Maimonides, Crescas, and the Parable of the Castle
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Warren Zev Harvey Maimonides, Crescas, and the Parable of the Castle Rabbi Hasdai Crescas, the foremost medieval critic of Maimonides’ philosophy, was born in Barcelona around 1340, which is about two centuries after the birth of Maimo- nides in Cordoba in 1138. Crescas died in Saragossa in the winter of 1410/11. He was the judge of the Jews of the Crown of Aragon and advisor to King Joan I and Queen Violant de Bar, the famed benefactress of the arts and sciences. In this chapter, I will discuss Crescas’ sceptical critique of Maimonides. His critique of the Aristotelian con- cepts of place, time, the impossibility of an actual infinity, and the horror vacui, are documented in Harry Austryn Wolfson’s monumental study, Crescas’ Critique of Aris- totle.1 It is also discussed in my much more modest volume, Physics and Metaphysics in Hasdai Crescas.2 When we speak of Crescas’ sceptical critique of Maimonides, a question imme- diately forces itself upon us: What is the difference between Crescas’ scepticism and Maimonides’ scepticism?3 This question is at the heart of the phenomenon of Jewish scepticism. What is the difference between the scepticism of Crescas and the scep- ticism of Maimonides? For example, both philosophers are critical of the medieval proofs of God confidently affirmed by most other medieval philosophers. Both believe that what Maimonides called premise 26, namely the eternality of motion, has not been proved, and thus the proofs of God based on it are invalid. What, then, is the difference between Crescas’ scepticism and Maimonides’? The polysemic parable of the castle In order to illustrate the difference between the scepticisms of Maimonides and Crescas, I turn now to a midrash found in Genesis Rabbah, 39:1 (and parallels). The different ways that Maimonides and Crescas interpret this midrash will illustrate the differences in their kinds of scepticism. This midrash may be called “The Parable of the Castle.” It runs as follows: 1 Harry Austryn Wolfson, Crescas’ Critique of Aristotle, (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1929). 2 Warren Zev Harvey, Physics and Metaphysics in Hasdai Crescas (Amsterdam: Gieben, 1998). 3 Much has been written recently about Maimonides’ scepticism. See Josef Stern, The Matter and Form of Maimonides’ Guide (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2013). Cf. Warren Zev Harvey, “Maimonides’ Critical Epistemology and Guide, II, 24,” Aleph 8 (2008): 213–235. Open Access. © 2018 Warren Zev Harvey, published by De Gruyter. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 License. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110553321-010 168 Warren Zev Harvey The Lord said to Abram: “Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house, unto the land that I will show thee” [Genesis 12:1] This may be compared by way of parable to someone who was walking on the way from place to place, and saw a birah doleqet [a castle “illumined” or “aflame”]. He said, “Could you say this castle has no governor [manhig]?!” The master of the castle looked down upon him, and said to him, “I am the master of the castle!” So Abraham our father would say, “Could you say this world has no Governor?!” The Holy One, blessed be He, looked down upon him, and said to him, “I am the Master of the world!”4 The Parable of the Castle is intended to help us understand God’s command to Abram or Abraham, “Get thee out of thy country […] unto the land that I will show thee.” Abraham is likened to a traveller who arrives at a birah doleqet. The traveller wonders: Could it be that this castle has no governor (manhig)?! The governor appears and says, “I am the master of the castle!” So Abraham wondered, Could it be that this world has no Governor (manhig)?! God appeared to him and said, “I am the Master of the world!” However, what is a birah doleqet? The Hebrew word doleqet is ambiguous here because it bears two possible meanings. It might mean an illumined or well-lit castle, but it also might mean a castle aflame or afire. According to the first meaning (“an illumined castle”), the midrash would be explained as follows: A traveller enters a castle late at night and finds the lights shining, and people strolling in the streets or relaxing in coffee houses. There is, he observes, order and safety here. The castle, he infers, must have a governor! The gov- ernor then appears and confirms the inference. Therefore, the Parable of the Castle concerns what philosophers call “the argument from design” or “the teleological argument”: Abraham saw that there is purposeful order in the universe, and, on the basis of this order, he inferred the existence of the Governor of the universe, God. According to the second meaning (“a castle aflame”), the midrash would be explained as follows: The castle is ablaze, burning wildly. The world is up in flames. The wicked are running rampant. There is no order or safety. It seems that the castle has no governor. However, the governor then appears. Thus, notwithstanding the flames, there is a governor. The Parable of the Castle accordingly concerns what phi- losophers call “the problem of evil.” Abraham, in spite of the evil in the world around him, affirms the existence of the Governor of the universe or God. In medieval literature, we find both readings. Modern scholars tend to prefer the second, “a castle aflame.”5 Maimonides and Crescas preferred the first reading, “an illumined castle.”6 4 The midrash, with commentaries, is found in standard Rabbinic editions of Genesis Rabbah, ad loc. 5 Paul Mandel, “The Call of Abraham: A Midrash Revisited,” Prooftexts 14 (1994): 287–294. According to Mandel, the term birah refers here to what is known in Roman architecture as an insula, a large tenement containing dwellings and shops (275). In biblical Hebrew, the term is usually translated as “castle” (e.g., Esther 1:2; Nehemiah 2:8). 6 See Harvey, Physics and Metaphysics, 47–48, 60–65. The interpretation of birah doleqet as “an illumined castle” is found also in Pseudo-Rashi, Commentary on Genesis Rabbah, standard Rabbinic Maimonides, Crescas, and the Parable of the Castle 169 Scholars have debated the nature and role of polysemy in Rabbinic literature.7 What is noteworthy in the present case is that the polysemy is clearly unintentional. The ambiguity, uncertainty, or polysemy of the phrase birah doleqet was surely not intended by the author of the midrash. The polysemy is caused here by our ignorance of the idiomatic usage of the term doleq/et in Rabbinic Hebrew. Presumably, the early audiences of this midrash understood the unequivocal meaning of the term – and of the midrash. They knew whether the midrash was talking about the argument from design or the problem of evil. Due to our ignorance, the phrase and the midrash are polysemic to us. One might say that the long history of commentary on this midrash has turned it into a polysemic parable. Put another way, we owe the rich and pro- vocative polysemy of this midrash not to its author but to our ignorance. This is not a cause for regret. Unintentional polysemy is no less fecund than artful polysemy, just as Alexander Fleming’s discovery of penicillin was no less wondrous because it happened serendipitously and just as the Earthlings’ victory over the Jovians in Isaac Asimov’s “Victory Unintentional” was no less salvific because it was due to a misun- derstanding. The importance of ignorance as a stimulus for creative interpretation can hardly be underestimated. Maimonides, for example, was well aware that our ignorance of an ancient language could be very convenient for the creative commentator. In Guide, I, 67, when defending his highly conjectural interpretation of the Hebrew va-yanaḥ (Exodus 20:11), which he suggests does not mean “and God rested” but “and God established existence perpetually,” he remarks: “today we have no complete understanding of the science of our language.”8 Maimonides’ interpretation of the parable Now, let’s see what Maimonides does with the Parable of the Castle. In his Mišneh Torah, Hilkhot ‘Avodah Zarah 1:3, he writes: editions, ad loc. According to Pseudo-Rashi: “[Abraham] saw heaven and earth; he saw the sun by day and the moon by night, and the stars giving forth light. He said: ‘Is it possible that something so grand is without a Governor?’ The Holy One, blessed be He, looked down upon him and said, ‘I am the Master of the world.’” This commentary is a composite work, written in Ashkenaz, and roughly contemporaneous with Maimonides. 7 E.g., Steven Fraade, “Rabbinic Polysemy and Pluralism Revisited,” AJS Review 31 (2007): 1–40; Azzan Yadin-Israel, “Rabbinic Polysemy: A Response to Steven Fraade,” AJS Review 38 (2014): 129–141; “Response to Azzan Yadin-Israel on Rabbinic Polysemy: Do They ‘Preach’ What They Practice?” AJS Review 38 (2014): 339–361. 8 Maimonides, The Guide of the Perplexed, trans. Shlomo Pines (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963), p. 162. Cf. his unusual interpretation there of Exodus 31:17. 170 Warren Zev Harvey As soon as this mighty one [Abraham] was weaned, he began to wander about in his mind, and he was little, and he began to think day and night, and wondered: How is it possible that this [celestial] sphere revolves [noheg] perpetually, if it does not have a Governor [manhig]? Who causes it to revolve, for it is impossible that it causes itself to revolve?9 No sooner was he weaned than little Abraham began to study the universe.