Conflicting Visions: Spiritual Possibilities of Modern Israel. - book reviews

Judaism, Summer, 1993 by Arnold Eisen

It's hard not to be a fan of David Hartman, from where I sit. He is, after all, an Orthodox philosopher respectful of secular Israelis and of non-Jews, a religious Zionist deeply sympathetic to the aspirations of Palestinians and intent on strengthening ties between Israel and the Diaspora, and a builder of institutions who is unceasing in his efforts at outreach and dialogue of all sorts. If that is not enough to arouse admiration, recall that Hartman must put up on a daily basis with the insults and opposition which come the way of anyone who stands for such things in the rough and tumble of Israeli society. His recent book, The Living Covenant (1985), marked a major advance in the development and articulation of modern Orthodox thought. The present collection of essays expands the approach set forth there, selfconsciously marking the distance that its author has travelled since a previous and far more lyrical collection, Joy and Responsibility, issued in 1978. The Hartman whom one encounters in Conflicting Visions is ever aware, as the title indicates, of just how precarious a path he travels, of just how high a price is paid in all sorts of currency for doing the business that he has embarked upon - and for Jewish survival of whatever sort. The confidence that Hartman displays in this volume is, therefore, all the more reassuring, and his doubts all the more disturbing.

The major sections of the book are devoted to Hartman's continuing dialogue with the Israeli Orthodox philosopher and polymath, Yeshayahu Leibowitz; to a vision of modern Orthodoxy provided through dialogue with Hartman's teacher, the late Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, and through polemics of varying sympathy and depth with Abraham Heschel, Mordecai Kaplan, and Reform Judaism; and, finally to a set of essays concerned with "the dignity of the Other," both political and theological.

For me, as a diaspora Jew and scholar of modern Judaism, the most interesting sections of the book were those in which Hartman positioned himself in relation to Leibowitz and Soloveitchik, Heschel and Kaplan. Hartman calls forth such a personal approach by his readers; we are, after all, considering the thought of a man who carefully chose not to remain in the diaspora, because he was convinced that the main action in Jewish faith and Jewish history in our generation transpires elsewhere. He has suffered for that choice, and benefited. This shows, as on a face, on every page.

Evaluating Franz Rosenzweig and Hermann Cohen in relation to Leibowitz, for example, Hartman writes that the former sought "a way of legitimizing Judaism in a Christian society." This characterization - not entirely false, but hardly adequate - is decisive for Hartman. Heschel and Soloveitchik likewise had their agenda shaped, in his view, by the predicament of Jews who live as individuals among Gentiles rather than as members of a strong Jewish community "They both sought to combat alienated, unheroic, inclinations in Jews who are in need of a father figure." That last reference is gratuitous, and, to me, incomprehensible, but the larger point, too, while correct, hardly gets at what is interesting and problematic in Heschel and Soloveitchik. Leibowitz, by contrast,

has no problem with the rehabilitation of the lonely man of faith [the title of a key Soloveitchik essay] but with the rehabilitation of a close-knit, observant Jewish community that had decided to accept political independence yet evaded the bold halakhic changes that such a decision properly entailed.

Hartman apparently has little hope for the creation of such communities outside of Israel, and little interest in the nuances of spiritual growth, for reasons that I will discuss in a moment. Leibowitz thus emerges as a sort of hero in the book, and Heschel fares pretty well, all told, while Kaplan is dismissed in typical fashion, his religiosity completely unappreciated. Reform does not even rate a philosophical discussion (of Eugene Borowitz, say), but only an "Open Letter to a Reform Rabbi" expressing support for the movements legitimate place in Israel.

More than Zionism underlines this approach; halakhah is at stake, too, and, with it, God's presence in our midst. The point comes out clearly in a face-off between Buber and Soloveitchik, where the former, as religious existentialist," stresses that "divine-human encounter is the crux of religious experience and the hub of religious life," while the latter, "the halakhist," is convinced that "God is present insofar as the law is binding....The commandment mediates the presence of the commander. For the halakhic Jew, the mitzvah mediates God's active presence in history." Hence, for all of Hartman's justified criticism of Leibowitz's insistence that no meaning or fulfillment whatever be sought or found in the performance of mizvot, but only the enactment of God's will because it is God's will, Hartman is far closer to Leibowitz than to Heschel. The latter is too individualist for Hartman's taste, too attuned to the quest for personal meaning, and too soft in a way. "The complexity and technicality of Halakhah may exasperate those who are drawn to Judaism by the captivating music of Heschelian Aggadah." Even Soloveitchik, who was distant from Israeli society in more than a geographical sense, does not sufficiently emphasize the societal character of mizvah. That character, to Hartman, comes into view and compels our attempt to realize it completely only with the creation of a Jewish society and polity. The search for personal Jewish fulfillment in the absence of covenantal community is hopeless and illusory.