A Torah U-Madda Approach to Historical Inquiry

Because we often define Torah U-madda as a type of synthesis, we attempt to view secular culture and knowledge through the prism of Torah values. One can select the classics of literature which prove most edifying, view the works of art that proclaim the God-given abilities of man, even see the rationally-ordered universe as a paean to the magnificence of divine choreography. But where does the academic study of history fit into this scheme? The critical scholar is expected to analyze texts with a healthy dose of skepticism, to dissect them by all means of inquiry, and, above all, to construct an unbiased and objective reconstruction of the past. If, however, adherence to Torah Umadda demands synthesis and says that we must study history to find religious meaning, then are we not imposing our own values on the events of the past? If we scour the recesses of the human experience for the eternal truths of our people, if we try to find the hand of God in the dynamics of history, do we not invalidate the very nature of the objective enterprise we have defined? And if we do not approach history with these biases, then how do we view its study as part of our religious personalities?

Before attempting to grapple with this question, it is instructive to examine how the study of history has been treated by Jewish historiography. Many argue that it is in the fundamentals of Jewish faith and the Torah itself that the concept of history is born.i The ancient pagan religions saw time as cyclical. The past, enshrouded in the mists of a mythical "dream-time," held nothing worth remembering-no promises, covenants, or consequences. Each cycle of drought or plenty and each war between the gods for heavenly domination was a mere manifestation of primeval chaos. An individual or a society could gain the favor of the gods through the proper sacrifices, but mankind as a whole could do nothing to change its fate or shape its future. There was no goal or purpose, no plan for history.

In God's call to Avraham, the concept of time and the meaning of history are radically redefined. In the past are God's promises of nationhood and covenant. The present is the arena in which man has the free-will to draw close to God and shape a future in which those promises can be fulfilled. The Exodus from Egypt was a historical event, never to be repeated, but indelibly etched upon our national consciousness through the grandeur of Revelation. The Torah stresses that our obligation to serve God lies in our historical connection to Him: "I am the Lord your God who took you out of the land of Egypt from the house of slavery."ii Our destiny, and with it all of mankind's, is contingent upon our fealty to the past. In the words of R. Jonathan Sacks, we find in Judaism "the unique attempt to endow events with meaning, and to see in the chronicles of mankind something more than a mere succession of happenings - to see them as nothing less than a drama of redemption in which the fate of a nation reflects its loyalty or otherwise to a covenant with G-d."iii History has meaning. Upon its stage of purposeful past, present, and future, an eternal covenant unfolds.

Thus, according to this interpretation, history is the basis for our faith and reaffirms our elected status and mission. Yet the meaning of history is much more important than the facts. Hazal, the consummate preservers of the Biblical tradition, sought to cull the proper theological messages by interpreting historical events. Aggadic literature emphasizes the values and ethics that we can learn from the Torah, but has little concern for the facts of the past.iv Indeed, Hazal lived through the stormy period of the late Second Temple era, but wrote little about it except that which was relevant to their religious message. For example, in formulating the historical reason for the celebration of Hannukkah, the Talmud only mentions the miracle of the oil jug and ignores the military successes of the Maccabees. Hazal were not oblivious to these monumental military victories. Rather, they emphasized the oil because it better pointed to the continuing presence of God in the post-prophetic age.v

This didactic conception of history was the prevailing attitude among both Jews and non-Jews. The Roman historian Livy conceived of the study of history as a way to avoid the mistakes of the past.vi Others saw it as a means for moral edification. The few Jewish historians in the medieval and early modern period followed a similar course. History demonstrated the unbroken chain of massorah and the exalted tradition of our people. It could highlight the martyrdom of spiritual heroes. Sometimes, one could even attempt to discern the hints of the Divine plan that glimmer through the cracks of the past.

In his controversial work Meor Einayim, the 16th century scholar Azariah de Rossi offered a different approach to the value of historical inquiry. De Rossi rejected Livy's claim that we can learn from the mistakes of history, countering that as Jews, the Torah and Hazal teach us all we need to know to follow the proper path of religious and ethical observance. He wrote, "What was-was, and there is in it no relevance to law or observance." "Still," he observed, "the refined soul yearns to know the truth of everything."vii

In one sentence, de Rossi separated the study of history from the realm of religion. In his opinion, our religious tradition is perfectly wholesome, requiring no external historical justification or support. Rather, one studies history out of a burning desire to know the truth, to fulfill an inner need to uncover what really happened.viii Although de Rossi lived only on the cusp of the Scientific Revolution and well before the Enlightenment, his approach parallels that of many of their thinkers. Religion was a discipline unto itself, one that had no bearing on science or history. That the study of both theology and secular disciplines could be pursued without any semblance of contradiction was a notion appealed to by thinkers from Galileo to Moses Mendelssohn.

But in Jewish circles, de Rossi was a lone voice. It was not until the 19th century with the formation of the Wissenschaft des Judentums movement that the critical study of history began in earnest. The Wissenschaft school, epitomized by Leopold Zunz, sought to study the history and culture of Judaism from a purely academic, critical, and allegedly objective perspective. This virtual explosion of interest in Jewish historiography continues until this very day.

Yet this movement and its successors were not without critics. Shemuel David Luzzatto, a 19th century traditional Jew of deeply held religious beliefs but an insatiable curiosity for academic scholarship that placed him squarely within the Wissenschaft circle, attacked the other scholars with whom he corresponded for lacking, "the faith which seeks to grasp the prophets as the word of God, and to see in Jewish history the singular chronicle of a singular people."ix Like many of his predecessors, Luzzatto could not find value in a method of study that did not appeal to some higher religious purpose.

Additionally, the Wissenschaft scholars were not the unbiased observers they purported to be. By studying the Jewish past and people, they hoped to find precedents and justifications for their own ideologies, which were often at odds with traditional Judaism. Even what is termed as purely objective study is not always free from personal and religious biases.

This historical survey seems to demonstrate that although the interpretation of history holds an important place in our tradition, academic inquiry into the past does not. Furthermore, challenging commonly held assumptions and delving into the origins of the Torah and Jewish practice can lead one astray from religious belief. Perhaps I should end the article here, concluding that academic study cannot be countenanced from a Torah U-madda standpoint.

Yet, in the fractured world of the 21st century, I believe that the more conservative, and perhaps more traditional, approach to history is also fraught with danger. If we search our past in order to find theological truths and moral messages, do we not run the risk of shaping that very past by our preconceived religious notions and mores? In the search for continuity in our religious tradition, might we not unconsciously neglect certain troubling details for the sake of that continuity? Although there are many who argue that this is indeed a desirable outcome, I for one cannot stomach hagiography or falsification, no matter how noble the cause.

Perhaps most troubling is the fact that in the Orthodox community there have been recent trends toward historical triumphalism. Some subtly reinterpret the past both to match their current worldviews and value-systems and in an effort to undermine the legitimacy of other equally traditional approaches. x Such thinkers approach the past with the motto: "we are right, and we have always been right." In the 21st century, this mode of thinking is unfortunately quite pervasive, even outside of Orthodox Jewish circles. The world we live in is polarized, fragmented, and at war with itself. Every group struggles for recognition, propping up history as its exclusive claim to legitimacy.

In my opinion, this is where critical historical inquiry becomes crucial. Using a fully unapologetic study of the past, one can cut through the propaganda and find the multiple strands of thought that weave themselves through the vicissitudes of time. As I study what came before, I struggle to isolate each thread, to understand its formation, its uniqueness, and how it fits into the whole. History is not monolithic. There is a rich diversity that spans the past and present, both in our Jewish heritage and our shared human heritage. Through this process of discovery, I hope to become more tolerant-and have the strength and courage to avoid the pitfalls of divisiveness.

It is this more expansive vision of human nature that I believe can be harmonized with Torah U-madda. The expression of the multi-faceted human tradition in history can guide us to a greater appreciation of the world which God has bestowed upon us. With all its wars, famines, and worries, it is a beautiful creation, populated by a humanity endowed with the precious and beautiful gift of free-will. Understanding human nature and God's creation can increase our faith. Even if we do not impose our beliefs upon a text, it does not mean that our faith is irrelevant to the study of history. As we view history more objectively and detach ourselves from it, we are paradoxically drawn closer, and we can begin to touch the tradition and memory that seep through the faded and often tattered pages of our shared human past. We do not resurrect the ancients to proclaim value-judgments, but only to explore. By understanding our ancestors from their own perspective, we create a deeper connection and find a more wholesome meaning.

Admittedly, what I propose here is not synthesis. One is forced to compartmentalize, creating a somewhat uneasy syncretism of objectivity and faith. And despite my attempt at objectivity, part of me knows and believes that the Divine truth is affirmed through history. The Torah tells us so. History itself demonstrates so. Precisely how it will be fully revealed, I do not know. No one really knows. Sometimes the hand of God is easily apparent, but in the face of cataclysm and tragedy, we often struggle to find where He has hidden. Yet I am confident that a day will come when the grey rain-curtain will be rolled back, and the tapestry of history will be revealed before us in all its glory as the work of the Master Artisan.

Yosef Lindell graduated YC in 2007 with a BA in History, and is now pursuing an MA in Jewish History at BRGS.

i This notion of a Jewish birth to history is widespread in scholarly and popular literature. See Yosef Yerusalmi, Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1982), 8-9 and many of R. Jonathan Sacks' divrei torah on the web.

ii Shemot 20:2.

iii R. Jonathan Sacks, Parshat Vaera 5768: http://www.chiefrabbi.org/thoughts/vaera5768.html.