Shalom Carmy on Noah Feldman (and a Postscript)

Professor Shalom Carmy has, in typically perceptive and lucid fashion, produced a pointed and penetrating response to the challenge raised by Noah Feldman's article. Of especial note is his discussion of the question of a Jewish physician violating the Sabbath in order to treat a Non-Jew. As Carmy notes, this claim has long been a weapon in the arsenal of anti-semites. Indeed, it was used as a vicious anti-religious weapon in the fifties by secularists here in Israel.

Inter alia, Carmy writes:

An honest understanding of the Halakha about saving a Gentile on Shabbat is grounded in the fact that not all mitsvot can be violated to save life. Idolatry, sexual offenses and murder may not be allowed even to save life, however this flies in the face of our utilitarian mentality. Shabbat has much in common with the so-called “big three.” [Note R. Shimon’s view in Yerushalmi that a bystander may intervene to prevent Shabbat violation even at the cost of the transgressor’s life.] For Jews Shabbat may be violated to save life, but only on the basis of a special limmud (inference)—“desecrate one Shabbat so that he may observe many Shabbatot.” Where this principle does not apply, Shabbat is inviolable.

Where people understand that religion may on occasion make life and death demands, the law that Shabbat is so important that it is overridden only for those who are members of the community that observes it is difficult but not scandalous. In our culture this understanding is lacking; thus the failure to treat Jews and Gentiles identically will be interpreted as indifference to the fate of the non-Jew, and will be perceived as tantamount to connivance in his death. It will provoke hatred, and understandably so. In this case, the theoretical gulf separating secularists from halakhists is not universalism vs. particularism but the recognition that Shabbat is, in principle, worth the sacrifice. It is common to stress that Judaism, compared, let us say, with Hinduism, affirms the value of human life and eschews such sacrifices. That the value of human life is overridden only in exceptional circumstances is a significant element in generalizing about Jewish ethics. But an almost absolute principle is not the same as an absolute one.

In any event Feldman presumably knows very well that his high school teacher’s remark is not representative of grown-up halakhic thought, and he knows even better that it is not a guide to the practice of Orthodox Jewish doctors. Nonetheless, in his desire to satisfy himself against those who failed to properly esteem his choices and flatter his vanity, he has resorted to one of the most potent weapons of 19th-20th century anti-Semitism. He has made it easier for individuals or groups in medical schools to sideline or bar Orthodox Jews, in the name of high-sounding universalistic moral ideals, from positions in the medical profession. Whether he intends these consequences or not, and whether or not he envisions, in his wise shrewdness and genteel outrage, further punitive consequences to his classmates and their children, he has employed his power and prestige to those ends. He, and we, must live with the consequences of his decision.

Not only Feldman’s actions have consequences. There are rabbis and teachers, who sometimes feel that they must show their cleverness at any cost. At times it seems that the less they have to contribute, the more they wish to stand out. Like precocious children impressing the adults, they vie for the attention of their students with forced displays of cleverness and provocation. The point is to come up with something that nobody else would think of saying and to say something shocking and memorable. Surely the teacher whom Feldman quotes succeeded eminently in this game of pedagogical one-upmanship. He, and we, will have to live with the consequences of his judgment.

Postscript:

I recall reading that Professor Gerald Blidstein once asked the Rov if he was satisfied with the fact that Sabbath deseceration for a non-Jew was due to איבה, or the hostility toward Jews that would be thereby engendered. The Rov, reportedly, responded that while he was happy with the legal results, he found the actual argument morally unsatisfactory.

I've thought a lot about this issue lately, and I've come to two conclusions. First, any fine moral impulse must still find its expression within the terminology of the Law. Sometimes, indeed oftentimes, that terminology is somewhat jarring to the non-professional ear. Thus, making all sorts of allowances for non-observant Jews because they are 'תינוקות שנשבו' sounds paternalistic, arrogant and dismissive of the rich cultural context within which someone might have been raised. That, however, is the legal tool we have. That, however, does not mean it should be bandied about supercilliously and hurtfully. (Indeed, I've often thought we should create some sort of new category.)

The same is true, or so it seems to me, about the allowance of Sabbath violation for a non-Jew on Shabbat. As Carmy points out so well, saving a Life is not always an absolute value. Even saving a Jew on Shabbat requires special license. Recall that, according to the First Book of Maccabees (2, 32-40) there were those who fled Antiochus' decrees and were slaughtered because they thought that self-defense did not justify desecrating Shabbat. Modern society is based on absolute human autonomy, together with a very strong dose of narcissism. Thus, the idea that Human Life takes second place to anything is at best impossible, at worst, an anathema.

Jewish Law realized that the question of treating a non-Jew on Shabbat had to be addressed and allowed. Halakhah came up איבה. Yes, in marketing terms it's terrible. That, however, is not the point. The genuine, Jewish moral impulse did find a cogent, principled legal category within which to function. Halakhah doesn't operate in philosophical categories, it operates in legal categories. One might add, though, that it's not much of a stretch to go from absence of hostility to co-fraternity. Or, alternatively, who says that Hobbes was wrong? Perhaps, Hazal and Rishonim had a more Hobbesian view of man than we (ostensibly) possess? Certainly, based upon the empirical evidence, Hobbes has the competition beaten, hands down.

Let All the Others Look to Their Own Lives

'When one of a company dies, the whole company should fear' (אחד מבני חבורה שמת - תדאג כל החבורה כולה), Shabbat 106a

The case of Noah Feldman has elicited the expected mixture of outrage and condemnation (from Modern Orthodox circles), glee and support (from non-Orthodox and secularist representatives). One quarter from which I have yet to see a reaction, though it will doubtless come, is the Haredi/Hardali world. With undisguised glee and horror, the Jonathan Rosenblums will declare that Feldman proves the bankruptcy of Modern Orthodoxy (as if Agudah would have been interested in Rosenblum, if he hadn't earned a JD at Yale). These latter will be just as off the mark as the others.

At the same time, as my wife cogently observed, something clearly went wrong here. It could have been a matter of personal psycho-pathology, or of the vagaries of romance, but that's too neat an answer. It lets the rest of us off the hook far too quickly. Is it possible that, somewhere along the line, Dr. Feldman got the message that secular achievement is of equal value (or superior to) devotion to God and the Torah? Is it possible that somewhere along the line his loyalty to Torah was taken as a given? It certainly seems like a plausible scenario. The fact that Hazal constantly warned us not to become spiritually or intellectually complacent, arrogant or conceited would appear to indicate that this is a signal danger on our spiritual path (cf. Avot 2, 4 and Berakhot 29a). As such, perhaps it was specifically this young man's promise that should have set off alarm bells that he should receive more, not less, special attention and followup? [ I admit that I don't know the specifics. I do, however, know the then principals at Maimonides School and many members of the faculty at the time. They are wonderful, devoted educators and Modern Orthodox Jews in the finest tradition of the Rav, and Prof. זכרונם לברכה and תילחטו"א Dr. Twersky. I, therefore, want to emphasize that my comments here are in no way meant to imply criticism of them. I am discussing a more general phenomenon.]

Does this, therefore, put the lie to the entire Modern Orthodox enterprise? If the Rav's own school can produce this type of product, is his life's work thereby refuted. Some, it may be sure, will reach exactly that conclusion. However, such a conclusion is patently unfair. Would the same critics totally dismiss the Netziv because of the bad apples that grew in Volozhin? Are we to devalue great Hassidic Rebbe'im because some of their disciples apostasized? Was R. Yehiel of Paris a failure because of Nicholas Donin? Was R. Eliezer of Tarascon a nobody because of Paulus Christianus?

I categorically reject such a conclusion.

Nevertheless, the case of the Noah Feldmans in our community should give us pause. Those of us who firmly believe that Judaism has nothing to fear from the wider world must ask ourselves some serious questions. At what price do we engage that world? Given that there are tangible risks involved in our path, how do we provide for them? Obviously, there are no guarantees in this world. It does, however, behoove us to be forearmed (as we are all fore warned).

It seems to me, and this is only the starting point, that our point of departure must be intellectual and spiritual humility. This is a very difficult quality to develop, especially in a neurotically narcissistic culture such as ours. It is, however, a conditio sine qua non for a Jewish existence.

By humility, I mean that we are obliged to cultivate in ourselves, in our children and in our students the readiness to withhold judgment. Human knowledge and understanding are, by definition, conditional. That is the essence of the scientific method. For an Orthodox Jew the truth of Torah is not conditional. There may, albeit, be a number of legitimate doctrinal or halakhic alternatives on specific issues. The whole, however, is a datum. It is a given. That given requires tremendous sacrifices of the Jew. It determines what one eats, who one marries, where one lives, and how one behaves. That, as the Rov said so many times, is the essence of Qabbalat Ol Malkhut Shamayim. One is encouraged to master the totality of human creativity and culture. However, it remains just that, human, conditional. God's Torah, the Divine logos, trumps it. Period.

Acknowledging this fact of religious life is very difficult. It requires an ongoing, titanic struggle with doubt, misgiving and sincere feelings of humanity. The struggle is legitimate. Impulsive, ultimately self-serving resolutions are not. As Reb Haim Brisker is reputed to have said: Fun a kashe shtarbt man nit. One doesn't die from a question. One does, however, need to develop and hone the emotional, spiritual and intellectual muscles to sustain that question. The greater the intellect, the more pressing the need to cultivate exactly these tools of question-maintenance and surrender that balance it. [This is not a new circumstance. The achievement oriented, individualizing tendencies of Tosafist France led to the cultivation of German Pietism (חסידות אשכנז) with its heavy emphasis on humility. Ultimately, both were correct.]

Tisha B'Av starts with mourning and ends with consolation and the possibility of repentance. Rather than simply mount the barracades against someone who is clearly having an immature tantrum, we should look to our own souls and develop the emotional and spiritual modalities required to both constructively engage the wider world, while simultaneously surrendering to God's greater wisdom.