, into some thing – makingGod into athing. Notindeed out of ar- bitraryself-will.[…]What is theoriginofthe expressed knowledge and orderedaction of the religions? […]The explanation hastwo layers.Weunderstandthe outerpsychicallayer when we consider maninhimself, separated from history,and the innerfactuallayer,the primal phe- nomenonofreligion,whenwereplacehim in history.Thesetwo layers belongtogether.¹⁰

Religion is constituted by continuous alternation of the relation between man and the eternal Thou and the human expression of that relation as an It:this latter It-expression necessarilygrows out of the primal relation to the Eternal Thou, although it is unfaithful to the essence of religion and to our religious life.Reli- gion refers to the human being who is both an individual, whose soul is before God, and amember of acommunity,which finds itself in aparticularspace and time. Thusreligion embraces within itself both the relation between the Iand the

 Martin Buber, Ich und Du,inBuber, Werke (München-Heidelberg: Kösel Verlag,1962),vol. 1: 142– 43.Cf. Soeren Kierkegaard, FrygtogBaeven [Fear and Trembling], 1843.  Martin Buber, Ich und Du,151.Cf. Friedrich Schleiermacher, Ueber Religion. Reden an die Ge- bildeten unter ihren Verächtern [On Religion. Speeches to Its Cultured Despisers], 1799.  Martin Buber, Ich und Du,154f.  Martin Buber, Iand Thou, trans.Ronald Gregor Smith (New York: Charles Scribner’sSons, 1958),112f. 108 Irene Kajon eternal Thou,and the I-Thou relation that takes place in the world and in history. Buber writes, completing his thought on religion as an elementary,primitive, spontaneous phenomenon of human life:

In Wahrheit […]kann diereine Beziehungzuraumzeitlicher Stetigkeit nur auferbaut werden, indemsie sich an der ganzen Materiedes Lebens verleiblicht. Siekann nicht bewahrt,nur be- währt,sie kann nur getan, nurindas Lebeneingetan werden. […]Die echteBürgschaft derDauer besteht darin, dass diereineBeziehungerfüllt werden kann im Du-werden der Wesen, in ihrer Erhebungzum Du, dass das heilige Grundwort sich in allen austönt.[…]Und so besteht dieechte Bürgschaft der Raumstetigkeit darin,dass dieBeziehungender Menschenzuihrem wahren Du, dieRadien, dievon allden Ichpunkten zur Mitteausgehn,einen Kreisschaffen.Nicht diePe- ripherie, nicht die Gemeinschaft istdas erste, sondern dieRadien, die Gemeinsamkeitder Be- ziehungzur Mitte. Sie allein gewährleistetden echtenBestand derGemeinde.¹¹

Actually[…]purerelation can onlyberaised to constancy in spaceand time by beingem- bodied in the whole stuff of life. It cannot be preserved, but onlyprovedtrue, onlydone, onlydone up into life. […]The authentic assurance of constancy in spaceconsists in the fact that purerelation can be fulfilled in the growth and rise of beings into Thou, the holyprimary wordmakes itself heardinthem all. […]Thus,too, the authentic assurance of constancyinspaceconsists in the fact that men’srelations with their true Thou,the ra- dial lines that come from all the points of the I to the Centre, form acircle. It is not the periphery,the community,that comesfirst,but the radii, the common quality of relation with the Centre. This alone guarantees the authenticexistenceofthe community.¹²

In this way religio in Ichund Du appears as what reallycharacterizes man: it is not aspecial sphere of life, but indicates the highest moment of life, that which allows all the other moments to take on meaning too. The I-Thou Beziehung (relation)ismanifest in religion: and this concerns boththe I-Thou relations of human beingswith each otherand with other vital finite beings, and the relations between the I’sand the eternal Thou – the formerevent not being separa- ble from the latter.Objectivity – the world of It – presupposes the kingdom of living,animated subjectivities because these alone are the knowing I’s, and thereforegivecontinuity to time and structure to space: what unites the subjectivities is not the Logos, but what Buber defines as “love” (Liebe) – not “sentiment” (Gefühl), but “reality” (Wirklichkeit) – or as “spirit” (Geist). But “spirit” as it allows the “between” (Zwischen)tobeestablished is not amediating element thatcan be hypostatized or substantiated: “spirit” is effective onlyinits unifying function of different beings; it is aforcethat is not an independent being.Buber replaces the God or the All of Spinoza and his followers with a God who does not denyhuman freedom: initiallyfreedom is obtained in the re-

 Ich und Du, 156.  Iand Thou,114f. Religio Today: The Concept of Religion in Martin Buber’sThought 109 lation with the eternal Thou,asknowledge and loveofHim, and then it is also manifest in free choice of individuals to pursue this relation. So human beings become what they are onlythrough religion. Subsequent to Ich und Du,inEclipse of God,published in 1952,¹³ Buber would reflectanew on religion as that primary dimension of human existence, which moderncivilisation risks forgetting because it recognizesand givesimpor- tance onlytothe world of It:the religious dimension of existenceneeds to be urgentlyrediscovered in its authentic and original form, still present beneath the institutions created by religions, in society,inthe worldofeconomic relations, and in politics.This can be the onlyway to individual and collective redemption – to be found in both human resolveand divine grace. In his writings about religio, Buber thus embarked on aradicallynew path compared with those philosophers of religion who continued to follow the path forgedinthe history of European philosophical and theological thought.

Accessing Religion:The meditationonthe biblical and philosophical texts in Buber’s writings of the nineteen forties and fifties

But how,accordingtoBuber,could there be atransition from ahuman condition now almost incapable of enteringinto arelation with God as the eternal Thou and with the other finite Thou’s, to ahuman condition in which this relation will again take place in all aspects of life and in all its intensity?Insome of his writingspublished in the 1940s and 1950s he indicates two paths that might allow mantobecome aware of religion as the realmoftrue, authentic human existence. In Das Problem des Menschen¹⁴ he meditates on philosophy – aphilosophy, however,that is not separated from the philosopher’ssubjectiv- ity,that unifiesthe individual and the universal, and thatbears in mind man’s concrete, everydayexistence, and the multiplicity of his rational and non-rational experiences. In this book Buber identifies the foundations of this kind of phi- losophyinPlato, Kant and Husserl. Pondering these philosophers’ anthropological insights regarding the overarchingquestion “What is Man?”,weare made aware of man’ssimultaneous social essence and infinity,inspite of his living

 Martin Buber, Eclipse of God: Studies in the Relation between Religion and Philosophy (New York: Harper &Row,1952).  Martin Buber, Das Problem des Menschen (Heidelberg: VerlagLambertSchneider,1947). 110 IreneKajon in the world bounded by time and space: religion and areligious life, as understood by Buber,could be renewed if we attune ourselvestothe insights of these philosophers who, in the history of philosophicalthought, point out the anteri- ority and superiority of ethical life – which allows human beingstoarrive at the Absolute – with respect to theoretical knowledge and science. In Zwei Glaubens- weisen¹⁵ Buber appeals to the conception of faith informing both in the Old and the New Testamentasaway to understand what religion trulyis: faith is chiefly emuna (trust) for the Jewish people, thatistosay it includes the elements of God’spromises and commandments, the people’sloveofGod, and the relationship between God and the people founded on acovenant; faith is aboveall pistis (knowledge)for the Christian community which affirms the truth manifest in JesusChrist’sIncarnation, Passion and Resurrection; however,boththe Jewish people as the foundation or root,and the Christian community as the outgrowth or tree, share an attitude which allows them to attainagenuine religious life. Therefore, an attentive readingoftheirhistory,asnarrated in Scripture, promises to point to away out of the solitude and egotism in which human beingsfind themselvesincontemporarysociety beholden, as it is, to secular philosophy and culture. It is possible that Buber’sinterpretation of Husserl’sphilosophyinDas Prob- lem des Menschen was significantlyinfluenced by Hans Jonas’sinterpretation of Husserlian phenomenologyinhiscommemorative article on Husserl’sdeath.¹⁶ Shortlyafter Buber settled in Jerusalem in March 1938, Jonas delivered acom- memorative address at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, in which he characterized Husserl’sphenomenological method as underlining the role of the Ego in the constitution of being and as an agent of Reason’sself-responsibility.Reason is, for Husserl, not an abstract faculty of producingideas, but originates in the human heart,belongs to every individual, and embraces in itself the various ways of giving form to objects. Husserl, for Jonas, marks the consummation of aphilosophical tradition which begins with Parmenidesand Platoand continues with Descartes,Kant,Hegel; he is the most radical and rigorous thinker in this tradition because of his obedience to the ethical imperative of uninterrupted self- justification. Hencethe originality and novelty of his teachings. It is possiblethatBuber’sinterpretation of Jewishand Christian faith draws significantlyonthe conception of the dialectical relationship between Judaism and Christianity –“the fire and the rays”–that Rosenzweigexpounded in Der

 Martin Buber, Zwei Glaubensweisen (Zürich: Manesse,1950).  Hans Jonas, “Edmund Husserl and the Ontological Problem,” Moznaim,1938, VII, pp. 581– 89 (Hebrew). Religio Today: The Concept of Religion in MartinBuber’sThought 111

Stern der Erlösung (1921).¹⁷ We know from Jonas himself that Buber wasinclose contact with him from 1938 onwards;¹⁸ and Buber himself, in his biblical exegesis in Zwei Glaubensweisen,which takesupthe main themeshehad developed together with Rosenzweigintheir joint reflection on the translation of the He- brew Bible into German,¹⁹ demonstrates an intimate knowledge of Rosenzweig’s concept of the similarity-differencebetween Christianity and Judaism, presented in his magnum opus.²⁰ Nevertheless,beyond Buber’srelationwith other Jewish philosophers,what is particularlyimportant is to emphasize that regardless whetherheappeals to philos- ophyortobiblical faithaspaths whichcan give new life to religion,henever separates affective life from thought: true philosophers andtrue believersare engaged in reality with theirtotalbeing. Religio itself involvesreceiving in love,feelingactive- ly,and thinking. But,all in all, for Buber access to religion does notdepend so muchonthe readingofbooks,however important andmeaningful these can be. Life is muchmoreinstructive than books.²¹ In order to reclaimreligionasthe ground of true existence,wemust makeaneffort to work, to speak, to be in touch withother human beings in thename of the divine Thou,evenifcontempo- rary social conditions,given theprimacyofthe I-It relations,rendersthis effort difficult.Onlythe event of the “between” (Zwischen)can preserve our humanity.In- deed, for Buber homo religiosus coincides with homo tout court.

 Cf. Franz Rosenzweig, Der Stern der Erlösung (1921), part 3. Rosenzweigwrites in aletter of January 4, 1922 to his wife Edith that he knows that Buber read the Stern,but was not as inter- estedinthe second part,dealingwith the relationship between man and God, as one might expect. Der Mensch und sein Werk.Gesammelte Schriften (Haag/Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff, 1976 – 84), vol. 1.2. From Rosenzweig’sletter to EugenRosenstock, letter datedAugust 28,1924, ibid., we learn that Buber was interested in the thirdpart.  Cf. Hans Jonas, Erinnerungen (Frankfurt a. M.: Insel, 2003), 441–42.  Cf. Martin Buber – FranzRosenzweig, DieSchrift und ihreVerdeutschung (Berlin, 1936). Buber refers to this book when in Zwei Glaubensweisen he deals with thekey words (Motiv-Worte)in the Bible,its ethical teachings,its representation of idolatry,and its conceptof“spirit” (ruach).  LikeRosenzweiginDerStern der Erlösung,part 3, Buberregards thecenter of Christianitytobe the faith in Jesus Christ,whichhedeems essential to Christian evangelical mission, whichimplicitly posits that spaceand time areunredeemed, if not conqueredbyeternity. Buberattributes thiscon- ception of Christianity to Paul andpromoting aspecies of Gnosticism. He furtherargues that the relation between the Jewish concept of divine love and the Greek conceptofLogos in John’sGospel prepares the waytothe negationofGod’stranscendence, the source of theneo-Gnosticism that af- flicts the modern world. Cf.particularly, Zwei Glaubensweisen,preface, chapters4,13–16.  Cf. Martin Buber, Autobiographische Fragmente, Anhang: III.Bücher und Menschen,inMartin Buber,ed. Paul A. Schilpp and MauriceFriedman (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer,1963), 32–33.

Karl-Josef Kuschel Martin Buber unddas Christentum

Er giltals der Dialogiker schlechthin, praktisch und theoretisch. Das dialogische Prinzip,soeiner seiner Buch-Titel – es ist „sein“ Prinzip, mit seinem Namen un- verwechselbar verbunden. Mehr als andere Denker des 20.Jahrhunderts hat er „Dialog“ geübt und theoretisch durchdacht,er, der jüdische Gelehrte, der – bei allen Anregungen vonaußen – ausnichts anderem denn ausden Quellen des Judentums herausdenken und glauben wollte. Wasverstand er unter „Dialog“? Wiepraktizierte er ihn in einerWelt,die für ihn, in Wien geboren, nun einmalvom Christentum geprägt ist?Viele haben ein harmonisierendes Bild vonBubers Be- ziehung zum Christentum im Kopf. Man erinnert sich gerne an ein Buber-Wort über Jesus, den er,Buber,stets als seinen „großen Bruder“ empfunden habe, ein Wort, das umso schwerer zu wiegen scheint,als es 1950,nach der Shoa, geschrieben steht und zwar in seinem zusammenfassenden Werk Zwei Glaubensweisen. Aber Harmonie ist damit nicht gemeint.Überblickt man Bubers ganze Geschichte, erlebt man einen Mann, der sich auch entschieden abzugrenzen versteht vonchristlichen Bekenntnissen und deutsch-christlichen Zumutungen. Die Bekenntnisse betreffen Glaubensdifferenzenzwischen Juden und Christen, die Zumutungen Zugriffe auf die gesellschaftliche Stellungvon Juden in der deutsch-christlichen Mehrheits- gesellschaft.Von beidem muss die Redesein. Das eine ist vomanderen nicht zu trennen. Und wir müssen zuerst den Kämpfer Buber kennen lernen,der für eine eigenständigeund authentische jüdische Identität streitet,bevor wir den Dialo- giker wahrnehmen können.¹

„Fremdandacht“: Prägende frühe Erfahrungen mit Christen

Wiehat alles angefangen? Buber wird 1878 in Wien geboren,wächst aber ab dem Ater von4Jahren – dieElternhatten sichgetrennt – bei seinenGroßeltern im galizischen Lembergauf. Heuteheißtder Ort Lwiw undist in der Ukraine gelegen. Ein provi- dentielles Ereignis nicht nurinbiographischer,sondern auch in geistigerHinsicht. GroßvaterSalomonBuber ist nicht nur ein erfolgreicher Kaufmann, sondern als

 Das hier in aller Knappheit behandelteThema findet seine ausführliche Entfaltung bei: Karl- Josef Kuschel, Martin Buber -seine Herausforderungandas Christentum,Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2015. 114 Karl-Josef Kuschel

Privatgelehrter einer derwichtigstenForscherund Sammler aufdem Gebiet der chassidischen Traditiondes osteuropäischenJudentums. SeinEnkel Martinwird dieserTradition wiekeinanderer AnerkennungimWestenverschaffen. Über Bubers Schulzeit in Lembergwissen wirwenig.Umsokostbarer ein Do- kument,das Buber1960,fünfJahrevor seinem Tod, selber preisgibt.Der damals82- Jährigelegt „autobiographische Fragmente“ vor, darunter einenText unter dem Titel „Die Schule“.Ein bemerkenswertes Signal nach einem ereignisreichen Leben und jahrzehntelangenBemühungenumeinen Dialogmit Christen.Der Altgewordene will offenbarder Öffentlichkeit nocheinmal signalisieren, wo er herkommtund welche Erstbegegnungmit der christlichen Welt sein Leben geprägthat. Die Szene spielt im Kaiser-Franz-Joseph-Gymnasium zu Lemberg, das Buber in den Jahren 1888 bis 1896 besucht.Die Unterrichtssprache ist Polnisch, sind doch die Mitschüler zum größten Teil Polen katholischer Konfession. Juden sind nur als kleine Minderheit präsent.Persönlich kommen die Schüler gutmiteinander aus, aber beide Gemeinschaften wissen – so Buber –„fast nichts voneinander.“

Vor8Uhr morgens mussten alle Schüler versammelt sein. Um 8Uhr ertönte das Klingel- zeichen; einer der Lehrertrat ein und bestieg das Katheder,über dem an der Wand sich ein großes Kruzifix erhob. Im selben Augenblick standen alle Schüler in ihren Bänken auf. Der Lehrerund die polnischen Schülerbekreuzigten sich, er sprach die Dreifaltigkeitsformel und sie sprachen sie ihm nach, dann beteten sie laut mitsammen. Bis man sich wieder setzen durfte, standen wir Juden unbeweglich da, die Augengesenkt. Ichhabe schon angedeutet,dass es in unserer Schule keinen spürbaren Judenhass gab; ich kann mich kaum an einen Lehrererinnern, der nicht tolerant war oder doch als tolerant gelten wollte. Aber aufmich wirktedas pflichtmäßige tägliche Stehenimtönenden Raum der Fremdandacht schlimmer,als ein Akt der Unduldsamkeit hättewirkenkönnen. Gezwungene Gäste; als Ding teilnehmen müssenaneinem sakralen Vorgang, an dem kein Quentchen meiner Person teilnehmen konnte und wollte; und dies acht JahrelangMorgenumMorgen: das hat sich der Lebenssubstanz des Knaben eingeprägt. Es ist nie einVersuch unternommenworden,einenvon uns jüdischenSchülern zu bekehren;und doch wurzeltinden Erfahrungenjener Zeit mein Widerwille gegenalleMission. Nichtbloß etwa gegendie christlicheJudenmission,sondern gegenalles Missionieren unter Menschen, dieeineneigenständigenGlauben haben.Vergebens hat nochFranz Rosenzweigmich fürden Gedanken einerjüdischenMission unterNichtjuden zu gewinnengesucht.²

Eine kleine Szene zwar,aber sie ist vongeradezu obsessiverMächtigkeit.Hier sich bekreuzigende katholisch-polnische Schüler; hier christliche Gebete mit der Dreifaltigkeitsformel, laut gesprochen, und ein übermächtig-großes Kruzifix, welches das Katheder des Lehrers ins geradezu Metaphysische steigert – und dort

 Martin Buber, Begegnung.Autobiographische Fragmente (Heidelberg:Verlag Lambert Schneider, 1978), 20f. Martin Buber unddas Christentum 115 die jüdischen Schüler: stumm, unbeweglich, die Augengesenkt.Szenisch-sym- bolisch-körperlich kann Ausgrenzungkaumintensiver, kaum bitterer erfahren werden. Es braucht in der Tatdie direkteDiskriminierung nicht,keinen „spür- baren Judenhass,“ keine „Akte der Unduldsamkeit“,umErfahrungenmit der Welt des Christlichen traumatisch werden zu lassen. Juden sindunter Christen „gezwungene Gäste.“ Die jüdischenSchüler müssen einemreligiösen Akt beiwohnen, ohne mit einem „Quentchen“ ihrer Person teilnehmen zu können.Denn ihre Anwesenheit wird kaltignoriert,als gäbe es sie nicht. Acht Jahre lang erlebt Buber diese Szene,Morgenfür Morgen, für die er das Wort „Fremdandacht“ prägt.Eine bemerkenswerteWortschöpfung.Sie bringtdie Entfremdungsgeschichte zwischen Juden und Christen „vorGott“ plastisch ins Bild. Bubers Verhältnis zum Komplex „Christentum“ als soziokultureller Größe ist mit dieser Erfahrungein für allemal vorgeprägt. Sie hat sich in die „Lebenssub- stanz“ des Knaben ebensoeingeprägt wie der Widerwille „gegendie christliche Judenmission,“ ja „gegenalles Missionieren unter Menschen“ überhaupt, „die einen eigenständigen Glauben haben.“ Kein Zufall somit,dass der alt gewordene Martin Buber diese Szene ganz bewusst noch einmal der bleibenden Erinnerung überliefert.Und man versteht vondaher auch das Zeugnis eines polnischen Mitschülers vonBuber ausden LembergerJahrenbesser,von Witold O.,der 1962 aufdie Zusendungder „Autobiographischen Fragmente“ Bubers in einemBrief festhält: „Das Christentum, in dem ich so tief verwurzeltwar,Dir war es verhasst. Wiegut erinnere ich mich noch an Deinen Ausspruch: Schade um die schönen Glockenklänge für diese christliche Religion!“³

„Jüdische Renaissance“: Konsequenzen fürdas Bild vomChristentum

Für die Jahrevor dem Ersten Weltkriegzeichnen sich zwei gegenläufige Bewegungen in Bubers Entwicklungab. Zumeinen eignet er sichvor allem durch Universitäts- studien in europäischen Zentren wie Wien,Leipzig, Zürich und Berlinein breites Wissen der europäisch-christlich geprägtenGeistes-und Kulturgeschichtean, na- mentlichinPhilosophie, Geschichte, Psychologie und Kunstgeschichte. Den „autobiographischen Fragmenten“ zufolge habenauf Buber vorallem ImmanuelKants „Prolegomena zu einer jedenkünftigen Metaphysik“ sowie Friedrich Nietzsches „Also sprachZarathustra“ nachhaltigenEindruckgemacht.Insbesonderedie Nietzsche-

 Martin Buber, Briefwechsel aus sieben Jahrzehnten,hrsg. v. G. Schaeder (Heidelberg: Verlag Lambert Schneider,1975), III: 551. 116 Karl-Josef Kuschel

Lektüre „bemächtigt“ sich seiner derart, dass Buber sich entschließt, den „Zara- thustra“ insPolnische zu übersetzen, einPlan,der über Anfänge nichthinauskommt undschließlich fallen gelassen wird.Bezeichnend auch: Unterdem Stichwort „Wien“ gibt es in den „AutobiographischenFragmenten“ Fingerzeige vorallem aufdas „Burgtheater“:auf die Welt der hier zu findenden Dramen, des „‚richtig‘ gespro- chenen Menschenworts“, „der Fiktionaus Fiktion.“ Alldies schlägtden jungen Buber in seinen Bann. Sichtbarer Ausdruck dieserfrühen Auseinandersetzungmit der europäisch- christlichgeprägten Kultur ist Bubers 1904 an der UniversitätWieninden Fächern Philosophie und Kunstgeschichte abgelegtePromotion.Die eingereichteDissertation überzweichristliche Denker(Nikolaus vonKues und JakobBöhme)trägt den Titel: „Beiträgezur Geschichte desIndividuationsproblems.“ Vorallem aber seine seit 1904 erfolgenden Studienzur Geschichteder Mystik zeigen, wiebreit Buber in dieserZeit kultur-und religionsgeschichtlich orientiertist.Das findetseinen besonderenAus- druckinzweiPublikationen. 1909erscheint eine SammlungmystischerTexte unter dem Titel EkstatischeKonfessionen. Überraschend hat Buber hier nicht nur Zeugnisse klassischer europäisch-christlicher Mystik vom12. bis zum 19.Jahrhundert aufge- nommen,sondernauchTexte ausder Welt Indiens,Chinas und des Orients.Mehr noch:1910erscheint eineSammlungvon Reden undGleichnissen des taoistischen Klassikers Tschuang-Tse (ca. 370 – ca.300 v. Chr.). Buberpräsentiert sienicht ausdem chinesischen Original, entnimmt sievielmehr einerenglischen Ausgabe. Seine als Nachwort dem BuchmitgegebeneAbhandlung „Die Lehrevom Tao“ allerdings ist ein Meilenstein deutschsprachigerTaoismus-Rezeption.⁴ Zumanderen setzt bei Buber gleichzeitigvor dem ersten Weltkrieg eine neue Hinwendungzum Judentum ein. In der Zwischenzeithatte der Wiener Publizist Theodor Herzl (1860 –1904) seine programmatische Schrift Der Judenstaat (1896) erscheinenlassenund damit der Bewegungdes Zionismus gewaltigen Auftrieb gegeben. Buber schließt sich bereits als StudentinLeipzig1898/99der Bewegung des Zionismus an, ohne sich aber völlig mit dessen politischen Zielen zu identifizieren. Angesichts vielfacher geistiger AuszehrungjüdischerIdentitätliegt sein Schwerpunkt aufeiner kulturellen Erneuerung.Die geistigen und ethischen Werte des jüdischen Volkes gilt es zu revitalisieren. Zionismus als Bewegungzur Ge- winnung einer jüdischen Identität ja, aber Kulturzionismus, das ist Bubers Schwerpunkt vonAnfang an. Dabei ist Buber nicht gegendie Schaffung einer Heimstadt des jüdischen Volkes in Palästina, worauf dem politischen Zionismus alles ankommt.Aber wenn schon soll dessenAusstrahlungeine Renaissance des

 Martin Buber, Werke (Heidelberg/München: VerlagLambertSchneider und Kösel-Verlag, 1962), Bd.1(Schriften zur Philosophie), 1021–1051. Martin Buber unddas Christentum 117 jüdischen Geistes in der Diasporabefördern. Kulturzionismus geht es um „Ge- genwartsarbeit“:umdie Stärkungdes jüdischen Gemeinschaftsbewusstseins und die Förderungeinereigenständigen kulturellen Identität in Deutschland. Der Anschluss an die zionistischeBewegung kommtfür Buber einer „Be- freiung“ gleich, der Befreiungaus einem wurzellosen europäischen Intellektua- lismus, der über alles reden kann und sich an nichts bindet.Buber selber spricht in der Rückschau⁵ voneiner „Wiederherstellungdes Zusammenhangs,“ voneiner „erneuten Einwurzelungindie Gemeinschaft,“ voneiner „rettenden Verbindung mit einem Volkstum.“ Keinerbedürfe all dessen so sehr, „wie der vomgeistigen Suchen ergriffene, vomIntellekt in die Lüfte entführte Jüngling;unter den Jüng- lingen dieser Art und dieses Schicksals aber keiner so sehr wie der jüdische.“⁶ In der Tatist insbesondere der Chassidismuseine der großen EntdeckungenBubers im ProzesskulturzionistischerErneuerung:eine mystisch-charismatische Fröm- migkeitsbewegungimosteuropäischen Judentum seit dem 18. Jahrhundert.Hier glaubt er,die noch unverbrauchte geistigeKraft des Judentumsgefunden zu haben. „Urjüdisches,“ wie er meinte, sei ihm in den Texten der chassidischen Meister aufgegangen, Urjüdisches, das „im Dunkel des Exils zu neubewusster Äußerung aufgeblüht“ sei: die „Gottesebenbildlichkeit des Menschen als Tat, als Werden, als Aufgabe gefasst.“„Urjüdisches,“ das für Buber zugleich „Urmenschliches“ ist, „der Gehalt menschlichster Religiosität“ schlechthin.⁷ 1906 beginnt Buber mit einer ersten Publikation chassidischer Texte: Die Geschichten des Rabbi Nachman, gefolgt 1908 von Die Legende des Baalschem. Und mit diesen Texten „im Rücken“ geht Buber nun auch in die Auseinandersetzungmit dem Komplex „Christentum.“ Sie haben seinSelbstbewusstsein als genuin jüdischer Denker in besonderer Weise gestärkt. Erster Höhepunkt einer durch Buber nun programmatisch vollzogenen Jüdi- schen Renaissance sind die drei in Prag 1909 und 1910 gehaltenen „Reden über das Judentum.“⁸ Und wir registrieren: Die geistigeNeubestimmung des Judentums ist bei Buber zugleich eine Auseinandersetzung mit den Ursprüngen des Christentums. Erstmals greifen wir in diesen Reden programmatische Äußerungen zum Ur- christentum und zur Gestalt Jesu und zwar in scharfer Abgrenzung zu dem, was Buber schon hier und künftigpauschal „das Christentum“ nennt.Erversteht

 Martin Buber, „Mein Wegzum Chassidismus“ (1917), in: Buber, Werke (Heidelberg/München: VerlagLambert Schneider und Kösel-Verlag,1963), Bd.III (Schriften zum Chassidismus), 959–973.  Matin Buber, Werke III: 966.  Buber, „Mein Wegzum Chassidismus“,967 f.  Martin Buber, „Drei Reden über das Judentum“,in: Martin Buber, Frühe jüdische Schriften 1900–1922,hrsg., eingeleitet und kommentiert vonBarbara Schäfer. Martin Buber Werkausgabe 3 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlaghaus,2007), 219–256. 118 Karl-Josef Kuschel darunter einenvon jüdischen Wurzelboden abgelösten, unter den Bedingungen der hellenistisch-römischen Kultur gewachsenen geschichtlichen Komplex. „Ur- Christentum“ und die Gestalt Jesu aber werden vonBuber jetzt und künftig aus- schließlich vonihren jüdischen Voraussetzungen her verstanden. Ur-Christentum müsse eigentlich „Ur-Judentum“ heißen,erklärt Buber in seiner dritten Prager Rede, denn es habe „mit dem Judentum weit mehr als mit dem zu schaffen, was man heute als Christentum“ bezeichne.⁹ Buber spitzt seine mittlerweile gewon- nenen Einsichten in dieser Rede so zu:

Wasanden Anfängendes Christentums nicht eklektisch, was daran schöpferisch war,das war ganz und garnichts anderes als Judentum. Es war jüdisches Land, in dem diese Geis- tesrevolution entbrannte; es waren uraltejüdische Lebensgemeinschaften, ausderenSchoße sie erwacht war;eswaren jüdische Männer,die sie ins Land trugen; die, zu denen sie sprachen, waren – wie immer wieder verkündet wird – das jüdische Volk und kein anderes; und was sie verkündeten, war nichts anderes als die Erneuerung der Religiosität der Tatim Judentum. Erst im synkretistischen Christentum des Abendlandes ist der dem Okzidentalen vertraute Glaube zur Hauptsache geworden; im Mittelpunkt des Urchristentums steht die Tat […]Und können wir nicht denen, die uns neuerdings eine ‚Fühlungnahme’ mit dem Chris- tentum anempfehlen, antworten: WasamChristentum schöpferisch ist,ist nicht Christen- tum, sondernJudentum, und damit brauchen wir nicht Fühlung zu nehmen, brauchen es nur in uns zu erkennen und in Besitz zu nehmen, denn wir tragen es unverlierbar in uns; was aber am Christentum nicht Judentum ist,das ist unschöpferisch, austausend Riten und Dogmen gemischt, – und damit – das sagen wir als Juden und als Menschen – wollen wir nicht Fühlung nehmen. Freilich dürfen wir dies nur antworten, wenn wir den abergläubischen Schrecken, den wir vorder nazarenischen Bewegung hegen, überwinden und sie dahin einstellen, wohin sie gehört: in die Geistesgeschichtedes Judentums.¹⁰

„Abergläubischer Schrecken vor der nazarenischen Bewegung“! „NichtFühlung nehmen“! Die Sprache ist kämpferisch. Der früheBuber setzt sie gezielt ein, und ihre psychologische Funktionist offensichtlich.Vergessen wir nicht: Adressat der Reden ist ein jüdisches Publikum im Prozess des Ringens um eine eigene Identität. Werwie Buber „Schrecken“ beschwört,weiß um die Angst vonMinderheitskul- turen in Mehrheitsgesellschaften. Wer „das Christentum“ zur „nazarenischen Bewegung“ verkleinert,auf einen unschöpferischen, weil angeblich synkretistischen Mix aus „tausendRiten und Dogmen“ reduziert und in seinen Ursprüngen „in die Geistesgeschichte des Judentums“ verweist,der tut das, weil das Gegen- über vongeschichtlicher Übermächtigkeit ist.

 Ebd., 247.  Ebd., 247, 248f. MartinBuber und das Christentum 119

BubersBild vonJesus

Bubers Jesus-Bild muss vordem Hintergrund dieser kulturgeschichtlich folgen- reichen Entwicklunggesehen werden. Schon 1914formuliert er Einsichten und Überzeugungen¹¹,andenen er – bei allen WandlungeninTon und Stil – der Sache nach auch künftigfesthalten wird: (1) Das Urchristentum ist eine radikaljüdische Bewegung.Sie ist Buber wichtig,nicht weil, sondern obwohl sie im Christentum mündete, in einem Christentum, in dem „alle jüdischen Elemente nicht entfaltet,sondern entstellt“ worden seien. (2)Zuunterscheiden ist zwischen Jesus als glaubendem Menschen, als Subjekt seiner eigenen Religiosität,und Jesus als Objekt vonReligiosität,als „Gegen- stand“ des Glaubens. Jesu Religiosität ist für Buber tief geprägt vomJudentum seiner Zeit, so wie die des Sokrates vomGriechentum und die des Buddha vom Indertum. Insofern ist sie Juden tief vertraut. Die „Objektivierung“ Jesu als Glaubensinhalt und -gegenstand dagegen bezeichnet Buber schon 1914als für Juden als „aufimmer unüberwindlich fern und fremd“.Das lässt sich aufdie Formel bringen: Ernstnehmen der Botschaft Jesusja, ein Bekenntnis zu ihm als jüdischem Messias (griechisch: der Christus)oder Sohn Gottes – nein. Eine Christologie, sei sie paulinischeroder johanneischer Provenienz, bleibt Buber ein für allemal „fern und fremd.“ (3) Die unüberwindliche Ferne und Fremdheit wird vonBuber in dieser Zeit unmittelbar vordem ersten Weltkrieg mit geradezu militärischen Bildern zum Ausdruckgebracht:kein „Frieden“,kein „Waffenstillstand“.Ein scharfer Ant- agonismus kommthereinzwischen „reinen und ganzenJuden“ sowieder „welt- beherrschenden christlichen Kirche.“ Ein Antagonismus, der dadurch entsteht, dass Buber der Kirche die „Usurpation jüdischen Urbesitzes“ vorwirft.Mit dem neu gewonnenenSelbstbewusstsein jüdischer Gläubigkeit hält er dem den „ewigen Anspruch“ des Judentums entgegen, „die wahre Ekklesia, die Gemeinde Gottes zu sein.“

 Martin Buber, „Eine Feststellung“ (1914), in: Buber, Schriften zumChristentum,hrsg.,eingeleitet und kommentiert vonKarl-Josef Kuschel. Martin Buber Werkausgabe 9(Güterslohr:Gü- terslohrer Verlaghaus, 2011), 76. 120 Karl-Josef Kuschel

Deutschtum undJudentum – vereinbar? Der „Fall Kittel“

Diesesdemonstrative Selbstbewusstsein hat mit dem ständig neu geforderten Legitimationsnachweis jüdischerDenker angesichts einer christlichenMehr- heitskultur zu tun. Es ist ein „Schrei“ nach Anerkennung, der freilich vielfach „ins Leere“ geht,weil er vonder Gegenseite überhörtoder nichternst genommen wird. Jüdische Denker sind immer wiederneu gezwungen – so Christian Wiese in einer bedeutenden Untersuchung ausdem Jahre 1999 zu Recht –„gegenVereinnah- mung,missionarische Intentionen und exklusive Wahrheitsansprüche“ ihr eigenes zu setzen.“¹² Mehr noch: Juden in Deutschland sind immer wieder neu lauernden Fragen ausgesetzt,obsie sich als Juden wirklich dem deutschenStaat vollgültigzugehörig fühlen. Müssen Juden ihr Judentum nichtablegen und sich zum Christentum bekehren, um gleichberechtigte deutsche Bürgerzusein?Buber muss noch gegen Ende des ersten Weltkriegs zu solchen Fragen Stellung nehmen – 100 Jahre Ju- denemanzipation in Deutschland zum Trotz.¹³ Solch ständig lauerndes Miss- trauen, solche Bekehrungserwartung und solcher Loyalitätsdruck machen die Stellung vonJuden in Deutschland nach wievor prekär. Wieprekär,zeigt spätestens das Jahr 1933.Indiesem Schicksalsjahr Deutschlands wird Buber durch einen protestantischen Theologen der Universität Tübingen in eine offene Auseinandersetzung gezogen.¹⁴ Der Hintergrund:Der Tübinger evangelische Neutestamentler Gerhard Kittel(1888–1948), als Mitbe- gründer und Herausgeber einesgroßen wissenschaftlichen Grundlagenwerks (Theologisches Wörterbuchzum Neuen Testament, Bd.I1933)eine anerkannte Autorität in seinem Fach, tritt im Juni 1933 mit einer Broschüreunter dem Titel „Die Judenfrage“ an die Öffentlichkeit.Gerade als christlicher Theologefühlt er sich berufen, in einer Frageder aktuellendeutschen Politik, in der „eine besonders große Unsicherheit und Hilflosigkeit“ herrsche,Klarheit zu schaffen und Vor- schlägezuunterbreiten, wasmit „dem Judentum“ zu geschehen habe. Ein maß- loses Ansinnen im Ungeistpolitischer Verblendung. Immerhin hatten die Nazis und ihre Helfershelfer in Deutschland nach der „Machtergreifung“ Adolf Hitlers Ende Januar 1933 bereitsgegen jüdische Mitbürgerzuwüten begonnen. Am 1. April 1933 war es erstmalszum Boykott jüdischer Geschäfte gekommen: ein erster,

 Christian Wiese, Wissenschaft des Judentums und protestantische Theologie in wilhelmini- schen Deutschland. Ein Schrei ins Leere? (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1999), 363.  Martin Buber, „Der Preis“ (1917), in: Buber, Schriften zum Christentum,77–83.  Martin Buber, „Offener Brief an GerhardKittel“,in: Buber, Schriften zum Christentum, 169–174. MartinBuber und das Christentum 121 gezielter Akt öffentlichen Terrors gegenMitbürgerjüdischer Herkunft.Am7.April war das „Gesetz zur Wiederherstellungdes Berufsbeamtentums“ erlassen worden, und mit diesemParagraphenwerk, dasden berühmt-berüchtigten „Arierpara- graphen“ enthält (Juden sindvom aktivenStaatsdienst ausgeschlossen) hatte die systematische rechtliche Diskriminierung für Juden in Deutschland begonnen. Welche Art von „Klarheit“ will Gerhard Kittelschaffen, um klarzustellen, was mit „dem“ Judentum zu geschehen habe? Gleich zu Beginn seiner Einleitung zählt dieser „christliche“ Theologein kältester Bürokratenprosa vier Optionen auf, wie man mit „dem Judentum“ verfahren könne: 1) Man kann die Juden auszurotten versuchen (Pogrome); 2) man kann den jüdischen Staat in Palästina oder anderswowiederherstellen und dort die Juden der Welt zu sammeln versuchen (Zionismus); 3) man kann das Judentuminden anderen Völkern aufgehen lassen(Assimi- lation); 4) man kann entschlossen und bewusst die geschichtliche Gegebenheit einer ‚Fremdlingschaft‘ unter den Völkern wahren¹⁵,

Kittel argumentiert nun messerscharf und eiskalt für die vierte Option. Die ersten beiden hält er für politisch aussichtslos, die dritte für selbstwidersprüchlich; sie liefe aufeine Selbstaufgabe des Judentums hinaus. Die vierte Option dagegen hält Kittel für sachgemäß,weil sie dem Status entspreche, den Gott dem jüdischen Volk vonjeher auferlegt habe. Das Judentum brauche als Religion (auf der Basis seines Religionsgesetzes) einenSonderstatus innerhalb der Völkerwelt,meint Kittel. Es müsse sich abgrenzen und habe vondaher notwendigerweise einenFremdlings- status. Rechtliche Gleichstellung im bürgerlichenSinn könne vondaher nichtin Fragekommen. Judentuminder Völkerwelt könne es nur als „Gastjudentum“ geben, und dies angeblich nach dem Selbstverständnis des Judentums selber:

Dagegenhat das echte, fromme Judentum selbst zu allen Zeitendie klare Erkenntnis fest- gehalten, welcher Fluch die Assimilation ist.Eines der Grundgesetze, dass die alttesta- mentlichen Propheten nicht müde werden zu verkündigen, ist dieses: dass Vermischung mit den anderen Völkern die schwerste Sünde fürIsrael sei. Das AlteTestament bestraft diese Sünde mit Ausrottung. Dieser Kampf um die Reinheit Israels durchzieht das gesamteAlte Testament vonder Zeit des Mose bis zur Zeit nach dem Exil. Der Bestand des Ghettodurch die Jahrhunderte hin war ja nicht nur durch den Zwangvon außen gewährleistet,sondern auch durch den Willen voninnen. Der fromme alte Ostjude verflucht noch heuteseinen Sohn, wenn dieser in die Assimilation und in das Konnubium mit der Nichtjüdin geht.Das echte Judentum wusstezuallen Zeitenund weiß es auch heutenoch: Volksvermischung und

 GerhardKittel, Die Judenfrage(Stuttgart,W.Kohlhammer,1933), 13. 122 Karl-Josef Kuschel

Rassenvermischung heißt: sich selbst verlieren, heißt: Dekadenz. Assimilisation ist Sünde und Übertretung eines von Gott in Volk und Völker gesetzten Willens.¹⁶

Und weil dies für Kittel das Verständnis des Judentums selber ist,kann es deutsche Staatsbürgerjüdischen Glaubensnicht geben. Der Jude, eben weil er Gast sei, müsse auf „jeden maßgebendenEinfluss verzichten,“ und zwar „in den Dingen, die deutsches Staats- und Volksleben, deutsche Kultur und deutsche Geistesbil- dung“ beträfen.¹⁷ Das gelteauch für die deutsche Literatur.Kittel wörtlich: „Ebenso muss gelten, dass der Angehörigedes fremden Volkes in der deutschen Literatur nichts zu suchen hat.“¹⁸ Vorgetragen war dies alles mit der Autorität eines christlichen Exegeten, der das Judentum noch besser zu kennen meint als Juden selber.Das ist provozierend genug. Für Buber aber musste es besonders provozierend erscheinen, dass Kittel ausgerechnet ihn, Buber,mit anderen Vertretern des zeitgenössischen Judentums als Bundesgenossen für sein Ansinnen glaubte beanspruchenzukönnen. Inner- halb der Judenschaft selber seien ja Bemühungen im Gange,meint Kittel, „in dem die Fremdlingschaft bejahenden Judentum eine lebendigeReligion zu erwe- cken.“¹⁹ Bemühungen also, eine „Verflachung des Liberalismus“ wieeine „Ver- trocknungder Orthodoxie“ zu überwinden“.Und Kittel fügt hinzu: „Vielleichtist in Martin Buber den Juden noch einmalein Führerauf solchemWegegeschenkt, wenn er auch bisher stark mit dem zionistischen Ideal verbunden war.Seine Lebensarbeit um eine Erweckungder Religion der Väter und sein Ringen um die Seele seines Volkes kann und soll auch der Deutsche, und vollends der deutsche Christ,inEhrfurcht und Achtung grüßen.“²⁰ Kittel schicktBuber seineSchrift am 13.Juni 1933 zu.²¹ Buber antwortet mit einem „Offenen Brief an Gerhard Kittel“²² und weist – im Tonauffallend sachlich und unpolemisch – Kittels Argumentation souverän zurück. Er muss denn auch angesichts der politischen LageinDeutschland vorsichtiger sein als etwa Gershom Scholem (1897–1982), einemder großen Gelehrten des deutschsprachigen Ju- dentums im 20.Jahrhundert, der schon 1923 nach Palästina eingewandert war und Bahnbrechendes zur wissenschaftlichen Erforschung der jüdischenMystikleisten wird. In einem persönlichenBrief an Buber ausJerusalem (24.August 1933)kann

 Ebd., 36f.  Ebd., 42.  Ebd,, 44.  Ebd., 66f.  Ebd., 67.  Buber, Briefwechsel. II: 486f.  Buber, „Offener Brief an GerhardKittel“. Martin Buber und das Christentum 123

Scholem seinen Gefühlenvon „Ekel“ und „Empörung“ freien Lauf lassen kann. Kittels „Broschüre“ sei unter allen „schmachvollen Dokumenten einesbeflissenen Professorentums“ gewiss „eines des schmachvollsten“,schreibt Scholem: „Wel- che Verlogenheit,welch zynisches Spiel mit Gottund Religion.“²³

„Die Welt istunerlöst“: Ablehnung der Messianität Jesu

Wirmüssen stets die prekäre Situation vonJuden in Deutschland in der ersten Hälfte des 20.Jahrhunderts im Blick behalten, wenn wir Bubers Auseinander- setzung mit „dem Christentum“ verstehen wollen. Biographisch ist dabei wichtig: Solangeesdie politischen Verhältnisse zulassen, versucht Buber auch nach 1933 noch, seine Stellungals Lehrer und Forscher in Nazi – Deutschland zu behaup- ten. 1938 muss auch er gehen. Er verlässt sein Haus in Heppenheim an der Bergstraße, in dem er 22 Jahre gelebthatte und siedelt mit der Familie nach Je- rusalem über.Umgekehrt aber gilt mit Buber jetzt auch: Jüdische Gelehrte stellen ganz neu mit eigenem argumentativenGewicht „dem Christentum“ ihrerseits die Legitimationsfrage – 2000 Jahre christlicherDominanz hin oder her.Man mache sich klar: Indem Buber Jesusganz für das Judentumreklamiert,entzieht er faktisch dem christlichen Glauben die Legitimationsbasis,sich auf Jesus als den Christus zu berufen. Kann man, wird später der evangelische Theologe Gerhard Ebelingin selbstkritischer Auseinandersetzung mit Buber fragen, „den christlichen Glauben radikaler in Fragestellen, als wenn man ihn im Namen Gottesumdes Glaubens willen unter Berufung aufJesusinFrage stellt?“²⁴ Warumaberist Buber in der Frageder Christologie, sprich: der Messianität Jesu so entschieden negativ? Weil ausseiner jüdischen Sicht das Erscheinen des Messias mit der Erlösung der Schöpfung zusammenfällt.Dies geht bereits aus einer Stellungnahme Bubers vomNovember1917hervor.Ein christlicher Ge- sprächspartner hattebehauptet, „nichts“ stünde doch im Weg, Jesus als den Messias der Welt anzusehen, der „das geläuterteJudentumder ausihrem Göt- zendienstzubefreienden Welt gebracht“ habe. Buber hält dagegen:

Wer ‚die Welt‘,richtiger einen Teil der Menschheit vomGötzendienst befreit,heiße er nun Jesus oder Buddha, Zarathustra oder Laotse, hat keinen Anspruch aufden Namen des ‚Messias der Welt‘;der käme nur dem zu, der die Welt erlöste. Läuterung der Religiosität, Monotheisierung, Christianisierung,all das bedeutet nicht Erlösungder Menschheit.Erlö-

 Buber, Briefwechsel. II: 502.  GerhardEbeling, Wort und Glaube (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1967), III: 239. 124 Karl-Josef Kuschel

sung – das ist eine Verwandlung des ganzen Lebensvon Grund aus, des Lebens aller Ein- zelnen und aller Gemeinschaften. Die Welt ist unerlöst – fühlen Sie das nicht wie ich in jedem Blutstropfen?²⁵

„Die Welt ist unerlöst, fühlen Sie das nichtinjedem Blutstropfen?“ Das Pathos ist gewollt. Füreinen Juden steht hier Entscheidendes aufdem Spiel. Und wie sehr sich dieses Pathos durchhalten kann, zeigt ein Buber-Text,der knapp 30 Jahre später entstand – nach der Schoah.²⁶ Ist sie nichtdas grauenhaftesteZeichen für die Unerlöstheit der Welt?Nichts widerlegt doch christlich-messianische An- sprüche stärkerals das, was Juden hier angetan wurde. In diesem kurzen Text aus dem Jahr 1945zum Gedenken an den Schweizer evangelischen Theologen Leon- hard Ragaz (1868–1945) hat Buber in einer wahrlich klassischen Weise noch einmalseinen Vorbehalt gegenjeglicheChristologie angemeldet:

Aber ich glaube ebenso fest daran, dass wir Jesus nie als gekommenen Messias anerkennen werden, weil dies dem innersten Sinn unserer messianischen Leidenschaft (…)widerspre- chen würde. In das mächtige Seil unseres Messiasglaubens,das,aneinen Fels im Sinai geknüpft,sich bis zu einem noch unsichtbaren, aber in den Grund der Welt gerammten Pflockespannt,ist kein Knoten geschlagen. Für unseren Blick geschieht Erlösungallezeit,für ihn ist keine geschehen.AmSchandpfahl der Menschheit stehend, gegeißeltund gefoltert, demonstrieren wir mit unserem blutigen Volksleib die Unerlöstheit der Welt.²⁷

VonZwiesprache undBegegnungen: „Ich undDu“(1923)

Mit dem Jahr 1923 wirdvieles bei Buber anders.Indiesem Jahr publiziert er ein Buch, das eine Schlüsselbedeutunginseinem Werk einnehmen wird: die Abhandlungzur Philosophie des Dialogs: „Ichund Du“ (1923).Werk und Wirkung dieser Schrift sind zu komplex, um hier in Einzelheiten gehen zu können. Nurder Grundgedankesei heraus gestellt. Programmatisch beginnt das Buchmit denSätzen:

Die Welt ist dem Menschen zwiefältig nach seiner zwiefältigen Haltung. Die Haltung des Menschen ist zwiefältig nach der Zwiefaltder Grundworte, die er sprechen kann. Die Grundworte sind nicht Einzelworte, sondern Wortpaare. Das eine Grundwortist das Wortpaar Ich-Du. Das andereGrundwort ist das Wortpaar Ich-Es; wobei, ohne Änderungdes Grundwortes, für

 Buber, Briefwechsel. I: 513.  Martin Buber, „Ragaz und ‚Israel’“,in: Buber, Schriften zum Christentum,187– 191.  Ebd., 190. MartinBuber und das Christentum 125

Es auch eins der WorteErund Sie eintretenkann. Somit ist auch das Ich des Menschen zwiefältig. Denn das Ichdes Grundwortes Ich-Du ist ein andres als das des Grundwortes Ich-Es.²⁸

Buber hat wie kaum ein anderer zuvorerkannt und in verdichteter Form zum Ausdruckgebracht,dass Menschsein sich in den beiden Wortpaaren Ich-Du und Ich-Es beschreiben lässt.Diese Struktur ist gewissermaßen „immer schon“ gegeben. Sie ist nicht etwas,wasMenschen nachträglich machen oder setzen. Sie ist in dem Moment gegeben,wo Menschen „Ich“ sagen, sich als „Ich“ erkennen. Denn ein Ichsetzt immer ein Du voraus, ein Du immer ein Ich. Zugleich ist das Ich immer schon aufein Es bezogen, „Es“ im Sinne vonSachen, Gegenständen, Objekten wobei „Es“ auch ein Er oder ein Sie meinen kann. „Er“ und „Sie“ im Sinne eines verobjektivierten personalen Gegenübers, das gerade kein Du ist. Woraus folgt: Nicht das „Ich“ für sich genommen interessiert Buber.Ihn interessiert das Mit-Sein, die Tatsache, dass das Ichstets nur Ichist im Verhältnis zu einem Gegenüber.Nicht das An-sich-Sein, die Beziehunginteressiert ihn, die Dynamik der Beziehung,die Wechselseitigkeit der Beziehung.Buber selber hat hier stets das Kernanliegenseines gesamten Lebenswerkes gesehen. In einer seiner „autobiographischen Fragmente“ heißt es:

Soll icheinemFragendenAuskunft geben,welchesdenn das in gedanklicherSprache aussagbare Hauptergebnis meiner Erfahrungenund Betrachtungen sei, dann istmir keineandere Erwide- runggegeben, alsmich zu demFragenden undmichumfassendenWissenzubekennen:Mensch seinheißt, das gegenüberseiende Wesen sein. Die Einsichtindiesen schlichten Sachverhaltist im Gang meinesLebensgewachsen. Wohl sind allerhand andereSätze gleichen Subjekts und ähnlicherKonstruktion geäußert worden, und ichhalte manchedavon durchaus nichtfür un- richtig;meinWissengehtnur ebendahin, dass es dies ist, woraufesankommt.Indem Satzeist der bestimmteArtikelvollbetont.AlleWesen in derNatur sind ja in ein Mit-Anderen-Seingestellt, und in jedemLebendigemtrittdiesals Wahrnahme des Andern undHandlungamAndern ins Werk.Menscheneigentümlichkeitaber ist,dass einer je und je desAndernals dieses ihm ge- genüberBestehende inne werden kann,dem gegenübererbesteht.²⁹

„Wahrnahme“ des je Anderen aber geschieht durch Begegnungen. Undesgibt sie in Bubers Werk, solche Momenteder Begegnung,solche Augenblickeder Zwie- sprache mit dem „Du“,die alles plötzlich verändern. In persönlichenBegeg- nungen mit einem „Du“ ereignet sich für Buber Offenbarung.Nicht bloß am „Sinai“,stets und immer sind in und durch Begegnungen „Offenbarungen“ möglich. Einer dieser Momente in Bubers Leben ist unauslöschlich mit dem Na-

 Martin Buber, „Ichund Du,“ in: Buber, Das dialogische Prinzip (Heidelberg: VerlagLambert Schneider,1962),4.Aufl. 1979:7.  Buber, Begegnung,83. 126 Karl-Josef Kuschel men eines Freundes verbunden. Er heißt Florens Christian Rang (1864–1924), war einstmals evangelischer Pfarrer gewesen und arbeitetspäter als Jurist.Esist Pfingsten 1914. Eine international zusammengesetzte Gruppe engagierter Zeit- kritiker und Reformer trifft sich in Potsdam („Forte-Kreis“), um, wie Buber sich erinnert,im„unbestimmten Vorgefühlder Katastrophe einen Versuch zur Auf- richtung einer übernationalen Autorität vorzubereiten.“³⁰ Im Verlauf der Aus- sprache trägt Rang Bedenken vor. Beider Zusammensetzung der Gruppe seien „zu viele Juden genannt worden, so dass etliche Länder in ungehöriger Proportion durch die Juden vertreten“ seien. Buber ist dieser Einwand nicht fremd,glaubt aber doch, als „hartnäckiger Jude“ gegendiesen „Protest“ protestieren zu müssen:

Ichweiß nicht mehr,auf welchem Wegich dabei aufJesus zu sprechen kamund darauf, dass wir Juden ihn voninnen her aufeine Weise kennten, eben in den Antrieben und Regungen seines Judenwesens,die den ihm untergebenen Völkern unzugänglich bleibe. ‚Aufeine Weise, die Ihnen unzugänglich bleibt‘–so sprach ich den früheren Pfarrer [Rang] unmittelbar an. Er stand auf, auch ich stand, wir sahen einanderins Herz der Augen. ‚Es ist versunken‘,sagte er,und wir gaben einandervor allen den Bruderkuss.Die Erörterung der Lage zwischen Juden und Christenhattesich in einen Bund zwischen dem Christen und dem Juden verwandelt; in dieser Wandlung erfülltesich die Dialogik. Die Meinungenwaren versunken, leibhaft geschah das Faktische.³¹

Eine autobiographische Schlüsselszene,die in ihrer Bedeutung derjenigen gleichkommt,von der wir ausgegangensind:der „Fremdandacht“ im Kaiser- Franz-Josephs-Gymnasium zu Lemberg. Machen wir uns die „Wandlung“ bei Buber klar. Damals waren Juden „gezwungene Gäste“ in einer christlich domi- nierten Anstalt,jetzt sind Juden Partner in einer internationalen Koalition von politisch-religiös Gleichgesinnten. Damals ein Dabeisein an einem „sakralen Vorgang“ ohne ein „Quentchen“ der eigenen Person, jetzt der Blick in das „Herz der Augen“,der „Bruderkuss“ mit einem Christen. Damals das Gefühl des Aus- geschlossenseins und der Teilnahmslosigkeit aufSeiten der Juden, jetzt ein „Bund zwischendem Christen und dem Juden“.Damals das Absolvieren einespflicht- mäßigen Rituals, jetzt die Wandlungzur „Dialogik“.Damals die „Vergegnung“, jetzt die „Begegnung“. Eine zweite Szene dieser Art ist in den „Autobiographischen Fragmenten“ überliefert.Buber ist Anfang er 1920er Jahre eingeladen, in einerdeutschen Universitätsstadt einen theologischen Vortrag zu halten. Während seines Auf- enthaltes ist er zu Gast bei einem „edlen alten Denker“ dieser Universität,einem Philosophen. Man kommt ins Gespräch. Wieer, Buber,esfertig brächte, will sein

 Martin Buber, „Zweisprache,“ in: Das dialogische Prinzip,145.  Ebd., 146. MartinBuber und das Christentum 127

Gastgeber wissen, so Mal um Mal „Gott“ zu sagen. Dieses Wort sei doch „so missbraucht,sobefleckt,sogeschändet worden“ wie kein anderes.Wie viel schuldloses Blut sei um dieses Wortes willen vergossen worden. Wieviel an Un- gerechtigkeit begangen! Wenn er,der alteMann, „Gott“ höre, kommeihm das zuweilen wie eine Lästerung vor. UndBuber antwortet:

‚Ja‘,sagte ich etwa, ‚es ist das beladenstealler Menschenworte. Keines ist so besudelt, so zerfetzt worden. Gerade deshalb darf ich darauf nicht verzichten. Die Geschlechter der Menschen habendie Last ihresgeängstigten Lebens aufdieses Wort gewälzt und es zu Boden gedrückt; es liegt im Staub und trägtihreraller Last.Die Geschlechter der Menschen mit ihren Religionsparteiungenhaben das Wort zerrissen; sie haben dafür getötet und sind dafür gestorben; es trägt ihrer aller Fingerspur und ihreraller Blut.Wo fände ich ein Wort,das ihm gliche, um das Höchstezubezeichnen! Nähme ich den reinsten, funkelndsten Begriff ausder innersten Schatzkammer der Philosophen, ich könnte darin doch nur ein unverbindliches Gedankenbild einfangen, nicht aber die Gegenwart dessen, den ich meine, dessen, den die Geschlechter der Menschen mit ihremungeheuren Leben und Sterben verehrt und erniedrigt haben. Ihn meine ich ja, ihn, den die höllengepeinigten, himmelstürmenden Geschlechter der Menschen meinen. Gewiss,sie zeichnen Fratzen und schreiben ‚Gott‘ darunter;sie morden einander und sagen, ‚im Namen Gottes‘.Aber wenn aller Wahn und Trug zerfällt, wenn sie ihm ge-genüberstehn im einsamsten Dunkel und nicht mehr ‚Er,er‘sagen, sondern ‚Du, Du‘ seufzen, ‚Du‘ schreien, sie alle das Eine, und wenn sie dann hinzufügen ‚Gott‘,ist es nicht der wirkliche Gott,den sie alle anrufen, der Eine Lebendige,der Gott der Menschen- kinder?Ist nicht er es, der sie hört? Der sie – erhört?Und ist nicht eben dadurch das Wort ‚Gott,‘ das Wort des Anrufs,das zum Namen gewordene Wort,inallen Menschensprachen geweiht für alle Zeiten?Wir müssen die achten, die es verpönen, weil sie sich gegen das Unrechtund den Unfugauflehnen, die sich so gern aufdie Ermächtigung durch ‚Gott‘ berufen; aber wir dürfen es nicht preisgeben. Wiegut lässt es sich verstehen, dass manche vorschlagen, eine Zeit über vonden ‚letzten Dingen‘ zu schweigen, damit die missbrauchten Worteerlöst werden! Aber so sind sie nicht zu erlösen. Wirkönnen das Wort ‚Gott‘ nicht reinwaschen,und wir können es nicht ganzmachen; aber wir können es, befleckt und zerfetzt wie es ist,vom Boden erheben und aufrichten über einer Stunde großerSorge.‘ Es war sehr hell geworden in der Stube. Das Licht floss nicht mehr,eswar da. Der alte Mann stand auf, kam aufmich zu, legtemir die Hand aufdie Schulterund sprach: ‚Wirwollen uns du sagen.‘ Das Gespräch war vollendet.Denn wo zweiwahrhaft beisammensind, sind sie es im Namen Gottes. ³²

Dass Buber auch ein glänzender Erzähler ist,zeigt allein dieserText.Souveränbe- herrschterdie narrativeDramaturgie, weiß Spannungsbögenzusetzen,Pointen einzubauen. Manbeachtedie inszenierten Momentevon Körperlichkeit und Räum- lichkeit,die dem Text einen wirksamen Abschlussgeben.AmEnde der Zwiesprache ist das Zimmer „sehr hell geworden.“ Lichtist aufeinmal „da,“ dasuralteSymbolfür Klarheit undVernunft.Der Partner erhebt sich,tritt aufBuber zu,berührtihn durch

 Buber, Begegnung,68–70. 128 Karl-Josef Kuschel

Auflegen seiner Handauf die Schulter. Durchdialogischen Austausch ist jetzt eine tiefe, persönliche Beziehungvon Mensch zu Mensch entstanden. „Begegnung“ im besten Sinn des Wortes hatstattgefunden, der „Kairos“ einer Zwiesprache. Kein Zufall somit,dassBuber dieses Ereignis miteinem „Bibelwort“ überhöhen und so ins Grundsätzliche undPrinzipielle heben kann: „Denn wo zwei oderdreiwahrhaft beisammensind,sind sie es im Namen Gottes.“ Buber hat damit einJesus-Wort (Mt 18,20) gezielt „theozentrisch“ unddamit „gutjüdisch“ für seine Zweckeumge- schriebenund damit am Ende des Textes dem so „beladenen“ Wort Gott doch eine unverzichtbareBedeutungwieder gegeben.

Wassind „echte Religionsgespräche“?

Wirhalten fest: Mit diesen beiden autobiographischen Schlüsselszene hat Buber eine der Geburtsstunden dessenbeschrieben, was man in seinem Sinne Begeg- nungen (stattVergegnungen) nennenkann, besser: Zwiesprache von Person zu Person. Das ist wohl zu unterscheiden vomStreit um Glaubensinhalte. Beides wird künftigseinVerhältnis zu Christen als glaubenden Menschen bestimmen. Jetzt kann Buber wie nie zuvorsagen:

Eine Zeit echter Religionsgespräche beginnt – nicht jener so benannten Scheingespräche,wo keiner seinen Partner in Wirklichkeit schaute und anrief, sondern echter Zwiesprache, von GewissheitzuGewissheit, aber auch vonaufgeschlossner Person zu aufgeschlossner Person. Dann erst wirdsich die echteGemeinschaft weisen, nicht die eines angeblich in allen Re- ligionen aufgefundenen gleichen Glaubensinhalts,sondern die der Situation,der Bangnis und der Erwartung.³³

Wasalso sind „echte Religionsgespräche“?Buber unterscheidet im selben Zu- sammenhang „dreierleiDialog“:³⁴ „den echten – gleichviel, geredeten oder ge- schwiegenen -,wo jeder der Teilnehmer den oder die anderen in ihrem Dasein und Sosein wirklich meint und sich ihnen in der Intention zuwendet,dass lebendige Gegenseitigkeit sich zwischen ihm und ihnen stifte“;das ist das, was Buber die „echte Zwiesprache“ von „aufgeschlossener Person zu aufgeschlossener Person“ nennt.Stichwort: „lebendigeGegenseitigkeit“.Dann den technischen Dialog, „der lediglich vonder Notdurft der sachlichen Verständigung eingegeben ist;“ und schließlich den „dialogisch verkleideten Monolog“,das also, wasBuber mit „so benannten Scheingesprächen“ bezeichnet.

 Buber, „Zweisprache“,149.  Ebd., 166. Martin Buber unddas Christentum 129

Alle diese Dialogformen hat Buber erlebt.Einer dieser Dialogeist vonbe- sonderem Rang,nicht weil es hier um ein „echtes Religionsgespräch“ gegangen wäre, sondern weil Buber selber nun einen Weggefunden hat,als Jude das Glaubensgeheimnis vonChristen anzuerkennen. Wirsteuern aufden entschei- denden Punkt zu: Bubers Konzept einer Verhältnisbestimmung vonIsrael und Kirche, Judentumund Christentum.

WechselseitigeAnerkennung der „grundverschiedenen Gottesgeheimnisse“

Stuttgart: 14.Januar 1933. NurwenigeTagevor der „Machtergreifung“ Adolf Hitlers kommt Buber im Lehrhaus der Stadt nocheinmalmit einem christlichen Theo- logen zu einemöffentlichen Gespräch zusammen. Es dürftesich für langeJahre „um das letzte Religionsgespräch zwischeneinem jüdischen und einemchristlichen GelehrteninDeutschland“ (P.von der Osten-Sacken) gehandelt haben. Der christliche Partner heißt Karl LudwigSchmidt (1891–1956)und ist seit 1929 Pro- fessor für Neues Testament an der evangelisch-theologischen Fakultät der Uni- versität Bonn. Vorbereitet und thematischabgesprochen wird das Stuttgarter Gespräch durch brieflichen Austausch,³⁵ sowie einen Besuch SchmidtsinBubers Haus in Heppenheim aufder Reise vonBonn nach Stuttgart.³⁶ Die „langeUn- terhaltung“ in Bubers „Heim zu Heppenheim“ sei für ihn ein „ordentliches Stu- dium“ gewesen, schreibt Schmidt am 28.1.1933anBuber,bei dem er „viel gelernt“ zu haben glaube.Und „im D-Zug, dann im Stuttgarter Hotel und schließlich bei der öffentlichenAuseinandersetzung“ sei alles noch „viel intensiver“ geworden. Das 1926 gegründete StuttgarterJüdische Lehrhaus ist Buberwohl vertraut. Er hattedessen Gründung unterstützt. Es ist das zweite „Lehrhaus“ dieser Artin Deutschland nach dem 1920 vonFranz Rosenzweig (1886–1929)gegründeten in Frankfurt.Buberhatte darüber hinaus in den folgenden Jahren das Stuttgarter Lehrhaus „zumMittelpunkt des christlich-jüdischenDialogs“ gemacht, nachdem Versuche erfolglos geblieben waren, „eine Reihe interkonfessioneller Debatten im Lehrhaus in Frankfurt zu veranstalten.“³⁷ Vier solcher jüdisch-christlichen Gespräche vor1933sind dokumentiert.³⁸ Nicht unerwähnt lassen will ichindiesemZusam- menhang, dass es seitFebruar 2010 einneues „Stuttgarter Lehrhaus“ gibt und zwar in

 Buber, Briefwechsel,II: 460f.  Ebd., 461f.  Michael Brenner, Jüdische Kultur in der Weimarer Republik (München: C. H. Beck, 2000), 108.  Buber, Schriften zumChristentum,369 – 371. 130 Karl-Josef Kuschel

Form einer „Stiftungfür interreligiösen Dialog“.Entsprechend der veränderten Lage in Deutschlandsindbei diesem Projekt nun auch Muslime beteiligt. Am 14.Januar 1933 findet Bubers letztes Stuttgarter Lehrhaus-Gespräch statt, das mit Karl LudwigSchmidt.³⁹ Ort: der Saal der Hochschule für Musik.Zeitge- nössischen Berichten zufolge voreinem „großen Zuhörerkreis.“ VomVeranstalter, dem Vorstand des Jüdischen Lehrhauses, war Schmidt um einen „strengsachli- chen,“ d.h. nicht polemischen oder apologetischen Beitrag gebeten worden, und an diese Vorgabe hält er sich wörtlich: Sachlichkeit,verbunden mit Strenge. Denn Schmidt bewegt sich mit seinen Ausführungen ganz im Rahmentraditioneller christlicher Israel-Theologie: Enterbungund Ersetzung Israels durch die Kirche. Beiallem Respekt vorder Person Bubers als Denker,Mensch und Jude,⁴⁰ bei aller Bedeutung,die er Israel als „auserwähltem Volk Gottes“ für die Kirche zuspricht und aller politischen Gegnerschaft zum Nationalsozialismus (Schmidt wird als Nazi-Gegner noch 1933 vonseinem Bonner Lehrstuhl vertriebenund geht in die Schweiz), fühlt Schmidt sich als Christ vonseinem Verständnis des Neuen Tes- tamentes her gedrängt und verpflichtet,den „Anspruch“ der christlichen Kirche, das neue, das „wahre“ Israel zu sein, unzweideutig zu vertreten. Schon in seinem ersten Brief an Buber hatte Schmidt davongesprochen, dass seinBeruf (als Theologe) getragen sei „vondem Amt der Kirche Jesu Christi.“ Und dieses „Amt“ heißt für Schmidt:Auslegung der Schrift.Die ist nicht bloß für den professionellen Exegeten, verpflichtend, sondern für den Christen und Theologen schlechthin, „weil alle Theologie Exegese der HeiligenSchrift ist,“ meint Schmidt, „wobei sich Exegese und Dogmatik nur technisch unterscheiden“.Der christliche Theologe tritt also Buber vonAnfang als „Amtsperson“ gegenüber,die – unbeschadet aller persönlichenGefühle – in aller Sachlichkeit den „exklusivkirchlichen Stand- punkt“ vertreten zu müssen glaubt. Und das sieht so aus: Zwar gäbe es „Gemeinsamkeit zwischenJuden und Christen“ in der „gemeinsamen Bemühung um Israel.“ Eine Kirche, die nichts wisse oder wissen wolle vonIsrael, seieine „leere Hülse.“ Aber diese Gemein- samkeit ist für Schmidt „nur eine vorläufige.“ Warum? „Die Kirche Jesu Christi eifert fort und fort um dieses Judentum; ihre Duldsamkeit ist ein hoffendesWarten, dass schließlich auch die Juden, ja gerade die Juden erkennen möchten, dass nur die Kirche des Messias Jesusvon Nazareth das vonGott berufene Gottesvolk darstellt, dem die Juden einverleibt werden, wenn sie sich wirklich als Israel verstehen.“„Nurdie Kirche“!Denn: „Kirche,“ davonist Schmidt überzeugt, „gibt

 Karl Ludwig Schmidtund Martin Buber, „Kirche, Staat,Volk, Judentum. Zwiegespräch im Jüdischen Lehrhaus in Stuttgartam14. Januar 1933,“ in: Buber, Schriften zumChristentum,145 – 168.  Vgl. Schmidts ersten Briefe vom11./12. 1.1933 in Buber, Briefwechsel II: 460f Martin Buber unddas Christentum 131 es nur in exklusivemSinn. Der Satz ausdem christlich – kirchlichen Altertum: ‚Extraecclesiam nulla salus‘ ist nicht nur römisch-katholisch, sondern überhaupt katholisch und auch evangelisch.“ Buber dagegenspricht zwar ebenfalls in aller Sachlichkeit vonseinem Glauben alsJude, aber gerade nichtals Träger eines Amtes.Erfühltsich „nicht berufen,“„für eine ‚Synagoge‘ zu sprechen.“ Er warund ist kein Rabbiner,wirdesnie werden, was ihmstets dieAblehnungdurch Vertreter derjüdischen Orthodoxie eintrug. Undselbst mit dem Wort „Judentum“ kann sich Buber nicht völligidentifizieren,denn er willals glaubenderMenschüber nichtsanderes nachdenken und sprechen alsüber das GeheimnisGottesmit „Israel.“ Buber vertrittgeradekeinen „Anspruch“ des Juden oder „der Synagoge“ an Christen oder die Kirche. Dabei kennt er die über Jahrhunderte tradiertePosition des christlichen Exklusivismus undAntijudaismus zurGenüge.Die Kirche sehe Israel „als ein vonGottverworfenes Wesen“,und dieseVerworfenheit ergebe sich notwendigerweiseaus dem „Anspruch der Kirche, das wahreIsrael zu sein“.Die „vonIsraelhaben danachihren Anspruch eingebüßt,weil sieJesus nicht als den Messiaserkannten.“ Zugleich aber denkt Buber jetzt nicht mehr daran, aufden christlichenEx- klusivismus mit einem jüdischen zu antworten. Wirerinnern uns an seine Äu- ßerungen ausden Jahren vordem Ersten Weltkrieg. Im Gegenteil: Bubers Antwort ist jetzt ein neues, zukunftsweisendes Gesprächsangebot. Zunächsträumt er ein, dass er als Jude „keine Möglichkeit“ habe, „gegendieses Wissen der Kirche um Israel etwas zu setzen“.Gemeint ist: den Anspruch der Kirche, das „wahre Israel“ zu sein, schlicht zu falsifizieren. Aber man kann als gläubiger Jude seinen eigenen Anspruchdagegen setzen, danebenstellen. Denn „Israel“ ist für ihn „ein Ein- maliges, Einziges, in keine Gattung Einzureihendes,nicht begrifflich Unterzu- bringendes.“ Und vondiesem „Israel“ wissen Juden und Christen „in grundver- schiedenerWeise,“ wie Buber meint.Von daher grenzt sich Buber einerseits von einem exklusivenchristlichen Standpunkt ab, andererseits aber ersetztergerade nicht einenchristlichen durch einen jüdischen Exklusivismus. Vielmehr vertritt Buber erstmalsindieser Form eine Theologie der wechselseitigenAnerkennung der grundverschiedenenGottesgeheimnisse von Israel und Kirche:

Aber wir Israel wissen um Israel voninnen her,imDunkel des voninnen her Wissens,im Lichtedes voninnen her Wissens. Wirwissen um Israel anders.Wir wissen (hier kann ich nicht einmal mehr ‚sehen‘ sagen, denn wir wissen es ja voninnen her,und auch nicht mit dem ,Augedes Geistes‘,sondern lebensmäßig), dass wir,die wir gegenGott tausendfach gesündigt haben, die wir tausendfach vonGott abgefallen sind, die wir diese Jahrtausende hindurch 132 Karl-Josef Kuschel

diese Schickung Gottesüber uns erfahren haben – die Strafe zu nennen zu leicht ist,esist etwas Größeresals Strafe –,wir wissen, dass wir doch nicht verworfen sind.⁴¹

DerungekündigteBundGottesmit Israel

„Nicht verworfen“ heißt positiv: DerBund Gottes mitIsraelbleibtgegeben. Dasist das Entscheidende. Magdie KircheIsraelauchnoch so sehr verworfen haben, magIsrael selber sich gegenGott „tausendfach“ versündigthaben, Gottes Berufung Israelsals sein Volk ist unwiderrufen. Wasumgekehrt heißt: Es gibt in der Geschichteein bleibendes Nebeneinander von Kirche und IsraelimGegenüber zu Gott. Buber bringt jetztdie theologische Schlüsselkategorie insSpiel, mitder dieses bleibendeGegen- über vonKircheund Israelbeschrieben werden kann: wechselseitige Anerkennung des jeweilseigenen „Gottesgeheimnisses.“ Dastheologische ZentrumBubers zum Verhältnis Kirche – Israel istjetzt und damitendgültig benannt:

Ichsagte schon: Das Juden und ChristenVerbindende bei alledem ist ihr gemeinsames Wissen um eine Einzigkeit,und vondaaus können wir auch diesem in Tiefstem Trennenden gegenübertreten; jedes echteHeiligtum kann das Geheimniseines anderen echten Heilig- tums anerkennen. Das Geheimnis des anderenist innen in ihm und kann nicht vonaußen her wahrgenommenwerden.Kein Mensch außerhalb vonIsrael weiß um das GeheimnisIsraels. Undkein Mensch außerhalb der Christenheit weiß um das Geheimnis der Christenheit.Aber nichtwissend können sie einander im Geheimnisanerkennen.Wieesmöglich ist,dass es die Geheimnisse nebeneinander gibt,das ist GottesGeheimnis. Wieesmöglich ist,dass es eine Welt gibt als Haus,indem diese Geheimnisse wohnen, ist GottesSache, denn die Welt ist ein Haus Gottes. Nicht indem wir uns jeder um seine Glaubenswirklichkeit drücken, nicht indem wir trotz der Verschiedenheit ein Miteinander erschleichen wollen,wohl aber indem wir unter Anerkennungder Grundverschiedenheit in rücksichtslosem Vertrauen einandermitteilen, was wir wissen vonder Einheit dieses Hauses,von dem wir hoffen, dass wir uns einst ohne Scheidewände umgeben fühlen werden vonseiner Einheit,dienen wir getrennt und doch miteinander,bis wir einst vereint werden in dem einen gemeinsamen Dienst,bis wir alle werden, wie es in dem jüdischen Gebet am Fest des Neuen Jahresheißt: ‚ein einzigerBund, um Seinen Willen zu tun.‘⁴²

Die hier gewonnene Grundfigur der wechselseitigen Anerkennungdes je ver- schiedenenGottesgeheimnisses wird somit für Buber gesteuert voneiner theologischen Axiomatik: Gottes Berufung Israels als sein Volk ist unwiderrufen; der Bund Gottes mit Israel ist ungekündigt.Das hebtein Schlüsseldokument noch einmalheraus, das schon sprachlich-stilistisch zu den eindrücklichsten Zeug-

 Buber, „Kirche, Staat,Volk, Judentum,“ 159.  Ebd. MartinBuber und das Christentum 133 nissen Buberscher Prosa gehört: „Dom und Friedhof“ (1934), ein Text,den Buber schon 1933 in das Gespräch mitKarl LudwigSchmidt eingebracht hatte.

Ichlebe nicht fern vonder StadtWorms,andie mich auch eine Tradition meiner Ahnen bindet; und ich fahre vonZeit zu Zeit hinüber.Wenn ich hinüber fahre, gehe ich immer zuerst zum Dom. Das ist eine sichtbar gewordene Harmonieder Glieder,eine Ganzheit,inder kein Teil ausder Vollkommenheit wankt.Ich umwandle schauend den Dom mit einer vollkom- menen Freude. Dann gehich zum jüdischen Friedhof hinüber.Der besteht ausschiefen, zerspellten, formlosen, richtungslosen Steinen. Ich stelle mich darein, blickevon diesem Friedhofsgewirr zu der herrlichen Harmonieempor,und mir ist,als sähe ich vonIsrael zur Kirche auf. Da untenhat man nicht ein Quentchen Gestalt; man hat nur die Steine und die Ascheunterden Steinen. Man hat die Asche, wenn sie sich auch noch so verflüchtigthat.Man hat die Leiblichkeit der Menschen, die dazu geworden sind. Man hat sie. Ich habe sie. Ich habesie nicht als Leiblichkeit im Raum dieses Planeten, aber als Leiblichkeit meiner eigenen Erin- nerungbis in die Tiefe der Geschichte, bis an den Sinai hinein. Ichhabe da gestanden, war verbunden mit der Asche und quer durch sie mit den Urvätern. Das ist Erinnerungandas Geschehenmit Gott,die allen Juden gegeben ist.Davon kann mich die Vollkommenheit des christlichen Gottesraums nicht abbringen, nichts kannmich ab- bringenvon der Gotteszeit Israels. Ichhabedagestanden und habe alles selber erfahren, mir ist all der Todwiderfahren: all die Asche, die Zerspelltheit,all der lautlose Jammer ist mein; aber der Bund ist mir nicht auf- gekündigtworden. IchliegeamBoden, hingestürztwie diese Steine. Aber gekündigt ist mir nicht. Der Dom ist,wie er ist.Und der Friedhof ist,wie er ist.Aber gekündigt ist uns nicht worden.⁴³

Der Text ist sowohl in seiner narrativenDramaturgie wie in seiner inhaltlichen Substanz nicht nur ein Schlüsseltext Buberscher Schreib-und Wortkunst,sondern auch ein Schlüsseltext Buberscher Theologie und Spiritualität.Erist kurz, aber höchst kunstvoll gestaltet.Dabei darf die kontrastive Gegenüberstellung von „Dom“ und „Friedhof“ nicht als „Kleinmachen“ oder als falsche Schwäche des Judentums missverstanden werden. Im Gegenteil. Gerade weil Buber die jüdische Seite mit dem Bild vom „Friedhofsgewirr“ so „bescheiden“ hält,kann er seine dialektische Pointeumso wirkungsvoller ins Spiel bringen: Das, was menschlich- geschichtlich gesehen klein, gering,ja„aschig“ aussieht,ist vonGotther groß. Und das, was äußerlich so „vollkommen“ dasteht,muss sich vorGott bescheiden. Das am Ende des Textes dreimal wiederholte „mir nicht gekündigt“ bringt in Selbstbescheidung und Selbstbewusstsein Israels bleibende Erwählung durch Gott zum Ausdruck, aber auch die eigene BindunganIsrael. „Mir“ nicht gekündigt: diese Personalisierung ist entscheidend. Der Bund Gottes mit Israel ist auch für jeden Einzelnen verpflichtend. Er kann durch keine

 Buber, „Dom und Friedhof“,in: Buber, Schriften zumChristentum,175. 134 Karl-Josef Kuschel menschlichen Machenschaften gegenIsrael einerseits und keine Versündigung Israels gegenGott andererseits aufgehoben werden. Keine Macht der Welt und kein Missbrauch durch die Religionen vermögen GottesBindunganIsrael zu annul- lieren: das ist Bubers bleibendesachliche und persönliche Überzeugung,die auch durch die Erfahrung der Schoah nicht erschüttert wird. Gekündigt werden könnte der Gottes-Bundnur vonGott selbst. Umgekehrt aber lebt für Buber auch die christliche Kirche Seite an Seite mit Israel als eine in ihrer Andersheitgottgewollte Größe. Die Kirche hat ihr eigenes unverwechselbares Gottesgeheimnis. Buber bringt dies aufdie prägnanteFormel, mit der er nicht zufällig seinen Beitrag im Gespräch mit Karl LudwigSchmidt enden lässt: „Der Christ braucht nichtdurchs Judentum, der Jude nicht durchs Christentum zu gehen, um zu Gott zu kommen.“⁴⁴ Beide, Juden wie Christen, wissen somit um ihr jeweiligesGottesgeheimnis, ohne es miteinander teilen zu können. Warumaber das so ist,warum es dieses Nebeneinander der „Geheim- nisse“ gibt in der einen Welt als dem „Haus Gottes“:das zu wissen, bleibt Men- schen entzogen. Den Grundkennt Gott allein. Eine Einsicht,die Juden und Christen wechselseitigbescheiden machen könnte. Buber argumentiert auch hier wiedertheozentrisch und zieht darausKonsequenzen für die Verpflichtung von Juden und Christen aufFrieden und praktische Zusammenarbeit.Beide wissen sich hineingehalten in das GeheimnisGottes,jetzt nochmit einer „Scheidewand“ versehen, aber doch ausgestattet mit dem Wissen um die Einheitdes Hauses Gottes und mit der Hoffnung, dass sie einstvereint sein werden in dem einen „gemeinsamenDienst.“ Das alles hat miteinem schiedlich-friedlichenNebeneinander vonJuden und Christen nichts zu tun. So wäre Buber gründlich missverstanden. Denn sein Text lässt nicht Unverbindlichkeit,sondern Verpflichtung für Juden und Christen erkennen, um die jeweils erkannteWahrheit Gottes noch zu ringen. Ausdrücklich betont Buber,dass man sich als Jude oder Christ um seinejeeigene „Glaubens- wirklichkeit,“ d.h. um sein im Gewissen verpflichtendes Glaubenszeugnis, nicht „drücken“ könne. Das je eigene Glaubenszeugnis wäre in „rückhaltlosemVer- trauen“ einander „mitzuteilen.“ Das ist das Gegenteilvon schulterklopfendem Einverstandensein mit der Andersheit des je Anderen,was nur ein Alibi lieferte für Passivität und Gleichgültigkeit.Verpflichtung aufDialogizität verbindet sich bei Buber vielmehr mitdem Festhalten an einertheologischen Axiomatik. Wasfolgt daraus? Religionsgespräche haben für Buber nicht das Ziel, „gleiche Glaubensinhalte“ zu identifizierenmit dem Ziel, die Differenzen zwischen den Religionen zu überspielen oder zu bagatellisieren. Stattdessen stelltBuber seine

 Buber, „Kirche, Staat,Volk, Judentum,“ 168. Martin Buber unddas Christentum 135

Arbeit in den Diensteiner Wiederbelebung der „gemeinsamen Urwahrheit“,auf die Juden und Christen gleichermaßen verwiesen sind:das Geheimnis Israels als erwähltem Bundesvolk. Dieses Geheimnisaberhat man nichtohne tiefe Ver- trautheit mit der Ur-Kunde: der Hebräischen Bibel.

Bibelverdeutschung: BubersVermächtnisan Juden undChristen

Gemeint ist das Projekt einer „Verdeutschung der Schrift“,andem Buber 1925 zusammen mit Franz Rosenzweigzuarbeitenbeginnt.Erst 1961 – vier Jahre vor seinem Tod – kann er das Werk vollenden,nicht zuletzt deshalb, weil sein Partner Rosenzweig1929imAlter vonnur 42 Jahren gestorben war.Die gemeinsame Arbeit war bis zum 53.Kapitel des Buches Jesaja vorgedrungen.Waswar und ist der Sinn dieses gewaltigen Unternehmens, das man ohne ÜbertreibungBubers Ver- mächtnisanJuden und Christen bezeichnen kann? Beieiner Hausfeier 1961inJerusalem „zum Abschluss“ der Übertragungsar- beit gibt Buber nocheinmaleinen Hinweis.⁴⁵ Die Verdeutschung der Hebräischen Bibel hatte und hat einen doppelten Sinn. Zumeinen sollteein weitgehend as- similiertes deutschsprachigen Judentum, das keine Kenntnisse der Ursprache mehr besitzt,überdas Deutsche an die ureigenen Quellen herangeführt werden. Buber-Rosenzweigwählen bewusst eine Sprachform, die das hebräische Original im Deutschen durchklingen lässt und so sprachlich-akustisch nochhörbar macht. Zumzweiten sollteder deutschen Christenheit ihr manchmallatenter,manchmal offener „Marcionitismus“ ausgetrieben werden, um sie resistenter zu machen gegendie stets aufs Neue virulente Versuchung,das „Neue“ Testament unter Abwertungoder gar Absehung vom „Alten“ Testamentes stark zu machen. In seiner Ansprache bei der genanntenHausfeier zitiert Buber nicht zufällig einen Brief Franz Rosenzweigs an ihn vom29. Juli 1925,dem Jahr ihres Arbeitsbeginns:

Ist Ihnen eigentlich klar,dass heut der vonden neuen Marcioniten theoretisch erstrebte Zustand praktisch schon da ist?Unter Bibel versteht heut der Christ nur das Neue Testament, etwa mit den Psalmen, vondenen er dann noch meist meint sie gehörten nicht zum Alten Testament.Also werden wir missionieren.⁴⁶

 Martin Buber, „ZumAbschluss,“ in: Buber, Werke (Heidelberg/München: VerlagLambert Schneider und Kösel-Verlag, 1964), Bd.2(Schriften zur Bibel), 1175 – 82.  Buber, Briefwechsel,II: 232. 136 Karl-Josef Kuschel

Die Anspielung auf „neue Marcioniten“ bezieht sich aufeine Gestalt in der Ge- schichte der frühen Kirche, aufden ausKleinasienstammenden Schiffsreeder Marcion (ca. 85 – 160 n.Chr.). Dieserhatte die normativenSchriften des Judentums (weil angeblich nur voneinen zwar gerechten, aber auch unbarmherzig strafenden Schöpfer- und Richtergott zeugend) verworfen und nur Teile des Neuen Testa- mentes gelten lassen. Warum?Weil nur sie angeblich voneinem lichten, guten, liebendenErlösergott zeugen. Damit hatte Marcion einen verhängnisvollen Dua- lismus vonGesetzund Evangelium etabliert,schwerwiegender noch, damit hatte er Schöpfung und Erlösung auseinander gerissen. Gegen Marcion, der nach einem Bruch mit der römischen Gemeinde 144n.Chr. eine eigene, Jahrhunderte lang dann erfolg- und einflussreiche Kirche zu gründen versteht,trifft die frühe Kirche eine Entscheidungvon epochaler Wirkung: Ein für allemal bleibt die Hebräische Bibel dasFundament zur Auslegung der Gottes- botschaft Jesu und zum Verständnis des Bekenntnisses zu Jesus als dem Christus. „Marcioniten“ aber gibtesimmer wieder in der Geschichte der Kirche,alteund neue. Gerade auch gegensie ist das Projekt „Verdeutschung der Schrift“ gerichtet. In einem weiteren vonBuber zitierten Schreiben Rosenzweigs an einen Freund vomDezember 1925 steht es nochdeutlicher:

Ichfürchte manchmal, die Deutschen werden diese allzu unchristliche Bibel nicht vertragen, und es wirddie Übersetzung der heut ja vonden neuen Marcioniden angestrebten Aus- treibung der Bibel ausder deutschenKultur werden, wie Luthers die der Eroberung Deutschlands durch die Bibel war.Aber auch aufein solches Golus Bowel [babylonisches Exil] könnte ja dann nach siebzigJahrenein neuer Einzugfolgen, und jedenfalls – das Ende ist nicht unsereSache, aber der Anfangund das Anfangen.⁴⁷

Buber kommentiert diese Briefstellen Rosenzweigs zum Abschluss seiner An- sprache 1961mit der überraschendenPräzisierung seine Ablehnung von „Missi- on,“ vonder wir zu BeginnsoEntschiedenes im Zusammenhang mit der „Fremdandacht“ im Gymnasium zu Lemberggehört haben:

Es sieht mir nicht danach aus, als ob Die Schrift siebzig Jahre zu warten hätte. Aber ‚missionieren‘–ja, aufjeden Fall! Ichbin sonst ein radikaler Gegner alles Missionierens und habe auch Rosenzweig gründlichwidersprochen,wenn er sich für eine jüdische Mission einsetzte. Aber diese Mission da lasse ich mir gefallen, der es nicht um Judentum und Christentum geht, sondern um die gemeinsame Urwahrheit,von derenWiederbelebung beider Zukunft ab- hängt. Die Schrift ist am Missionieren. Und es gibt schon Zeichen dafür,dass ihr ein Gelingen beschieden ist.⁴⁸

 Buber, „ZumAbschluss,“ 1182.  Ebd. Martin Buber unddas Christentum 137

Die „gemeinsame Urwahrheit“ freilegen, darum geht es Buber.Sie ist eine Her- ausforderunganbeide: an Juden wie Christen. Nurwenigesind ihm darin gefolgt,darunter ein christlicher Theologe, dessen ich hier besonders gedenkenwill: der schwäbische Pfarrer und Schriftsteller Al- brecht Goes (1908–2000). Schon 1934 hatte er sich als 26jährigerPfarrer einmal brieflich um Rat an Buber gewandt,nicht ahnend, dass ihm gut20Jahre später die Aufgabe zufallen würde, in geschichtlich außerordentlicher Stunde eine große Rede aufBuber zu halten: die Laudatio bei der Verleihung des Friedenspreises des Deutschen Buchhandels an Buber 1953.Theologisch als Christ durch das Grauen der Schoah sensibel geworden, hatte sich Goes dafür vorallem durch sein lite- rarischesWerk nach 1945 „empfohlen.“ Insbesondereseine Erzählung „Begeg- nung in Ungarn“ (1946) sowie „UnruhigeNacht“ (1950) sind hier zu nennen. Nach der Paulskirchen-Rede werden noch wichtigeTexte wie „Das Brandopfer“ (1954) und „Das Löffelchen“ (1965) folgen. Das Verhältnis Buber – Goesist miterhel- lenden Analysen und zahlreichen Dokumenten 2008 gründlich aufgearbeitet und dargestelltworden durch den Tübinger evangelischen Theologen Helmut Zwan- ger: „Albrecht Goes. Freund Martin Bubers und des Judentums. Eine Hommage“. Für Goes war Bubers „theologisches Axiom“ vom „ungekündigten Bund“ Gottes mit Israellebensentscheidend geworden. Entsprechend hatte ihn der tief ver- wurzelteAntijudaismus christlicher Theologie sowie das Versagen seiner Kirche gegenüber dem Judentum im Dritten Reich mit Scham und Trauer erfüllt.Daran hatte auch das nachmals viel zitierte „Stuttgarter Schuldbekenntnis“ vomOktober 1945weniggeändert, da auch hier eine Benennung der Mitschuld vonKirche an den Verbrechen gegendas jüdische Volk völlig fehlte. Am 27.September 1953 wird Buber in der Frankfurter Paulskircheder Frie- denspreis des deutschen Buchhandels verliehen. Eine geschichtlich bedeutsame Stunde schon deshalb, weil Buber erst zum zweiten Mal nach seiner Vertreibung ausDeutschland und seiner erzwungenen Übersiedlungvon Heppenheim nach Jerusalem (1938) wieder öffentlich in Deutschland redet.Seiner Dankesrede gibt Buber den Titel gibt: Das echte Gespräch und die Möglichkeit des Friedens.“ Sein Laudator Goesspricht über „Martin Buber,der Beistand“ und grenzt „Beistand“ ab vom „Diktator“ einerseits und vom „Präzeptor“ andererseits. „Beistand“ sei einer, der uns begleite, meint Goes, „durch die unendliche Dauer des Augenblicks“,der uns die Augen öffne für die „unermessliche Gnade des Augenblicks.“⁴⁹ 1980 hält Goes eine Rede zur Eröffnungeiner Buber-Ausstellung in Heilbronn und bestimmt mit Blick aufBuber noch einmal grundsätzlich das Verhältnis vonJuden und

 Zit. nach Helmut Zwanger, AlbrechtGoes.Freund Martin Bubers und des Judentums.Eine Hommage (Tübingen: Klöper &Meyer,2008), 63. 138 Karl-Josef Kuschel

Christen nach der Schoah: „Ichwill nur sagen: mansoll ihn (Buber), der sich zuweilen einen ‚Erzjuden‘ genannt hat,nicht in einemchristlichen Vorhof an- siedeln wollen; dort wollte er nie sein. Ich denke einen ungelehrten, ernsthaften Menschen, der Gesprächen in diesem Spannungsfeld zuhört,und dann einen Satz wie diesen versucht: es scheine ihm wichtig,dass der Christ,indemerhier zuhört, aufmerksamer aufsein Christsein achten lernt,und dass der Jude, indeserzuhört, aufmerksam sich neu aufseinJude-sein besinnt.Ihm, der so spricht,würde ich sagen: ‚Sie haben Martin Buber an Ihrer Seite.‘“⁵⁰

„Zu Gott demütig werden“: BubersGrundhaltungzuden Religionen

„Nichtineinem christlichen Vorhof“.Buber entzieht sich solchenVereinnah- mungen,weil sein Denken Schablonen sprengt.Wir haben uns seinen Wegvon der Konfrontation zum Dialog klar gemacht.Sein Werk dient nichtder Selbstbestä- tigung „des Judentums“ oder der Widerlegung „des Christentums,“ sondern einem Dritten: dem Nachdenken über das Geheimnis Gottes mit seinem Volk und den Völkern, gegründet im Geheimnis Israels als dem Bundesvolk Abrahams. Für Buber ist daseine Herausforderunganbeide Seiten: an Juden wie Christen. Und zur Illustration dieser Herausforderunggibt es keine eindrücklichere Geschichte als die, die man in Bubers Buch Der Wegdes Menschen nach der chassidischen Lehre ausdem Jahr 1948 findet.⁵¹ Diese Geschichte spielt in einem Gefängnis in St.Petersburgnoch zur Zeit der Zarenherrschaft.Eingekerkert ist Rabbi Schnëur Salman, der Rabbiner vonReussen. Er war bei der Regierung verleumdet worden und sieht einem Verhör entgegen. Da kommt der Obersteder Gendarmerie in seine Zelle, und es entspannt sich ein „christlich-jüdischer Dia- log“ der besonderen Art,denn der Wächter erweist sich als ein „nachdenklicher Mann.“ Er verwickeltden Gefangenen in ein Gespräch, denn beim Lesen der Bibel ist ihm ein Widerspruch aufgefallen. Jetzt möchte er den Rabbi „testen“: „Wieist es zu verstehen,“ fragterden Gefangenen, „dass Gott der Allwissende zu Adam spricht: ‚Wo bist du‘?“ Kann Gott etwas erfragen wollen, was er als „Allwissender“ eigentlich längst wissen müsste? Der Rabbi antwortet: „Glaubt Ihr daran, […]dass die Schrift ewig ist und jede Zeit,jedes Geschlecht und jeder Mensch in ihr be- schlossen sind?“ Als der Wächter die Fragebejaht, sagt der Rabbi: „Nunwohl, […] in jeder Zeit ruft Gott jeden Menschen an: ‚Wo bist du in deinerWelt?Soviele Jahre

 Zit. nach ebd., 92.  Martin Buber, Werke III: 713 – 738. Martin Buber und das Christentum 139 und Tage vonden dir zugemessenen sind vergangen, wie weit bist du derweilen in deinerWelt gekommen?‘ So etwa spricht Gott: ‚Sechsundvierzig Jahre hast du gelebt,wohältst du?‘“ Alsder Obersteüberraschend die Zahl seiner Lebensjahre nennen hört,legt er dem Rabbi die Hand aufdie Schulter und ruft: „Bravo!.“ Und sein Herz „flattert.“⁵² Warumerzählt Buber diese Geschichte? Und warumerzählt er sie so? Ihm kommt es aufeine entscheidende Einsicht an. Die Fragedes Obersten ist ja eine Art Fangfrage, gestelltinder Position des angeblich Überlegenen. Sie ist im Grunde, so Buber, „keine echte Frage, sondern nur eine Form der Kontroverse.“ Deshalb zielt die Antwort des Rabbi aufetwas ganz Anderes.Sie zielt darauf, den Fra- genden ausder Rolle des Überlegenen zu holen und ihn zum Betroffenen zu machen. Zielt darauf, dass der Fragende sich selber als „Adam“ begreift,anden Gott die entscheidende Fragerichtet: „Wo bist du?“ Nicht der angebliche Wider- spruchGottes steht zur Debatte, sondern der Standort des Fragenden. „Wo bist du in deiner Welt?“ Und wenn Gott so fragt, will er,meint Buber, „vomMenschen nicht etwas erfahren,was er noch nicht weiß;erwill im Menschen etwas bewirken, was eben nur durch eine solche Fragebewirkt wird, vorausgesetzt,dass sie den Menschenins Herz trifft,dass der Mensch sich vonihr ins Herz treffen lässt.“⁵³ Die Pointedieses Dialogs zwischen einem Juden und einem Christen läuftalso aufdie exemplarische Erkenntnis heraus:Alles kommtdaraufan, ob Menschen sich in der Begegnung in Fragestellen,obsie sich vonGott nach ihrem Ort befragen lassen. DieBegegnungzwischen Judenund Christen hört dann auf, zur Wahrheitsrechtha- berei zu werden. Beide stellensich unter die „FrageGottes,“,eineFrage,die,soBuber, dieMenschen „aufrühren“ will.EineFrage,die ihnen ihren „Verstecksapparat zer- schlagen“ undsozeigenwill, wo der Mensch „hingeraten“ ist.⁵⁴ Das Zusammen- kommen vonJudeund Christ wäre dann,wenn beide sich vonGott befragen ließen: „Wo bist du?“,keine „Vergegnung“,sondern eineechte „Begegnung“. Dass „Religionen“ in ihrer institutionalisierten Form Menschen den Wegzu Gott verstellen können, davonwar Buber in seinem Alter mehr denn je überzeugt. Sein geistiges Vermächtnis im Blick aufdie Religionen der Welt (auf alle Religio- nen) hat er in einem kurzen Text niedergelegt,den er bescheiden „Fragmente über Offenbarung“ nennt.Ererscheint in dem Sammelband „Nachlese“⁵⁵,dessen Veröffentlichung Buber nicht mehr erlebt,daeram13. Juni 1965inJerusalem verstirbt.Fahnenkorrekturen kann er noch vornehmen. Der kurze, aber dicht

 Martin Buber, „Der Wegdes Menschen nach der chassidschen Lehre,“ in Ebd., 715.  Ebd., 716.  Ebd., 717.  Martin Buber, „Fragmenteüber Offenbarung,“ in: Buber, Nachlese (Heidelberg: Verlag Lam- bert Schneider,1966), 107–112. 140 Karl-Josef Kuschel geschriebene Text ist seinVermächtnis am Ende eines langen Lebens. Und dieses sein Vermächtnis ist auch heute noch herausforderndgenug:

Die geschichtlichenReligionen habendie Tendenz, Selbstzweckzuwerdenund sich gleichsam an Gottes Stellezusetzen, undinder Tatist nichtssogeeignet,dem Menschendas Angesicht Gottes zu verdecken, wieeine Religion.Die Religionenmüssen zu Gottund zu seinem Willen demütig werden;jedemuss erkennen, dass sie nur eineder Gestaltenist,indenen sich die menschliche Verarbeitungder göttlichen Botschaft darstellt, – dass sie kein Monopol aufGott hat; jede muss daraufverzichten, dasHausGottes aufErden zu sein,und sich damit begnügen, einHausder Menschenzusein, dieinder gleichenAbsicht Gott zugewandtsind, ein Haus mit Fenstern; jede muss ihrefalsche exklusive Haltungaufgebenund dierechteannehmen. Und noch etwasist not: dieReligionenmüssen mitallerKraft darauf horchen, wasGottes Willefür diese Stunde ist,sie müssen vonder Offenbarung ausdie aktuellen Problemezubewältigen suchen, dieder Widerspruchzwischen dem Willen Gottes und der gegenwärtigenWirklichkeit der Welt ihnenstellt. Dann werden sie,wieinder gemeinsamen Erwartung der Erlösung, so in der Sorge um dienoch unerlösteWeltvon heute verbunden sein.⁵⁶

 Ebd., 111f. YoramBilu Dialogic Anthropology

Introduction

ForBuber,the attitude of dialogue creates the sphere of authentic existence. “The individual is afact of existenceinsofar as he steps into aliving relationship with other individuals.”¹ Buber’sidea, thatthe self is actuallyasocial or interpersonal self, seems to resonatewith linguistic perspectives, accordingto which dialogue is amore fundamental form of speech than monologue, and language “lies on the borderline between oneself and the other.”² In the same vein, it might be argued that culture – of which languageisarguablythe most significant component – is located in the interstices between people. Indeed, even without embracing Buber’sideas as avantage point,itseems safe to argue that for anthropology, the discipline that studies human culture, the centrality of dialogue is self-evident.Communicating with the other,making sense of and giving voice to the other’srich subjectivity,adopting “the native’spoint of view,” without “goingnative”³– all these are the sine qua non of ethnography. Still, as elaboratedbelow,the centrality of dialogue in anthropology, strongly present in the ethnographic process (fieldwork), has often been much less visible in the ethnographic outcome (text). Dialogic anthropology contends, more explicitly, that the ethnographic en- deavorisjustametonym of culture-making in general. AccordingtoTedlock and Mannheim,⁴ whose work provides the conceptual framework for this essay, cultures are continuouslyproduced, reproduced and revised in dialogues among their members. Cultural events are the scenes whereshared culture emergesfrom interactions. Once cultureisseen as arising from dialogical ground, then ethnographyitself is revealedasanemergent cultural(or intercul- tural) phenomenon, produced, reproduced and revised in dialogues between field-workers and natives. In what follows, Iwill keep the analytic distinction be-

 Martin Buber, TheWay of Response Edited by N. N. Glatzer (New York: Schocken Books, 1966), 113.  M. M. Bakhtin, TheDialogic Imagination,trans. by C. Emerson and M. Holquist (Austin: Uni- versity of Texas Press,1981), 293.  CliffordGeertz, TheInterpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic Books,1973).  Dennis Tedlock and BruceMannheim, eds., TheDialogic Emergence of Culture. (Urbana and Chicago:University of Illinois Press, 1995). 142 YoramBilu tween ethnographyand culture. First,following Tedlock and Mannheim,⁵ Iwill critically discuss the place allotted to dialogue in ethnographic works.Second, resortingtomyown fieldwork, Iwill highlight some intriguing aspectsofthe dialogic nature of cultureasreflected in the vicissitudes of an Israeli shrine which I studied in the 1980s.⁶

The predicament of dialogueinanthropology

Accordingtodialogic anthropology,ethnographyshould acknowledge more ex- plicitlythe dialogic nature of its own production. This claim is in concert with manyother critical voices in current anthropology,propelled by “the crisis of representation,”⁷ and augmented by the epistemological melancholia that plagued the discipline in the postmodern era.⁸ Against the positivistic, self-assured stance of classicalanthropology,postmodern anthropology has been in- formedbyasocial reality in which the boundaries between ethnographer and informant weresystematicallyeroded, and with it the authority of the ethnographic text.Infact,some of the discontent uttered by dialogic anthropologists gave also rise to the genre of experimentalethnographies⁹ thatevolved as are- action to the unwarranted “ethnographic realism” of classicalanthropology.Re- cent ethnographies in this genre do seek to retain some of the dialogic exchange between researcher and native, and with it some of the “noise” thatisembedded in the particularfieldwork context. Insofar as fieldwork alone is concerned, the importance of dialogue wasrec- ognizedinanthropologylongtime ago. To grasp the native’spoint of view the ethnographer had to immerse himself or herself in native subjectivity.Ideally, this could generate an interpersonal ambiance conducivetothe creation of I- Thou relationship, in the Buberian sense. But the writing of ethnographyin

Ibid.  See YoramBilu, TheSaints’ Impresarios: Dreamers, Healers, and Holy MeninIsrael’sUrban Periphery (Haifa: Haifa University Press, 2005) [Hebrew]; idem., “Dreamers in Paradise: The Wor- ship of Prophet Elijah in Beit She’an, Israel,” ARAM 20 (2008): 43 – 57.  James Clifford and George E. Marcus,eds., Writing Culture: ThePoetics and the Politics of Eth- nography (Berkeley:The University of CaliforniaPress,1986); James Clifford, The Predicament of Culture (Cambridge,Mass.: HarvardUniversity Press, 1988); George E. Marcus and Michael J. Fischer, Anthropology as aCultural Critique (Chicago:University of Chicago Press, 1986).  CliffordGeertz, Worksand Lives: TheAnthropologist as Author (Stanford: StanfordUniversity Press, 1987).  George E. Marcus and Dick Cushman, “Ethnographies as Texts.” Annual Review of Anthropol- ogy 11 (1982):25–69. Dialogic Anthropology 143 mainstream anthropologyhas ordinarilyconstituted an ascendance to objectivity.The self-interpreting movesofthe nativeswerenot part of the ethnography even though they were essentialfor its construction, and the beliefs and behav- iors of the researcher werenot inscribed in the same critical place as those by the persons under study. Following the intellectual impact of CliffordGeertz and the interpretive school in anthropology,¹⁰ the nativeshavebeen cast in the role of producers of texts, while the interpretation of these texts was reserved for the writers of ethnography. From acritical dialogical perspective,the objectified ethnographic text is often an authoritative monologue. It often adopts the voice of a third person omniscient narrator that reduces the voices of the others into afew understandable “native terms.” To takejust one striking example, in Levi- Strauss’ TristesTropiques,¹¹ the reigning classic among anthropological memoirs, not asingle Brazilian utters as much as one completesentence, not even with the aid of an interpreter.¹² The issue of anonymity (“disguising” the natives’ identities), the deliberate use of selective quoting in the service of lending support to the ethnographer’s hypotheses, and the elimination of the first-person voice, and often the very person, of the fieldworker – all these are examples of taking a “scientific distance” from the nativesand of flatteningthe dialogue with them in ethnographies.In Buber’sterms the potential I–Thourelationship is thus reduced into I–It. Under the spellofthe crisis of representation, the once-romanticencounter between researcher and native in ethnographic classics has been harshlycriti- cized, among other things, as emblematic of I–It relations (without using these terms explicitly). Iwill illustrate this type of criticism by an example from Clifford and Marcus’s Writing Culture,¹³ the paradigmatic volume of the hyper-reflexive,postmodern anthropologyofthe 1980s and 1990s. In this volume Renato Rosaldo compares ahistorical classic, Montaillou by Ladourie¹⁴ – himself ahistorian with ethnographic sensibilities – with an ethnographic classic, Evans-Pritchard’swork on the Nuer.¹⁵ Intriguingly,Rosaldo does not compare the eminentanthropologist with the historian but rather with Inquisitor Jacque

 Geertz, Interpretation of Cultures; LawrenceRosen, Bargaining for Reality:The Construction of Social Relations in aMuslim Community (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1984).  Claude Levi-Strauss, Tristes Tropiques,trans. John Russell (New York: Atheneum, 1973).  Dennis Tedlock, “Interpretation, Participation, and the Role of Narrative in Dialogic Anthro- pology.” TheDialogic Emergence of Culture,D.Tedlock and B. Mannheim,eds.(Urbana and Chi- cago: University of Illinois Press, 1995), 264.  Marcus and Cussman [see fn. 7].  Le Roi Emmanuel Ladourie, Montaillou: Cathars and Catholics in aFrench Village: 1294–1324 (London: Scholar Press, 1978).  E. E. Evans-Pritchard, TheNuer (Oxford: OxfordUniversity Press,1940). 144 YoramBilu

Fournieu, the chief interrogator of the heretic inhabitants of Montaillou. In both cases, so the argument goes, the authorsentirelyignorethe critical context of control and oppression originating in British colonialism and the church respectively. Working under the auspices of this oppressive power (perhaps unwittingly), the ethnographer’sdialogic encounter with the natives is reduced into mis- guided I–It relationship. Such arguments – again without referringexplicitlyto Buber – have been culminated in the generalized assertion that the making of anthropology as amodern discipline could not be separatedfrom the historical advent of Western imperialism and colonialism.¹⁶ But even without resortingto sweepinggeneralizations, it is safe to assume that even ethnographies attuned to the dialogic nature of fieldwork usually ignore the asymmetric nature of the encounter and the complexities of power relationships that enshroud it.Inapost- colonial, self-doubting anthropology, no one can be immune of the blameofob- jectifying or reducing the natives. Ironically, Vincent Crapanzano, who in Writing Culture¹⁷ did not spare his criticism for Clifford Geertzfor under-representing the nativesin“Deep Play,”¹⁸ was unflatteringly compared by Dennis Tedlock with conquistador Hernan Cortes. In Tuhami: Portrait of aMoroccan,¹⁹ Crapanzano depicted his relationship with one native,Tuhami,inall its richness and complexity;but at the sametime he left another native,the translator,entirelytrans- parent,asdid Cortes in his memoires of the conquest of Mexico. The pessimisticallyradical notions of certain brandsofpostmodern, post- colonial anthropology with its epistemological culturalrelativism – amounting to the immanent unknowablility of the Other – have been shunned by scientifi- callyinclined anthropologists as self-failing and self-destructive.Ironically, Buber might have joined this criticism, givenhis firm belief in the possibility of finding paths to the heart of the other. But he would have certainlysupported the erosion of boundaries between ethnographer and nativethat has been growing in more recent ethnographies.Along with the dialogic turn in anthropology, came the sensibility that the nativeasanobject of analysis maybecome an an- alyzingsubject and acritical reader of the ethnographyofwhich he or she have been the protagonists. The dialogical reverberations of the ethnographic texts in

 Talal Asad, Anthropology and the Colonial Encounter (New York: Humanities Books, 1973).  Vincent Crapanzano, TheHamadsha: AStudy in Moroccan Ethnopsychiatry (Berkeley:Univer- sity of CaliforniaPress,1973).  Geertz, “Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight,” in idem, Interpretation of Cultures, 412– 453.  Vincent Crapanzano, Tuhami: Portrait of aMoroccan (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1980). Dialogic Anthropology 145 the livesand social worlds of people is afascinating domain, which is beyond the scope of this essay.²⁰

Dreams and the dialogicnatureofculture: fieldwork example

In 1979,anIsraeli man of Moroccan background in his late 30s named Yaish O’hana, aleader of acleaning team in the Beit-She’an municipality,announced that he had discovered the Gate of Paradise in the backyardofhis house.The announcement was informed by aTalmudic tradition which deemed Beit She’an in the Jordan Valley as the privileged entrance (Babylonian Talmud, Eru- vin 19 A).Still, couplingthe enchanted Garden with aperipheral working-class development town,and groundingitinanunassumingplebian house appeared ambitiousatbest.Elijah the Prophet,the protagonist of Yaish’svisitational dreams which precipitated the discovery,was declaredthe patron of the site. Ya- ish’sdreams having inspired the new holyplace, also ignited achain reaction of dreams in the local community.Avibrant community of dreamers (for which I coined the term oneirocommunity);²¹ sprouted up around the Gate of Paradise, with an intense, open-ended dream-based dialogue as its interactive matrix. This dream discourse provided the dreamers with rich and engagingsubjective experiencesassociatedwith saint and site. The community enjoyed acharismatic, though short-lived, period, in which men and women exchanged dreams and other experiences in an enthusiasticand joyful atmosphere of solidarity and mutual care. To illustrate the character of the dream culturethat emergedaround the Gate of Paradise, Yaish’sinitiatory dream sequence, and two other dream reports of activists in the local community are presented in the appendix with short exegeses. The four dreams weretaken from acorpus of 150 dream reports Icollected in Beit She’an in the1980s. Dreams might represent achallengetoBuberian theory.Onthe one hand, psychologists have noted that dream-work is essentiallybased on encouraging adream dialogue between egoand the unconscious or between different

 See YoramBilu, Without Bounds:The Life and Death of Rabbi Ya’aqov Wazana (Detroit: Wayne StateUniversity Press, 2000), 153–167; Margaret BBlackman, ed., “The Afterlife of the Life History.” Journal of Narrativeand Life History 2(1) (1992);and Caroline Brettel, When They Read What We Write (Westport,CT: Bergin &Garvey,1993).  See YoramBilu, “Oneirobiographyand Oneirocommunity in Saint Worship in Israel: ATwo- Tier Model for Dream-Inspired Religious Revivals.” Dreaming 10/2 (2000): 85 – 101. 146 Yoram Bilu dream figures that represent distinct aspects of the psyche or constitute “sub- personalities.”²² But for Buber dialogue is not intra-psychic but rather situated in the realm of the inter-human. In modern psychology, dreams are conceptual- ized not as they are experienced, i.e., intenselycinematic virtual reality,but as subjective experiences and an endogenous creation of the person’sown psyche. Forexample, if during therapy aperson reports thatheorshe was pursued by a tiger in adream, acommon psychodynamic interpretation would be thatthe tiger symbolicallystands for the dreamer’saggressive side. Some therapists (following Jung’sAnalytic PsychologyorPerls’ Gestalt Psychology) mayresort to active imagery techniques, encouragingthe dreamer to stop running away and face the tiger asking literallyorsymbolically, “What do youwant?” It is possible then that the tiger might be transformed into something else, less frighteningand more accessible. In fact,the Senoi (or Semai),anaboriginal group in Malaysia, have developed an elaborate system of dream confrontation, basedonestablish- ing rapport with dream beings, which could arguably sublimate and “domesti- cate” the dream plot and message.²³ Notwithstanding the controversy over the authenticity of Senoy lucid dreaming,²⁴ its rationale is based on the transformative power of agenuine dialogue. As long as the tiger is frightening – as long as it is “it,” it will continue to pursue us, until we take it into account as aThou. But does Buber reallyallow that genuine dialogue is possibleintra-psychically? Does it not contradict the basic assumption thatI–Thou relation resides in the interpersonal (inter-subjective)domain? From an anthropological perspective,this challengecould be answered by problematizingthe very relevanceofapsychodynamic languagetoBuberian thinking about dreams.Let us consider the dreams in case. These dreams are dialogical in two respects. First,designated in scholarlydiscourse visitational dreams²⁵ because the dreamer is visited by otherworldlybeings, the dreams are epistemologicallylocated on acosmologicalrather thanpsychological plane.The dreams constitutecharismatic experiences, duringwhich the dreamer enters the sacred realm of the Garden of Eden and establishes adialogue with a transcendent power in the figure of Elijah the prophet.Moreover,Buber asserts

 Sigmund Freud, The Interpretation of Dreams,trans. and ed., James Strachey (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1954); Carl GustavJung, Dreams,trans.and ed., R. F. C. Hull (Prince- ton: Princeton University Press,1974).  K. R. Stewart, “Dream Theory in Malaya.” Complex 6(1951):21–33.  G.William Domhoff, TheMystique of Dreams: ASearch for Utopia Through Senoi DreamTheo- ry (Berkeley:University of CaliforniaPress, 1985); Stephen LaBerge,Exploringthe World of Lucid Dreaming(New York: Ballantine Books,1990).  Crapanzano, TheHamadsha. Dialogic Anthropology 147 that the divine is aphenomenological constant in the world, manifested in a multiplicity of signs.Yet people usually are not ready, open, or amenable to these omens. “Each of us is encased in an armor whose task is to ward off signs… and from generation to generation we perfect the defense apparatus.”²⁶ The dreamers of Beit She’an appear readytoencounter the holy; they engage in adialogue with the transcendent power thatfrequent their dreams;and they do it directly, despite their plebeian background, without the mediation of the religious authorities, and often against their will. Ibelievethat Buber would have noddedinapproval over this kind of liaison with the divine, based on the prophetic, inherentlydialogic experience of visitational dreams. Second, and more importantlyperhaps,the community of dreamers under discussion cultivated adialogic genre which is ordinarilyabsent from modern public life. Relatedtothe fact that visitationaldreams are epistemologically grounded in acosmological rather thanpsychological ground, they are also situated in asocial milieu that allows for culturallyenjoined framesofdisclosure and dream-telling.Unlike the modernpsychological view of dreamingasem- blematic of private, subjective,and largely ineffable experiences, here the dreams unabashedlywent public. What had started as arepresentation of experience, of the world, has become acultural thing in the world. The dreams were told and retold, mainlyduring visits to the shrines, whether on annual celebra- tions (hillulot)oronother occasions. This resonates with Jung’sword: “In the deepestsense,weall dream not out of ourselvesbut out of what lies between us and the other.”²⁷ The gayand festive atmosphere thatpervaded the dream- tellingsettings, resonatewith anthropologist Victor Turner’snotion of communitas, and liminality. Turnerian anthropology is dialogic to the core. Generally speaking, it might be argued that dialogue is typicallyliminal, involving betwixt and between. It is also liminal in the sense that it produces asemi-privatespace and time shared by interlocutors to the partial exclusion of the rest of the world. More to the point,accordingtoTurner, “the bondsofcommunitas are anti-struc- tural in the sense that they are undifferentiated, equalitarian, direct,extant,non- rational (but not irrational), existential, I–Thou (in Feuerbach’sand Buber’s sense) relationships… Communitas is spontaneous, immediate, concrete – it is not shaped by norms, it is not institutionalized, it is not abstract.”²⁸ In another place Turner defines communitas as “aspontaneously generated relationship between leveled and equal totaland individuated human beings, stripped of struc-

 Buber, TheWay of Response,119.  Jung, Dreams, 173.  Victor Turner, Dramas,Fields,and Metaphors (Ithaca, NY:Cornell University Press,1974), 274. 148 YoramBilu tural attributes…”²⁹ In yetanother place it is “adirect,immediate, and totalcon- frontation of human beings.”³⁰ While Turner’sconception of pilgrimageasthe event where “the other become abrother” is certainlyidealized, it can stillbe argued thatthe climate of saint worship and pilgrimagedoes foster adialogic exchangewith the transformative qualityofI–Thou. In conclusion, Iwould like to dwell on threenotions thatare pertinent to the essence of dialogic anthropology and that can be highlighted in the case under study. First,dialogic anthropology is stronglyassociated with the notion of emergence: the social and cultural world is not something independent from historical instancesofnative discourse but is made and remade preciselyinsuch instances.Buber viewed man as world-maker through dialogue. Dialogic anthropology seeks to engagenative speakers in their active “world-making” role. In the case under study, the authority and legitimacy of Yaish’srevelation was communallyvalidated through the dream dialogue that ensued. Moreover, the notions of site and saint werecreated anew with each dream and werene- gotiated and shaped in the course of the exchangebetween the dreamers. Note that in the dream appendix, Yaish’srevelation was reproduced in the dreams of the two other dreamers,Meir and Rachel. Each has created his or her own version of Paradise based on his or her particularlife experiences. Second, dialogic anthropologyislinked to the notion of performance: verbal meaning is an emergent property of performance, conceivedasafullyengaged social event and constructed jointlythrough the actions of all the participants in the event.Thus dialogic anthropologyisabout language, discourse,and dialogue as world making.Dialogue, like other social events, requires the tacit col- lusion of all the participants who implicitly agree that they are interpreting events within the same framework. These requirementsweresatisfied in the Gate of Paradise, because visitational dreams functioned as “swingconcepts,”³¹ bridging mental,intra-psychic processes and collective,interpersonal and intersubjective ones. This bridging function carries us to the third notion, that of personal symbols.

 Ibid., 202.  Ibid., 49.  Waud H. Kracke, “Reflections on the Savage Self: Interpretation, Empathy, Anthropology,” in TheMaking of PsychologicalAnthropology II, eds., M. M. Suarez-Orosco, G. Spindler,and L. Spin- dler (Fort Worth, TX: HarcourtBrace,1994), 195–222. Dialogic Anthropology 149

Following anthropologist Gananath Obeyesekere,³² apersonal symbol is viewed as located in between the privateand the public, amalgamating individual experiences and cultural symbols. The emergenceofthe community of be- lievers in Beit She’an, based on arich dream-based dialogue, was made possible because the visitational dreams werenot idiosyncraticallyconstrued. Rather, they stemmed from an established tradition of dreamingthat relied on awidely shared vocabulary of culturalsymbols. The authority of visitational dreams,their power to bind people to the shrine and to each other,and to constituteamean- ingful dialogue between them, was predicated on this shared vocabulary,in which saint and site were the major culturalidioms. As the dream reports in the appendix indicate, the dreamers employed the idioms of Elijah and Paradise in theirdreams to articulate and cope with awide variety of individual experiences.While offering this “therapeutic” function,which in itself waslikelytoen- hance the attractionofthe shrine for the dreamers,dreams of Elijah and paradise alsoserved as corroborative evidence for the validity of Yaish’srevelation underlying it and for engaging it on atrulydialogic level (the admixture of the privateand the public).Intheir dreams,Meir,Racheland other dreamers re- vivedand relivedYaish’srevelation, discovering anew their own version of Para- dise.

ACaveat

The notion of communitas is commonlyviewed as an idealized articulation of the spirit of saints’ pilgrimages since it has not been confirmed whenever put to empirical test.³³ The sense of comradeship and solidarity in Beit She’an community of dreamers was not an exception. The Gate of Paradise did not lastmore than two decades, despite the glamour of visitational dreams.Without goinginto the reasons for its downfall, we should ask how realistic are Buber’sideas regarding the establishment and, more challengingly,ofthe maintenanceofI– Though relationships in our world?Note that visitationaldreams playedadeci- sive role in the exciting charismatic phase of the foundation of the shrine, but

 Gannanath Obeyesekere, Medusa’sHair:AnEssay on Personal Symbols and Religious Expe- rience (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1981); G. Obeyesekere, TheWorkofCulture, (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1990).  YoramBilu, “The Inner Limits of Communitas: ACovert DimensionofPilgrimage Behavior.” Ethos 16/3 (1988): 302–325;John Eade and Michael J. Sallnow, “Introduction.” Eade and Sal- lnow,eds., Contesting the Sacred: TheAnthropology of Christian Pilgrimage (London: Rout- ledge,1991) pp. 1–29. 150 YoramBilu their effects proved to be short-lived. To sustain the initial enthusiasm (whichthe dreams reflected and further enhanced), to lengthen the “shelf life” of the shrine by institutionalizing the charismatic phase of the revelation (again, evident in the “dream epidemic” thatswept the community), acritical set of prosaic pre- conditions had to be fulfilled. Anew shrine cannot make itself aname without abasic infrastructure to properlyabsorb the visitors and an effective promotion campaign to attract people to the new shrine. All this involves resourcesand political sophistication that dream dialogue alone cannot provide, even when it is supposedlystemmingfrom the noble ground of communitas and I – Thoughre- lationships.

Appendix

1. Yaish: Announcement to the Public

I, O’hana Yaish who livesinBeit Shean, Neighborhood D, 210/2, have been privileged by the Lordtosee wonders.Inmyfirst dream a tsaddiq revealed himself to me and told me to diginthe yardbehind my house. Istarteddigging and suddenlyagate was disclosed to me. Ientered through the gate, and marvelous thingswererevealed to my eyes. Isaw apool with fresh water and alot of plants around it.Ikept on going and sawasplendid, bountiful garden, and rabbis walking around the garden, enjoying the brightness of the place. One of the rabbis turned to me and told me that Imust take good care of the place because it is holy. He alsotold me to informanyone who would like to come to the place that first he must cleanse himself. Ididn’tpay attention to the dream even though it came back every dayon that week. But then, on the second week, Iwas bothered again (byanother dream). Idreamed that Iwas standingbetween two cypress trees in the yard of my house and Iheard avoice calling to me in these words: Listen, listen, listen. Three timesthe voice was heard. Istood there trembling from head to toe, and the voice continued, tellingmethat the place wereIstood was holyand I must maintain its holiness. And again on the third week, on Sabbath eve, Iwenttothe synagogue to pray.Afterthe prayer Icame backhome, did the kiddush,and sat down to eat.After dinner Iwentout to the yard, and suddenlyagate was revealed to me in the sameplace, and Isaw light burning in the entrance. And again I heard the samevoice calling me in the samewords: Listen, listen, listen. And this time it was areality,not adream. And Iwas told that this was the gateof Paradise. And Iwas asked to build an iron gateand to clean the place, and to Dialogic Anthropology 151 put it in order.Iwas alsoasked to announce in all the synagogues and to inform the public at large that those who would like to frequent the place must first cut their fingernails and purify themselvesand make repentance. Then my wife had adream in which Icame to her and told her that we have to prepareaseudah (festive meal) and call it after Elijah the Prophet. Exegesis: The announcement,written down and promulgated to the inhabitants of Beit She’an, describes the entire set of experiences, most of them dream revelations, which led Ya’ish to locate the Gate of Paradise in his back yard. The events described in the announcement took place over threeweeks in the month of Elul, duringwhich Ya’ish graduallycame to realize the identity of the holysite. The opening dream, which recurred and troubled Ya’ish for aweek, was visually the most rich. The dreamer’snaivety—which probablyenhanced his credibility— was augmented by his stubborn refusal to engagethe nocturnal messagehere- ceived. Furthermore, he failed to identify the tsaddiq who offered the revelation and identifiedthe site (Bilu &Abramovitch 1985)—even though typological and traditionalimages of the Garden of Eden pervade the dream. The Announcement hinted at the site’sidentity by using expressions like “awonderful garden” and “Imustmaintain its holiness(cf. Genesis2:15).” Thisemphasis on the dreamer’s passivity,which presented him as an instrument thatconveyedmessages from authoritative beingsand voices,reinforced the claim to arevelation from an outside source. Nevertheless,the Announcement included some active descriptions (“Istarted digging”; “Ientered”; “Ikept on going”), which underlined the personal and spontaneous natureofthe inspiration and which foreshadow the initiative and activity involved in establishing the site—beginning with writing the announcement. After the first dream, Ya’ish did not again go through the Gate of Paradise. In other words, the dream was, for him, amiraculous initiation dream, aone-time event.Instead, he receivedoralmessages that highlighted the site’sholiness, until it wasfinallyidentified. These messages, each with aceremonial opening, echoed classic biblical revelations, beginning with Jacob’sdream (which also centered on awondrous gate—“the gate of heaven,” Gen. 28:17), through Moses at the burning bush, to Samuel’sinitiationdream at Shilo. The link to these two latter events can be seen in the phonetic similarity between the He- brew wordfor “listen,” tishma,and God’saddress to these prophets by their names, “Moshe, Moshe” (Ex. 3:4)and “Shmuel,Shmuel” (I Sam. 3:10). The link to the episode of the burning bush can also be seen in the similarity of the in- junctions: “the place whereIstood is aholyplace,” the voices told Ya’ish; like the admonition to Moses in Exodus 3:5: “the place whereyou stand is holyground.” 152 YoramBilu

The revelatory sequence reached its apex at the end of the third week, when the identity of the place wasconveyedtoYa’ish directly. The fact that this peak experience took place in waking reality granted it additional authority.Note the timing of the revelation—aSabbath eveatthe end of Elul, the month of peni- tencethat leads to the High Holidays.This, together with the activities thatpre- ceded the revelation—evening prayer in the synagogue, the Kiddush ritual, and Sabbath meal—converged to produce an appositebackdrop for the revelation. The revelation occurred at an intersection of sacredtime, sacred space, and ap- propriateritual activity (Eliade 1959).

2. Meir’sDream

Iamwalking near Kittan (a local textile factory) juncture, on the old road to Beit- She’an. There was some sort of hut,and Isaw someone there, looking likeare- ligious kibbutz member, with kovatembel on his head (a typical Israeli hat,one of the Israel’snational symbols in its first years).Hewas sitting there, and Isaw myself as if Iweregoing to work (in Kittan). He says to me: “Shalom Meir,how are you?” and Ireply: “Shalom, what are youdoing here?” Andhepoints at this house (Yaish’s), towardthe wadi,indicating that they are workingtherewith compressors, digging some sort of astream. Iask him why, and he says to me: “Look,the stream as it exists today, the rain always blocks it.The passage they dig,it’sinthe direction of this (Yaish’s) house.” And Iask him: “What happened?” And he says: “Look, here it always overflows; that is, it disrupts the traf- fic and all this. So we would like to dig astream here.” And he shows me how they work. SuddenlyImeet another person, and he also asks me how Iam. Andthe place is full of trees;really, trees all over,and people are comingout of the place, old-timers,like Yemenite Jews. And ayoung man was standing there, like Itold youbefore, akibbutz memberwith kova tembel. AndIask him: “Who are these people?” And he replies: “This is an old moshav (asemi-cooperative village), and in the morning every one is going on his work.” And Isee them, one with abasket,another with abicycle, etc. Iasked him: Can Isee this?” Andhesays: “Sure.” Ientered that place and, instead of seeing some sort of a moshav,Isawsomething like his (Yaish’s) house. And Isee something like ahospital, aSick-Fund clinic, girls with white gowns, all this. And Isee aman sitting there, with three bottles of wine near him, and inside the bottles thereare mirtles. Iask him: “Tell me, are these mirtles?Iwould like to ask youaquestion.” And this is what Iasked him: “Why doesn’tevery plantsucceed?” He replied: “Look, this is asecret Ican’tdivulge.” Dialogic Anthropology 153

And Isee the people, like sick people, sitting there, as in aSick-fund clinic. And he tells them to take some arak from the bottles, as if they threwaway(the pills) …As if they took some pills or something,and now they don’ttake these pills anymore. And he givesthem some arak to drink, this is theirmedicine. And I ask them: “Well, how do youfeel?” Andthey say: “All the pain thatwehad – with the stuff he has givenus, it’sO.K., it’spasses away.” And Igoonand Isee athird man, and Iask him: “What do youplant here?” And he says, “Look mister,here, near the entrance to Beit-She’an, we already planted something one year ago, but the inhabitants spoiled what we had planted. Then Isay: “Youshould blame no one. Youinformed us neither by letters nor through the Ministry of Religion or the local municipality.” Then he says: “You’ll receive aletter and then you’ll know.” That’swhat he said to me. Exegesis: In contrast with Ya’ish’sdreams, which takeplace in acontextual vacuum, Meir’sdream involved places and characters from Beit She’an and its environs—the Kitan junction (the location of the factory whereMeir worked), a man from areligious kibbutz (of which there are several just southofBeit She’an (, an old Yemenite moshav,aclinic, and of course Ya’ish’shome, where the dreamer was headed. The diversion of the creek towardsthe house signaled the identity of the site—Genesis 2:10 states that “ariver went out of Eden to water the garden.” The creek supplied the water for the saplingtogrow,the sapling symbolizingthe shrine. In the prosaic municipal context in which the dreamer lived, the new road, meant to enable easy,unobstructed access by car to the holysite, signified awish that wordofthe site spreadand that it become more popular. The excavation work itself mayhavesignified laying the foundations and the development of infrastructure for construction on the site, and perhaps also unearthing the opening (in the dream, the “crossing”), the heart of the site. (Meir was in fact avocal supporter of aproposal to conduct archaeological excavations at the site.) Thefigures he met indicated that,for Meir,the wayto the Gate of Paradise, which ended in adevelopment town inhabited mostlyby North African Jews, beganinareligious (Ashkenazi) kibbutzand went through an old Yemenite moshav. This is more than ahint of the expansiveness of Meir’s vision, which addressed the shrine’ssocial significance (an element completely lacking in Ya’ish’srevelation dreams). Indeed, in his subsequent dreams,the Gate of Paradise took on the character of an all-Israeli shrine, which drew large crowds that included familiar Israeli figures of the 1980s such as Prime Minister Menachem Begin, President Yitzhak Navon, and Israel’sSephardi Chief Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef. The identification of the site’svicinity as atree-lined moshav mayhavede- rivedfrom the appearance of Ya’ish’sstreet,which was lined by one-story houses surrounded by trees and shrubs. At the sametime, it could refertothe tradition- 154 YoramBilu al pastoralimageofthe Garden of Eden and its residents (in which case “old” mayrefertotsaddiqim). The dream transition from Ya’ish’shome to the adjacent medicalclinicprobablyderivesfrom the functional similaritybetween the two institutions, which werecompeting centers of healing,but it also derivedfrom the physical proximity between them in waking reality.Beyond the presentation of the shrine as aplace of healing, the conjunction between the twomadeitpos- sible to displaythe superiority of the traditional over the modern system: the araq and myrtle replaced the pills as the preferred medicine. The optimism that the dream projected was accompanied by apprehension and uncertainty about the realization of the vision, summed up in the key question, “whydoesn’tevery planting succeed?” Thequestion’simportance waspre- figured in its formal prelude: “‘Iwant to ask aquestion.’ Thisiswhat Iasked,” as it was in the mystery surroundingthe reply. The answer came from athird person, who appeared in the dream soon before its end. He said thatthe sapling— the holysite—had alreadybeen planted ayear before at the entrance to Beit She’an (Ya’ish livedclose to the town’swestern entrance), but thatthe inhabitants “ruinedit”(werenot worthy?). Meir’sattemptstovalidatethe revelation, which in the real world led him to take upon himself to apply to well-known rabbis and to suggest archaeological excavations at the site, are expressed here in his longing for aconcrete sign that the sapling had taken root.The references to the town council and the Ministry of Religion as “addressees” in the matter suggest these institutions’ reluctance to recognize the shrine in the absence of corroboration other than the dreams.The promise, at the end of adream, that aletter would arrive probablyreferred to the Announcement to the Public that Ya’ish disseminated throughout Beit She’an; indeed, Meir’sdream maywell have catalyzed it. From the perspective of the dream as awhole, it looks as if the three figures that guidedMeir along his waytothe shrine all represent the site’spatron, Elijah the Prophet. In Jewish folklore, Elijah oftenappears incognito, in the guise of a variety of characters.This can explain his manifestation as areligious kibbutznik in acloth cap. The fact that the first twofigures greeted the dreamer is of great significanceinthis context,because encounters with Elijah in which he greets those who encounter him on the road are considered to be of greater value than thoseinwhich there is no verbal interactionwith him. In conclusion, clearlyMeir’svision placed Ya’ish’srevelation experience cen- trallyonthe plane of community and the collective.Itimbued the revelation with meaning deriving from its local context in Beit She’an. The dream displayedthe huge importance Meir ascribed to the site as acenter of healingand renewal, as well as his intense hope to playacentral role in its development and promotion. Dialogic Anthropology 155

3. Rachel’sDream

Idreamed thatIgo to Yaish’shouseand Istand before the gatethere. Iknock on the door and atinyold man with ahat comes out.Iask him: ‘Where is Yaish?’ He says: ‘Yaish isn’there, Ireplacehim, Itake care of the house. What do youwant?’ Isay: ‘Icame because Idon’tfeel well, Ihaveproblems with my pregnancy, give me some arak from the place.’ Then he asks me: ‘Did youtake a(ritual) bath?’ And Iknow thatonlytomorrow Ishould takethe bath (indicating the regaining of purity after the menstrual period). Isay: ‘No, onlytomorrow Igo.’ He says:No! Idon’tagree, no one will enter this place without taking the ritual bath.’ Isay to him: ‘But Yaish, whenever Iask him, says that Idon’thavetotake the bath if I am clean.’ He says,waving his hand: ‘No, youare not allowed to enter! and Yaish should know that from this dayonnowoman would enter this place without taking the ritual bath first.’ Isaid O. K. He didn’tlet me in. He stood with me at the entrance. Then he says: ‘Wait here, I’ll bring yousomething.’ He gave me aglass of arak and an orange, and Iwent home. And my mother – Ilost her when Iwas 14.And then Isee her waitingfor me at home. She says: ‘Where have youbeen?How come you’ve disappeared. Ihave been waiting for youfor so long.’ Itold her: ‘Mother,wehaveaplace, what shall I say, in that house every wish is granted. She said: ‘Come on, take me there, to that place. Itook her there. AndIsaw her standing,holding ababyand feeding him with milk. Exegesis: The dream is divided into two separate but thematicallyrelated parts. As in most of her dream visits to the site, here tooRachelarrivedasasup- plicant,with an actual life problem, related to her pregnancy. She met the gate- keeper of the site, apparentlyarepresentation of Elijah, and asked him for arem- edy, some araq from the place. The tsaddiq’srefusal to let her in because she had not immersed herself mayhaveindicated asense of guiltconcerning her level of religious observance. Followingher marriageRachelmoved away from religion, but after awhile she repented and adopted amore religious lifestyle, to her husband’schagrin. The emergence of the Gate of Paradise in her neighborhood, and Ya’ish’sexplicit demand that she become fullyobservant,reinforced her existing tendencytowards religiosity,and served as amajor sourceofsupport for her in her contention with her husband. In the end, her husband accepted the religious lifestyle that Rachelinstitutedintheir home. It maybethat the episode in the dream had to do with this increased observance. The story also contained are- proach to Ya’ish for not enforcing more strictlythe demand that female visitors be rituallypure. The bitter pill of being refused entry wasamelioratedbythe fact that Rachelbecame amediator between the tsaddiq and Ya’ish. Her statusand close relationship with the tsaddiq is indicated by the araq and orangeshe re- 156 Yoram Bilu ceives—another expression of oral nourishment,and an assurance that her difficult pregnancy, the reason for her visit to the site, would end well. (This may reflect the popularbelief thatapregnant woman should be giveneverything she craves—see Bab. Talmud Yoma 72a.) The second part of the dream was brief but striking,because Rachel met her late mother.Her mother’swords, “Where did youvanish, my sweet?I’ve been waiting for youfor so long,” seem to be manifestlyaprojection of Rachel’s sense of loss—her mother left her when she was young and needed her most. The dynamic connection between this reunification with her mother and the Gate of Paradise became concrete when the twoofthem visited the sitetogether. The moving conclusion displayedanexplicit oral wish. The baby mayhaverep- resented the dreamer returning to her mother’sbosom (and milk), thus receiving compensation for her painful loss.Ormaybe it was an infant her mother never sawinlife—the baby born to Rachel, healthy and whole, after her visit to the site. Either way, it is clear that, for Rachel, the shrine was akind of protective mother surrogate. The dream’stwo parts have clear parallels. In both, the dreamer faces parental figures—the tsaddiq,aclassic father figure, and her mother.Inboth, these figures appear as nurturers and nourishersand, in both, the sustenancethat the figures grant is directed at the baby’shealth, before or after his birth. Andreas Kraft Jüdische Identität im Liminalen und dasdialogische Prinzip bei Martin Buber

Einleitung

WirlebeninZeiten, in denen die Fragenach den Möglichkeiten und Formen von Dialog vonbesonderer sozialer Dringlichkeit zu sein scheint.Der vorliegende Beitrag möchte versuchen, durchaus kritisch die Fragezustellen ob und wie Bubers Modell des Dialogshier nutzbar gemacht werden kann. Der kritische Blick wird dabei über einen vermeintlichenUmweg erreicht: In einem ersten Schritt möchte ich den Einfluss aufzeigen, den Martin Buber aufdie Theorien des Eth- nologen Victor Turner hatte. Mit den Einsichten Victor Turners in die Funktion von Passageriten möchteich dann – in einem zweiten Schritt – zur Person und Werk Martin Bubers zurückkehren und ein Problem thematisieren, dass sich dort ergibt, wo geglaubt wird, dass Gesellschaftdurch die Verwirklichung einer durch Dialog getragenen Gemeinschaft abgelöst werden kann.

Die Communitas im Werk Victor Turners

Das Leben und die biologische Entwicklungführen das Individuum durch ver- schiedene Phasen des Wandels, die aufsozialer Ebene einenWechselder Grup- penzugehörigkeit nach sich ziehen. Geburt,der Eintritt in das Erwachsenenleben, Heirat und Todsind Phasen, in denen ein Individuum voneinerGruppenzuge- hörigkeit zu einer anderen wechseln muss,ohne dass dieserProzessdie stabilen statischenGruppengrenzen auflösen darf. Der Anthropologe VanGennep er- kannteinseinem berühmten Buch „Lesrites de passage“¹ in den sogenannten Übergangsriten ein Verfahren, das jenestabilitätsgefährdende Dynamik, die im Wechsel liegt,sokanalisiert,dassdie soziale Ordnung nicht in Fragegestellt wird. Am Beispiel der räumlichen Übergänge arbeitet er ein dreistufigesModel der Übergangsriten heraus: nach einer Trennungsphase, in der das Individuum sich vomeigenen Territorium löst,tritt es in einer sakralen Schwellenphase in einen Bereich der Undefiniertheit und Neutralität ein, der dann zugunsten einer An-

 Zitiert nach Arnold van Gennep, Übergangsriten. (Les ritesdepassage). Ausdem Französi- schen vonKlaus Schomburgund Sylvia M. Schomburg-Scherff (Frankfurt a.M.: Campus,1999). 158 AndreasKraft gliederungsphase an ein neues Territorium wieder verlassen wird. „Jeder,der sich vonder einen Sphäre in die andere begibt,befindet sich eine Zeitlang sowohl räumlich als auch magisch-religiös in einer besonderen Situation: er schwebt zwischenzwei Welten. Diese Situation bezeichne ich als Schwellenphase.“² Tur- ner knüpft direkt an van Gennep und dessenUntersuchungen zum Übergangritus an und widmet sich besonders der mittleren Phase, alsojene des Übergangs, die er als liminal bezeichnet. Die Initianden unterliegen in dieser liminalen Phase einem „Nivellierungs“- Prozess, an dessen Ende sie nur noch mit „Zeichen ihres liminalenNicht-Status“ markiertsind.³ Sie verlieren den Namen, sie werden anonymisiert bezüglichder Kleidungoder auch des Geschlechtsund fallendamit ausdem hierarchisch ge- gliederten System politischer,rechtlicher und wirtschaftlicherPositionen heraus. Damit besitzt das Schwellenwesen „keinen Status, kein Eigentum, keine Insi- gnien, keine weltliche Kleidung, also keinerlei Dinge(…), die aufeinen Rang,eine Rolle oder Position im Verwandtschaftsystem verweisen.“⁴ In jener Phase der Loslösungaus den Verbindlichkeiten der normalen Realität wird der Initiand in magische und künstlerische Verfahren eingewiesen, die ihm Elemente einer Ordnungandie Hand geben, mit denen er in spielerischer Weise neue Kombi- nationen erproben kann, ohne dass dies zu einer Gefahr für die außerrituelle Gesellschaft werden könnte. „Mit anderen Worten, in der Liminalität ‚spielen‘ die Menschenmit den Elementen des Vertrauten und verfremden sie.Und ausden unvorhergesehenen Kombinationen vertrauter Elemente entsteht Neues.“⁵ Für jenen Bereich, in dem Strukturelemente der nicht-liminalen Sphäreeiner spielerischen Neukombination unterworfen werden, führt Turnerden Begriff Antistruktur ein. Brian Sutton-Smith hat das dahinterstehende Konzeptüber- nommen, doch dafür einen anderen Begriff, den des „protostrukturellen Sys- tems“,vorgeschlagen. Die Liminalität ist als protostrukturelles System hier „gleichsam das Samenbeet kultureller Kreativität.“⁶ In der Liminalität werden nun Erfahrungenvon Gemeinschaft gemacht,die aufdie umliegende soziale Struktur innovativwirkenkönnen.

 VanGennep, Übergangsriten,29.  VictorTurner; „Das Liminale und das Liminoide in Spiel, ‘Fluß’ und Ritual. Ein Essayzur vergleichenden Symbologie,“ in: ders.; VomRitual zumTheater.Der Ernst des menschlichen Spiels (Frankfurt a. M.: Campus,1989), 38.  VictorTurner, Das Ritual. Struktur und Anti-Struktur (Frankfurt a.M.: Campus,1989), 95.  Turner; „Das Liminale“,40.  Ibid., 41. Jüdische Identität im Liminalen und das dialogische Prinzip bei Martin Buber 159

Neben dem Liminalen führt Turner einen weiteren Begriff ein: die Commu- nitas. Sie ist in der liminalen Sphäre die genuine Form der zwischenmenschlichen Begegnung. Den Begriff leitet er vonMartin Bubers Terminus der Gemeinschaft ab,den er als Sozialwissenschaftler nicht voll anerkennen mag,aber aufden er als „einen begabteneinheimischenInformanten“⁷ zurückgreift.Buber selbst bezieht sich auf Ferdinand Tönnies, vondem die Dichotomie vonGemeinschaft und Gesellschaft stammt,⁸ aber auch aufMax Weber und dessen Unterscheidungvon Verge- meinschaftung und Vergesellschaftung:Als Vergemeinschaftung bezeichnet Weber jene soziale Beziehung,die auf „subjektiv gefühlter (affektueller oder traditioneller) Zusammengehörigkeit der Beteiligten beruht“.⁹ „Vergemeinschaftung kann aufjeder Art vonaffektueller oder emotionaler oder aber traditioneller Grundlageberuhen: eine pneumatische Brüdergemeinde, eine erotische Bezie- hung,ein Pietätsverhältnis,eine ‚nationale‘ Gemeinschaft,eine kameradschaft- lich zusammenhaltende Truppe.“¹⁰ Demgegenüber beruht die Vergesellschaftung „aufrational (wert-oder zweckrational) motivierten Interessenausgleich oder ebenso motivierter Interessenverbindung.“¹¹ Buber stelltnun fest,daß Webers These, die Gemeinschaft würde über das Band der geteilten Emotionensich bilden, nicht genüge¹² und führt das Beispiel eine Gruppe vonMenschenan, die aufgrund einerleidenschaftlichen Unzufrie- denheit gegenüber den Zuständen sich in einemrevolutionären „Verein“ zu- sammenschließen: „Es kann sein,daß eine Gemeinschaft ausihm (dem Verein; A. K.)wird, aber dadurch, daß er die Gefühle der zusammengeschlossenen Per- sonen zusammengelegt hat,dadurch ist zwischendiesen Personen Gemeinschaft noch langenicht entstanden.“¹³ Buber sieht in der Gemeinschaft eben nicht nur einen „Gefühlsverband“ sondern eine „Lebensverband.“¹⁴ Ein solcher Lebens- verband beruht nicht aufeinemZusammenschluss aufgrund partieller Gemein-

 Turner, Ritual,124.  Ferdinand Tönnies, Gemeinschaft und Gesellschaft. Grundbegriffe der reinen Soziologie (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft,1979).  Max Weber; „Soziologische Grundbegriffe,“ in ders., Methodologische Schriften (Frankfurt a. M.: Fischer 1968), 321.  Ibid., 322.  Ibid., 321.  Martin Buber; „Wiekann Gemeinschaft werden?“.In: ders., PfadeinUtopia. Über Gemeinschaft undderen Verwirklichung. 3. Auflage (Heidelberg:Lambert Schneider,1985), 281f .; siehe auch den Aufsatz gleichen Titels:MartinBuber; „Wiekann Gemeinschaft werden?,“ in ders. Der Jude undsein Judentum. Gesammelte Aufsätze und Reden.2.durchges. Aufl.(Köln:J.Melzer, 1993), 352.  Ibid.  Ibid. 160 AndreasKraft samkeiten, wie Emotionenoder – im Falle der Gesellschaft – Interessen, sondern hier schließensich Menschen in ihrer Ganzheit zusammen zu einer Gruppe,die mit der „ganzenExistenz bejaht, bewährt,gelebt“ wird.¹⁵ Die Gesellschaftist dagegen für Buber ein mechanischerTyp des Zusam- menlebens, eine „geordneteGetrenntheit,äußerlich zusammengehalten durch Zwang,Vertrag,Konvention,öffentliche Meinung“¹⁶,die sich ausder ursprüng- lichen Form des organischen Zusammenlebens, der Gemeinschaft entwickelt hat.

Die Gemeinschaft ist Ausdruck und Ausbildung des Ursprünglichen, die Totalität des Men- schen vertretenden, naturhaft einheitlichen, bildungsgetragenen Willens,die Gesellschaft des differenzierten, vomabgelösten Denken erzeugten, ausder Totalität gebrochenen, vor- teilssüchtigen.¹⁷

Während somit bei Max Weber Vergemeinschaftung und Vergesellschaftung als zwei mögliche Formen der sozialen Gruppenbildungmehr oder minder wertfrei nebeneinander stehen, hebtBuber aufeine deutliche Wertung und Hierarchi- sierung ab:die Gemeinschaft ist hier eine ‚natürliche‘,dem Menschen eigentlich angemessenste Form des Zusammenlebens, die vondeneninder modernen, in- dustriellen Gesellschaft herrschenden Bedingungenmassivbedroht wird. Aufdiese Vorstellung der Gemeinschaft als genuin menschliche Begegnung, die nur jenseits der Überformungen durch die Gesellschaft möglich ist,greift Turner zurück, wenn er mitdem Begriff der Communitas die Erfahrungdes Kol- lektivs im Liminalen beschreibt: Communitas tritt nur dort auf, „wo Sozialstruktur nicht ist.“¹⁸ Es ergeben sich somitzwei Modellevon Sozialbeziehungen:

Das erste Modell stellt Gesellschaft als strukturiertes, differenziertes und oft hierarchisch gegliedertes System politischer,rechtlicher und wirtschaftlicher Positionen mit vielen Arten der Bewertung dar,die die Menschen im Sinne eines ‚mehr‘ oder ‚weniger‘ trennen. Das zweite Modell, das in der Schwellenphase deutlich erkennbar wird, ist das der Gesellschaft als unstrukturierteoder rudimentär strukturierte und relativundifferenzierteGemeinschaft, Communitas, oder auch als Gemeinschaft Gleicher,die sich gemeinsam der allgemeinen Autorität der rituellen Ältesten unterwerfen.¹⁹

 Ibid., 353.  Martin Buber; „Gemeinschaft“.In: ders., Pfade in Utopia. Über Gemeinschaftund deren Ver- wirklichung.3,erheblich erweiterte Neuausgabe (Heidelberg: Lambert Schneider,1985), 264.  Ibid., 263.  Turner, Ritual,124.Zur Communitas siehe auch Victor Turner; „Variationds on aTheme of Liminality,“ in: ders., Blazing the Trail. WayMarks in the Exploration of Symbols,ed., Edith Turner (Tucson &London: University of Arizona Press, 1992),58–61.  Turner, Ritual,96. Jüdische Identität im Liminalen unddas dialogische Prinzip bei Martin Buber 161

In der Communitaserlebensichdie Individuen in einerEinheit, diealleMenschen jenseits der Hierarchien vereint.Zentral fürdie Begegnungder Individueninder Communitasist,soTurner,der DialogimSinne Bubers:imLiminalen entstehtim Dialogein wahres Ich-Du Verhältnis des „Zwischenmenschlichen“²⁰,bei dem sich zwei Individuenals ganze und konkreteMenschen begegnen. „Nurwennich mit einem Anderen wesentlich zu tunbekomme, so also, daß er garnicht mehr ein Phänomen meines Ich, dafür aber mein Du ist, nur dann erfahreich dieWirklichkeit des Mit-einem-redens – in der unverbrüchlichen Echtheit der Gegenseitigkeit“.²¹ Das dialogische Prinzip,das darauf abzielt, im Gegenüberein wesenhaftes Du zu erfahren, ist also der Versuch, eine Kommunikation jenseits der sozialen Überfor- mungen, der politischen Zwänge,der Ideologien und Dogmen zu ermöglichen. In diesem Dialogsoll der Mensch füreinen Augenblick ausder Gesellschaftsich befreien und in eineGemeinschaft eintreten.Indieser Begegnung entsteht ein „wesenhaftes Wir“²²,das im Zentrumder Communitaserfahrungsteht. Als ein Bereich des vonstrukturellen Zwängen befreiten menschlichen Zu- sammenlebens ist die Communitas für Turner auch ein Ort,andem besonders Utopien der Gesellschaft sich entwickeln können, die aufdas Zusammenleben der Individuen abzielen. Die Communitas entwickelthier ein regenerativesPotential, das aufdie Gesellschaft wirkt und diese aufjene idealenGrundlagen menschlichen Zusammenlebens immer wieder zurückverweist,die in der Strukturierung gesellschaftlichen Lebens verlorengehen. „Keine Gesellschaft kann ohne diese Dialektik auskommen.“²³

Martin Buber mit Victor Turner gelesen

Ichmöchte mich mit dem Konzeptvon Communitas als Form der dialogischen Begegnung vonMenschen jenseits einerÜberformung durch soziale und politische Strukturen und Hierarchien nun Bubers Leben und Werk zuwenden. Die Fragenach Identität und Gemeinschaft ist eines der zentralen Themen mit denen sich Buber ein Leben lang beschäftigt hat.Von Interesse ist nun, wiebei dem oben skizziertenVerständnis vonGemeinschaft,das alle äußeren sozial-hierarchischen Eigenschaften hinter sich lassen will, Identität überhaupt möglichist.UmBubers Antwort aufdiese Fragezuzeigen, muss ich kurz zurück in seine vor-dialogische

 Ibid., 132.  Martin Buber, Das Dialogische Prinzip.8.Aufl. (Gerlingen: Lambert Schneider,1997), 216, von Turner zitiert in Ritual,133.  Turner, „Das Liminale“,72.  Turner, Ritual,126. 162 AndreasKraft

Zeit gehen, hier besonders aufdie Prager Reden, die 1909 und 1910 entstanden sind und die eine große Wirkungauf das postassimilatorische Judentumhatten. Buber formuliert hier programmatisch eine notwendige Besinnung aufdas Urjudentum. Damit meint er aber nicht einfach ein Wiederaufgreifen alter Tra- ditionen, sondern vielmehr ein Besinnen aufein „unterirdisches Judentum,“²⁴ das über all die Jahrhunderte des Exils und der damit verbundenen Entfremdungder Juden vonihren Quellen weiter einenTraditionsfaden aufrechterhielt, an den man nun anknüpfensoll. Dabei sind die Blutsbande vonentscheidender Bedeutung, denn diese gewährleisten, dass jeder einzelne Jude, und sei er noch so sehr von den Bedingungen der Exilheimat in seiner jüdischen Identität überformt,wieder mit seiner Existenz an diese Tradition anknüpfenkann. Zugleich macht Buber aber auch deutlich, dass er jegliche Religionsgesetze und Riten, die sonst die Tradition ausmachen und damitidentitätsstabilisierend sind,zurückweist: für Buber hat die Rabbinische Tradition vielmehr ebenso entfremdend vonden wahren Quellen des Judentums gewirkt,wie die Assimilation. Bubers kritisches Verhältnis zur rabbinischenTradition läßt sich besonders dann klar fassen, wenn man Tradition als „Sonderfall vonKommunikation“ versteht, „bei der Nachrichten nicht wechselseitigund horizontal, ausgetauscht, sondern vertikal entlang einer Generationslinie weitergegebenwerden.“²⁵ Ent- scheidend bei diesem Begriff vonTradition als Kommunikation sind die Strategien und interpretativenVerfahren, die notwendigsind,umdie zu kommunizierende Information über die Zeit und Generationen hinweggesichert transportieren zu können. Bubers gespannte Haltunggegenüber der jüdischenTradition kann nun hier als eine Kritikanden Autoritäten verstanden werden, die eben jene Sicherung des Traditionsstroms durch Kanonisierung und Auslegung übernehmen. Bubers Traditions-Kritik setzt genauandem Übergangvon Prophetie zum Rabbinertum an: Hier konstatiert Buber einen Konfliktzwischen Religion und Religiosität²⁶,der nichtnur im Judentum zu beobachten ist: die Religiosität,die als Gefühl, als Verlangen und Willen ein „wahrhaft Zeugendes“ ist,droht zur Reli- gion, d.h. eine Sammlungvon statischen Regeln und Bräuchen zu petrifizieren und dadurch das LebendigeimGlauben zu ersticken. Wenn Buber bezüglich der jüdischen Religion behauptet,sie sei ein „offizielles Scheinjudentum“ bei dem es um die „Knechtung der Religiosität“ gehe, so gehören diese scharfen Worte „in die

 Martin Buber, „Jüdische Religiosität,“ in: ders., Der Jude und sein Judentum. Gesammelte Aufsätze und Reden.2.durchges. Aufl. (Gerlingen: Lambert Schneider,1993), 69.  Aleida Assmann, Zeit und Tradition. Kulturelle Strategien der Dauer (Köln, Weimar:Böhlau, 1999), 64.  Siehe hierzu besonders in Bubers Aufsatz „Jüdische Religiosität,“ in: ders., Der Jude und sein Judentum. Gesammelte Aufsätze und Reden,64f. Jüdische IdentitätimLiminalen unddas dialogische Prinzip bei Martin Buber 163

Sturm- und Drang-Phase des jugendlichen Revolutionärs,“²⁷ wie Dafna Mach richtig erkennt.Auch wenn er später diese Dichotomie nicht mehr so radikal formuliert,sobleibt doch die These eines problematischen Verhältnisses von Glauben und Glaubensregel bestimmend für Bubers weiteres Denken. Seine Re- ligionskritik, in der sich seine „völlig mangelnde Beziehungzum Kult“²⁸ aus- drückt,ist hier deutlich als Traditionskritik erkennbar. AlsBeispiel möchteich hier nunkurz aufden Text „JüdischLeben,“ einenDialog verweisen, den Buber 1918 verfaßte:ineinem Gesprächversucht einals „Führer“ bezeichneterLehrereinem „Knaben“ zu erschließen, was es bedeutet, jüdisch zu leben. Der „Führer“ bestimmt nun das,was „jüdisch leben“ ist im Vergleichzum „deutsch leben“: „deutsch leben,das heißt nichts anderes,als wahrhaft undvoll- kommen in deutscher Gemeinschaft,inGemeinschaft mitden Deutschen aller Zeiten und mit den Deutschen über den Zeiten leben, mit den Menschen, Toten, Lebenden undUngeborenen, und durchsie mit der ewigenIdee.“²⁹ Jüdisch Leben ist nun genauso durch das Zusammenleben in jüdischer Ge- meinschaft bestimmt,die nun aber im eigenen Seelenleben wiedergefunden werden muss: es geht für den Juden darum, die Stimme im Blut wiederzufinden, denn so kann in Gemeinschaft mit den Juden der Vergangenheit und Zukunft leben.Der Talmud als eben jener Text,der gerade für die Sicherung des jüdischen Lebens durch die Traditionsvermittlungüberdie Jahrhunderte hinweg verantwortlich war,findet hier in diesem Buberschen Modell nicht einmal Erwähnung. Der Lehrer ist hier keine Autorität,die die Gesetzte vermittelt, sondern nur ein Helfer,der dem Einzelnenauf seinem individuellen WegHilfestellung leistet.Dass dies den Einzelnen oft jenseits der klaren Gesetze auch in eine Orientierungslo- sigkeit entlässt,haben Anhänger Bubers kritisiert:

Aber vomLehrer erwarten wir,daß er Anweisungendafür gibt,wie wir den Weggehen sollen. (…)Buber zeigt uns das Ziel, er zeigt uns in seinen dialogischen Schriften die großenGe- fahrender Entpersönlichungunseres Lebens und des Verschwindens des echten Gesprächs, und doch vermissen wir oft die führende Hand.³⁰

 Dafna Mach, „Erneuerung des Judentums,“ in: Werner Licharz, Heinz Schmidt(Hg.), Martin Buber.Internationales Symposium zum20. Todestag. Bd. 1. Dialogik und Dialektik. Arnoldshainer Texte; Bd. 57 (Frankfurt a.M.: Haagund Herschen Verlag,1989), 187.  Mach, „Erneuerung,“ 194.  Martin Buber, „Jüdisch Leben,“ in: ders., Der Jude und sein Judentum. Gesammelte Aufsätze und Reden.2.durchges. Aufl. (Gerlingen: Lambert Schneider,1993), 679.  Hugo Bergmann, „Martin Buber und die Mystik,“ in: Paul Arthur Schilpp u. MauriceFriedman (Hg.), MartinBuber (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer,1963), 271f. 164 AndreasKraft

Bubers Entgegnung aufdiesen Vorwurf macht deutlich, wie wichtigihm die Selbstbestimmtheit des Einzelnen aufseinem Wegzum Judentum ist:

Freunde und Gegner haltenmir vor, daß ich weder einen überlieferten Zusammenhang von Gesetzen und Vorschriften als absolut gültig anerkenne, noch aber auch ein eigenes System der Ethik zu bieten habe.Inder Tat, das Mankobesteht: und es ist mit der Ganzheit meiner Erkenntnis so engverbunden,daß eine Ausfüllungundenkbar ist.Wenn ich eine versuche, würde ich damit den Kern meiner Anschauungverletzen. ‚VomLehrer‘ sagteein Freund, ‚erwartenwir,daß er Anweisungendafür gibt,wie wirden Weggehen sollen.‘ Ichtrete eben dieser Erwartungentgegen. DieRichtungsoll man vomLehrer empfangen, nicht aber dieWeise, in der man dieser Richtung zustrebensoll: dies mußjeder selber entdeckenund erwerben, jederdie seine,ineinerArbeit,die das besteVermögen einer Seele anfordert, ihmaber auch einenSchatzschenken wird,der fürein Dasein hinreicht. Soll ihm diesesgroße Werk abgenommen werden?Oder muteich etwadem Einzelnenzuvielzu? Wiedenn als durchsolche Zumutungkönnen wirerfahren, wieviel der Einzelnevermag?³¹

An dieser Stelle wird deutlich, wie sehr Bubers Rückbesinnung aufjüdische Wurzeln zugleich die Selbstbestimmtheit des Individuumsinder Moderne zu verteidigensucht.Für Buber ist der Glaube an die Freiheitdes Individuums nicht ohne Weiteres mit der Autorität jener Dritten zu vereinbaren, die überJahrhun- derte hinwegversuchten, die ursprüngliche religiöse Erfahrungdurch verschie- denste Abschottungen und Einfassungen institutionell zu schützen. Geradeindieser Zurückweisungder Autorität derTradition lagwohl eine Stärke des Buberschen Verständnisses vonjüdischer Identität:mit diesemJudentum, das den Ritus und das jüdische Gesetzt marginalisierte, konnten sich eben jenebürger- lichen, post-assimilatorischen Studenten,die denKontakt mit demJudentum verloren hatten, wieder identifizieren.Inseiner Halacha-Kritik ist Buberebenauchein typi- scherVertreter des emanzipierten Bürgertums undals solcher konnteerinseinen Texten ein neues,annehmbares Identifikationsangebotmachen. Michael Weinrich sieht in Bubers Schriften ein Ringenumeine Erneuerungdes Judentums,das den Arbeiten Schleiermachers zum Christentum nicht unähnlich ist: beibeiden geht es darum,den Glauben an die Moderne und das veränderteSelbstverständnisdes In- dividuums anzupassen: „dierückhaltlose Betonung derindividuellen Freiheit und die damit begründeteSouveränität gegenüber allen Traditionen“³² machteineNeu- bestimmungder Religion nötig. Zugleich ist dies auch bei Buber ein Versuch, das

 Martin Buber; „Antwort,“ in: Paul Arthur Schilpp u. MauriceFriedman (Hg.), Martin Buber, 615.  Michael Weinrich; „Zwischen den Welten. Martin Buber – eine deutsch-jüdische Symbiose?“ in: Werner Licharz (Hg.), Martin Bubers Erbe fürunsereZeit. Bd. 1: Ein Textbuch anläßlich des 20. TodestagesMartin Bubers.Einführungs-und Begleitband zum internationalenBuber-Symposium 1985. Arnoldshainer Texte, Bd.31(Frankfurt a. M. :Haagund Herschen Verlag, 1985), 113. Jüdische Identität im Liminalen unddas dialogische Prinzip bei Martin Buber 165

Judentum und dessen zeitlose Substanzzuretten,ohne dabei sich weder der Ge- schichtlichkeit mit ihremewigenWandel noch der Traditionals dasvermeintlich Unflexible und Unzeitgemäßeauszuliefern.Ähnlich wieOverbeck und Kierkegaard, die durcheine existentielle Neudeutungjenes vermeintlich vonseinen Quellenab- geschnittene Christentum revitalisieren wollten, setzt Buber also genaugenommen aufExistenz statt Tradition.³³ An dieser Fragenach jüdischer Identität,die Buber formuliert,möchte ich nun ein Problem skizzieren, das sich dann eventuell ergibt,wennIdentität ausdem dialogischen Verständnisvon Gemeinschaft herausentwickelt werden soll. Bei Buber ist die jüdische Identitätszuordnungweitgehend vonRitus und Gesetz befreit.Ein Mangel an verbindlichen Glaubensregeln führt bei einer anarchistisch zu nennenden Religiosität leicht zu einem „Mangel an Identifikation.“³⁴ Dies er- klärt warum bald vonBubers Schülern in der Kibbuz-Bewegung in moderater Form ein Brauchtum wieder eingeführt wurde. Buber selbst vertraute ganz aufeine genuin jüdische Gemeinschafts-Erfahrung,die alle einte, doch diese Erfahrung scheintesnicht im ‚luftleerenRaum‘ jenseits vonnormativenSetzungen zu geben. Es bedarf wohl gewisser Gerüste vonRitus und Gesetz, um eine gemeinsame Er- fahrung,die identitätsstiftend seinkann, zu ermöglichen: ohne solche Gerüste wird es damit auch für manchenproblematisch, sich noch als Jude zu bestimmen und zu erleben. In letzter Konsequenz kann man darum auch die Religiosität,die Buber sein Leben lang verfolgte, als eine beschreiben, die letztendlich zwischen den Religionen beweglich bleibt: dies machte unter anderem seine „Lehre“ so problematisch für das Judentum. Der biographische Buber befand sich sein Leben lang in einer Wanderschaft zwischen den Religionen und Kulturen, die dazu führte, daß er in keiner ganz zu Hause war,soMichael Weinrich.³⁵ Eben diese Existenz zwischen den Kulturen findet sich in seinem Denken wiederund ist maßgeblich für die traditionsablehnende Haltung mitverantwortlich. Das Problem, das ichhier in Bubers antitraditionalistischem Denken zwischen Gemeinschaftserfahrung und religiöser Identitätsbildungskizziert habe, tritt auch dort auf, wo es um säkulareIdentitätsbildung, etwa eine politische Identität geht.Eine Gemeinschaft,die im Moment der dialogischenBegegnung sich konstituiert,streift einen Großteil jener Strukturen ab, die gerade für die Identitätsbildung verantwortlich sind.DieseVorstellungjüdischer Identität,die

 Assmann, Zeit und Tradition,145 ff.  Pnina Navé-Levinson, „Martin Buber und das jüdische Selbstverständnis,“ In: Symposium 1: 223.  Weinrich, Zwischen den Welten,118. Er spricht in diesem Zusammenhang voneiner „Öko- menizität,“ und er verheimlicht nicht,dass er auseiner deutschenPost-Holocaust Position argumentiert.Für ihn als Theologe ist und bleibt Buber eine ökomenische Brücke. 166 Andreas Kraft

Buber in seinem Werk formuliert und die er lebte, möchteich nun als liminal bezeichnen.Esist eine Identität,die mit dem Begriff der „heiligen Unsicherheit“ beschrieben werden kann. Weinrich³⁶ berichtet voneinemGespräch zwischen Ernst Simon und Buber,indem deutlich wird, dass Buber in Gesetz und Ritus eben nicht das Vertrauen findet,wie Simon. Er schreibt:

Ein anderesMal erzählteich ihm vonmeiner persönlichenErfahrungmit der jüdischen Lebensform. Beialler objektivenGefahr ihrer Versteinerungund der nicht seltenauftretenden Gefahr vonZwangsneurosen sei sie mir doch zu einer täglichen Gelegenheit geworden, Gott zu dienen, aufdie ich mein Vertrauen setze. ‚Genaudieses Vertrauen fehlt mir‘,war Bubers Antwort.³⁷

Weinrich führtein weiteres Zitat Bubers an: „ich besitze keine Sicherung gegendie Notwendigkeit,inFurcht und Zittern zu leben; ich habe nichts als die Gewißheit, daß wir an der Offenbarung teilhaben.“³⁸ Maurice Friedman hat den „schmalen Grat,“³⁹ aufdem sich Buber in seinem Schaffen und mit seiner Existenz bewegt,als eines der zentralen Aspekteseines Denkens bestimmt.Jener schmale Grat ist „eine Metapher für die menschliche Existenz selbst: eine Existenz, in der man mitun- sicheren Schritt geht,stets in der Gefahr,indie Abgründe zur Rechten oder zur Linken zu fallen.“⁴⁰ Dieser Existenz ist eine Unsicherheit eigen, die zu einer heiligen wird, wenn man sich selbstdem Drängen verweigert,durch verbindliche Regeln und Normen ausder Angst zu stehlen, die sich angesichts einer Realität einstellt, aufdie es keine einfachen Antworten gibt und in der vielleicht sogar Gott verschwunden zu sein scheint:

The defensive man becomes literallyrigid with fear.Hesets between himself and the world arigid religious dogma, arigid systemofphilosophy, arigid political belief and commitment to agroup, and arigid wall of personalvalues and habits. The open man, on the other hand, accepts his fear and relaxes to it.Hesubstitutes the realism of despair,if need be, for the tension of hysteria. He meets every new situation with quiet and sureness out of the depths of his being, yethemeets it with the fear and tremblingofone who has no ready-made answertolife.⁴¹

 Weinrich, Zwischen den Welten.  Simon nach Weinrich, 109.  Buber nach Weinrich, 110.  Hierzu besonders MauriceS.Friedman, Martin Buber.The Life of Dialogue (Chicago:The University of Chicago Press, 1956), 3–11. Aber auch die Biographie MauriceFriedman, Begegnung auf dem schmalen Grat. Martin Buber – ein Leben (Münster: Agenda Verlag, 1999).  Ibid., 74.  Friedman, Life as Dialogue,136. Jüdische Identität im Liminalen unddas dialogische Prinzip bei Martin Buber 167

Dies Leben in einer heiligen Unsicherheit ist als eine liminale Existenz be- schreibbar,inder alles flüssiggehalten wird jenseits vonvermeintlich rigid-fi- xierten Ordnungssystemen wie religiösen Dogmen, philosophischen Systemen oder persönlichen Werten und Gewohnheiten.

Resümee

Das dialogische Prinzip, das darauf abzielt,imGegenüber ein wesenhaftes Du zu erfahren, ist der Versuch, eine Kommunikation jenseits der sozialen Überfor- mungen, der politischen Zwänge, der Ideologien und Dogmen zu ermöglichen. In diesem Dialog soll der Mensch für einen Augenblick ausder Gesellschaft sich befreien und in eine Gemeinschaft eintreten. Der Glaube,man könne Gesellschaft ganz durch Gemeinschaft ersetzen, ist wohl eine unrealistische Utopie so wie m. E. auch die Vorstellung einer als liminal zu bezeichnenden kollektivenjüdischenIdentität.Für den Einzelnen, wie für Buber selbst,scheint dieser Wegeinerliminalen Identität gangbar,doch wenn man die Kritik der Anhänger Bubers in Betracht zieht erscheint es fraglich, ob ein Kollektivsich in seiner Identität zur Gänze übereinen dialogischen Moment der Gemeinschaft aufDauer stabilisieren kann. Die Gesellschaft mit all ihren nega- tivenSeiten, die Buber und andere erkannten, scheint uns eben auch ein Korsett zu sein, das unser Leben – trotz der Gefahrvon Entfremdungund Entmenschli- chung – stabilisiert. Dies bedeutet aber nicht,das wirakzeptieren müssen, dass der Dialog im Sinne Bubers und die mitihm sich einstellende Gemeinschaft vonMenschen, nur vonzeit zu zeit sich quasi zufällig in unserer Gesellschaft als etwas ereignet,dass uns an das Wesen des Menschen ermahnt.Den Schluss,den man ausden Arbeiten Victor Turners vielleicht ziehen kann, ist,dassman – anstelle der utopischen Umwandlungvon Gesellschaft in Gemeinschaft – besser in der Gesellschaft gezielt Orte und Momenteder gemeinschaftlichenBegegnung einrichtet,also liminale Sphären, in denen, jenseits vonpolitischen Kalkül und sozialem Zweckdenken, ein Dialog etwa zwischen verfeindetenParteien möglich ist.MancheinenPsy- chologen wird eine solche Idee nicht überraschen: in therapeutischen Zusam- menhängen ist es längst ein Allgemeinplatz, dass der,der im Dialog mit dem Patienten etwas bewegen will, für den Momentdes Dialogseine besondere ge- sicherte Sphäre schaffen muss. TurnersArbeiten haben zudem gezeigt,dass diese liminalen Sphären, in denen die allgemein geltende soziale Ordnungaufgelöst wird, auch Räumeder Kreativitätsein können. In ihnen können Individuen mit den Elementen und Zeichen, die ausden gesellschaftlich geltenden sozialen Strukturen freigesetzt 168 AndreasKraft sind, in experimenteller Weise neue Modelle ausprobieren. Im protostrukturellen System der liminalen Sphäre, in denen die Menschen sich im Dialog im Sinne Bubers begegnen, kann so eine Gesellschaft unter gesicherten Bedingungen mit besseren Alternativendes Zusammenlebens experimentieren. Diese liminalen Orte eines Dialogssind dann in der Lage,innovative Impulse zu erzeugen, die auf die Gesellschaft zurückwirken und so deren Wandel vorantreiben können. Dies ist wohl eine Möglichkeit,wie Bubers Modell des Dialogsauch im 21.Jahrhundert vielleicht helfenkann, soziale Krisen zu bewältigen. HenryAbramovitch The InfluenceofMartin Buber’s Philosophy of Dialogue on Psychotherapy: HisLasting Contribution

“Iammost Iwhen Iamyou.” Paul Celan.

Introduction

Iwould like to begin this chapter with acognitive exercise of what Carl Gustav Jung calls an active imagination:

Imagine youare goingtoyour doctor.You have asecret: Youweresexuallyabused as a child. Youare afraid that that strangefeelinginyour bodyiscancer.Itisthe anniversary of your father’sdeath and youare afraid that you, too,will now die. Youare anxious,un- certain whether to speak. Now imagine that the doctor hears the question youdid not ask and helps youspeak about what youhavetold no one ever before.This healer of bodies and souls listens and makes youfeel understood, calmed and reassured…that youare no longer alone with this secret.

This imaginative exercise illustrates what Buber calls “healingthrough meeting”. Martin Buber hadalifelongconcernwith mentalhealthand healingand his lastingimpact on psychotherapycontinues “unto this very day.”¹ He did three se- mesters of psychiatric trainingunder some of the foremost figuresofhis time, Wil- helm WundtinGermanyand EugenBleulerinZurich, whowas Jung’steacherand colleague. He maintained importantdialogues with manymajor figuresincluding Freud whom he invited to contributetoaseries he wasediting. He wanted to writeadevastating critiqueofclassicalpsychoanalysiswhichhefeltwas aperverse- ly I-Itinfected enterprise, based on theinaccessibility of the analystwhich blocked anyreal encounter.The psychoanalyst’suse of transferenceinterpretations andthe “scientific” desire to investigate theunconscious preventedmeetingthe person who is suffering. LouAndreas-SalomepersuadedBuber from publishingit. Onewonders

 Foroverview of Buber’scontribution to psychotherapy,see Judith Buber Agassi, Martin Buber on Psychology and Psychotherapy:Essays, Letters and Dialogues (Syracuse, NY:Syracuse Uni- versity Press, 1999). 170 HenryAbramovitch if hisstyle wouldhavemirroredthe prosaicI-Itstyle of contemporary case reports rather than the poetry of theactual therapeutic moment. He had along and ambivalent relationship with Carl Jung,and his wife, the analyst Emma Jung who heard Buber speak on various occasions.In1923, Buber spoke to the Jung Club, Zurich on the topic, “On psychologizingthe world” and again at the Eranos Conferencein1934onthe theme of “to heal the ‘between.” One of Buber’smost powerful lines is, “Asoul is never sick alone, but thereis always abetweenness also, asituation between it and another existing human being.”² Likewise, genuine healing in this view can never come from self-help books. Just as one cannot mourn alone, so one cannot heal the primary world by oneself. Buber,likeFreud, corresponded with Emma Jung.Later,Jung and Buber had avery public and nasty quarrel on the nature of God and religion in the public press.But that controversy aside, Buber and Jung share much more in common than Buber and Freud, or Buber and the Freudians.³ Similar to Buber,Jung affirmed the possibility of dialogical meeting between therapist and patient, and accordinglyconsidered how the analyst could be influenced by the therapeutic encounter as well as the patient.Inhis notion of the temenos, the Self, the mandala,dream work, Jung recognizedthe spiritual aspect of psychotherapeutic work. ForFreud, religion was achildish illusion; for Jung and Buber,Freud was spirituallyrepressed. One of the most fruitful connections Buber had was with Carl Rodgers, the founderofClient-Centered Psychotherapy.Buber and Rodger, in 1957,had apublic encounter,now truthfullyre-transcribed with commentary on bothtranscrip- tion/communication dynamics and content/process. This unique night of dialogue directlyinfluenced both of their work. “[I]n his famous postscript to I and Thou written onlymonths after his dialogue with Rogers, Buber wrote: “But again the specific ‘healing’ relation would come to an end the moment the patient thought of, and succeeded in, practicing ‘inclusion’ and experiencing the events from the doctor’spole as well.”⁴ The Buber-Rogers dialogue also playedacrucial role on the impact on Rogers’sthinking as he himself described

 Martin Buber, Iand Thou, trans.Ronald GregorSmith (New York: Charles Scribner’sSons, 1958)142.  See Barbara Stevens, “The Martin Buber-Carl Jung Disputations:Protecting the Sacredinthe Battle for the Boundaries of Analytical Psychology.” Journal of Analytical Psychology 46 (2001): 455 – 91;Arie Sborowtz, “Beziehungund Bestimmung. Die Lehrenvon Martin Buber und C. G. Jung in ihrem Vehaltnäs zueinaner,” Psyche Bd.11(1955): 9ff.;Hans Trueb, Han. Heilung aus der Begegnung:eine Auseinandersetzung mit der Psychologie C. G. Jungs,ed., Ernst Michel and Arie Sborowitz; Vorwort,Martin Buber (Stuttgart: Ernst Klett Verlag,1952).  Rob Anderson and Kenneth N. Cissna, TheMartin Buber-CarlRodgersDialogue: ANew Tran- script with Commentary (Albany, NY:SUNY Press, 1997), 39;Buber, Iand Thou,133. The InfluenceofMartin Buber’sPhilosophy of Dialogue on Psychotherapy 171 seventeen years later: “This recognition of the significance of what Buber terms the I-Thou relationship is the reason why, in client-centered therapy, there has come to be agreater use of the self of the therapist,ofthe therapist’sfeeling, greater stress on genuineness, but all of this without imposingthe views, values, or interpretations of the therapist on the client.”⁵ The genuineness of the exchangebetween Buber and Rogers was manifest in that it transcended anypreconceptions, as revealed in the following famous ex- tract of that exchange: Buber: …But youcannot changeagivensituation. There is something objec- tivelyreal that confronts you. Not onlyheconfronts you, the person, but just the situation. Youcannot changeit. Rodgers:Well now,now I’mwonderinguhwho is Martin Buber,you or me, because what Ifeel – Buber:Heh, heh, heh. [audience joins laughter] Rodgers:Because Buber:I’m, I’mnot,I’mnot,eh, so to say “Martin Buber”… Rodgers:Inthat sense, I’mnot “Carl Rodgers” [Buber: I’mnot – either [Laugh- ter].⁶

Buber maintainedalong correspondence and friendship with the existential psy- chiatristLudwigBinswanger, who is considered afounding figure in the development of humanistic and transpersonal psychotherapy. Buber,also,had aprofound influenceonHans Trueb, who he wooed away from Jung (who apparentlynever forgave Trueb to whom he had sent his wife for treatment). Trueb became aclose friend of Buber from the middle 1920sonwards and under Buber’sinfluenceheincreasingly detached himself from Jung and developed the psychotherapeutic methodof“psychosynthesis,” atermlaterpopular- ized by Roberto Assigioli. His last work, Healing through Meeting,published post- humouslyin1952included apreface, by Buber.⁷ Buber’sapproach to psychotherapy is most succinctlysummedupinthat phrase, Healing through Meeting. In his preface, Buber writes:

…[T]he psychotherapist,whose task is to be the watcher and healer of sick souls,againand againconfronts the naked abyss of man, man’sabysmal liability…The psychotherapist

 Carl Rogers, “Remarks on the futureofclient-centered therapy,” in Innovations in Client-Cen- tered Therapy,ed. D. A. Wexler and L. N. Rice (New York: John Wiley &Sons,1974), 11.  Anderson and Cissna, The MartinBuber-CarlRodgers Dialogue,4.  Nahum Glatzer and Paul Mendes-Flohr, The Letters of MartinBuber:ALife of Dialogue (New York: Schocken Books,1991) ,688–9. 172 HenryAbramovitch

meets the situation…as amere person equipped onlywith the tradition of science and the theory of his school. It is understandable enough that he strivestoobjectivize the abyssthat approaches him and to convert the raging ‘nothing-else-than-process’ intoathing that can, in some degree, be handled…The abyss does not call to his confidentlyfunctioning security of action, but to the abyss,that is to the self of the doctor,that selfhood that is hidden under the structures erected through trainingand practice, that is itself encompassed by chaos,itself familiar with demons,but is gracedwith the humble powerofwrestling and overcoming, and is thus readytowrestle and overcome ever anew;Throughhis hearing of this call there erupts in the most exposed of the intellectual professions the crisis of its paradox. The psychotherapist,just when and because he is adoctor,will return from the crisis to his habitual method, but as achangedperson in achangedsituation. He returns to it as one to whom the necessity of genuine personal meetingsinthe abyss of human ex- istencebetween the one in need of help and the helper has been revealed. He returns to a modified method in which, on the basis of the experiences gained in such meetings,the unexpected, which contradicts the prevailing theories and demands his ever-renewed personal involvement,also finds its place.⁸

Buber’snotionofHealing through Meeting has been discovered and rediscovered by each generation of therapists in turn. Buber anticipates the groundbreaking work of Harold F. Searles, “The patientastherapist to his analyst”;⁹ the “now” moment described by DanielStern;¹⁰ and the work of Owen Renik.¹¹ His idea dovetails with Jung’sidea of the uniqueness of every genuine therapeutic encounter,when this patient has come to this therapist, to this wounded healer,toheal in the analystwho can then heal the “between” and allow adeeper healing to take place for both. Michael Balint,the Hungarian psychoanalyst who fled to England taught GPs to do psychotherapy in ten minutes,and crystal- lized his approach in the maxim, “The doctor is his best pill.” He also developed amethod,today, called “Balint groups” in which physicians discuss their most difficult cases in an atmosphere of dialogue, relation and I-Thou.¹² All of these and more are spiritual disciples of Martin Buber. In 1957,Buber traveled from JerusalemtoWashinton, D. C. to deliverthe Fourth William Allison White Lectures at the Washington School of Psychiatry. These talks werepublished in the journal Psychiatry foundedbyHarry Stack Sul-

 Buber-Agassi, Martin Buber on Psychology and Psychotherapy, 17– 19.  Harold F. Searles, “The patient as therapist to his analyst” in Tactics and Techniques in Psy- choanalytic Therapy, ed., P. L. Giovacchini. (New York: Jason Aronson, 1975), 95 – 151.  Daniel Stern, ThePresent Moment in Psychotherapy and Everyday Life (New York: Norton, 2003).  Owen Renik, “Subjectivity and unconsciousness,” Journal of Analytical Psychology, 45 (2000): 3–20.  FormoreonBalint,the man and his ideas, see Harold Stewart, Michael Balint: Object Rela- tions,Pure and Applied (London: Routledge,2003). The InfluenceofMartin Buber’sPhilosophy of Dialogue on Psychotherapy 173 livan and collected into the volume TheKnowledge of Man: APhilosophyofthe Interhuman.¹³ Thislovelyvolume consists of seven essays and an inaccurate version of the Dialogue between Martin Buber and Carl R. Rogers. The essays are entitled: “Distance and Relation”; “Elements of the Interhuman”; “What is Com- mon to All”; “The Word that is Spoken”; “Guilt and Guilt Feelings” and “Man and his Image-Work.” The most influential pieces are the one of ‘Distance and Relation’ and ‘Guilt Guilt Feelings’ which willbediscussed below. Maurice Fried- man’sseminal TheHealing Dialogue in Psychotherapy¹⁴ argues that Buber’sinfluence can be seen in virtuallyevery school of psychotherapy:Freudian, Jungian, Interpersonal, Object-Relations, Self-Psychology, Existential therapy,Gestalt and especiallyFamilytherapy. One school of familytherapy,Contextual FamilyTher- apy,isexplicitlybased on Buber’sideas. The founders of Contextual therapy, Ivan Boszormenyani-Nagy and BarbaraKrasner clearlyplace their ideas as deriving from Buber’s:

Buber first formulated the principles of therapy on the level of caringand just human relationships […]. He made adecisive distinction between healingthrough efforts at integrity in relationship and technical, often implicitlydehumanizing attempts at symptom change. In all likelihood, he contributed moretobuildingthe foundationsofaccountable human relating than anyother thinkerofour time. He sensitively defined the profound human issues of relationship and interpersonal sufferingand witnessed to the proposition that,in the spirit of aresponsible I-Thou dialogue, the self can gain merited reward. History will probablyrecognize Buber as agiant of twentieth century thought…for us,his passion for realized justice in the human order has direct and immediateimplicationsfor aworld in dangerofabandoningits children.¹⁵

Even more recent exciting,new developments within contemporary psychoanalysis such as RelationalPsychoanalysis;Intersubjective Psychoanalysis and Dia- logical Psychotherapy are very Buberian, even if it seems at times that the recognition of Buber remains in theircollective unconscious. Buber’sideas have been applied to work in manydiverse settingsand populations such as prisons and prisoners,¹⁶ patients and doctors,¹⁷ social work and pastoralcounseling,¹⁸

 Martin Buber, The KnowledgeofMan: APhilosophy of the Interhuman, ed. and introd. by MauriceFriedman (New York: NY,Harper Torchbooks,1965).  MauriceFriedman, TheHealing Dialogue in Psychotherapy (London and New York: Jason Ar- onson, 1985).  Ivan Boszormenyiand Barbara Krasner, Between Give and Take:AClinical Guide to Contex- tual Therapy (New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1986), 28.  E. T. and H. H. Mason, “Buber Behind Bars,” Journal of the Canadian Psychiatric Association 13,(1968): 67– 74. 174 HenryAbramovitch therapeutic communities,¹⁹ dream work,²⁰ ecological psychotherapy²¹ and much more besides. His clear influencecan also be seen in the works of Alfred Adler,²² Otto Rank,²³ Donald W. Winnicott,²⁴ R. D. Laing²⁵ and Leslie Farber.²⁶ It was Bub- er’sinsight that dialogue and authentic encounter are at the heart of psychotherapy rather than insight and interpretation. The main texts touchingonpsychotherapy are first and foremost Buber’s outstanding and innovative collection of autobiographical fragments, Meetings.²⁷ In the first story,hetells of how he understood from aplaymate that his mother, who abandoned him at agethree for acareer in the theatre, would never return. Based on that formative experience, he coined anew word, Vegegnung, amis- meeting or mis-encounter ‘to designatethe failureofareal meeting between men’.When he sawhis mother again for the first time in thirty years, he looked into her beautiful blue eyes and sawonce more the word, Vegegnung. He ends the story with aconfession that is both simple and true, “Isuspect thatall that Ihavelearned about genuine meeting in the course of my life had its origin

 Henry Abramovitch and Eliezer Schwartz, “The Three StagesofMedical Dialogue,” Theoret- ical Medicine 17,(1996): 175 – 87.  Robert L. Katz, “Martin Buber and Psychotherapy,” HebrewUnion College Annual 46,(1976): 413 – 31.  Tamar Kron, “The “We” in Martin Buber’sDialogical Philosophyand its Implication for Group Therapyand the Therapeutic Community,” International Journal of Therapeutic Commun- ities 11, (1990): 13–20.; Tamar Kron and Rafi Yungman “Intimacyand DistanceinStaff Group Relationship,” International Journal of Therapeutic Communities 5, (1984): 99–109.  Tamar Kron, “The Dialogical Dimension of Therapists’ Dreams about their Patients,” Israel Journal of Psychiatryand Related Subjects 28,(1991): 1–12.  J. Willi, EcologicalPsychotherapy (Seattle, WA:Hogrefer &Huber,1999).  M. J. Skellin, “AComparative StudyofAdler and Buber:From Cooperation to Contact.” Jour- nal of Individual Psychology 56 (2000): 2–19.  Friedman, TheHealing Dialogue in Psychotherapy.  Ernst Ticho, “Donald Winnicott,Martin Buber and the Theory of Interpersonal Relation- ships.” Psychiatry 37,(1974): 240 –253; Charles Brice, “Pathological Models of Interhuman Relat- ing and TherapeuticDialoguebetween Buber’sExistential Relation Theory and Object Relations Theory,” Psychiatry 37,(1984): 109–123.  R. D. Laing, TheDivided Self:AnExistential Study in Sanity and Madness. (London: Penguin Books,1965); R. D. Laing, ThePolitics of Experience, and the Bird of Paradise (London: Penguin, 1967); R. D. Laing, The Self and Others (London: Tavistock, 1971).  Leslie Farber, TheWaysofthe Will: EssaysTowards aPsychology and Psychopathology of Will (New York: Harper and Row,1966).  Foraninsightful discussion of these stories, see Steven Kepnes, TheText as Thou: Martin Buber’sDialogue of Hermaneutics and NarrativeTheology (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992). The InfluenceofMartin Buber’sPhilosophy of Dialogue on Psychotherapy 175 in that hour on the balcony.”²⁸ In another story, “Languages”,hewrites how via private, imaginative play(he was aprecocious onlychild), he anticipated the key issue in the cross cultural encounter: “Idevised for myself two-languageconver- sations between aGerman and aFrenchman, later between aHebrew and an ancient Roman and came ever again, half in playand yetattimes with beating heart to feel the tension between what washeard by the one and what was heard by the other,from his thinking in another language.”²⁹ The important contemporary initiative to train interpreters as “culturebrokers” derivesnoless from this insight as from clinical anthropology. One of the defining aspectsofpsychotherapy (and ethnography) is thatitin- volves intense personal interaction, followed by long periods of reflection on what has taken place. In the model that Idevelopedwith my medical colleague, Professor EliezerSchwartz, medicaland psychotherapeutic dialogue must move from an initial I-Thou to asubsequent I-Itand back to arenewed I-Thou but one containing within the fruitand pit of the I-Itwisdom.³⁰ Personal encounters go wrongwhen the self-reflection occurs at the expense of real meeting.Inthe frag- ment, “The Horse”,Buber describes just such amistimed moment:

When Iwas eleven years of age, spendingthe summer on my grandparent’sestate, Iused, as often as Icould do it unobserved, to stealintothe stable and gentlystrokethe neck of my darling, abroaddapple-grayhorse. It was not acasual delight but agreat,certainlyfriend- ly,but also deeplystirringhappening. If Iamtoexplain it now…Imust saythat what Iex- perienced was the Other,the immense otherness of the Other…But once – Idid not know what came over the child, at anyrateitwas childlikeenough – it struck me about the strok- ing,whatfun it gave me, and suddenlyIbecame conscious of my hand. The game went on as before, but somethinghad changed, it was no longerthe same thing. And the next day, after givinghim arich feed, when Istroked my friend’shead he did not raise his head. A few years later,when Ithought back to the incident,Ino longer supposed that the animal had noticed my defection. But at the time Iconsideredmyself judged.³¹

Buber’swellknown collection of Hasidic stories also touches on manytherapeu- tic issues. Buber implicitlyshowed how stories were vehicles for healingand this approach is itself the basis of narrative therapy of both Milton Erickson³² and Mi-

 Martin Buber, Meetings editedand with an introduction and bibliography by MauriceFried- man (LaSalle, IL: Open Court PublishingCompany, 1973), 19.  Buber, Meeting,21.  Abramovitch and Schwartz, “StagesofDialogue,” 175 – 187.  Buber, Meeting,26–7.  Sidney Rosen, My Voice WillGoWith You: TheTeaching Tales of Milton H. Erickson (New York: Norton, 1982). 176 HenryAbramovitch chael White.³³ Even Freud, himself, confessed to using Hasidic stories in his treatments.Jung, for his part,describes acase in which ayoung woman came to him but who turned out to be the daughter of afamousRebbe.Jungfelt that his path layinreconnecting with this tradition. The story of Reb Zusya, com- ing to heavenand being asked not whyhewas not Moses but whyhewas not Zusya, is asuccinct statement of the moral imperative for individuation. Rabbi Nachman’sstory of the Prince who thought he wasaturkey,inparticular,reflects key dilemmasinthe therapeutic task. In this story,awandering “therapist” comes to curea“psychotic prince” who believes himself to be aturkey and lives, naked, underneath the royal tables,pecking at scraps.Rather than challengethis delusion, the healer strips and descends under the table and likewise pecks at fallen scraps.After along while, the prince asks the healer what he is doing to which the healer repliesthatheisaturkey.The surprised prince replies that he, too, is aturkey and they continue their foraging. Finally, the healer tells the prince, “Youcan still be aturkey and wear pants.” The prince expresses shock but does agree to wear pants and then ashirt and so graduallyreturns to the tables of Kingand human society.Thisstory metaphoricallydescribes aspects of the therapeutic task: the need to enter into the inner world of psychotic patientsinorder to bring them backfrom their private, inaccessible world; how the therapist must give up his persona in order to be effective “under the table”, in the realm of the unconscious; or indeedthatmuch of the master-therapists actionswhen seen from the outside appear crazy. HereIwould like to give apersonal example.³⁴ Awoman came to me for psychological counseling, sentbyher former teacherfollowing the death of her only daughter in atraffic accident.When the woman arrived, it turned out thatthis was onlythe last in aseries of catastrophes.She had been born in Berlin but the familyfled to Prague, losing all. She managed to escape to Palestine just before the war.Her mother and younger brother,left behind, weremurdered at Auschwitz. Her beloved, remainingbrother was killed in an industrial accident on his kibbutz. Her first husband died alingering and excruciatingdeath from motor neuron disease. In hard times, she soughtfinancial help from her father and was brutallyrejected by him, after beingtold that she was not his biological child, but the lovechild of his wife’sadulterous union. Hersecond husband di- vorced her and returned to his country of origin. Then, her daughter,who she loved, her onlyone, was killed in ameaningless accident,atruck crushing

 Michael White, Maps of Narrative Practice (New York: Norton, 2007).  Forafuller discussion of this case, see Henry Abramovitch, “Temenos Regained: Reflections on the Absenceofthe Analyst,” Journal of Analytical Psychology, 47 (2002):583 – 97. The InfluenceofMartin Buber’sPhilosophy of Dialogue on Psychotherapy 177 her as she wheeled around on her Vespa to recover her scarf thathad blown off. The police made sure to tell her,itwas her daughter’sfault.Therapists are often able to deal calmlywith horrendous stories we hear because we have heard worse. Herewas acase in which Ihad not heard worse, someonewho had lost her entire familytime after time. Ifelt that she had come to me and I must accept her.Graduallyabond of trust was formedbetween us. Imourned with her the death of her daughter and the long list of losses that preceded it. Our dialogue was to be interrupted when Iwas settoleave on athree and a half month sabbatical. When Iinformed her long in advance, she said that all our work was now being destroyed, thatIwould never come back. At thattime, in my analyst group, the Bitter Lemon, Iheard of the case in which both analyst and patient agreed that when the analystwas away,that the patient could come and sit in the emptyoffice. Ithought, “Yes. How can I suggest this bizarre idea?” Synchronistically, at the next session, she asked, “Who willlook afteryour plants when youare away?” Iasked her if she wanted to water them and she happilyagreed. When Ileft Igaveher keys to my office and she came regularlytowater my plants and sit quietlyasifinchurch, meeting my absent presenceand perhaps the Eternal Thou. HadIheard of another therapist handing over the keysofhis office to apatientinhis absence, I would have considered the therapist “crazy”.Yet,this unusual arrangement sustained our dialogue. It helped ease her anguish of our time apart.One further note which sadlyputs Berlin in abad light.Asaresult of our work, she decided to return to Prague and Berlin and revisit her homes. In Prague, she was received warmly; in Berlin, the frightened occupant slammed the door in her face: I-Thou versus I-It. Buber alsoreceivedyoungpeople in his home at set times, for something akin to atherapy session. In “AConversion”,hewrotesomething of the essence of the psychotherapeutic enterprise whose task is to hearthe question, which is not asked:

What happened was no morethan that one forenoon, after amorningof“religious” enthusiasm, Ihad avisit from an unknown young man, without beingthere in spirit.Icertainly did not fail to let the meetingbefriendly, Idid not treat him anymoreremisslythan all his contemporaries whowere in the habitofseekingmeout about this time of dayasanoracle that is ready tolisten to reason.Iconversed attentively and openlywith him –onlyIomitted to guess the questions which he did not put.Later,not long after,Ilearned fromone of his friends – he himself was no longeralive – the essential contentofthese questions;I learned that he had cometomenot casually, but borne by destiny, not for achat but for adecision.Hehad come to me; he had come in this hour.³⁵

 Buber, Meetings, 45f. 178 HenryAbramovitch

Buber clearlyseems to indicate thatthe young man had come to him concerning adecision to commit suicide. Researchhas shown that this is indeedacommon situation in which individuals who are about to commit suicidesee doctors, teachers,friends and familywho fail to hearthe unasked question. In one dramatic, suicidepreventioncommercial shown on Israeli television, ayoung man goes through his entire day, ringingalarge bell no one hears. Nevertheless,bi- ographers have revealed that the man’sdecision was not suicide, but concerned whether he should return to the front in WWI. In the end, the man did rejoin his unit and was killed shortlyafterwards. This fact,however,does not reduce Bub- er’scollusioninthe death. In Buber’sown mind, the encounter became a Vergeg- nung, “the failureofareal meetingbetween men.” This story illuminates the heart of psychotherapy as essentiallyanI-Thou process, in which aunique individual comestoaunique therapist ‘not casually, but borne by destiny’.Buber understood thatencounters such as he had with young men seeking him out at afixed time of daycould be and in many cases, weretherapeutic. Buber did not exactlytreat him as an “It” but not fullyasa“Thou”.InIand Thou,Buber dichotomizes, “To man the world is twofold, in accordance with his twofold attitude…the I of manisalso twofold.For the I of the primary word I-Thou is adifferent Ifrom that of the primary word I-It.”³⁶ In practice,there are probablygradations in the degreeofI-Thou-ness (or indeedI-It-ness),just as psychotherapists learn from their failures, not from their successes. Buber then goes on to ask amost daring paradoxical question: “What do we expectwhen we are in despair and yetgotoaman?” and to which he givesanevenmore profound answer, “Surelyapresencebymeansof which we are told that nevertheless thereismeaning.” Note Buber does not say words by which we are told that nevertheless there is meaning. Wordswill not work and certainlynot be believed. But “presence” is an existential stance that conveys all, in asilence worthyofBuber’sfellow Viennese, LudwigWittgen- stein. Or as the great Jewish-American masterofthe spiritual in abstract expression, Mark Rothko said, “Silence is so precise.” Buber never foundedaschool of psychotherapy and it is likelyhewould denyheengaged in psychotherapyatall. But Carl Rodgers for his part took on manyaspects of this attitude and developed it into what became known as the client-center approach in which the presencewas one of unconditional positive regard, the attitude of aloving mother to abeloved child. In his essay, “Dis- tance and Relation”,Buber argues, “Man wishestobeconfirmed in his being by man, and wishes to have apresenceinthe beingofthe other.The human person

 Buber, Iand Thou,3. The InfluenceofMartin Buber’sPhilosophy of Dialogue on Psychotherapy 179 needs conformation because man as man needs it.” He concludes the essay, “It is from one man to another thatthe heavenlybread of self-being is passed.”³⁷ Buber’sstory also raises the issue of guilt and specificallyguiltinthe therapist.Inone of his lectures to Sullivan’sinstitute, he madeafundamental distinction between actual guilt as opposed to guilty feelings. Reacting against to the psychoanalytic tendencytoabsolve patients of all their guilty feelings, Buber felt that such healers weremaking aserious moral error.Guilty feelings, the neu- rotic guiltofchildish thoughts trulyneeded cleansing,but actual guilt required illumination. In one Jewishtradition, Cain the first murderer calls out not “ My punishment is too great” but “My sin is too great to be borne!” ³⁸ (The ambiguity in the original Hebrew revolves around the double meaning of “avoni,” which means both punishment for sin, and sin itself). In the latter version, Cain’scry is one of deepand painful insight.Asanother sibling noted upon the death of her brother when asked “Were youclose?” responded, “Yes, but Idid not know it.” Onlynow,under God’squestioning and punishing, does he come to realize the enormity of his deed. In the Qur’an, he realizes the impact of his act when he sees araven burying his brother:

Then God sent araven, which scratchedthe ground in order to show him how to hide the nakedness of his brother. “Alas,the woe” said he, “that Icould not be even like the ravenand hide the nakedness of my brother,” […]Whosoever kills ahuman being… it shall be likekilling all humanity; And whosoever savesalife, Savesthe entirehuman race.³⁹

This moment of realization is what Martin Buber called,the “illumination of guilt”,the necessary first stageincomingtoterms with real guilt. Cain’spunish- ment of never being able to rest in peace forces him to continue delving into his guilt. This second of Buber’sstageispersevering in the knowledge of the guilt, leading to sincereregret is reflected in aMidrash describinghow Cain wandered the world everywhererejected, till finallyheslapped himself on the head and returned to the presenceofhis Lord. ForBuber,however, “returning”,asrepent- ance is called in the Hebrew tradition, is not enough. Buber emphasized athird stageinwhich the guilty party must enact a “tikkun” or “repair” of the guilt, at

 Buber, KnowledgeofMan, 16.  Genesis 4:13.  Qur’an, Sura 5:31–2; translation by Ahmed Ali, The Holy Qur’an (Elmhurst,NY,:TahrikeTar- sile Qur’an, 2005) 180 HenryAbramovitch the place in which the human order was injured. Robert JayLifton developed Buber’sideas into amoreclinical form. He distinguished “static guilt “(a dead- ening immobilization of the self), which can be either self-lacerating (“…self condemnation in which unchangingimagery of unmitigatedevil prevents actual “knowledge” of guiltand results instead in what resembles acontinuous killing of self”)or“numbed guilt” in which guilt is avoided by “freezing” of the self and anumbing of experience in general; as opposed to “animating” guilt which is energizing and transformative towardagoal of renewal and change.⁴⁰ Can akiller,likeCain, ever achievesuch a tikkun? Is not adead brother ‘like water spilled on the ground that can never be gathered up again’?⁴¹ Athief can restore his loot; aslanderer maymake atearful, public apology.What can amur- derer do?Buber,nevertheless,suggested that ‘the wounds of the order-of-being can be healed in infinitely manyother places thanthose at which they werein- flicted’.This goal of tikkun as aprime goal of therapy has been one of Buber’s most poignant contributions to the fundamental project of psychotherapy and the human condition of healing.

Critique

Thestrength of Buber’semphasisonthe eternal presenceofgenuinedialogueis also its weakness.The lack of techniquemay allow therapy to flounder.Atthe extreme, the emphasis on presence, confirmation, imagingthe real, I-Thou, deny or work against,the very idea that psychotherapists requirerigorous training with its necessary dose of I-It.The encounter,the very healingthrough meeting, is sus- ceptible to misuse and exploitationbyanarcissistic therapist whojustifies his abuse in termsofhis own truth which is imposed on thepatientinaform of psychic rape.Inasimilar manner, Buber wasnaively unaware of theimpact of psychotherapist’sown projections onto thepatient andlacked anyidea of howtodealwith such asituation. Many of greattheoreticians of psychotherapyand psychoanalysis,Sig- mund Freud, Carl Gustav Jung,Melanie Klein, MichaelFordham, Jacques Lacan, Erich Neumann and James Hillman seem much moreinterested in theory than in people. Inadvertently,they establishedatraditioninwhich religious devotionto one’sschool of thoughtand mentor became paramount.Attimes,itappeared that true encounterswith patients were sacrificed at the altaroftheory.Buber, like most great theoreticians failed to live up to the high demands of histheory,

 Robert JayLifton, TheBroken Connection (New York: Simon and Schuster,1979), 139.  II Samuel 14:14. The InfluenceofMartin Buber’sPhilosophy of Dialogue on Psychotherapy 181 as the oral tradition of Buber-meysehs clearlyillustrates. He was, however, awound- ed-healer whoexplored thedepthsofhis own wound and helped solvefor us all what he could notsolve forhimself alone. Buber once said that he had no new doctrinetoteach but compared his efforts to taking someone to the window and pointing outside, or pointing to what was forgotten. In an eraofCognitive BehavioralTherapy (CBT), evidence based medicine,time-limited psychotherapy,and managed care, Buber’smessageis more timely than ever.Wemust all follow him again and again to the window and look outside to the magic we once knew,but have forgotten.

Alan J. Flashman Almost Buber: Martin Buber’sComplex InfluenceonFamily Therapy

In 1923 when Martin Buber’s Ichund Du¹ first appeared, Freud’spsychoanalytic thinking had just entered its final phase of restructuring.While manyifnot all of Freud’scases involved complex and troubled family relations,noone at the time entertained the notionthat these relations could be altered directlyinathera- peutic fashion. Freud himself had pronounced, “Families, Idon’tknow what to do with them.” It took another three or four decades and another world war before mental health professionals began to approach Freud’sironic and frustrated question– “what to do with families?”–in asystematic and practical manner.Buber’sdialogical thinkinghas passed in and out of the FamilyTherapy movement. Iwill demonstrate here first the central theoretical place that Buber’sthought could occupy in formulating the coreoffamilytherapy.Second, Iwill outline important crossroads at which the emergent theory of familytherapy stood face to face with Buber’sapproach. Third, Iwill offer some reflections on how the manner in which Buber did and did not influencefamily therapy sheds light both on familytherapy and on Buber’sthought.

Differentiation and Dialogue

One of the founders of the FamilyTherapy Movementinthe United States was a psychiatrist named Murray Bowenwho worked at Georgetown Universityin Washington, DC.Bowenwas nearlyunique in suggesting to familytherapists that they engageintherapy with theirown families, as he himself did and reported².Overfour decades Bowen elaborated atheory for familytherapy which has become quite central in North American familytherapy,partiallydue to the sheer massofBowen’smanytrainees now in practice³ .Bowen defined his cen-

 Martin Buber, Ich und Du (Heidelberg: LambertSchneider,1983[1923]), and Martin Buber, I and Thou,trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Charles Scribner’sSons,1970).  MurrayBowen, Family TheoryinClinical Practice (New York: Jason Aronson, 1978).  Peter Titelman, ed., TheTherapist’sOwn Family (Northvale, NJ:Jason Aronson, 1987). See Alan Flashman, “Review” of 101 More Interventions in Family Therapy by Thorana Nelson and Terry Trepperin (New York: Haworth, 1998), Society and Welfare 20(2000): 4(Hebrew). 184 Alan J. Flashman tral theoretical concept as “differentiation of the self in the [family] system.” Usingananalogyfrom the biological science of embryology(since well before Freud, psychologyhas been both enrichedand sometimes muddled by the importation of conceptsfrom the physical sciences), Bowen tried to define a scale of the healthnot of individuals but of the quality of their relationships. Bowen used the term “differentiation” in two ways.First and more readilyappre- ciated, he suggested that higher level differentiation is characterized by the ability to separate thinkingfrom emotion and engageeach of these spheres of human experience moreorless independently. In the more central and enigmatic way, Bowen tried to delineatethe ability of each individual to maintain his own “self” integrity while also maintaining significant emotional tieswith other similarlydifferentiated individuals in the family. It is to this second level that Inow turn. Bowen attempted to operationalize his concept of differentiation by describ- ing threeelements of praxis by which alevel of differentiation could be determined. The first two elements of this praxis achievedclear conceptual definition in his work; the third elementofpraxis is clearlydescribed in his work but left without conceptual clarity. The first twoelements of praxisare “I-position” and “triangles.” Bowen suggested that in families with ahigher level of differentiation, individual commence communication with each other speaking each from an “I-position.” Herewehaveananalogyimported from classical ballet. “First position, second position,” and here “I-Position.” Bowenmeant thateach individual begins to communicatebyexpressinginarelativelyfull and authentic mannerhis own ex- periential world, his needsand desires.These are expressed in an atmosphere of openness to asimilar expression from the side of his partnerincommunication. In low differentiation, individuals limit the fullnessofexpression of themselves or of their partner. Rather,anindividual mayattempt to placate his partnerby expressingonlywhat the partnerfinds easy to hear.Alternatively,the individual mayforcehis wishes upon his partner, without willingness to entertain the dif- ferenceinexperience or desires comingfrom his partner. Asomewhat stylized illustration mayhelp concretize this point.Take for example afourteen year old girl and her mother.The girl wants to stayout until 4:00 AM on aSaturdaynight,while mother agrees onlyto2:00. The girl’s “I-position” amountstoher explanation that she needs to staylater in order to gain acceptance with the “cool” girls in her crowd, something she has been working on for ayear and something her mother does not oppose in principle. The mother’s “I-position” amounts to her expression of her personal trouble in tolerating her anxieties regarding her daughter’ssafety as the night deepens. Each takes responsibility for her own experience and desires,and each takes an interest Almost Buber: MartinBuber’sComplex InfluenceonFamily Therapy 185 and listens to the world of the other.Aconversation has begun. At alowerlevel of differentiation, the girl mayrelinquish her social needs in order to placate her mother,orforceher will without listening. Or the mother mayswallow her anxieties withouthonestlytalking with her daughter about her difficulties,orforce her will without listeningtothe girl’ssocial situation. There has been no place for two “I-positions” to commence genuine communication. Bowen’ssecond concept,one he shares with most family theorists, is thatof triangles. Twopeople enlistathird rather than engageindyadic communication. In our example, perhaps the mother would say, “Your father willneed the emergency room for the chestpains youwill cause him after 2:00.” Or the girl might say, “And my father agrees with me that youare too anxious.” Differentiation is lower when dyads communicatethrough athird. Differentiation is higher when dyads maintain their communication directly. Since families and systems are not solelydyadic, this would involvethe robust existenceofcommunication in all three dyads of acentral triangle, but one at atime. In otherwords, in higher level differentiation the girl and her mother,after completingtheirdyadic communication, will continue each in aseparate dyad with father.Thisshould not be seen too concretely. Often the three maybetalking all together, but within this logistical framework thereisroom for each dyad to communicate directly. Herethe reader maybepuzzled.Iftwo individuals begin communication from “I-positions” and refrain from triangulation, what exactlydothey do next?This question bringsustothe third part of Bowen’spraxis, which he dem- onstratedbut failed to conceptualize. In my teachingfor the past twenty years, I have been referringtothis praxis as “mutualcreation”.Iam now pleased to adopt Daniel Stern’srecent coinage, “co-creation.”⁴ To continue with our example, the girl suggests that she call her mother every hour.Mother says that her anxieties become unbearable after twenty minutes.The girl says she cannot embarrass herself by calling her mother so fre- quently. But she suggests that she could feign acall to afictitious 17 year old cousin who is at an even “cooler” party,and when she speaks this fictive cousin’s name into her phone after dialing her mother,the mother willknow from this code that she is alive and well. Mother wants time to consider this proposal. “Co-creation” here has meant that both girl and mother have grown abit via their face to face honest communication, and their relationship has grown as well. Such “co-creation” constitutes the essential moments of growth in families.

 Daniel Stern, ThePresent Moment (New York: Norton, 2004). 186 Alan J. Flashman

The following scheme (a metaphoric importation from enzymatic activity in biochemistry) willillustrate this co-creative process, especiallyifthe reader will imagine the two arrows becomingcompletefrom left to right simultaneously:

/ ,

7KRX 7KRX

It is interesting to note how this “co-creation” is implicit in Bowen’spraxis but did not reach conceptualization. Bowen reported in 1967inaFamilyResearch Conferencehow he created a “tempest in ateapot” within the family in which he was raised – he himself wasmorethan 50 yearsofage at the time – in order to make room for “I-positions” without triangles. He then describes in won- derful emotional depth the new conversations that took place. Forexample, he found anew closeness with his father and was able to “talk about the full range of importantsubjects without avoidance or defensiveness, and we developed a far better relationship than we had ever had. Thisexperiencebrought anew awareness that Isimplydid not know what constitutes areallysolid person- to-person relationship. …Ibelievethat Ihad done something to changemy relationship with my father,which in turn changed his relationship to all he con- tacted”⁵.These are the sorts of relational innovations thatIrefer to as “co-creations.” Ibelievethat Bowen practitioners would recognize these unconceptual- ized experiencesascentral to Bowen’spractice. Iwish to add apersonal note here.When Ifirst began to teachBowen’stheo- ry in asystematic way, Ineeded to conceptualize the co-creation in his practice in order to explain differentiation fullytomystudents. At that time Ibecame aware thatthis “co-creation” was uncannilyfamiliar to me, but not from the familytherapy literature.Ithen browsed my shelvesand rediscovered Buber’s Iand Thou. Since then, Ihavealways taught selections from Buber’swork together

 MurrayBowen, Family Theory, 517. Almost Buber: MartinBuber’sComplex InfluenceonFamily Therapy 187 with Bowen’s. Fortwenty-five years my studentshavelearned with me that families with higher levels of differentiation are families that createmoments of “I- Thou” relating,within which people grow and changefacetoface. Iwould add here that Ihaveconsistentlybeen impressed that the sometimes strident,technical or gaming tone of familytherapy students becomes softer,morerounded, more humane,after workingthrough and assimilating Buber’sconcept of dialogue. The following artistic illustration has oftenhelped students to visualize the I-Thouand I-Itmoments. The two pictures show twopositions of the kinetic sculpture Multiform by the French-Israeli sculptor Jonathan Darmon.⁶ I-Thou involves adirect second person address,I-Itathird-person relationship. These plastic figures often help students of familytherapy to imagine real turning to and from direct meetings.

Three Near Misses

Buber then would seem to have exercised asignificant influenceonfamilyther- apy theory and practice. Three pieces of historical contact between Buber and the emerging field of familytherapyindeed point to Buber’sseminal role. The first historicalfactwas Buber’sdelivery of the William Alanson White Memorial Lectures Washington School of Psychiatry in 1956.The Washington Schoolwas famous for developing the “interpersonal school of psychiatry” whose foremost proponent and founder was Harry Stack Sullivan. The following account of Buber’sacceptance of the invitation is instructive:

The most remarkable event at that time was the visit of Martin Buber,who in 1957delivered the fourth William Alanson WhiteMemorialLectures and also gave aseries of evening sem-

 Jonathan Darmon, Multiform (1995), photographsbyAlan Flashman. 188 Alan J. Flashman

inars to especiallyinterested faculty members… Iwas delegated to call upon him. It was an experienceIshall never forget. It made me somewhat uneasy to be callinga“holyman” (as Ithought of Martin Buber)onthe telephone, but Idid. Iwas to meet him in an apartment house with alarge private foyer or waitingroom,whereIwaited for an uneasy five or ten minutes. Buber was ashort man, no taller than Iwas, with extraordinarilyalive brown eyes and awhite Santa Claus beard. He greeted me without anysocial smile whatsoever.He merely looked at me very intensely, and my uneasinessdropped away completely.Ithink Ihaverarelyfelt so much at ease, so much myself. Still without anysocial smile, he said, “Come over here in the light where Ican see youbetter.” And so Idid, without any self-consciousness.One of the first things he said was: “When one is 80 years old, one has to choose carefullywhich places one will go to.There isn’tSOmuch time left.I want to cometothe Washington School of Psychiatry because Ithink it is one of the few places which keep the questions open.” Irecall that he elaborated on this, indicating he meant that there was aspirit of inquiry,not dogmatism, at the School. Ihavenever forgotten the phrase “keep the questions open” and Ithink the School has never been paid a greater compliment.⁷

What is most significant for this discussion is the fact thatmanyofthe graduates of the interpersonal school, both at the Washington School and at the William Alanson White Institute in New York City were responsible for the development of group and familytherapies in the 1950s,atfirst together, as interpersonal practices,and laterasseparate disciplines. Manyofthese founders of family therapy would have been avidlyfollowing the White Lectures, and the innovative journal Psychiatry publishedbythe Washington School, in which three of Bub- er’spapers werepublished.The three, “Distance and Relation,”“Guilt and Guilt Feelings,” and “Elements of the Interhuman,” weresoon collected by the omni- present Maurice Friedman into apopular volume, TheKnowledgeofMan.⁸ Prom- inent among those founders of family therapy who would have been exposed to Buber’swork was Don Jackson, who studied with Sullivan before becomingacol- laboratorwith Gregory Bateson in developing cybernetic systems theory. The second historical fact involves Gregory Bateson himself. Bateson, an anthropologist, biologist and innovative cybernetic thinker was the undisputed highpriest of familysystems theory in the United States from the 1950s to his death in 1987. Bateson collected his essays on cybernetics into his challenging Steps to an Ecology of Mind in 1972. This work makesreferencetoBuber’sI- Thou relationship as one that could evolve between an individual and his community or ecosphere.⁹

 Margaret Rioch, “Fifty Years at the Washington School of Psychiatry”, Psychiatry 49 (1986):11 from http://www.wspdc.org/Rioch_history.pdf  Martin Buber, The KnowledgeofMan,ed. MauriceFriedman (New York: Harper &Row,1965).  Gregory Bateson, Steps to an Ecology of Mind (New York: Ballantine Books, 1972), 446. Almost Buber: Martin Buber’sComplex InfluenceonFamily Therapy 189

Bateson makes acameo appearance in the third historical fact.By1982 familytherapy was more thantwo decades into its development,and had separated from group therapy with the creation of its flagship journal Family Process, created by Don Jackson togetherwith Donald Bloch and JayHaley.Time was ripe for atransparent discourse over the essence of this now middle-aged field, and the March, 1982 issue of FamilyProcess published what was to become famousas the “great epistemologicaldebate.” Twoofthe four major papers in this debate make reference to Buber,and here full quotations are in order. Bradford Keeney and Douglas Sprenkle’slead paper, “Ecosystemepistemol- ogy: critical implications for the aesthetics and pragmatics of familytherapy” sawBuber as the Nestor defining two main approaches:

It might be argued that therapists can be differentiatedonthe basis of their commitment to aesthetics or pragmatics. Those whoexclusively practice (and teach and evaluate) particular sets of skills and techniques as the royal roadtotherapeuticchange would then be characterized as pragmatics “technicians.” Such therapists occasionallyimplythat therapy is analogous to fixingacar or repairing abroken chair,and sometimessuggest that any focus on “the personal life of the therapist” is adistraction. They mayevenharshlycriticize trainingcontexts that spend time on the “personalgrowth” of the therapist.For technicians,their work is acraft involvinguseful skill-arepresentation of an “I-it” operation: “Iwill cure it.” On the other hand, art,rooted moreinaesthetics than pragmatics, is an “I-Thou” operation in which trainingand practiceoftherapy focuses on one’sown character building. The skill is secondary and incidental to growth of self, as opposed to the technician’sfocus on acquisition of tolls and skill, with the self remainingthe same. Paraphrasing Bateson, art can be ecologicallydefined as the problem of judgingthe ecological implicationsof acourse of action as it becomes incorporated and assimilated into the total context. Thus,for an artist,the ecological implications of acourse of action that arise from the practice of askill have importanceonlyinterms of its ecologicalfunction in the largercontexts of which the action is apart-its effects on one’scharacter and social context,aswell as planet. “We” are affirmed through our relations of “I-Thou.”¹⁰

LawrenceAllman’spaper, “The aesthetic preference: overcomingthe pragmatic error,” gave Buber adifferent and even greater weight:

Aesthetic meanings come to us as therapists through our own intuitively sensed processes within the dialectic of what Martin Buber called the “I-Thou” relationship. Gregory Bateson was fond of the expression ‘It TakesTwo to Know One,’ which embodieshis fundamental belief that onlythrough alovinglyplayfulsense of connectedness with others can we come to know ourselvesaspart of the aesthetic unity of the collective mind system. With the in-

 Bradford Keeney and Douglas Sprenkle, “Ecosystemic Epistemology:Critical Implicationsfor the Aesthetics and Pragmatics of FamilyTherapy,” Family Process 21(1982):1–20. 190 Alan J. Flashman

creasing trend in familytherapy to view familysystemsas“things” determined solelyby structures and in need of mechanistic realignment, we areindangerofremovingourselves as therapists fromour families and subsequentlyremovingourselvesfromourselves.¹¹

Lookingback on these two papers, we can note thatthey take two different approaches to Buber.Keeneyand Sprenkle suggest that proper familytherapy may involve “I-Thou” relationships (“aesthetics”)or“I-It” relationships – the more “pragmatic” practical manipulation of activities. Allman, however,saw Buber as essentialtofamily therapy generallyinorder to preserveahumane and re- spectful practice. The twopapers share one decisive and surprising detail. While bothquote Buber’s “I-Thou” concept,neither cite Iand Thou (nor any other work of Buber’sfor that matter)intheir references. It would seem that at least in the United States Buber’sthought had become ultra-condensed into iconic “I-Thou” and “I-It.” Since these icons appear uprooted from their original literarycontext and not replanted into some explanatory matrix of meaning, for example the matrix of differentiation that Iput forth above, it is doubtful whether readers of Family Process or familytheoreticians could do very much with these terms.

Co-creational Reflections

That is what Ipropose to attempt now:todosomething with Buberian concepts and familytherapy theory.Byreflectingupon acertain tension between the two, Ihope to use each to shed further light on the other.Let me begin with Buber. One of Walter Kaufmann’schief criticisms of Ichund Du was that he sawBuber’s thinking as toodichotomous.Kaufmann expressed this in the Prologue¹² to his translation of Ichund Du and later expanded the criticism to acentral characterization of Buber among the “dichotomizing” thinkers whose works and lives wereinvestigatedinhis monumental DiscoveryofMind.¹³ Kaufmann seems to have taken quite literallythe emotional, poetic, metaphorical statements in Ich und Du that suggest that I-Thoumoments are absoluteand complete, and that anything shortofthe ultimatemeeting is doomed to the unredeemed experienc-

 LawrenceAllman, “The Aesthetic Preference: Overcoming the Pragmatic Error,” Family Proc- ess 21 (1982):43–56.  Walter Kaufman, “Iand Thou: APrologue”,inMartin Buber, Iand Thou (New York: Charles Scribner’sSons,1970).  Walter Kaufman, Discovering the Mind, Vol. 2. (New Brunswick (USA): Transaction Publish- ers, 1993). Almost Buber: MartinBuber’sComplex InfluenceonFamily Therapy 191 ing and using of the I-It. Isuggest here thatwhile this objection is plausible, it is unnecessary,ungenerous,and unproductive.There are statements in Buber’s later writings¹⁴ that suggest that Buber understood very well thattherecould and must exist agrey area, arangewithin which I-Thou moments could be more or less complete. What is more important,Ithink, is the fact that one loses nothing from the precision or power of Ich und Du by seeing this range of relative completeness as present,evenifBuber did little to emphasize it. Thinkers who make enormous effortstosee something in anew light are not nec- essarilybest defined by what they sawonlydimly. Ithink of this rangeofrela- tivity as just beyond Buber’sreach, but as the next point on the vector he describes. Iamproposingtoadd the next point as part of acontinuation of Buber’sconceptual path, with gratitude. Iwould then add one further additional point on this vector.Once we have a relative rangeofcompleteness of I-Thoumoments, we are able to pass this range through time and create a developmental spectrum for the growth of I-Thoumo- ments. Iwould propose that such growth in the sphere of I-Thou could provide a wayofconceptualizing the emotional growth within relationships,ofthe relationships themselves. In arelationship that is growing, I-Thou moments that take place become increasingly full and complete. Isee such developments as crucial to familygrowth. If we return to our ado- lescent girl and her mother,the moment of “co-creation” we imagined above could be seen as one point upon avector in which daughter and mother increase the fullness of the I-Thou moments between them, as they each bringarelatively more completeI(“I-position”)totheirconfrontation. In the clinical setting,this often finds expression in my urging familymembers to saytoeach other one more thing thatthey have never taken the risk to say. Not every last thing – onlyablack and white I-Thou model would requirethis – but something more, that makes this meeting relatively more complete. Clinically, asignificant I-Thoumoment is one of growth, co-creation, in which this moment has achieved fuller presenceofthe two partiesthanprevious moments. At this point Iimportanotion from Gregory Bateson in order to expand the picture. Bateson, in his challenging Mind andNature was concerned with cybernetic processes, and noted (after Mittelstaedt) thatthere are two “sorts of methods for perfecting an adaptive act”¹⁵.Bateson gave the example of regulating the temperature in aroom by two different processes, one likecalibration, which re- sponds to the results of achangewehavetried to make, and the other called

 Martin Buber, Knowledge, 75,85.  Gregory Bateson, Mind and Nature (Toronto:Bantam Books, 1979), 211. 192 Alan J. Flashman

“feedback” which denotes the intention that informs our actions. Bateson pointed out thatcalibration, by includingresults of all previous attempts, maybeseen as ahigher level of logical type. Bateson’ssingular contribution here was to realize that these different sorts of activities do not onlyoscillate, but inform each other.Heproposed the accompanying scheme to demonstrate his point.Atthe lowest level, the thermostat willturn the heating element on or off depending upon the reading of the thermostat (i.e., “oscillating temperatures”). However, the thermostat itself was set (i.e., “biased”)bythe householder accordingto how he has felt the temperature (hence, acalibration). The bias itself is the result of the thermostat on the householder’sskin (i.e., “too cold or toohot”), which is set by experiences of the householder with cold and heat, (“personal thresh- old”), etc. Bateson even suggested an evolutionary advantagetoalternation between two processes, to protect each process from moving two levels of logical type at atime. Almost Buber: Martin Buber’sComplex InfluenceonFamily Therapy 193

This would seem like pretty headystuff from the depths of the Eswelt. However, Buber left us in Ich und Du the enigmatic picture of oscillation between the I- Thou and the I-Itmodes of relating,without indicating the mannerinwhich this oscillation between the two poles affects the poles themselves. If we take the flat line of oscillation between the twopoles and pull it up accordion-like through time, and through the range of increasing completeness of the I-Thou moments,wecould place the seemingly flat oscillation into adevelopmental spiral, which borrowingfrom Bateson, would looklike this:

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In order to make fuller sense of this scheme, Iwill introduce one moreset of concepts,which Ifind crucial in the teachingofjust this point.The very sameDaniel Stern of “co-creation” composed ahighlyinfluential worksummarizing two decades of research in infant development called TheInterpersonal Worldofthe In- fant¹⁶. There Stern proposed two major stages in the waythe infant makes use of the “I” of the mother.During most of the first year,the mother serves as a “regulating selfobject”.Inthis term Stern defined more preciselyone developmental

 Daniel Stern, TheInterpersonal Worldofthe Infant (New York: Basic Books, 1985). 194 Alan J. Flashman aspect of the “selfobject” earlier elaboratedbyHeinz Kohut¹⁷.Kohut’s “selfobject” means quite simplythe wayone person makes use of the presenceofthe other in order to maintain the coherence of his own self. Stern’sregulatingself- object mother was used by the infant to maintain (and nurture) his ownself, by getting fed, comforted, or stimulated. At this stagethe baby has relatively little interest in the mother as asubject,what it is like for her to comfort him. He just makes use of what he needs. Towards the end of the first year and through the second year,Stern suggested that nowmother becomes an “intersubjective selfobject”.Bythishemeant that mother contributes the fact of her own subjectivity to the baby’sability to emerge as asubjecthimself. The baby now prefers to see through mother’seyesrather than solelytomake use of her ministrations. Mother allows the baby to participateinappreciating her ownsubjectivity, and this allows the baby to appreciateand create his or her ownsubjectivity. The “self” or “subject” is created through meetingswith other subjects. Buber first entered my teachingoffamilytheory at the juncturebetween differentiation and the inter-subjective,and it is exactlythat juncturethat Iwish to employ in order to describe the schema traced above. Families with “low differentiation” are not failures who don’tperform “co-creations” as expected. They are rather busy doing something else that comes first.Familiesoflow differentiation are busy with protective and regulatingfunctions that come first¹⁸.These regulations informthe Eswelt in which people use each other to protect the integrity of theirfamilyunit.However,caught only in regulating and protecting, they find it impossible to grow.Growth of individuals takes place through intersubjective moments of “co-creation” in which each individual grows,the relationship grows,and the familygrows.Asfamily members emerge from regulation and become less frightened,they take the risk of arelatively more completemeeting viz. the “I-Thou” intersubjective moment.Aschangeiscreat- ed, there is an enormous need to re-equilibrate and re-regulate the growingfam- ily. During this period relationships return to regulation, in order to protect the new growth. This would appear like anew I-Itperiod, although ahigher level of differentiation thanthe previous level. Once safelyregulated, and perhaps devel- opmentallychallenged by changes inside or outside the family, familymembers

 Heinz Kohut, TheAnaylsis of the Self (New York: International Universities Press, 1971), and Heinz Kohut, TheRestoration of the Self (New York: InternationalUniversities Press,1977).  See Robert Keganand Lisa Lahey, Howthe WayWeTalk Can Changethe WayWeWork (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass 2001). Almost Buber: MartinBuber’sComplex InfluenceonFamily Therapy 195 will seek another “I-Thou” intersubjective co-creation¹⁹.The next “I-Thou” would be one that now allows for adeeper and more completemeeting and aco-creation of relatively morecompletedimensions. The familywill then enter aregu- latory phase to readapt to this now higher level of differentiation. We would now be in aposition to expand Bateson’sspeculation about the evolutionary necessity of oscillation between processes of different logical type. Iwould add to Buber’s “wholeness” of the I-Thou the notion of arise in level of generalizationofthe relationship. The I-Thou includes all I-Itrelations and in addition adds anew dimensiontoeach “I.” Thereforeitcould be concep- tualized as at ahigher level of logical type.The new dimensions of each “I” need protection from further changeuntil they can be re-regulated into the matrix of other relationships,orperhapsallow other “I-Thou” meetingswith other significant others. This post-creation re-regulating includes the new co-creation as well as all the other processes of relations and reality,and is thus of higher logical type. Once the regulationisadequate,anew,still higher logical type co-creation will be possible, and so on. One could saywith Bateson that if the I-Thou creations outstrippedthe ability for regulating and incorporatingchanges, the changes would be either toounstable or too frighteninglydistant from context, and the resultwould be atotal inhibition of the co-creative process. In this way, family therapy practice would always be challenged to create a regulationthat enables growth towardsanintersubjective I-Thoumeeting of co- creation and increasing differentiation. However,often families would need to be helped to completeare-regulation from the previous co-creation before they can risk the next I-Thou. In familytheory,the regulating was referred to as “first- order change” while the co-creations werecalled “second-order change.”²⁰ These I-Thou moments are moments neither of luxury nor of superfluity. They are moments deeplynecessary for relationships to be able to grow,and thus for all the individuals in the family to be able to grow.Afamilyinwhich the risk of the inter-subjective is too unsafe is afamilywhich suffers from its inability to be safe enough to takethe risks of growth. This familytherapist would need to spend no little effort helping families to become safely regulated, as a means to the ends of meetingthe challengeofco-creations.Familytherapy practice would need to alternate between the practice of regulation and the practice of the intersubjective,between one I-It” and the next possible “I-Thou.” As the

 Alan Flashman, “Adolescents and Families,” Therapeutic Communication with Adolescents (Hebrew) eds., Alan Flashman and Hanna Avnet (Jerusalem: Israel Ministry of Welfare, 2007), 143 – 178.  Lynn Hoffman, Foundations of Family Therapy (New York: Basic Books, 1981). 196 Alan J. Flashman level of differentiation increases,Buber’sprinciple of dialogue could be seen as anything but incidental to such aprocess.

Obstacles to aBuberian Family Therapy

In this final section Ioffer some thoughts regarding the difficulty with which familytherapy todayappreciates Buber’sfundamental relevance to its theory and practice. Isee the main obstacles in four realms:the needs of clients, the experience of the therapist,the relinquishment of control,and the tendencyto dichotomize. Families who begin therapy with alower level of differentiation require a great deal of attention to safe regulation. Theintersubjective moments may seem so distantand threatening as to escape the notice of the therapist,especially wheremanyemergencyprotecting maneuvers are required. Ifind that family therapists in the public sector,especiallyinareas of child protection or high conflict (i.e., low differentiation) divorce, find the Buberian formulations irrelevant or annoying.Iwould put it this way: It is hard enough laboringinthe Eswelt, without being reminded about what is beyond it. The second obstacle involvesthe experience of the familytherapist.The notion of creating moments of I-Thou in therapy is easiertoconceptualize than to practice. When two familymembers become readyfor an intersubjective co-creation, manytherapists feel that their presenceinthe therapy room is an intru- sion. The therapist mayfeel the need to leave the familyalone. Indeed, some therapists,including myself, will on occasion leave atherapy room so as not to distract from co-creation. However,there is asecond aspect to this intimacy that is emerging in familytherapy.Ifind that some therapists experience an overwhelmingpersonal loneliness in the presenceoffamilymembers’ creating I-Thoumoments. The intimacy of the clients engenders on the part of the therapist adesire for such co-creation for herself or himself. If such moments are too few and far between for the therapist personally, he or she mayfind it too difficult to bear their emergence between familymembers. Familytherapy has deep roots in the theory and practice of social control. Much of the social motivation and financial support for familytherapy in the United Statescame from the post-World WarTwo failuretocontrol two main social problems, mental illness and delinquency.The Americantheory was that the problem belonged to the family, and the goal was to createafullydefinable op- erational goal of eradicating deviance by effecting familychange. Buber’sI-Thou cannot be operationalized, defined or controlled. It is nothing if it is not atheory Almost Buber: MartinBuber’sComplex InfluenceonFamily Therapy 197 of liberation, perhaps co-liberation. Familytherapy that seeks to control behavior will always be uncomfortable with its own relegation to the Eswelt. In turningtothe tendencytodichotomization Ihope to suggest some constructive response to all these obstacles. The fact that Buber’s Ichund Du was relegated to the dichotomizers by Kaufmannisinstructive.Kaufmann’smagiste- rial overview of the DiscoveryofMind²¹ sawGermany’sgreat thinkers divided between thosewho werelimited in their own self understandingand therefore caught in defining how the world should be according to dichotomous categories (Kant was the first example) and those whose self-understanding allowed them to appreciate the world as it is,without dichotomous categories (Goethe especially). It is perfectlyobviousthat we have here adichotomizing war against those who dichotomize. Ibring this example to demonstrate how difficult it can be to apprehendand consider two different processes without falling into overlydi- chotomizingerrors.Infamily therapy as well, therehas been atendencyto see Buberian thinkingasone part of adichotomy. We sawthis is Keeneyand Spenkle’spaper,dividing pragmatists from aestheticians. Mona deKoven Fish- bane has written afine survey of the Buberians in familytherapy,especially Ivan Boroszormenyi- Nagyand James Framo.²² It is all too easy to split Buber between the Eswelt types and the Ich-Du heroes,something Buber recognizes as a likelyerror alreadyinIchund Du.²³ This split creates aformidable obstacle to in- corporatingBuber’sfull messageinto familytherapy as awhole. The “Buberi- ans” claim priority of the intersubjective,which is onlypart of the whole picture, leaving the “pragmatists” who are often strugglingwith regulatory functions to defend themselves “against” Buber(ians) rather than appreciate what they have to learn from Buber. So Ipropose adifferent discourse in familytherapy itself that Iwould sketch by the now familiar scheme:

 Walter Kaufmann, TheDiscoveryofthe Mind, Vols 1,2,3,(New Brunswick: Transaction Pub- lishers,1991–1993).  Mona DeKoven Fishbane, “I, Thou, and We:ADialogical ApproachtoCouples Therapy”, Journal of Marital and Family Therapy 24 (1998):41– 58.  Martin Buber, Ich und Du,78–9, and Martin Buber, Iand Thou,trans. Walter Kaufmann 114. 198 Alan J. Flashman

In words, Ithink thatanhonest discussion between “Buberians” and “non-Bu- berians” would have much in common with movesfrom regulation to intersubjectivity in an ascendinglevel of differentiation that would enrich the entire field. Ithink that FamilyTherapy as adiscipline by necessity meetsboth I-It and I-Thou moments and that it might be better to define the discipline as learning how the different moments can be understood and enlisted in enhancing one another.Perhaps Buber would have called this “keepingthe questions open.” Aleida Assmann Dialogic Memory

Memory is double edged. It can both serveasmediumfor reconciliation, peace making and coexistence on the one hand and for rekindlingconflicts by refueling hatredand revengeonthe other.Whether it moves in one or the other direction is, of course, amatter of the social and political framework within which it operates.Ifweare interested in the positive potential of memory for mutual understandingand peace building,wethereforeneed to understand better the frameworks that determine the benign or malign quality of memory. This essay argues thatmemory has atransformative power that can help to improvehither- to divisive social and political relationships.Inorder to know more about the culturalframeworks of memories, Iwill look at external and internal factors that changememory and finally inspect more closely the shift from old to new policies of rememberingwhich draw on the dialogic qualityofmemoryinsitua- tions of political and social change.

From the modernist frame to the memoryframe

The idea thatmemory has transformative power is arather new one and was de- velopedonlyduring the lastthirty years or so. This shift in our thinking became manifest in anew term that has surfaced in Germandiscourse in the 1990sand has since become part and parcel of the tritestock of official and public rhetoric, namely: Erinnerungskultur (memoryculture). We have developed the great hope that memory can be conducive to changinghuman minds, hearts and habits and even whole societies and statesinthe process of overcomingatraumatichistory of violence. Manypeople assume todaythat traumatic violence can be overcome by negotiating mutual strategies of memory and visions of the past.All over the world, the transformative power of memory is invokedtodiffuse the pernicious fuel of violence. It is implemented after periods of autocratic and genocidal violence (the Holocaust,LatinAmerican dictatorships,South African Apartheid, the Balkan War) as well as in responsetothe lasting impact of older genocides and crimes against humanity (such as European colonialism and slavery). But is this assumption reallytrue? Whathas made us so optimistic? What is our hope grounded on, or are we drivenbyanillusion?Let me start with aschol- ar who does not share this view.Historian Christian Meier has expressed his dis- sent in his book on “Das Gebot zu vergessen und die Unabweisbarkeit des Erin- nerns”,inwhich he argues for forgetting rather thanrememberingasa 200 Aleida Assmann transformative power that leadstoovercoming aperniciouspast and to opening anew pageofhistory.¹ Meier argues as ahistorian, drawingattention to the policy of forgetting as an age-old strategyfor containing the explosive forceofconflictive memories. His examples are not onlydistant in time such as the Greek polis after the Pele- ponnesianWar,orthe peace treaty of Münster-Osnabrück 1648 after another civil war which contains the formula: “perpetua oblivioetamnestia.”² This policy which goes hand in hand with ablanket amnesty in order to end mutual hatred and to achieve anew social integration of formerlyopposed parties is not athing of the past.Evenafter 1945itwas widelyused as apolitical resource.Itistrue that the International Court at Nuremberghad of course dispensed transitional justicebyindicting major Nazi functionaries for the newlydefined “crime against humanity.” This, however,was an act of purging rather than remembering the past.Inpostwar Germany,the public sphere and that of official diploma- cy remained largely shaped by what wascalled “apact of silence.”³ The term comes from Hermann Lübbewho in 1983made the point thatmaintaining silence was anecessary pragmatic strategy adopted in postwar Germany(and supported by the allies) to facilitate the economic and political reconstruction of the state and the integration of society.Forgetting,orthe pact of silence,also became astrategyofEuropean politics during the period of the ColdWar in which much had to be forgotten in order to consolidate the new Western military alliance against thatofthe Communist block.⁴ As an example, let me refer to a speech that Winston Churchill gave in Zürich in 1946 in which he demanded an end to “the process of reckoning,” declaring:

We must all turn our backs upon the horrors of the past.Wemust look to the future. We cannot affordtodrag forwardacross the years that are to come the hatreds and revenges

 Christian Meier, Das Gebot zu vergessen und die Unabweisbarkeitdes Erinnerns.Vom öffen- tlichen Umgang mit schlimmer Vergangenheit (the obligation to forgetand the necessity of remembering) (München: Beck. 2010).  The peace treaty (Instrumentum Pacis Osnabrugensis of 24th October1648) contains the fol- lowingarticle: “Both sides grant each other aperpetual forgettingand amnesty [perpetua oblivion et amnestia]concerning every aggressive act committed in anyplaceinany waybyboth parties hereand theresincethe beginning of the war.” Arno Buschmann, Kaiser und Reich. Verfassungsgeschichte des Heiligen Römischen Reiches Deutscher Nation vom Beginn des 12. Jahr- hunderts bis zum Jahre 1806 in Dokumenten (Baden-Baden: Nomos Verlagsgsellschaft,1994), 17.  The term was employed in 1983inaretrospective description by Hermann Lübbe (“kollektives Beschweigen”). See Aleida Assmann, UteFrevert, Geschichtsvergessenheit, Geschichtsversessen- heit. VomUmgang mit deutschen Vergangenheiten nach 1945 (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1999), 76 – 78.  Tony Judt, Postwar. AHistoryofEurope Since 1945 (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 2005). Dialogic Memory 201

that have sprungfromthe injuries of the past.IfEurope is to be savedfrominfinitemisery, and indeed from final doom, theremust be an act of faith in the European familyand an act of oblivion against all the crimes and follies of the past.⁵

Within the cultural framework of the 1940s to 1960s, forgetting was considered as ameans to dissolve the divisive negative emotions of the past.Asresentment and hatredare supported, continued and refueled through memory,itwas assumed thatforgetting rather than remembering could help to overcome aviolent past and open up anew future. There are, however,two contrary ways of looking at forgetting:itcan be seen as apositive resource for leaving atroubled past behind and creating the potential for anew future, or it can be considered as aform of suppression and con- tinuation of violence. Whether it is rememberingorforgetting that is credited with atransformative power depends on largerculturalframeworks and values that changeovertime. Moving from forgetting to rememberingimplied what I would like to call the shift from a modernist to a moralist perspective.The modernist spirit of innovation and orientation towards the future is based on apositive notion of temporalruptures that contain the possibility of leaving the past behind. The moralistic or therapeutic perspective,onthe other hand,prescribes areengagement with atraumatic past in order to work through and overcome it. During the last threedecades, the general modernist trust in the automatic regenerative power of the future that had been acentral value of modernism shared by European countries in bothEast and West has been eroded. In its stead, anew concern with the abiding impact of violent pasts has entered our thinking,feelingand acting not onlyinEurope but in manyother parts of the world as well. Thisiswhat Imean when Ispeak of ashift of attitude from the “modernist frame” to the “memory frame.”

Externaland internal factorsofchange

There are various external and internal factors that can promotethe transformative power of memory.Let me start with some external factors.Personalmemory remains restricted, constrained and devalued if it is deliberatelycut off from historical sources. The closing or opening of historical archives is thereforeanim- portant transformative factor.Ifsources are made publiclyaccessibleand are

 Randolph S. Churchill, ed., TheSinews of Peace. Post-War SpeechesbyWinston S. Churchill (London: Cassell: 1948), 200. (I wish to thank Marco Duranti for drawing my attention to this speech.) 202 Aleida Assmann recognized in apublic discourse, this can have aprofound effect on anational memory.After the end of the Cold War, for instance, the opening of Eastern Euro- pean archiveschanged considerably the prevailing national maps of memory.As the scope and complexity of Holocaust memory expanded, it challenged some of the firmlyestablished positive national self-images. New documents about Vichy and the history of anti-Semitism in East Germanyput an end to the self-imageof France or the German Democratic Republic as pure resisters; after the scandal around Waldheim and the book about Jedwabne, Austria and Poland were no longer able to claim an exclusive status of victim, and even the seemingly neutral Swiss was confronted with its own ‘sites of memory’ in the form of their banks and borders.Asnew evidence documenting collaboration or indifference towards this crime against humanityushered in heated debates,the clear and simple structure of dominant national narrativeshad to become more complex and inclusive.Aslong as archivesremain closed, political power exerts control over memoryand the national self-image. Another external factor is the impact of media. Books or films – if they are able to inspireempathyand are well timed – can stimulate public debates and changethe social climate of discussion. An example for apowerful media inter- vention into German memory was the Americantelevision series Holocaust, which was televised in Germanyin1979. It is now generallyagreed that this series managedtodowhat public Holocaust education had hitherto not been able to do: to tap the emotions of awide rangeofthe population and to open up the blocked channels of empathyfor Jewishvictims. While manycritics denigrated the quality of the series as atrivial product of Americanmass culture, historians such as Saul Friedlander and sociologists like Nathan Sznaider and DanielLevy have emphasized the transformative power of this tele event.Ionce talked to a person who told me that his parents had forbidden him to watch the series, which, of course,madehis interest in this topic all the more ardent. This bringsmetoathird factor that is of paramount importance for the transformation of memory.With this factor we are moving from external to internal influences. Memory exists not onlyinthe shape of eternal media, archives and monuments, but also as embodied memory thatiscommunicated between three to four generations living together and interacting in asynchronic relationship. Accordingtosociologists who have investigatedthis field,each generation is shaped by its decisive lifetime experiences, which influenceits thinking and feeling.Values,affections, loyalties and aspecific weight of the past colors their consciousness, their mind set and emotions. This generational memoryis not onlytransmitted from generation to generation but alsoperiodicallychal- lenged, questioned and refuted by the younger.Inthis way, generational memories are exposed to continuous conflict and contestation within the society. Dialogic Memory 203

The intergenerational dynamics is acentral factor in changingthe course of memory.Acommon and even normative pattern in Western cultures is the revolt of sons and daughters against the hegemonyoftheir parents.The youngprotes- tors are allowed and expectedtodeviate from and break with prevailing traditions and values.InGermany, this generational tension, which is built into the dynamics of Western Culture, was reinforced by the 68-generation’sdesire to break with theirparents continuous and silent loyalties with the Nazi period. In their revolt,they enacted aviolent cultural break in which they cut themselves off from the contaminated legacyofthe past.The sociologist Rainer MarioLep- sius has coined the term ‘externalization’ which can be applied to this desire to break away and start anew.Twenty years later,when the 68ershad become themselvesfathers and mothers, they changed this attitude considerablytowards what Lepsius would call ‘internalization’.Ittook the form of reconnecting with the familyand workingthrough the national past in amoreempathetic and self-critical way, reflectingontheir own place in the generational chain. The generationalchangecan be of great importance for the introduction of a new perspective in national memory.One example is the famous speech of West German president Richard vonWeizsäcker in 1985inwhich he taught the Ger- mans to think of May8,1945nolonger in terms of defeat and occupation but rather in terms of liberation. He gave this speech at amoment when the number was dwindling of thosewho belonged to the generation that had actuallyexpe- rienced adefeat by being captured and sent into shorterorlonger terms of im- prisonment.The younger generations, on the other hand, had grown up in ade- mocracy thathad become an integral part of Western Europe in which the spirit of liberation had spilled across national borders. The crucial importance of generations as carriersofmemory can also be seen in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War. In Spain therewas indeed a “pact of silence,” or forgetfulness, which, however,did not come about immedi- atelyatthe end of the civil war (1936–39), but was postponed for almostfour decades until Franco’sdictatorship endedwith his death in 1975.The pact of silence in 1977 was intended to underpin the transition (transición)from autocracy to democracy.This transition has been characterized as “the birth of democracy out of the spirit of dictatorship”19 All political crimes prior to 1977 weregranted an amnesty by the unwritten lawofsilence. The option of forgetting was in ac- cordatthe time with awidespread consensus in society.Nearlyforty years after the end of the civil war,the Spanish wereprepared to let the problems of the past be past,soasnot to endanger their fragile democracy. 20 It was the second generation after the Civil war that bypassed issues related to guilt or mourning in the interests of consolidatingacommon future. Starting in the mid 1990s and culmi- nating in the years afterthe turn of the century,the layers of silence enshrouding 204 Aleida Assmann the violent past became increasinglyporous;Republican counter-memory began rediscovering the hidden past through an exhumationproject,skeleton by skeleton. This new memory impulse originated in the third generation, which went looking for the bodies of theirlost grandparents and found them distributed throughout the country.What theirparents had chosen not to do – to act on behalf of the first generation of victims – the grandchildren took up as their specific generationalproject of identifying Franco’sdead, workingasself-declared advocates of historical memory with the help of archaeologists, anthropologists and geneticists. The pact of silence, which the second generation had endorsed, enabled atransitiontodemocracy, but it did not dissolve the traumatic legacyof violence. Instead, it consolidated adeep division within society,materiallypre- served in the earth and in familymemories. In 2007,nearlyseventy years afterthe end of the civilwar and three decades after the second generation’spact of silence, another shift in the Spanish policy of forgetting occurred. Prime Minister José Luis Zapatero, himself the grandson of aRepublicangrandfather who was murdered and whose bodydisappeared, rescinded the amnesty lawafter thirty years which amounts to the time span of ageneration. He passed the “LawofHistorical Remembrance” (Ley de Memo- ria Histórica)inparliament,which condemned the fascistdictatorship for the first time, assuring its victims of recognition and restitution. Zapatero not only conceded here to the internal pressureofRepublican familymemories, he was also responding to changes in the general political climate of remembrance which favoredrecallingthe crimes of states and dictatorships even after such an extended period of time. In alandscape saturated with Franquist symbols, the hidden and hitherto neglected sites wherethe victims were unceremoniously disposed have become the most significant lieux de mémoire for Republicans.27 The need for recognitionwhich is felt by familymembers and their descendants encompasses the rehabilitation and propitiation of the dead. Within the time span of communicative memory,itisobviouslythe task of the third generation to mourn and to bury the dead, performing this last ritual duty of commemoration for theirgrandparents. The act of recovering and laying to rest the hidden and forgottendead refers us to an important transformative power or memory that is rooted in the cultural dimensionofreligion and ritual.

From monologic to dialogicmemorypolicies

From these personal and privateacts of ritual remembrance let me come back to the public and political context and discuss in more detail the paradigmatic shift from forgetting to remembering in terms of new memory policies that we have Dialogic Memory 205 seen emerging.Beforeaddressing these new policies, let me first sayafew words about the old one, which – alas – is still thriving and continues to be in active use. EdwardSaid characterized this traditionalmemory policy succinctly when he wrote: “Memory and its representations touchvery significantlyupon questions of identity,ofnationalism, of power and authority.”⁶ In this context of power and politics, he added,the past has always been “something to be used, misused and exploited.”⁷ Such transformationofhistory into memory is based on two important dimensions: political myths and national lieux de mé- moire. Said defined myth in this context as the “power of narrative history to mo- bilize people around acommon goal.”⁸ He argued that in aworld of decreasing efficacy of religious, familial, and dynastic bonds […]people now look to this re- fashionedmemory,especiallyinits collective forms, to give themselvesacoher- ent identity,anational narrative,aplace in the world.”⁹ Lieux de mémoire are more diverse than political myths; it is their function to provide the nation with asense of its distinct identity,rootingitinsymbolic time and space, emotionallychargedcommon references and shared cultural practices.Pierre Nora’sconcept is todayalso undergoing changes that reflect ashift from monologic to more complex memory constructs. Nora’sinventory of common historicaland culturalreferences reflectedastrongFrench cult of the national.Inthe meantime, his concept has been widelyimitated but also trans- formedwith each new context in which it was applied. In addition to many national variations,¹⁰ new transnational models are currentlybeing explored and tested, such as Heinz Duchardt’sEuropean lieux de mémoire or Robert Tra- ba’sand Hans HenningHahn’simpressive collaboration project on German and Polish memory sites.¹¹ The new projects are often less normative and self-affirming and more self-reflexiveand critical,includingalso traumaticand contested sites.Nora’sholistic and homogeneous notion of the nation has alsobeen exchanged for anew emphasis on different social milieus and ethnic experiences. This open and inclusive approach is of special significance at atime when nation

 Edward W. Said, “Invention, Memory,and Place.” CriticalInquiry,vol. 26/No.2 (Winter2000), 176.  Ibid., 179.  Ibid., 184.  Ibid., 179.  Denmark 1991/92; Netherlands1993; Italy 1987/88; Austria 2000,Germany2001,and Luxem- burg2007. GeorgKreis, “PierreNora besser verstehen – und kritisieren,” in Historie. Jahrbuch des Zentrums für Historische Forschung.Forschung Berlin der Polinischen Akademie der Wissenschaf- ten. Nr.2(2008/2009):103–117.  Hans Henning Hahn, Robert Traba, Deutsch-Polnische Erinnerungsorte (Paderborn: Schö- ningh 2011). 206 Aleida Assmann states are undergoing astructural changeand reconfiguring their memoriesto make room for the experience of migrant minorities. The lasting success of Nora’sconcept seems to lie in its great flexibilityand adaptability.Its updated versions are doing much more justice to the diversity of social and regional groups and counter-memories, pointingeventogapsofoblivion –what is chosen not to be remembered. As Said emphasized, there is adirect connection between historicalmemory and nation building.The power of such amemory lies not in an event but in the effective narrative renderingofthe event,which aims at creatingadistinct profile and positive self-image “as part of trying to gain independence. To become ana- tion in the formal sense of the word, apeople must make itself into something more than acollection of tribes, or political organizations.”¹² Said wrotethis from the point of view of the Palestinians and their “inability to produce aconvincing narrative story with abeginning,middle and end”¹³ and who as acon- sequence,accordingtohim, have remained “scattered and politically ineffective victims of Zionism.”¹⁴ In the oldframework, nationalmemories weremainlyconstructed around heroic actions and heroic suffering.They are highlyselective and composed in such away that they are identity-enhancing and self-celebrating.National memories are self-servingand therein closelyaligned with political myths, which Peter Sloterdijk has appropriatelytermedmodes of “self-hypnosis.” With respect to traumatic events, these myths provide effective protection shields against those events thatanation prefers to forget. When facing negative events in the past,there are onlythree dignified roles for the nationalcollective to assume: that of the victor who has overcome the evil, that of the resistor who has heroi- callyfoughtthe evil and that of the victim who has passivelysuffered the evil. Everything else lies outside the scope of these memory perspectivesand is con- venientlyforgotten. The new memory policy that Iamdealing with in this paper differs from the old one not in abolishingnational memory but in rethinking and reconfiguring it along different lines. The new memory policy has undergone ashift from a monologic to amore dialogic structure. It no longer evolvesexclusively around aheroic self-imagebut alsoacknowledgeshistorical violence, suffering and trauma within anew framework of moral and historicalaccountability.Itwas the cu- mulative processofthe returning Holocaust memory in the 1980s that laid the

 Ibid., 184.  Ibid., 185.  Ibid. Dialogic Memory 207 ground for aprofound cultural changeinsensibility,which in manyplaces of the world alsotriggered new approaches to dealingwith other historic traumas. Against this background of anew transnationalawarenessofthe suffering of victims, forgetting was no longer considered as an acceptable policy for overcoming atrocities of the past.Rememberingbecame auniversalethical and political claim when dealingwith the dictatorships in South America, the South-African regime of apartheid, colonial history or the crime of slavery.Inmost of these cases, references and metaphorical allusions weremade to the newlyestablished memory icon of the Holocaust.Inall of these cases, rememberingrather than forgetting is chosen for its transformative power and implemented as atherapeu- tic tool to cleanse, to purge,toheal, to reconcile in the process of transforming a state or reintegrating asociety. Reconciliation is often proverbiallyconnected to the two verbs ‘forgive and forget’.Inthese new cases, however,this is no longer the case. In the new policy, forgiving is no longer connected to forgetting but to remembering. Remembering here means recognition of the victims’ memories. It is more and more agreed that without aclear facing and workingthrough the atrocities of the past from the point of view of those who suffered, the process of social and political transfor- mationcannot begin. This transformative power of memoryplays acrucial role in the Truth and Reconciliation Commissions (TRC) that wereinvented in South America when countries such as Chile, Uruguay,Argentina and Brazil transi- tioned from military dictatorships to democracy in the 1980s and 1990s. In this process, it wasthe ethical concept of human rights that supported the demands to investigate ahiddenpast and restore it to social memory.Byenforcing the moral human rights paradigm, new political and extremelyinfluential concepts werecoined such as ‘human rights violations’ and ‘state terrorism’.This led to the establishment of investigative commissions, which became the antecedent of laterTruth commissions.The aim of TRCs is first and foremost apragmatic one: they are designed as instruments for “mastering” (rather thanmemorializ- ing) the past.¹⁵ They emphasize the transformative value of truth and stress the importance of acts of remembrance. “‘Remember,soasnot to repeat’ (emerged) as amessageand as aculturalimperative.”¹⁶ The new human rights framework

 See PierreHazan, “Das neue Mantra der Gerechtigkeit,” in: Überblick. Deutsche Zeitschrift für Entwicklungspolitik. The edition of May2007isdedicated to the problem of re-establishingjus- tice after armed conflicts.  Elizabeth Jelin, “Memories of StateViolence: The Past in the Present”,Gladstein Lecture, de- liveredatthe Human Rights Institute, University of Connecticut March28, 2006,p.5;see also Elizabeth Jelin, State Repression and the Labors of Memory (Minneapolis:University of Minneso- ta Press, 2003). 208 Aleida Assmann replaced the older frameworks within which power struggleshad been constructed in terms of ideologies, class struggles, national revolutions or other political antagonisms. By resortingtothe universalvalue of bodilyintegrity and human rights, the new terminologydepoliticizedthe conflict and led to the elaboration of memory policies.¹⁷ In the new framework of ahuman rights agenda and anew memory culture, otherforms of state violence could be addressed such as racial and genderdiscrimination, repression and the rights of indigenous people.When decades and sometimes centuries after atraumatic past justiceinthe full sense is no longer possible, memory wasdiscovered as an importantsymbolic resource to retrospectively acknowledge these crimes against humanity.What the transnational movement of abolition was for the nineteenth century,the new transnational concept of victimhood is for the late nineteenth and earlytwentieth century.The importantchangeis, however,that now the victims speakfor themselvesand claim their memories in aglobalized public arena. Thedissem- ination of their voices and their public visibilityand audibility has created anew “world ethos” thatmakes it increasingly difficult for state authorities to continue arepressive policy of forgetting and silence. We have learned in the meantime that anew beginning can no longer be forgedonatabula rasa. The road from authoritarian to civil societies leads through the needle’sear of facing,rememberingand comingtoterms with abur- dened past.Thisinsight pushed the shift from the modernist frame to the memory frame that occurred in the last decades of the twentieth century.Itwas accompanied with areturn of the old memory policy,but it also broughtwith it ashift from monologic to dialogic memory constructs.Dialogic memory tran- scends the old policy by integrating two or more perspectivesonacommon leg- acy of traumatic violence. Twocountries engageinadialogic memory if they face ashared history of mutual violence by mutuallyacknowledging their own guilt and empathywith the sufferingthey have inflicted on others. It is true thatwhat Icall ‘dialogic memory’ is not yetbacked up by aconsoli- dated consensus but is stillmost conspicuous in its absence. It has, for instance, become especiallymanifest in the relations between Russia and Eastern Europe- an nations. While Russian memory is todaycentered around the great patriotic war and Stalin is celebrated as the national hero, the nations that brokeaway from Soviet power maintain astrikingly different memory of Stalin thathas to do with deportations, forced labor and mass-killings. The triumphalist memory of Russia and the traumatic memory of Eastern European nations clash at the internal borders of Europe and fuel continuous irritations and conflicts. “With

 Jelin, “Memories of StateViolence”,6. Dialogic Memory 209 respect to its memories,” writes Janusz Reiter,previous Polish ambassador in Germany: “the European Union remains asplit continent.After its extension, the line that separatedthe European Union from other countries now runs right through it.” It must be emphasized, however,that the European Union creates achallengetothe solipsistic constructions of national memory and provides an ideal framework for mutual observations,interactions and thus for dialogic remembering. As we all know,the European Union is itself the consequence of atraumatic legacyofanentangled history of unprecedented violence. If it is to develop further from an economic and political network to acommunity of shared values, the entangled histories will have to be transformed into sharable memories. On the occasion of the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Bu- chenwald, the former prisonerofthe concentration camp and late writer Jorge Semprún said: One of the most effective possibilities to forge acommon future for the European Union is “to share our past,our remembrance, our hitherto divided memories”.And he added thatthe Eastern extension of the European Union can onlywork “once we will be able to share our memories, including those of the countries of the other Europe, the Europe that was caught up in Soviet totali- tarianism.”¹⁸ There are dark incidents that are well known to historians and emphatically commemorated by the traumatized country but utterlyforgottenbythe nation that was immediatelyresponsible for the suffering.While in the mean time the Germans have learned alot about the Holocaust,youngergenerations today know next to nothing about the legacyofthe Second World Warand the atrocities committed by Germansagainst,for instance,their Polish and Russian neighbors. The Warsawuprising,aseminal event commemoratedinPoland, is unknown to Germans because it is fullyeclipsed by the Warsawghettouprising. Germans have rightlyreclaimed the area bombing of Dresden for theirnational memory,but they have totallyforgottenakeyevent of Russianmemory,namely the Leningrad Blockade (1941–44) by the German Wehrmacht,through which 700,000 Russians werestarved to death.¹⁹ This event has never entered German national memory duetoalack of interest,empathyand external pressure.

 JorgeSemprún, “Nobodywill be able anymoretosay:this is how it was!,” in: Die Zeit, 14.April 2005 (Trans.A.A.).  To quotefromarecenthistorical account: “The siegeofLeningrad was “an integral part of the unprecedented German war of extermination against the civilian population of the Soviet Union. […]Consideringthe number of victims and the permanence of the terror,itwas the greatest catastrophe that hit acity duringthe Second World War. The city was cut off fromthe outside world for almost 900 days from September 7th to 27th January 1944”.JörgGanzenmüller, Das belagerte Leningrad 1941–1944.Die Stadt in den Strategien von Angreifern und Verteidigern (Pa- 210 Aleida Assmann

Within the new memory frame, there are promisingbeginningsbetween teachers and historians of neighboringcountries workingonshared textbooks and mutualperceptions. Dialogic memoryhas aspecial relevance for Europe; it could produce anew type of nation state that is not exclusively grounded in pride but also acceptsits dark legacies,thus ending adestructive history of violence by includingthe victims of this violence into one’sown memory. Onlysuch an inclusive memory,which is basedonthe moral standard of accountability and human rights, can crediblybackupthe protection of human rights in the present and support the values of acivil society in the future. Dialogic memory,ofcourse, can be extended also to otherregions of the world. My lastexample is the conflict between Israeli and Palestinians. National memory does not onlycrystallize in narratives, but alsoaround places.Sites of antagonistic and violent history are always over-determined and become contested spaces for which new narrativeshaveyet to be created. Said had suggested that the Palestinians fell shortinthe process of national integration through mythmakingwhich deprivedthem of mobilizing symbols and rendered them helpless victims of Zionism. How could memory in this case unfold its transformative power?The Israeli writer Amos Oz has no hope whatsoever in such a power.Heonce remarked: “If Ihad asay in the peace talks—no matter where, in Wye, Oslo or whereever—Iwould instruct the sound technicians to turn off the microphones as soon as one of the negotiating partiesstarts talking about the past.They are paid for finding solutions for the present and the future”.²⁰ Oz obviouslyargues from the point of view of the modernist frame which neatly separates the future from the past.Inaconversation at Konstanz, Avishai Mar- galit made asimilar point to me on amore pragmatic level. He summed up the problem in the formula: “No introduction of memory before the consolidation of political structures!”²¹ Obviouslyboth Oz and Margalit have little regard for the transformative power of memory.There is, however,anIsraeli NGOwhich is built on exactlythis hope in the transformative power of memory.Itiscalled Zachrot, which is the femaleform of the Hebrew “Zachor,” meaning Remember! Thisim- perative is acentral obligation in the Hebrew Bible and the keytoJewish tradition and identity.The female analogyofthis emphatic wordwas created as the

derborn: Schoeningh,2005), 20.See also Peter Jahn, “27 Millionen”,in: Die Zeit,Nr. 25 vom 14.Juni 2007.  Amos Oz, “Israelis und Araber:Der Heilungsprozeß”,in: Trialogder Kulturen im Zeitalter der Globalisierung, Sinclair-Haus Gespräche, 11.Gespräch 5. – 8. December 1998, Herbert Quandt-Stif- tung,Bad Homburgv.d.Höhe, 82–89,83.  Conversation with Avishai Margalitinthe Inselhotel, Konstanz in November 2006,where he gave the openinglectureataconference on “Civil Wars”. Dialogic Memory 211 name of agroup of Israelis who takeremembering out of areligious context and place it in apolitical context.Their goal is to construct amoreinclusive memory on the basis of adialogic rememberingthat includes into Israeli memory of the Holocaust the Palestinian memory of the Nakba, aterm for the traumatic expul- sion from their homes duringthe war of independence in 1948. In contrasttoOz and Margalit,the group that calls itself Zachot considers this dialogic and inclusive memory an important basis for acivil society and acommon future with Pal- estinians. This is how they summarize theirposition on the internet:

Zochrot works to make the history of the Nakba accessible to the Israeli public so as to engage Jews and Palestinians in an open recounting of our painful commonhistory.Wehope that by bringingthe Nakba into Hebrew, the languagespoken by the Jewish majority in Is- rael, we can make aqualitative change in the political discourse of this region. Acknowl- edgingthe past is the first step in takingresponsibility for its consequences. This must in- cludeequal rights for all the peoplesofthis land, includingthe right of Palestinians to return to their homes.²²

Conclusion

Memories, to sum up, aredynamic and thus transformed over time. What is being remembered of the past is largely dependent on the culturalframes, moral sensibilities and demands of the present.Inretrospect,wecan identifyashift from the modernist frame to the memory frame, which occurred in the late twentieth century.During the ColdWar,the memory of the Second World Warwas very different from what it is today; the Holocaust has moved from the peripherytothe center of West European memory onlyduring the last two decades, but also other historic traumaswent through shorter or longer periods of latency before they became the object of rememberingand commemoration. While the old heroic and monologic memorypolicy continues to be in use, it is now also challenged in anew transnationalifnot global arena wherethey coexist in aweb of mutual reactions,observations,imitations, competitions and otherforms of interaction. During the lastdecades, the theoryand use of memoryhave acquired anew meaning when it became obviousthat memory can be bothaforcefor refueling hatred and violence and thus maintaining and hardeningdivisions, as well as a therapy for integration. Dependingonthe use and quality of memory,the former fronts of violent conflict can be preserved or overcome. Although history has occurred and is irreversible, our knowledge and evaluation of the events can be

 http://www.nakbainhebrew.org/index.php?lang=english (March 20,2007). 212 Aleida Assmann transformed in hindsight,ifwereassess it in the light of retrospective knowledge and values. Remembering trauma evolvesbetween the extremes of keepingthe wound open (or “preservation of the past”)and looking for closure (or “mastering the past”). But we should not forgetthat remembering takes place simultaneously on the separate but interrelated levels of individuals, families, society and the state. Itstransformative power works in different ways on the psychological, moral, political and – last but not least – on the religious level when it comes to the proper burying as aprerequisite for the memory of the dead. It is precisely this culturaland religious duty of laying the dead to rest that is so shockingly disrupted after periods of excessive violence. In the case of millions of Jewish victims, there are no graves because their bodies weregassed, burnt and dis- solvedinto air.For this reason this wound cannotbeclosed. At other places the victims were “disappeared” or shot and hid in anonymous mass graves. Some of these, relatingtothe Spanish civil war,are being reopened onlynow after seventy-five years.²³ While the politicians and the society have still not found aconsensus for introducing these victims into ashared or sharable memory,itisuptoindividual familymembers to recover their dead and to perform these last acts of reverence. Let me close with afinal question. In an essaywith the title “Nightmares or Daydreams?” Konrad Jarausch looks back at sixty-five years of European memory.Heseesastrongpreponderance of negative memories, what he misses are positive values: “The impressive catalogue of human rights included in the document has therefore derived its significance more from ageneral realization of past evils that needed to be avoided than from aspecific delineation of common values that would bind the community togetherinthe present.This failureisre- grettable, because it tends to lock thinkingabout Europe into anegative mode. Europe has become akind of insurance policy against the repetition of prior problems rather thanapositive goal, based upon ashared vision for the future.”²⁴ In his assessment of European memories, Jarausch uses twocategorical dis- tinctions. The first is the neat divide between past and future that resonates with the modernist frame of thinking.AsItried to show,this simple binary has been

 Paul Ingendaay, “Der Bürgerkrieg ist immer noch nicht vorbei.” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zei- tung,Nr. 276, November 25th 2008, p. 40.  Konrad H. Jarausch, “Nightmares or Daydreams?APostscript on the Europeanisation of Memories”,in: AEuropean Memory?ContestedHistories and Politcs of Remembrance, hg.von Malgorzata Pakier und Bo Strath, (Oxfordund New York: Berghahn Books, 2010), 309–320; 314(trans.A.A.). Dialogic Memory 213 replaced in the memoryframe by amore complex interaction: in order to move forward, we have to make adetour via the past.The second distinction is the opposition between negative lessons and positive values. As Ihope to have shown, this neat distinction does not work in the case of recent European history where the positive values of human rights,recognition of suffering, respect for the other and historical accountability weredistilled from negative lessons. Since the Eu- ropeans gainedthese values in the course of their history,remembering this history includingits errors,violence and immeasurable crimes, is their waytoadopt and ascertain these values. This new form of rememberingdeviatesstrikingly from the old (and Iwould even say: default) monologic mode that focuses exclusively on national heroism and national sufferingbyembracing also one’sown guiltand the suffering of the others. It is this twistthat transformsanegative history into apositive memorybuilt on values thatopen up anew common future. I would like to claim that the specific European heritagelies in this civil transfor- mationofits own violent history into transnationalorientations and new con- necting bonds. Ifollow Adam Michnik who has succinctlydefined this European heritage: “The European Union emergedout of the negation of totalitarian dictatorships which werefull of atrocities and barbarism. The European values are humanism and tolerance, equal dignityfor all citizens, freedom of the individual, solidarity with the weak and political pluralism. It is this testimonyand value system that Europe can bring to the world”.²⁵ Formygeneration the unexpectedlylong peaceful phase in Europe comesas an unexpected and – especiallyfrom the point of view of Germans – an utterly undeservedgift.Iam deeplygrateful to the Europeans for transformingthe nightmare of their history into avision which they now have the potential to make real. The history they look backonisaparticularlyheavy burden and a great challengetocommemoration. This is true, aboveall, of the trauma of the Holocaust,which has created anational, European and trans-European memory.Asappreciation of the value of human dignity was won from the most extreme destruction of thathuman dignity,the positive significance of this value remains linked to its negative genesis.²⁶ The same applies to war and post-war traumas, for the jointremembranceofaviolent history is the most effective wayofovercoming the conditions that madeitpossible in the first place. Historicalviolence has driventhe nations of Europe apart,dialogic

 Adam Michnik, “AEuropean Russia or aRussian Europe”, Baltic Worlds,IV:1März 2011 (Sö- dertörn University,Stockholm), 4–6, 6.  Cf. Hans Joas, “Gewalt und Menschenwürde. Wie aus Erfahrungen Rechte werden,” in idem, Die Sakaralität der Person. Eine neue genealogie der Menschenrechte (Berlin: Suhrkamp Verlag, 2011). 214 Aleida Assmann forms of rememberingcan – in spite of lingering tensions and invisiblebarriers – bring them closer together.The shared house of Europe gains in stability in proportion to the commitment that Europeans displayinbecominginhabitants of their shared history. Contributors

HenryAbramovitch – SacklerSchool of Medicine, TelAvivUniversity Aleida Assmann – University of Constance Jeffrey Andrew Barash – UniversityofPicardie, Amiens Yoram Bilu – Hebrew UniversityofJerusalem Samuel Hayim Brody – University of Kansas Alan J. Flashman – Ben-Gurion Universityofthe Negev,Beersheba Jürgen Habermas – UniversityofFrankfurt Ran HaCohen – TelAvivUniversity Irene Kajon – La Sapienza University of Rome AndreasKraft – University of Constance Karl-Josef Kuschel – Eberhard KarlsUniversity of Tübingen Julia Matveev – University of Haifa Paul Mendes-Flohr – University of Chicago/Hebrew UniversityofJerusalem

Subjectindex

Akedah 82 Christianity,Christian 3, 9, 27,29, 44, 50, Amnesty 200, 203f. 52f.,55, 66, 73, 101f.,104,110f. Analyticalpsychology 146, 170 Christliche Judenmission 114f. Anarchism,anarchist 61, 66, 68–71, 74 f., Client-centered psychotherapy 170 85 Co-creation 185f.,191, 193–196 Anekdote (Hasidic anecdotes) 90–97,99 Cold War200, 202, 211 Anthropology 6, 71f.,141–144, 148, 175 Colonial history 207 Antipolitics61, 64, 84, 87 Communism, communist 28, 86f.,200 Antitraditionalistiches Denken 165 Communitas 147,149f.,157,159–161 Anti-Zionism 28, 30 Comparativereligion 1 Apartheid 199, 207 Contextual therapy 173 Arab 18f.,63, 85, 210 Counter-revolution 29, 74 Areté 64 Covenant76, 80,110 Art 1–3, 28, 30–33, 35, 37–43, 45, 189 Crisis of representative anthropology 142 Assimilation 9, 17,46, 52, 56, 121, 162 Culture7,18, 49–51, 53, 56, 101, 104, 106, Auseinandersetzung mit den Ursprüngen des 110,141f.,145,175, 199, 202f.,208 Christentums 117 Authoritarianism, authoritarian45, 66, 71, Der Jude 7, 49f.,159, 162f. 82, 208 Deutschtum und Judentum 49–55, 120 Authority 42, 53, 65, 70, 73f.,76, 78–81, Dialogical addressivity 27 83, 142, 148f.,152, 205 Dialogical psychotherapy 173 Autorität 94, 120,122, 126, 160, 162–164 Dialogical turn 5f. Dialogic anthropology 141f.,148 Baalization 82 Dialogic memory199, 204,208, 210 Balkan War199 Dialogiker 113 Bavarian Coffeehouse Republic 86 Dialogism 21, 25, 27f. Bavarian Council Republic 76, 86 Dialog, jüdisch-christlich 114, 129, 138 Bavarian Revolution 69, 86 Dialogue 3, 5–7, 10–15, 19, 21, 24–27,33, Bearbeitung(Adaptation of Hasidic anecdotes 37,41, 58, 62f.,65, 83f.,141–143, 145– and legends) 89f.,92–96, 98f. 150,166, 169–175, 177,180,183, 187, Bibelverdeutschung (SignificanceofBuber’s 196 Bibletranslation forChristians) 135 Die Gesellschaft 1, 71 Bible8,50, 61, 79, 81, 84, 111, 210 Differentiation of the Self 184 Book of Judges 78, 80,82 Dogmatism 104, 188 BubersJesus-Bild119 Dreams 105, 145–150,153f.,174 BundGottes 132–134, 137; see also Cove- Dyadic communication 185 nant Ecological psychotherapy 174 Calibration 191f. Economy 66, 70, 77f. Charis, Charisma70, 73, 76, 78f. Eigengesetzlichkeit (autonomy) 64 Chassidische Legende 89f.,98f. Election; see Chosen People Chassidismus 89, 99, 117 Emuna 110 Chosen People 54 Encounter 2, 6, 9, 11f.,15, 26, 37,63, 143f., 147,154, 169f.,172, 174f., 178, 180 218 Subject index

Enlightenment 18, 51, 56 Holocaust 9, 199, 202, 207,209, 211, 213 Eranos Conference170 Holocaust memory202, 206 Erinnerungskultur 199 Humanism19, 51 f.,96, 105, 213 Eschatology 2, 55, 80 Humanity 6, 50–52, 54–59, 83, 106, 111, Eswelt 193f.,196f. 179, 199f.,202, 208 EternalThou 11, 15, 25f.,35, 106–109, 177 Human rights violations 207 Ethics, ethicalculture 24, 62–65, 68–70, 73 Iand Thou 11, 16, 21, 24, 27,30–36, 43, Ethnography 141–144, 175 46, 84, 106, 170,178, 186, 190 EuropeanUnion 20, 209, 213 Ich-Du Beziehung 5, 33, 98 Existentialism62 Ich-Es Beziehung 33, 98 Existential therapy173 Ich und Du 11, 24, 62, 101, 105–109, 124, Exklusivismus, christlich 131 183, 190f.,193, 197 Identität, jüdische 113, 116–118, 157,161f., „Fall Kittel“ 120 164–167 Family therapist 183, 195f. Identitätsbildung 165 Family therapy 173, 183, 186–190, 195– I-It relation 11, 14–17,37, 39, 111, 143, 190, 198 195 Federalism63 Inclusion 9, 170 FirstWorld War10, 49f.,52f., 58 International Court at Nuremberg 200 Forgetting, forgetfulness109, 199–201, Interpersonal relation 11, 14f. 203f.,207f. Interpersonal School of Psychiatry187f. Freies Jüdisches Lehrhaus 2, 106 Intersubjectivity 198 Intolerance 101, 104 Gastjudentum 121 I-position 184–186, 191 Gemeinschaft 52, 58, 80,108, 114, 117,124, Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities 128, 157–161, 163, 165, 167 2, 7 German Social-Democratic Party(SPD) 68, I-Thou relationship 5, 9, 13f.,16–18, 21, 84 25, 30–38, 63, 108, 143, 146, 171, 189f. Germany 1, 9, 18, 22, 52f.,55, 61, 68, 169, 197,200,202f.,209 Jiddischer Hintergrund (Yiddish background Gesellschaft 89, 157–161, 167f. of Hasidic texts) 95 Gestalt psychology 146 Jüdische Renaissance (Jewish renaissance) Gestalt therapy 173 7, 115, 117 God (YHVH) 10f.,14f., 26, 28, 44, 50–52, 54, 56, 67f.,70–72, 74 – 84, 87,102– Knowledge of Man 173, 188 111, 151, 170,179 Königtum Gottes (Kingship of God) 3, 61 Great War; see FirstWorld War Kulturzionistische Erneuerung 117

Halakha 51,62 Law of Historical Remembrance (LeydeMe- Hasidism, hasidic 1f., 6f., 10,62, 175f. morie Histórica)204 Healing through Meeting 169, 171f.,180 Lehrhaus; see Freies Jüdisches Lehrhaus Hebrew UniversityofJerusalem 1, 7, 110 Leningrad Blockade 209 Heilige Unsicherheit 166f. Lieux de mémoire 204f. Heinrich Heine Universität 2 Liminal 147,157–161, 166–168 Herrschaft 56, 65, 68, 73 Liminalität 147,158 Hierocracy 78f. Subject index 219

Mandala 170 Polytheism 51,66f., 69f. Marxism 29, 68, 75 Postmodern anthropology 142f. Meeting; see Encounter Protestant, protestantism29, 51–54, 62, Memoryframe 199, 201, 208, 210f.,213 104 Mental health 169, 183 Psychoanalysis 169, 173, 180 Messianism 2f., 51–53, 55–57,59, 82, 84 Psychology 2, 6, 40,146, 173, 184 Modernist frame 199, 201, 208, 210–212 Psychosynthesis 171 Molechization 82f. Psychotherapy 2, 169, 171–175, 178, 180f. Monotheism 52f. Mosaic Law; see Halakhah Qur’an 179 Multiform sculpture 187 Mysticism 1f., 10,24, 105 Realpolitik 81f. Mystik 93, 116, 122 Redemption 54, 59, 105, 109 Reformation 50f.,73 Nakba 211 Relationalpsychoanalysis 173 National memory202f.,206, 209f. Religio 101–105, 108f.,111 National self-image 202 Religion 1, 17f.,28f., 49, 52f.,61f., 64– Nationalsozialismus 130 66, 78, 85, 101–103, 105–111, 115, 121– Neues Testament 129 123, 128, 134, 138–140,153–155, 162, Neuromantisch 93 164f.,170,204 „Nightmares or Daydreams“ 212 Religionsgespräche 128, 134 Nominalism17 Religionskritik 163 Religionswissenschaft, see comparativereli- Occasionalism 72 gion Offenbarung 125, 139f.,166 Religiosität (religiosity) 52, 54, 105, 117– Old Testament; see Bible 119, 123, 162, 165 „On psychologizing the world“ 170 Remembering 199–201, 204,207–209, 211–214 Pacifism 71 Renaissance 7, 50, 56, 115f. Pact of Silence200, 203f. Renewal 56, 154, 180 Palestine 7, 53, 57f.,84, 176 Revelation 87,104,148–154 Parliamentarianism 72 Revolution 68–70, 73, 75f.,86, 208 Pastoral counseling 173 Roman Antiquity 54 Perpetua oblivio et amnestia 200 Roman Catholicism 72 Phenomenology 12, 24, 110 RussianOrthodoxChurch 29 Philosophy 1–3, 6f., 9f., 12–18, 20, 23, 27–30, 41, 46, 51 – 53, 62f.,72, 105f., Scheinjudentum 162 109–111, 166, 169 Schmaler Grad166 Philosophy of language2,16 „Science as aVocation“ 4f. Pistis 110 Second World War209, 211 Politicalreligiosity53–55, 59 Secularism 66, 69 Politicalromanticism 71f. Secularization 17,65, 70, 75, 77f. Politicalscience 61, 64f. Self,Buber’sconcept of 10, 14f.,17, 27,33, Politicaltheology 50, 65f.,74, 81–85 87,104,107,141–144, 170–174, 179f., Politics 17,49f., 52f.,57–59, 61–71, 74, 184, 188f.,194, 197 77f.,83–88, 109, 200,205 Selfobject 193f. Polyphony 21, 24, 27,38, 41, 45 f. Shoftim;see Book of Judges 220 Subject index

Slavery199, 207 Traditions-Kritik 162f. Socialism 68, 72, 75 Transformativepower of memory199, 201, Social philosophy 1 204,207,210 Social psychology 1 Truth and reconciliation commissions 207 Social science 2, 4f., 67f. Sociology 1, 3, 67,70, 77 UniversityofFrankfurt 1, 8 Soviet culture 28 Ur-Christentum 117–119 Spartacist 86 Ur-Judentum 118, 192 State 17–19, 49f.,52–54, 56, 58f.,63–67, USSR 30 69, 74,81f., 84, 86f.,199f.,204,206– Utopia 55, 63, 75, 146 208, 210,212 State terrorism 207 Verdichtung (Poeticizing Hasidic Texts) 92 Stuttgarter Schuldbekenntnis 137 Vergesellschaftung 159f. Subject-object relation 27,34, 38 Vergemeinschaftung 159f. Superstitio 101–103 Voskresenie Group 29 Swing concepts148 Symbols 148f.,152, 204,210 Washington School of Psychiatry 172, 187f. Weimar Republic 7, 70 Talmud 94, 145, 156, 163 Wilhelmine Germany 68 Technicity 65, 70, 75, 83 William Allison WhiteLectures172 Temenos 170,176 World WarOne; see First World War Theology 29, 49f.,59, 65f.,70, 74,81–85, 104, 174 Young Hegelians 13 Theopolitics 61f.,65f., 70, 75, 79, 83–85, 87 Zachrot 210f. Therapeutic communities 174 Zionism 3, 7, 10,17–19, 29f.,49f., 53–57, Therapeutic task 176 61, 63, 75, 84f.,206, 210 Tikkun 179f. Zionismus 116, 121 Tradition 17–19, 51, 53, 68, 94, 99, 102, Zionist movement 7, 49 105, 110,114, 133, 145, 149, 162, 164f., 172, 176, 179–181, 203, 210