In Honor of Lag Be’omer: The Case For Mysticism
It always saddens me when people conflate creativity with authenticity, as is frequently done by the proponents of Rambam’s theology. Maimonidean thought is creative but that does not mean that it is also necessarily authentically Jewish.
I believe that Rambam’s rationalist philosophy, which staunchly rejects mysticism and denies any semblance of anthropomorphism, is incompatible with the dominant and majority view in classical Judaism. Tanakh, the Sages of the Talmud (for the most part), and many Rishonim embraced a robust mystical metaphysics, a tradition that found its ultimate expression in Kabbalah. No matter how much Rambam tries to explain it away by reinterpreting the myriad of classical texts which espouse a mystical reality, there is no escaping that his interpretations are not the plain meaning of the Torah’s verses or the simple understanding of the Sages of the Talmudic Era. Mysticism is part and parcel of Jewish theology.
The most blatant manifestation of biblical mysticism is the Book of Leviticus. Its core premise is a mystical metaphysics centered on the Beit Mikdash (Temple), a sacred space where God dwells and where human beings can bring korbanot (sacrifices) to the Divine presence. Specifically, this theology is expressed through God in Leviticus desiring korbanot, and the sacrifices provide God with supernal pleasure, as explicitly stated, “My offering, My food, for My fire offerings, a pleasing odor to Me.” This concept of a deity who can be affected by physical offerings is intimately connected to the anthropomorphism found throughout the Tanakh. Such blatant mystical metaphysics is, however, not unique to Leviticus. Tanakh is replete with anthropomorphic descriptions of God, whereby God sees, hears and experiences feelings. In fact, Rashi and several other Rishonim of Ashkenaz understood these anthropomorphic expressions hyper-literally to the point where some claimed to have detected elements of Corporalist theology in Rashi’s commentary.
Notwithstanding the veracity of the claim about Corporalist theology in Rashi’s commentary, the abundance of anthropomorphic formulations make it clear that the Torah is predicated on a metaphysics whereby God can, mystically speaking, hear, see and feel.
The same is true for the Talmudic Sages. They too, for the most part, embraced a mystical theology, as evidenced by the extensive discussions in Tractate Hagigah and other places, as well as by the prevalence in the Sages of the notion of God’s Shekhinah. (The most blatant example, Shabbat 67a, clearly presents the Shekhinah as a semi-independent entity.) Along these lines, one could reasonably argue that, in response to the destruction of the Temple, the Sages embraced a modicum of panentheism (not pantheism!). This definitely seems to be the simple understanding of the Talmud on the bottom of Berachot 35a. It also seems to be the plain meaning of the first Mishnah in Perek Lulav Ha’gazul (the third chapter of Tractate Sukkah), and several other Talmudic discussions.
These are just a few examples.
True, Rambam tries to reread all of the biblical and Rabbinic mystical texts in a way that conforms with his rationalist/Aristotelian theology, but the facts fly in his face. His interpretations are farfetched and homiletic, not the plain meaning of the text. Read with honesty, it is impossible to deny the fact that classical theology is mystical.
Consequently, to bandy about accusations of heresy and avoda zara (idolatry) against our kabbalistic tradition is inaccurate and superficial. The Sages of the Talmudic Era and the Early Medieval Authorities who were mystically inclined were just as careful about these sins as any modern day critic of Kabbalah. However, anybody who understands Kabbalah properly knows that these accusations are completely untrue; it is not idolatrous at all–as is discussed extensively by the kabbalists themselves and also by contemporary scholars of kabbalah.
To be clear, however, one cannot talk about Kabbalah as a unified genre. Embracing a mystical approach to Yiddishkeit, therefore, does not mean that one accepts every facet of Jewish mysticism. Personally, I am religiously enriched by Kabbalah’s theosophic tradition—the speculative philosophy or direct intuitive knowledge of the divine, a wisdom-religion focused on understanding the nature of God and the cosmos—and believe that it is authentic Jewish theology. Yet, Kabbalistic theurgy, which is the practical application of this knowledge utilizing ritual, ceremony, and symbol to influence the divine realm, has little resonance for me. Ultimately, the particular variations of Kabbalah are debatable and non-binding, allowing one to embrace the aspects that resonate and reject those that do not.
However, to dismiss all of Kabbalah as not authentically Jewish is historically inaccurate. To accuse it of idolatry is erroneous. Judaism always was a mystical tradition. Rambam’s aggressive attempt to argue otherwise is creative, but creativity does not bestow authenticity. Aristotelian metaphysics is anathema to Judaism’s native mystical theology.
