What is the relation of philosophy and theology? This question has been a matter of perennial concern in the history of Western thought. Written by one of the premier philosophers in the areas of Jewish ethics and interfaith issues between Judaism and Christianity, Athens and Jerusalem contends that philosophy and theology are not mutually exclusive.
Based on the Gifford Lectures David Novak delivered at the University of Aberdeen in 2017, this book explores the commonalities and common concerns that exist between philosophy and theology on metaphysical, epistemological, and ethical questions. Where are they different and where are they the same? And, how can they speak to one another?
What is the relation of philosophy and theology? This question has been a matter of perennial concern in the history of Western thought. Written by one of the premier philosophers in the areas of Jewish ethics and interfaith issues between Judaism and Christianity, Athens and Jerusalem contends that philosophy and theology are not mutually exclusive.
Based on the Gifford Lectures David Novak delivered at the University of Aberdeen in 2017, this book explores the commonalities and common concerns that exist between philosophy and theology on metaphysical, epistemological, and ethical questions. Where are they different and where are they the same? And, how can they speak to one another?
eBook
Available on Compatible NOOK devices, the free NOOK App and in My Digital Library.
Related collections and offers
Overview
What is the relation of philosophy and theology? This question has been a matter of perennial concern in the history of Western thought. Written by one of the premier philosophers in the areas of Jewish ethics and interfaith issues between Judaism and Christianity, Athens and Jerusalem contends that philosophy and theology are not mutually exclusive.
Based on the Gifford Lectures David Novak delivered at the University of Aberdeen in 2017, this book explores the commonalities and common concerns that exist between philosophy and theology on metaphysical, epistemological, and ethical questions. Where are they different and where are they the same? And, how can they speak to one another?
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781487533441 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | University of Toronto Press |
| Publication date: | 11/04/2019 |
| Series: | The Kenneth Michael Tanenbaum Series in Jewish Studies |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 392 |
| File size: | 3 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Philosophy and Theology
Athens and Jerusalem
What is the relation of philosophy and theology? That has been a matter of perennial concern in the history of Western thought. Most famously, that relation was questioned by the third-century Christian theologian Tertullian when he asked rhetorically: Quid ergo Athenis et Hierosolymis?, which I would translate: "So what do Athens and Jerusalem have to do with one another?" That "Athens" here stands for "philosophy" and "Jerusalem" for "theology" are clearly indicated by the query Tertullian immediately poses: Quid academiae et ecclesiae?, which I would translate: "What does [the philosophy of] the academy have to do with [the theology of] the church?" However, we need to immediately ask: What is "philosophy," and what is "theology"? And why have philosophy and theology so often been seen to be at loggerheads?
What is philosophy? For Tertullian, it is the teaching of the Athenian academy, founded by Plato, where Aristotle learned and taught, and which eventually passed into the hands of the Stoics. Despite a number of specific differences among Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoics, their great commonalities constitute what is often called "classical Greek philosophy," which has certainly survived far beyond its ancient origins. That is why it is quite easy to agree with Alfred North Whitehead's observation (in his Gifford Lectures of 1927–28 at the University of Edinburgh, which became his great book Process and Reality) that "the European philosophical tradition [consists] of a series of footnotes to Plato." This philosophical tradition consists of the ongoing discussions of the great issues that were first raised in the Academy founded by Plato. In fact, the two philosophers in addition to Plato with whom we shall be dealing (in chapters 5 and 6), Aristotle and Kant, were both admittedly were following in Plato's footsteps, as we shall see.
What is theology? Here, too, Tertullian gives it a location: "Our teaching [institutio] is from Solomon's Porch [de Portico Solomonis]." That is, Christian doctrine comes from the place in the Jerusalem Temple where Jesus and Peter (his first and favourite disciple) spoke as Jewish authorities. Theology, then, is what the Jews had accepted as theology, that is, it is what the Jewish people had accepted as the logos or "word of God [dvar adonai] that goes forth from Jerusalem" (Isaiah 2:3). Theology is what Moses had told them is "your wisdom and your understanding [hokhmatkhem u-vinatkhem] in the eyes of the [gentile] peoples." That means you (Israel) are wise enough to understand "this Torah which I put before you this day" (Deuteronomy 4:6, 8). Now what God revealed to Israel is recorded in the Hebrew Scriptures, the Sacred Writings (kitvei ha-qodesh), which were canonized in Jerusalem and whose authenticity had to be validated by the authority located in the same Temple precincts that contained Solomon's Porch. This is the biblical theology or Torah first given to the Jews, which the Christians then accepted in toto, although they sometimes interpreted this Torah like the Jews and sometimes quite differently. Nevertheless, what the philosophers of Tertullian's time found unacceptable were the theological doctrines common to Jews and Christians alike. Thus the third-century Christian theologian Origen responded to the coupled anti-Christian and anti-Jewish charges of the pagan philosopher Celsus (in his by now lost work, A True Discourse) by arguing for the "common belief" (ek ton koin?) of Christians and Jews, and for what "we both agree" (ta homoia phamen). And all that despite the fact that Jews and Christians often interpret Scripture quite differently. Origen also states that "we have to the best of our ability responded to the charges brought by Celsus against the Jews and their teaching (tou logou auton)."
Couldn't it be said, then, that when Christian theologians confront philosophy, they are in fact doing so as if they were Jews? Actually, at around the same time Tertullian was playing off biblical theology against pagan philosophy, some of the Rabbis were doing much the same thing, as we see in the following text:
There were no two philosophers who arose in the world like Balaam son of Beor and Oenomaus Gadareus. All the gentile nations [ummot ha'olam] came to him [Oenomaus], saying to him, "tell us how we can overcome this nation [Israel]?" He said to them, "go around to their synagogues and houses-of-learning [u-vatei midrashot]. If you find there children chirping [Scripture], you will not be able to do so."
It must be assumed here that the philosophers were proposing their teachings to be more intellectually impressive than biblical theology. What is being emphasized au contraire is that philosophy stands no such chance when "the Lord's song" (Psalms 137:4) is sung on its own turf. The theology of Jerusalem can well withstand the allure of the philosophy of Athens, that is, when it remains true to itself.
Nevertheless, in playing off "academic philosophy" against "ecclesiastical theology," both Tertullian and his Jewish counterparts thought that philosophy, which is the wisdom of the gentiles without the benefit of biblical theology, poses a direct challenge to their biblically based theology. This is a challenge the theologians have had to overcome because these two sources of wisdom seem to be in perpetual and irreconcilable conflict. The challenge was mostly mounted by philosophers against theology, rather than by theologians against philosophy. For prior to Christianity's becoming the official religion of the Roman Empire early in the fourth century, pagan philosophers were closer to the centre of political authority than were either Jewish or Christian theologians. Greater political power gives one a greater rhetorical advantage in public discourse. Nevertheless, Tertullian and those like him were mounting a full-scale counter-attack against philosophy. Just as the philosophers were dismissing theology's appeal to theoretically minded pagans, so were the theologians dismissing philosophy's appeal to theoretically minded Christians (and to Jews who, in this respect, were no different from Christians).
The typical enunciations of the relation of philosophy and theology, which we have just seen, characterize that relation as an adversarial confrontation of enemies. In this confrontation, either theology wins and philosophy loses or philosophy wins and theology loses. Neither side takes any prisoners. So understood, philosophy can brook no rivals, and neither can biblical theology. Both philosophy and biblical theology claim to be the highest truth, exclusively. Neither philosophy nor biblical theology is willing to be secondary, that is, to be subsequent, to anything else. As it is asked rhetorically in the Talmud: "Is it possible for two kings to wear the same crown?!" As for any value in the metaphysical philosophy of the gentiles, many Jewish thinkers in one way or another have said, in the words of the Talmud: "What does our perfect Torah have to do with your idle chatter [sihah beteilah]?!" And by "idle chatter," the Rabbis clearly meant those Jews who had been badly influenced by pagan philosophy.
Centuries later, the thirteenth-century Jewish theologian Rabbenu Asher (Rosh) asserted that "anybody who first enters into this wisdom is unable to depart from it and enter the wisdom of the Torah into his mind. He is unable to return [to the Torah] from natural wisdom [hokhmah tiv'it] in which he has become accustomed, because his mind is drawn after it." In this respect, Rabbenu Asher was reiterating the view of his senior Spanish-Jewish colleague, Solomon ibn Adret (Rashba), who in 1305 led the Spanish rabbinate in banning anyone under the age of thirty from studying philosophy. And even those over thirty had to be thoroughly steeped in talmudic learning to be exempted from this ban. Although Ibn Adret did not deny that philosophy as natural science had practical value for medicine, his objection and that of his rabbinical colleagues was directed against those Jews who looked to philosophy for its theoretical or metaphysical value as the prime source of truth. This inevitably leads to the abandonment of the core Jewish dogma: the Torah is complete divine revelation. As such, it is qualitatively superior to any other wisdom, whether discovered or invented by humans. Ibn Adret saw Torah and philosophy occupying two separate universes; hence philosophy has nothing to teach the adherents of the Torah. On this key point, he thought even the great Maimonides erred.
Returning to Tertullian, when we look at the general historical context of his statement, it is clear he was saying that theologians and philosophers were not so much talking to one another as they were talking at one another or against one another. Nevertheless, both sides had to recognize that they were still thinking, speaking, and acting within the same world of discourse. That is, they were both speaking the same conceptual language. As such, they could not speak totally past one another, nor could they avoid interaction with one another. Neither side could imagine themselves and their adversaries to be occupying parallel universes that never intersect. Therefore, they could hardly ignore one another.
Now the common language spoken by the theologians and the philosophers is the language of philosophy, not the language of theology. It seems that the theologians could accept this linguistic priority for theological reasons. That is because the biblical revelation the theologians proclaim and explicate is not coeval with the creation of the world. The giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai did not occur on the first day of creation. Revelation does not come along with the world; instead, it comes into the world already there. And, the world-already-there (Dasein) has its own language. Indeed, if they had no language of their own in hand previously, humans would be in no position to understand any speaker who comes into their world to speak to them there. Thus the ancient Rabbis taught: "the Torah speaks according to human language [ke-lashon bnei adam]." That is because the Torah could only be understood when spoken in a language already spoken by its hearers. Perceptive theologians surely recognize that language is most careful formulated and conceptualized by philosophers. Although there have been theologians who have attempted to speak a theological language as if philosophy were simply not there, the theologians we shall be examining here did speak a philosophically refined language, while themselves attempting to speak that language better and more profoundly than do the philosophers themselves. However, not to engage philosophy seriously when philosophy claims to put forth a better, more intelligently formulated way of life is to tempt the most intelligent Jews or Christians (or Muslims) to abandon their ancestral theology for it. That temptation surely cannot be ignored by Jews (and by Christians and Muslims) if the Torah is to be "your wisdom in the eyes of the peoples" (Deuteronomy 4:6), that is, if the Torah is to function intelligently in and for the world.
Theologians and philosophers had to speak a common language, because in their first confrontation in the Hellenistic age, both theologians (Jewish and Christian) and pagan philosophers were attempting to attract to their respective versions of the truth the same intellectuals who were seeking a new version of the truth and a new way of life as its corollary in the Graeco-Roman world. In this charged proselytizing atmosphere (when Jews still had the right to proselytize gentiles), pagan philosophers were attempting to attract to their philosophy other pagans, plus Jews and Christians of a theoretical or contemplative bent. Jewish and Christian theologians were attempting the same strategy, their targets being pagans, especially philosophically inclined pagans, plus fellow Jews and Christians who were tempted to reject what seems to be parochial theology in favour of much more universalist philosophy as their modus vivendi in the world. Each side was attempting a total conversion of the other side. At issue, then, were the most basic questions: first of metaphysics, then of epistemology, and then of ethics. That is, both classical philosophy and biblical theology are concerned with being, and how we human can know it, and why we humans should act according to that knowledge. Therefore, in the confrontation of philosophy and theology, by attempting to win converts to either a theological or philosophical way of life, each side had to argue for the theoretical and practical superiority of its own position. In this polemical atmosphere, totalizing charges and countercharges were made. Whether or not one's position has to be made at the total expense of the other position largely determines whether the confrontation of theology and philosophy is a zero-sum game or not.
The close connection between the comprehensive conceptions of theologians and philosophers and their respective ways of life, that is, the interrelation of thinking, knowing, and doing, is often the issue when theology and philosophy confront each other, especially when they attempt to convert one another to their respective comprehensive visions. For discussions of how persons are supposed to live, and discussions of how society is supposed to be governed, are more than academic exercises; they have a real political/moral impact on a far wider range of people than just theorists, be they theologians or philosophers. This fact seems to have been recognized by the redactors of the Talmud, who at times want to know what practical difference a theoretical distinction actually makes in the real, everyday world. In fact, for most rabbinic opinion, "the deed, not the enquiry (ha-midrash), is essential"; and the greatness of "learning" (talmud) is that it "leads to action." Just as intellectual conversion is only possible when the antagonists speak the same language addressing the same theoretical questions, so moral conversion is only possible when the antagonists speak the same language addressing the same practical questions. These two aspects of the same language, the theoretical and the practical, are essentially interconnected.
Nevertheless, it is only when philosophy presents an alternative way of life, which is as comprehensive as the way of life presented by theology, that philosophy poses a truly existential threat to theology. But when philosophy no longer presents a comprehensive way of life as a real alternative to the theological way of life, which is when it becomes strictly method without its own content, then philosophy is more readily open to being appropriated as a methodological tool by other disciplines, especially by theology. In fact, this is what has happened to the philosophies that emerged in the twentieth century, especially analytic philosophy and phenomenology: they became almost purely methodological and could thus be employed by various content-laden disciplines. (It is no accident that in the twentieth century, the great and highly influential phenomenological philosopher Edmund Husserl and the great and most influential analytic philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein were both primarily logicians; and that is because logic is all form and without any matter or real content of its own.) It could even be said that theology is best able to critically appropriate philosophic method, since theology – unlike, for example, psychology – is not a derivative of philosophy, and is thus not historically beholden to philosophy (i.e., pre-twentieth-century philosophy) for any of its content.
However, what about the challenges the three monotheistic religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, pose to each other? Aren't these interreligious challenges as intellectually serious as the challenge classical philosophy poses to all three religions? In fact, more has been made of the theological differences between the three religions than about the challenge philosophy poses to all three.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Athens and Jerusalem"
by .
Copyright © 2019 University of Toronto Press.
Excerpted by permission of University of Toronto Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Preface
1. Philosophy and Theology
2. God, Humans, and Nature
3. Humans and Nature
4. Philo and Plato
5. Maimonides and Aristotle
6. Kant’s Challenge to Theology
Notes
Bibliography
Index
What People are Saying About This
“With commanding clarity and consummate learning, Novak leads the reader through his account of how theology is no mere generic 'talking about God' but a comprehensive vision founded in God's word and how philosophy in contrast is a method for thinking about such a way of being in the world. Leading the reader painstakingly through three classic accounts of how theology and philosophy might thereby relate for Jewish tradition (Plato and Philo, Aristotle and Maimonides, Kant and his modern Jewish interlocutors), Novak avers that the Kantian challenge remains unfinished business for all Jews, Christians, and Muslims who seek to expound the intersection of revelatory theology and philosophic method for today. The range and systematic insight of this volume is more than worthy of a Gifford lecturer.”
"Athens and Jerusalem is something of a philosophical tour de force. In a time when our thought tends to be as fragmented as it is specialized, it holds promise of reviving a more wholesome and robust debate about the nature of things. Professor Novak handles his subject in sophisticated fashion, engaging both primary and secondary sources on the level of a master, while providing his readers a broad education in 'the hermeneutics of Nature.'"
"The erudition of the volume is extremely impressive, with David Novak demonstrating a magisterial grasp of the primary texts."