It should be noted that Maimonides allowed a measure of disquiet to reveal itself between the lines. Not every reason that seems clear is in fact evident; a proof can be contrived or incomplete. This raises a new question: Is it possible that science can be perverted? Cannot that which is presented as an objective proof sometimes be an illusion? Ultimately, is there not room for a measure of self-censorship with regard to certain teachings or research? Immediately after the passage from the tractate Shabbat that we cited above, we find the following passage that clarifies this point by introducing a crucial distinction:

Thus the Talmud distinguishes between two different ways in which truth may be perverted. The first is defined in terms of sorcery. It is concerned with the exploitation of popular credulity in all its varieties; anything to do with charlatans, necromancers, and diviners comes clearly and directly from this idea of sorcery. The classical understanding of such practices begins in the books of Moses and is then developed by the Talmud and rabbinic commentaries. But it is reasonable to include here every form of intellectual fraud, ancient or novel. The catalog of illusions, lies, and tricks that have accompanied scientific progress is a long one. It is almost as if each science, especially at its beginnings, had its own kind of sorcery. Astrology, alchemy, magic potions, and the fountain of youth are but a few examples. Closer to home, psychoanalysis, though itself grounded in genuine scientific principles and research, has provided and might still be providing the opportunity for numerous abuses, whether in psychoanalytic practice itself or, above all, in the ideological and moral conclusions to which it sometimes leads.

What is the attitude of the Talmud toward the phenomenon of sorcery? It can be summarized in the three terms that appear in our text: Learn, understand, legislate. An attitude of systematic and a priori rejection is not recommended for sorcery. The battle against sorcery is waged through a profound knowledge of its manifestations, by a meticulous distinction between true knowledge and mystification, and in the end by the use of the appropriate juridical means for its elimination.¹¹

The second kind of perversion our text addresses is idolatry. We are not talking here about idolatry as a practice but as a concept. The doctrine which is mainly targeted by the text is the dualism which was widespread in Babylonia, where Rav taught; but this is only one example. Generally speaking, with respect to any ideology whose principles clearly contradicted those of the Jewish way of thinking, the Sages of the Talmud and their successors adopted an attitude of rejection. Commenting on our text, Rashi writes that “It is forbidden to learn even the teachings of the Tora from the mouth of an idolater.”¹² At first, this principle seems to reflect a mistrust of the seductive power of the charismatic personality. But it also means the refusal of syncretism: The notion that Judaism could develop by integrating within itself ideas taken from alien ideologies or religions is absent from the traditional literature. It is possible that scholars in the history of ideas can show that, in specific cases, external doctrines have influenced the development of Jewish thinking. But such would be an exceptional case, a kind of invasion. It is contrary to the insistence, explicitly formulated and constantly repeated by the traditional authorities, on rejecting the intrusion of external ideologies within Judaism. If the Sages recommend an attitude of knowledge and analysis with respect to sorcery, when it comes to the ideological and religious domain they lean decisively towards systematic rejection.

We may add two comments on this point. The first is that these considerations do not apply to philosophy. The attitude of Jewish tradition towards philosophy is decidedly ambiguous; at times the study of philosophy is condemned, at others it is praised. In fact, it may be shown that the ambiguity of the Sages towards philosophy stems from ambiguity in the nature of philosophy itself. Does it comprise the search for objective truths, demonstrable and verifiable? Or is it inevitably tainted with ideology and dogmatic affirmations that by their nature escape all possible examination? It is this equivocal character of philosophy which prevented the Sages from adopting a clear position on this matter. Second comment: The negative attitude of our tradition towards foreign ideologies is mainly meant for internal use. The fact that objectively these ideologies played a role in human progress, even when they erred, is not denied. A progressive process of trial and error constitutes a possible way to arrive at the truth. This theme was developed in particular by Judah Halevi in his work The Kuzari.¹³

 

We now turn to the second part of this study. How does Jewish tradition perceive its relationship to science? Where does Jewish tradition position itself in relation to science? We have already observed that the same word, hochma, encompasses simultaneously the truth revealed in the Tora and its later expansions, and the truth produced by the sciences. In other words, for the Jewish tradition, Tora and science are two modalities or domains which share a common horizon, the horizon of knowledge. The distinction frequently drawn between the realm of faith and belief on the one hand, and that of rational knowledge on the other, is foreign to the way Jewish tradition thinks of itself. For Jewish tradition, Tora and science are two domains that belong to the same plan—the unveiling of the truth. This approach is furthermore confirmed through the expression hochmot hitzoniot, “outer sciences,” which is the name given to science in general, as opposed to the knowledge of Tora.

But within this common horizon, are Tora and science parallel tracks with equal importance, or is there a hierarchy? A passage in the tractate Avot sheds important light on the problem:

A few remarks about this text. The word “nest” is generic: It refers to the group of laws concerning the sacrifice of birds that a woman brought to the Temple after she gave birth. “The first signs of impurity” is also generic. It refers to the body of law, very complex at the time, concerning the periods of purity and impurity of the woman. Finally, the concrete meaning of the Hebrew word parperaot, which I have translated as “periphery,” is either the dessert after a meal or the aperitif before it. It comes from the same Greek word from which the English “periphery” is derived.

The nests and the first signs of impurity constitute, in the minds of talmudic Sages, typical examples of very sophisticated laws that raise numerous problems but which, at first glance, have little to do with universal moral principles. They are presented in our text in opposition to astronomy and geometry, which are venerable, exact, universally accepted sciences. Thus, the most arcane elements of Tora law are compared with the most brilliant fields of the “outer sciences.” The relationship that the text has established between these two domains is precise: The law constitutes the central part of hochma; astronomy and geometry are the periphery of hochma—aperitif or dessert, if you will.

Why this hierarchy? As we have seen earlier, it is not founded on the difference in the degree of truth attained respectively by Tora and science. Nor is it founded on a dogmatic theological consideration: That the Tora would be obtained through prophetic revelation, whereas science would result from the effort of human reason alone. But this is not the heart of the problem.

What distinguishes Tora from science is its content. The principal aim of Tora is to define appropriate human conduct. In other words, it is conceived as a science of man as man, which means at once free, conscious, responsible, bound by obligations stemming from the full range of human relationships in which he finds himself. All the relationships that man has, foremost with other people but also with nature, with himself—all his aspirations to worthiness, to perfection, to transcendence are considered, analyzed, and judged. A search that one could reasonably describe as infinite comes to an end with the halacha, or law, a rule of right action or conduct; but it is a search that really never ends, for it is forever deepened or expanded when new situations or new relationships arise in history.