JSTOR is a not-for-profit organization founded in 1995 to build trusted digital archives for scholarship. Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik is undoubtedly the most respected intellectual figure within Orthodox Judaism today.
JSTOR is a not-for-profit organization founded in 1995 to build trusted digital archives for scholarship. Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik is undoubtedly the most respected intellectual figure within Orthodox Judaism today.
JSTOR is a not-for-profit organization founded in 1995 to build trusted digital archives for scholarship. Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik is undoubtedly the most respected intellectual figure within Orthodox Judaism today.
Souvce Modevn Judaisn, VoI. 2, No. 3 |Ocl., 1982), pp. 227-272 FuIIisIed I OxJovd Univevsil Fvess SlaIIe UBL http://www.jstor.org/stable/1396137 Accessed 06/04/2009 1626 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=oup. Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit organization founded in 1995 to build trusted digital archives for scholarship. We work with the scholarly community to preserve their work and the materials they rely upon, and to build a common research platform that promotes the discovery and use of these resources. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org. Oxford University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Modern Judaism. http://www.jstor.org David Singer and Moshe Sokol JOSEPH SOLOVEITCHIK: LONELY MAN OF FAITH Creation springs from primordial chaos; religious profundity springs from spiritual conflict. The Jewish ideal of the religious personality is not the harmonious individual determined by the principle of equi- librium, but the torn soul and the shattered spirit... -Joseph Soloveitchik, "Sacred and Profane" I Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik is undoubtedly the most respected intellectual figure within Orthodox Judaism today. His Orthodox admirers, found mainly in the "modern Orthodox" camp, always refer to him reverentially as "the Rav," the teacher par excellence. As for non-Orthodox views, we have the testimony of novelist Mark Mirsky that Soloveitchik is "the greatest storyteller I have ever heard,"' and the prediction of Reform theologian Arnold Wolf that "people will still be reading [Soloveitchik] in a thousand years."2 In large part, Soloveitchik's reputation is built on a firm foundation of talent. His strengths are many, and in combination they make him a truly formidable-and quite unique-intellectual figure. As Eugene Borowitz has put it: "He is more halakhic that Baeck, more sophisticated than Kaplan, more erudite than Buber, more rationalistic than Heschel."3 Those in a position to judge the matter state unreservedly that Solo- veitchik is the outstanding talmudic dialectician of our time. Since most Orthodox talmudists today show little interest in theology, it comes as a pleasant surprise to discover that Soloveitchik is centrally concerned with it. His theological writings, characterized by great sensitivity to the problematics of human existence, insightful reference to both classical Jewish sources and Western philosophical ideas, and the creative use of a typological methodology, hold out the promise of something rare in Jewish thought-an explication of the theology implicit in halakhah. Finally, Soloveitchik is, in the words of Arnold Wolf, a "midrashist of inordinate power and skill."4 Whether expressing himself in English, Hebrew, or Yiddish, he has an unusual ability to make ideas, even those most abstract, come alive. MODERN JUDAISM Vol. 2 pp. 227-272 0276-1114/82/0023-0227 $01.00 o 1982 by The Johns Hopkins University Press David Singer and Moshe Sokol If the factor of sheer talent goes a long way toward explaining the adulation which surrounds Soloveitchik, it is most certainly not the whole story. The other element which has to be considered here is his im- portance as a symbolic figure within the American Orthodox community. For virtually all modern Orthodox Jews, i.e., those who seek to combine a commitment to traditional Jewish law with an openness to modern secular culture and society, Soloveitchik, or more precisely Dr. Solo- veitchik, is the one recognized religious authority who can serve to validate their way of life. Authority within Orthodoxy rests funda- mentally on prodigious talmudic scholarship, and the contemporary masters of the Talmud are nearly unanimous in their rejection of "modernist" tendencies, most particularly advanced secular education. At the least, they regard university training as a waste of precious time that could otherwise be devoted to the study of religious texts; at worst, they see it as a dangerous exposure to heretical ideas. Soloveitchik, on the other hand, holds a Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Berlin, and maintains a strong interest in such diverse subjects as mathematics, philosophy of science, Christian religious thought, and literature. This does not mean that Soloveitchik himself is, necessarily, a modern Orthodox Jew. On the contrary, as we shall see, he is in many ways an Orthodox figure of the old school. The very fact, however, that he has a doctorate in philosophy, and that he is willing to function within a modern Orthodox framework at New York's Yeshiva University, the leading religious institution of the Orthodox modernists, makes Solo- veitchik a crucially significant figure for countless numbers of Orthodox Jews. Were it not for him, they would have to bear an extremely heavy burden of guilt over their involvement in the secular world. Small wonder, then, that they put Soloveitchik on a pedestal. Given the nature of the relationship between the various Jewish religious denominations in the United States, Soloveitchik has also become something of a hero to non-Orthodox Jews. The key factor here is the willingness of modern Orthodox rabbis to work on a cooperative basis with their Conservative and Reform colleagues, something which the Orthodox traditionalists resolutely refuse to do. Since Soloveitchik is the acknowledged leader of the former, the etiquette of Jewish ecumenism has dictated that he be elevated to the position of a leading "official" religious spokesman for all of American Jewry. Perhaps more im- portantly, many non-Orthodox Jews, who tend to think of Orthodox rabbinic leaders as Yiddish-speaking patriarchs with long white beards and black coats, are quite taken with Soloveitchik as a man of Western ways and obvious sophistication; they find him both charming and intriguing. Finally, Soloveitchik's "modernity" functions to quell any lingering doubts that Conservative and Reform Jews might have about their own involvement in secular society. 228 Joseph Soloveitchik What is troublesome about the adulation that surrounds Soloveit- chik is that it has stood in the way of efforts to assess critically his thought. Precious little has been written about his theological position, and what little we do have tends toward mindless praise.5 Almost always, Soloveitchik is cast in a Maimonidean mold, as a systematic philosopher centrally concerned with the interrelationship between Jewish and Western thought. While this image jibes well with the symbolic role that Soloveitchik has been assigned by modern Orthodox Jews (indeed, it is they who have created the image), there is, in fact, little evidence to support it. On the contrary, a reading of Soloveitchik's oeuvre makes it clear that his theological concerns are quite selective in nature; that they are characterized by tensions, polarities, and outright contradictions; and that they are not shaped in any fundamental way by Western intel- lectual sources. The one consistent element in Soloveitchik's thought -and the one which requires most careful delineation-is his preoccupa- tion with a religious problematic uniquely his own. Any attempt to set forth the main elements of Soloveitchik's thought must begin with a frank acknowledgement that the largest part of his intellectual output is simply not available for assessment. Soloveitchik, after all, is first and foremost a talmudist; as professor of Talmud at Yeshiva University, he has guided several generations of rabbinic stu- dents through the thickets of talmudic argumentation. While all of his hiddushe torah have been carefully recorded on tape, it will be several decades, or even longer, before they see the light of day in a usable form.6 At the same time, however, it is important to bear in mind that the glamour and excitement which surround Soloveitchik have their source in precisely those aspects of his intellectual enterprise which are reflected in his published essays: his interest in theology and his involvement with Western culture. Were Soloveitchik only a talmudist, he would be far less known and admired. Moreover, part of the importance of Soloveitchik's theological writings is that they enable us to understand the role that he assigns to Talmud study within the overall context of Judaic life and faith. Not since Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin in the early nineteenth century, has a major Jewish thinker been so preoccupied with this issue. Finally, studding all of Soloveitchik's published works are small samples of his hiddushe torah, which offer at least a hint of what is contained in the larger body of talmudic scholarship. All in all, then, Soloveitchik's theo- logical essays provide a significant opening into his world of thought. II Given Soloveitchik's family background, it seems likely that he would have achieved significant prominence within Orthodoxy even if he had 229 David Singer and Moshe Sokol never set foot in a university. Soloveitchik is the scion of an illustrious rabbinic dynasty which played a crucial role in promoting the "Litvak" or "Mitnagged" outlook of Lithuanian Jewry. The symbolic godfather of the Litvaks is the Vilna Gaon, but the man who did the most to give their point of view ideological expression and institutional form was the Gaon's chief disciple, Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin. In 1803, he set up a yeshivah which became the prototype of all the great talmudic academies of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The dynamic behind the Volozhin Yeshivah lay in Rabbi Hayyim's stress on the cognitive purpose of Torah study, as distinguished from the functional (religious practice) or the devotional (communion with God). In his view the proper focus of Jewish life was the study of Torah in general, and of Talmud in particular, "for its own sake," i.e., for the sake of knowing and understanding. It was at Volozhin and its various outposts that the members of the Soloveitchik family made their signal contributions in strengthening Litvak religiosity. Soloveitchik's great-grandfather, Joseph Baer (1820- 1892), served as co-head of the Volozhin Yeshivah for some years and produced several volumes of novellae on the Talmud. An article in the Encyclopedia Judaica characterizes him as a "dynamic personality, sharp- witted, preferring acumen to erudition."7 The same description applies with even more force to Soloveitchik's grandfather, Hayyim (1853-1918), known universally in the world of traditional Jewish learning as Rabbi Hayyim Brisker. He spent close to twenty years at the Volozhin Yeshivah (settling, thereafter, in Brisk [Brest-Litovsk], where he served as com- munal rabbi), and developed a unique, highly analytical method of Talmud study emphasizing "incisive analysis, exact definition, precise classification, and critical independence."8 Hayyim was, quite simply, a talmudic genius; he attracted thousands of students who promoted the "Brisker" method until it became predominant in European yeshivot. After Hayyim's death, the Brisker approach to Talmud study was carried to Palestine and the United States by his two gifted sons, Isaac Zeev (1886-1960) and Moses (1876-1941)-respectively, Soloveitchik's uncle and father. The former (after serving for many years as communal rabbi in Brisk, in succession to Hayyim) settled in Jerusalem in 1941 and quickly became the leading figure in yeshivah circles there, while the latter, who arrived in New York in 1929, was appointed head of the Talmud faculty at Yeshiva University. Soloveitchik himself was born in Pruzhan, Poland on February 27, 1903. He was initiated into the Brisker method of Talmud study by his father, who was his one and only teacher until his late teens. When the Soloveitchik family took up residence in Warsaw in 1920, Joseph began to engage in secular pursuits; he studied with a series of tutors until he attained the equivalent of a gymnasium education. In 1925, Soloveitchik enrolled as a philosophy student at the University of Berlin, specializing 230 Joseph Soloveitchik in logic, metaphysics, and epistemology. Soloveitchik remained at Berlin for six years, capping his academic work with a doctoral dissertation on the neo-Kantian philosopher Hermann Cohen. In 1932, Soloveitchik emigrated to the United States, becoming "chief rabbi" of the small Orthodox community in Boston. He must have been a striking figure at that point, since he was a man who was fully at home in two very different intellectual worlds-the worlds of Torah learning and Western culture. Thus, the traditionalist rabbi, Abraham Kahane-Shapiro of Kovno, could state of Soloveitchik (in a letter written in 1931): The spirit of his illustrious grandfather, the leading rabbi of his time, Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik, rests upon Rabbi Joseph Dov Soloveitchik. Just like his grandfather, he, too, is a master of the entire range of Talmudic literature.... Happy is the country that will be privileged to be the home of this great sage. The sages have ordained him to be the true interpretor of all religious problems, and the halakhah shall always be in accordance with his rulings.9 At the same time, Soloveitchik was able to join with such prominent academics as Harry Wolfson and Solomon Zeitlin in a 1935 lecture series celebrating the Maimonides octocentennial; the subjects on which he spoke were nothing less than "Maimonides and Kant on the Conception of Freedom of the Will and the Problem of Physical Causality in the Modern Theory of Knowledge" and "Maimonides' Philosophic and Halakhic View on Homo Sapiens and the Modern Philosophy of Value"! Upon succeeding his father as the senior talmudist at Yeshiva Uni- versity in 1941, Soloveitchik quickly gained renown among modern Orthodox Jews. To them, the "Rav" was a full-fledged cultural hero who had bridged the gap between Orthodoxy and modernity. But had Solo- veitchik, in fact, done so? Indeed, did he wish to do so? These are important questions which need to be clarified. And there are still other questions: why did Soloveitchik seek to obtain a secular education?; why, having earned a doctorate, did he remain a talmudist in the yeshivah world, rather than pursue an academic career in philosophy?; how did an exposure to Western culture affect his self-understanding as a talmudist and, more generally, as a religious Jew?; and, finally, how did he seek to harness his secular learning so as to advance Judaism's as well as his own religious ends? The answers to all these questions-or at least the be- ginnings of answers-are to be sought in Soloveitchik's theological writings. III It is a commonplace in discussions of Soloveitchik to bemoan the fact that he has published very little. Certainly one would wish to see much more 231 David Singer and Moshe Sokol from his pen, particularly so, since it is reported that he has a large quantity of material ready in manuscript form but is reluctant to release it. At the same time, however, it is important to note that Soloveitchik's list of publications has steadily grown over the years. By now, the total number of items in print stands at over twenty-five. Many of these essays are short, but others are quite lengthy, and three-"Halakhic Man," "The Lonely Man of Faith," and "But if You Search There"--could well be considered small books.10 In addition, there are three volumes avail- able which present summaries or reconstructions of a large number of Soloveitchik's public lectures.I" Caution is clearly called for in the use of the latter materials, but they do help to round out the picture of Solo- veitchik's thought. Soloveitchik's first weighty publication, and the one which played a crucial role in establishing the regnant image of him as the "philosopher of halakhah," was "Halakhic Man." This essay, exuding intellectual sophistication and touching upon issues fundamental to religious life, is a pioneering attempt to explain the inner world of the talmudist in terms drawn from Western culture. Indeed, it may fairly be said that only Soloveitchik could have written "Halakhic Man," in that it employs the concepts and vocabulary of neo-Kantian philosophy to give expression to the Litvak religiosity of Rabbi Hayyim Brisker. There is not the slightest exaggeration in this statement; having Brisk speak in the language of Berlin is the very essence of the problematic in "Halakhic Man." Small wonder, then, that the essay radiates excitement. To fully appreciate the ground-breaking nature of "Halakhic Man," it is necessary to bear in mind that virtually all modern efforts at con- structing a Jewish theology have been based on the non-legal sources of Judaism-aggadah, philosophy, Kabbalah, etc. Yet, it is the Law, in fact, which stands at the center of Jewish life. Quite clearly, then, the very first task of Jewish theology as an enterprise ought to be to theologize about the Law, its nature and significance. But to speak of the Law is to speak of the talmudist, the man for whom the halakhah is the breath of life. What is the nature of his endeavor? Why is he drawn to the Law? What does the talmudist experience as he labors over an intricate halakhic problem? Why is he convinced that in studying the details of often obscure laws, he is dealing with matters of ultimate religious importance? "Halakhic Man" is in a class by itself in the modern literature of Judaism in being centrally concerned with just these questions. It is the one major study we have which gives halakhocentricity its proper theological due, and clearly sets forth the program and rationale of talmudism. At first glance, it would appear that the philosophical abstractions of neo-Kantianism are absolutely irrelevant to an understanding of the nature of the talmudist's endeavor. What possible connection could there be between talk about Being, a priori ideas, mathematics and science, and 232 Joseph Soloveitchik an appreciation of the labors of a man who pores over ancient texts in order to better understand the details of religious laws? Yet, quite amazingly, Soloveitchik manages with a single-brilliant-interpretative twist to make neo-Kantianism fully relevant to the analysis of talmudism. How does he do so? By arguing that the talmudist, no less so than the mathematician-scientist, makes use of an a priori system of ideas in approaching reality. In the case of the mathematician-scientist, the a priori system consists of the theorems and laws which he brings to bear in his research efforts. For the talmudist, the equivalent system is the halakhah, which is not only a set of behavioral norms, but also-and more importantly-a logical, conceptual structure. As Soloveitchik ex- presses the matter: When he approaches reality, halakhic man comes with his Torah, re- vealed to him at Sinai, in hand. He engages the world with set laws and established principles, A complete Torah of precepts and laws guides him to the road which leads to existence. Halakhic man approaches the world well furnished with statutes, laws, principles, and judgments, in an a priori relation. His approach is one which begins with an ideal creation and concludes with a real one. To what can this be compared? To a mathematician who fashions an ideal world, and uses it for the purpose of establishing a relationship between it and the real world .... The essence of the halakhah, which was received from God, lies in the creation of an ideal world, and in recognizing the relationship which holds between it and reality.... There is no phenomenon or object for which the a priori halakhah does not construct an ideal standard.12 Thus, in a flash, is the halakhah converted into a series of epistemological and ontological principles; the Law is endowed with cognitive signifi- cance; it speaks to the intellect. Having posited a basic identity between the mathematician-scientist and the talmudist in terms of the methodologies that they employ, Solo- veitchik seeks to show that their general intellectual orientations are also strikingly similar. Thus, he argues that the talmudist, no less so than the theoretical physicist, is engaged in "pure" research; he is a speculative thinker who is little interested in the practical consequences of his studies.13 The "ultimate" for the talmudist, Soloveitchik tells us, is "not the realization of the halakhah, but the ideal construction which was given to him at Sinai, and which stands forever."'4 Or again: "Theoretical halakhah-not action; ideal creation-not reality represent the longing of the master of halakhah."15 Carrying his comparative analysis a step further, Soloveitchik maintains that the mathematician-scientist and the talmudist share a this-worldly outlook. The latter, for his part, has no use for a separate transcendental realm, since his beloved a priori halakhic principles exist specifically in order to be applied in the "real" (natural- sense) world. At the same time, however, Soloveitchik insists that the 233 David Singer and Moshe Sokol talmudist, again like the mathematician-scientist, is interested in natural- sense phenomena only insofar as they relate to his unique a priori categories of thought. In this context, he presents a near parody of the Psalmist's "the heavens declare God's glory": When halakhic man lifts his eyes to the western or eastern horizon and sees the light of the sun while it sets, the dawn when it arises, or the rays of the sun as it shines, he knows that this shining or setting imposes upon him anew obligations and commandments. The rising of the dawn or the appearance of the sun obligate him to fulfill those commandments that are performed during the day: recitation of the morning shema, fringes, phylacteries, morning prayers, etrog, shofar.... Sunset imposes upon him those obligations that are performed at night: recitation of the evening shema, eating matzot, counting the omer, . . 16 Finally, Soloveitchik points to a passion for quantification as a common characteristic of the talmudist and the mathematician-scientist; both types of scholars seek to translate infinity into "finite creations, delimited by numbers and mathematical measures."17 Given Soloveitchik's portrayal of the talmudist as the intellectual twin of the mathematician-scientist, it is not surprising that he focuses on creativity as the defining characteristic and supreme virtue of his hero. That, of course, is exactly what the neo-Kantians did in dealing with the mathematician-scientist. And, indeed, how could it be otherwise when one is seeking to underscore the role of autonomous reason in developing bold systems of thought? In the case of the talmudist, Soloveitchik argues, creativity is manifested in every aspect of his existence. On the intellectual side, he is a great conceptualizer, who frames all reality within the a priori categories of the halakhah. As a byproduct of this process, Soloveitchik points out, the talmudist becomes the master of the objects of his thought: The mysterious relationship which obtains between the subject which cognizes and the object which is grasped, even though it is logical and not psychological, nevertheless causes man to regard himself as sovereign and master with respect to the object which stands ready to be grasped. The subject rules over the object, the person over the thing. Cognition is to be explained as the subjugation of'the object to the mastery of the subject.18 On the behavioral side, the talmudist is a self-determining personality who uses halakhic norms to shape the direction of his life. The process that is at work here is neatly summarized by Soloveitchik in the following equation: "the realization of halakhah = the concentration of transcend- ence in the world = holiness = creation."19 All in all, then, the talmudist exemplifies a life based on the assumption that "the most fundamental principle of all is that man must create himself."20 234 Joseph Soloveitchik Quite obviously, the talmudist, as he is portrayed in "Halakhic Man," is an exalted religious figure. Yet even this statement fails to do justice to the full extent of the claim that Soloveitchik puts forward on his behalf. The key point here is that Soloveitchik's discussion of talmudism is developed within the framework of a typological analysis of human ex- perience. He is dealing, in the first instance, not with things as they are, or even as they might be, but rather with pure possibilities of existence. Specifically, Soloveitchik posits two basic universal human types, "intel- lectual man" and "religious man." The former is characterized by a boundless zeal for explanation, by a vast determination to remove the unknown from the cosmos. The latter, in contrast, is held spellbound by the mystery of the universe which points obliquely to the presence of a transcendental realm. It is in the talmudist-or as he is referred to typo- logically, "halakhic man"-Solovietchik argues, that these two types come together. Thus he states: On the one hand, . . . his [the halakhic man's] countenance and expres- sion are comparable to that of intellectual man, who, with the joy of dis- covery and the thrill of creativity, occupies himself with ideal construc- tions, and compares his ideal concepts to the real world ... Yet, on the other hand, halakhic man is not a secular, cognitive type, whose mind is not at all concerned with transcendence, but is bound only to temporal life. God's Torah has planted in halakhic man's consciousness both the idea of everlasting life and the yearning for eternity.... He is religious man in all his loftiness and splendor, for his soul thirsts for the living God, and these streams of yearning surge and flow to the sea of tran- scendence. The only difference between religious man and halakhic man is that ... they go in opposite directions. Religious man begins with this world and ends up in supernal realms; halakhic man starts out in supernal realms and ends up in this world. Religious man longs to ascend from the vale of tears, from concrete reality, to the mountain of God. He at- tempts to extricate himself from the narrow straits of the perceptible world and emerge into the wide-open spaces of a pure and pristine transcendental existence. Halakhic man longs to bring down transcend- ence to the vale of distress that is our world, and to transform it into the land of the living.21 Halakhic man, then, as a type, represents a synthesis of the hardheaded thinking of intellectual man and the passionate spirituality of religious man; halakhic man uses the intellectualism of the former to achieve the spiritual ends of the latter. If intellectual man and religious man are "ideal" types in terms of human potential, then halakhic man is the ideal "ideal" type! Could the talmudist possibly be placed on a higher pedestal? In explaining the nature of the typological analysis that he employs in his essay, Soloveitchik states that the various human types never exist 235 David Singer and Moshe Sokol in pure form in the real world. Yet, having said this, he does not hesitate in the least to point to specific individuals as the embodiment of halakhic man. Nor surprisingly, all of them-the Vilna Gaon, Hayyim of Volozhin, Elijah of Pruzhan, Hayyim Soloveitchik, and Moses Soloveitchik-are Litvak virtuosi. Soloveitchik places particular stress on his father and, even more so, his grandfather, citing several stories about each to il- lustrate various aspects of the nature of halakhic man. He notes, for example, that his father and grandfather never set foot in a cemetery, because the thought of death would have interfered with their contempla- tion of the ideal halakhic system. Wishing to draw a sharp contrast to the subjectivism of "mystical man" (illustrated by several citations from Hasidic sources), Soloveitchik tells how his father reprimanded a Luba- vitcher Hasid who was overcome with religious emotion as he prepared to blow the shofar on the New Year; Moses' only concern was that the shofar be sounded in a halakhicly correct manner. Finally, Soloveitchik underscores his grandfather's derisive view of mussar as a species of introspection irrelevant to a life based on the study of the Law. This, then, is halakhic man. As a modern restatement of the program and rationale of talmudism, "Halakhic Man" is a brilliant tour deforce. Soloveitchik succeeds in greatly enhancing the status of the talmudist (at least in the eyes of the modern audience that he is addressing in his essay) by portraying him as an analogous figure to the mathematician-scientist, and by focusing on crea- tivity as his defining characteristic. The key factor in this effort, of course, is Soloveitchik's use of neo-Kantian thought as the framing medium of his analysis. Yet, it must be noted, the mesh of talmudism and neo- Kantianism in "Halakhic Man" is far from perfect. Thus, Soloveitchik treads gently over the fact that the mathematician-scientist fully creates his own system of thought, whereas the talmudist, even at his most cre- ative, works with halakhic principles that have been revealed to him by God. Certainly, this has important implications for an evaluation of the relative creativity of the two types of scholars. In addition, it raises serious questions about the use of the term a priori in connection with the halakhah. In the neo-Kantian scheme, a priori refers to a condition of human consciousness, and a body of revealed truth such as the Torah can certainly not be that. Still another problem with Soloveitchik's compari- son of the mathematician-scientist and the talmudist is that the conceptual system of the former is completely objective and self-contained, while that of the latter includes subjective elements (since a number of halakhic categories, e.g., "ways of peace" and "ways of pleasantness," are inherently subjective) and is influenced by outside factors (i.e., such non-legal sources as philosophy, Kabbalah, and aggadah). Finally, Soloveitchik sidesteps the point that the mathematician-scientist deals with an open body of knowledge that is evolving toward greater truth, while the talmudist 236 Joseph Soloveitchik concerns himself with a closed system of thought that is seen as perfect ab initio. In general, then, Soloveitchik overstates his thesis in "Hala- khic Man."22 It should be noted in passing that in another of his essays23-pub- lished nineteen years after "Halakhic Man"-Soloveitchik does succeed in fully bridging the gap between the mathematician-scientist and the talmudist in terms of creativity. In "How is Your Beloved Better than Another?," Soloveitchik argues at length that his grandfather, Hayyim Brisker, revolutionized Talmud study in precisely the same manner that Galileo and Newton transformed the nature of scientific inquiry. Just as the latter developed abstract-formal mathematical systems on the basis of which they explained natural-sense phenomena, Soloveitchik maintains, so also did his grandfather introduce highly abstract conceptual structures within which he organized and explained the particulars of the Law. In this view, the revealed halakhot are the raw data which the talmudist patterns through the use of autonomous reason. Since Soloveitchik was fully conversant with the Brisker method of Talmud study (indeed, he was a master of it!) at the time that he wrote "Halakhic Man," it seems strange that he did not point to it then as a way of strengthening his argument for a mathematician/scientist-talmudist analogy. Apparently, at that juncture, he had no desire to portray his grandfather as a talmudist who broke with the past. Two aspects of Soloveitchik's enterprise in "Halakhic Man" that merit special attention are the way in which he harnesses his secular learning and his reliance on a typological analysis of human experience. With regard to the former, there has been considerable confusion. Because "Halakhic Man" is replete with references to the full panoply of Western thinkers and ideas, and because the essay leans heavily on neo-Kantian philosophy, it has been generally assumed that Western thought plays a key determinative role in Soloveitchik's thinking. Thus, virtually all discussions of "Halakhic Man" refer to the "influence" of neo-Kantianism on Soloveitchik, as if a reading of Hermann Cohen had provided the basis for his theological position and agenda. In fact, however, -and this is true of all of Soloveitchik's theological writings-the arrows run in the exact opposite direction; it is Soloveitchik, standing on firm Jewish ground, who uses Western thought to serve his own (Jewish) theological purposes. Thus, as we have seen, "Halakhic Man" is anything but a radical reinterpretation of Judaism in the light of neo-Kantian phi- losophy. Rather, Soloveitchik latches on to neo-Kantianism as a way of adding to the prestige of talmudism; he dresses up talmudism in neo- Kantian garb so as to make it more appealing to a modern, secularized audience. Soloveitchik's aim in the essay is thoroughly conservative, and he uses neo-Kantian philosophy as a mere packaging device. Soloveitchik himself underscores this point when he states (in a footnote in "Halakhic 237 David Singer and Moshe Sokol Man" that has been ignored in all discussions of his work) that he is drawing upon neo-Kantian thought so as to make talmudism more "palatable" to the reader.24 Exactly! For Soloveitchik, then, neo-Kantian philosophy specifically, and Western thought generally, exist as resource materials to be pressed into the service of Judaism. It is a matter, so to speak, of presenting the old Jewish wine in new Westernized bottles. There is yet another form of intellectual packaging which is exhibited in "Halakhic Man." All the learned footnote references to the history of Western thought, all the brief excursuses examining abstruse philosophi- cal, theological, and scientific issues, all the citations of Greek in the original (sometimes without accompanying translations!)-these are devices that Soloveitchik uses to establish his own credentials with the reader. Soloveitchik is fully aware in "Halakhic Man" that he faces a serious credibility problem in making a case for talmudism. How does an Orthodox Jew even begin to convince a modern sophisticated audience that the talmudist is a figure worthy of admiration? Part of the answer, of course, is to make talmudism appear intellectually attractive-attractive, that is, by the standards of modernity. And that is where neo-Kantianism, with its talk of science and creativity, comes in. Yet, Soloveitchik wisely understands that this is not enough; that he has to establish his own authority in this area if he is to be a truly effective spokesman for talmudism. Hence the impressive show of secular learning which Solo- veitchik puts on in "Halakhic Man."25 And it is impressive, because Soloveitchik is fully at home in the Western intellectual tradition; he knows what he is talking about. While "Halakhic Man" ends on an apolo- getic note, with Soloveitchik expressing the hope that he has not let down the cause of the talmudist, his worry is completely superfluous. Dr. Solo- veitchik is a masterful propagandist for talmudism. Having stressed the functional nature of Soloveitchik's overall ap- proach to Western thought, it is important to point out that at times he puts aside the criterion of utility and makes use of a specific idea or meth- odology for the simple reason that it appeals to him. A clear case in point is his reliance on a typological analysis in "Halakhic Man." As Soloveit- chik himself acknowledges in a footnote,26 his typological methodology is based on the work of Eduard Spranger, a philosopher and educator who taught at the University of Berlin during the 1920's. Why is Solo- veitchik so taken with typologies? Certainly there is no organic link between their use and his effort to portray the talmudist as an analogous figure to the mathematician-scientist; neo-Kantian philosophy is quite sufficient for that purpose. What a typological procedure does make possible, however, is a form of analysis which is highly abstract and which results in neat categorization-elements, it should be noted, that are prominently featured in the Brisker method of Talmud study which Soloveitchik champions. Could it be, then, that Soloveitchik turns to 238 Joseph Soloveitchik typologies when he is doing theology because they allow for the same play of the mind that he enjoys when he is engaged in the analysis of talmudic texts? This must remain a matter of speculation. What is clear, however, is that Soloveitchik derives significant personal satisfaction from the use of typologies as an analytical tool. Hence, their recurrence throughout his theological oeuvre quite independently of any func- tional consideration.27 IV "Halakhic Man" has been characterized by Eugene Borowitz as a "Mit- nagged phenomenology of awesome proportions."28 This statement is right on target-provided, that is, that one ignores the very opening pages of the essay. These pages, which serve as an introduction, stand in bold contrast to the main body of the work. An important component of Soloveitchik's argument in the "Halakhic Man," as we have seen, is that the talmudist in his typological mode, i.e., as halakhic man, represents a synthesis of the best elements of intellectual man and religious man. In the introductory section, however, Soloveitchik stakes out a very different position; he maintains that the talmudist, precisely because he incorpo- rates within himself aspects of two radically different "ideal" types, is a conflicted personality. Moreover, Soloveitchik stresses that the tensions within the talmudist are unavoidable, that they are a constituent element of his being. Thus, "Halakhic Man" opens on the following note: Two opposing selves are embodied in halakhic man; two disparate forces vie within his soul and spirit. On one hand, he is as far removed from general religious man as is east from west, and is identical in many respects to prosaic intellectual man; on the other hand, he is a man of God, who possesses an ontological approach sanctified to heaven and a world view saturated with the radiance of the divine presence.29 As if this were not strange enough, given what Soloveitchik goes on to say about the talmudist in the main body of the essay, he adds significantly that the conflicted nature of halakhic man, while painful, has positive value in that it serves as a spur to religious growth. Out of the "furnace of perplexity and contradiction," out of the "fires of spiritual conflict," Soloveitchik maintains, there emerges a personality of "incomparable splendor and glory."30 The principle that is at work here is clear cut: "Inconsistency enriches existence, contradiction renews Creation, nega- tion builds worlds, and denial deepens and expands consciousness."31 Quite obviously, there is a side to Soloveitchik's religious thinking which is not even hinted at in the main body of "Halakhic Man." Two questions immediately arise: why are the theological views expressed in the opening pages of the essay not reflected in the work as a whole?; and 239 David Singer and Moshe Sokol why, given the fact that they are not reflected there, does Soloveitchik broach them at all in the introduction? The first question is posed with a sense of puzzlement, the second with a feeling of absolute amazement. Could it be that "Halakhic Man" ended up being a very different essay than the one Soloveitchik originally set out to write? That seems most improbable; Soloveitchik gives every impression in the work of being fully in command, of knowing exactly what he is up to. At the same time, it is clear that Soloveitchik could have produced an antithetical theologi- cal statement to "Halakhic Man" had he so wished. The evidence for this is readily in hand in "The Lonely Man of Faith," which while it appeared more than twenty years after the publication of "Halakhic Man," is, in fact, that statement. "The Lonely Man of Faith" takes as its point of departure the theological position set forth in the introductory section of "Halakhic Man." It thus reveals that "other" Soloveitchik who is carefully kept from view when he is discoursing at length on the nature of tal- mudism. An appreciation of "The Lonely Man of Faith" as the theological counterpoint to "Halakhic Man" extends to matters of style as well as substance. Thus, in "The Lonely Man of Faith," Soloveitchik eschews the direct form of argumentation which he employs in his discussion of talmudism, and relies instead on a philosophical exegesis of the Bible. Specifically, he focuses on the two versions of the creation story in the opening chapters of Genesis, arguing that they offer radically differing perspectives on the nature of man. The most likely source for Soloveit- chik's methodology in "The Lonely Man of Faith" is Maimonides' Guide of the Perplexed, the Jewish philosophical work most dear to his heart, and one which proceeds very much along the same lines as his essay. At the same time, Soloveitchik may be seeking to capitalize on the currency given to biblically-based philosophical analysis in the writings of Karl Barth, the neo-orthodox Protestant theologian. Soloveitchik was aware of Barth's work at an early date, and admiringly referred to him in the introductory section of "Halakhic Man." What both Maimonides and Barth could offer Soloveitchik were models of how to use the biblical text as a springboard for an intellectually sophisticated discussion of the human condition. That, precisely, is what we have in "The Lonely Man of Faith." If the framework of "The Lonely Man of Faith" is strikingly different from that of "Halakhic Man," all the more so is this true of the tone. The latter essay is written in a cool, impersonal, academic style, one fully appropriate to a man who has done a doctoral dissertation in philosophy at the University of Berlin, and who is seeking to explain the nature of talmudism by drawing analogies to mathematics and science. Everything about "Halakhic Man" suggests the cerebral: the author's stance; his choice of subject; his terms of reference. As against this, in "The Lonely 240 Joseph Soloveitchik Man of Faith," we are offered the whole man: Soloveitchik writes in a deeply personal manner; moreover, he provides an account of human nature which does justice to the emotions as well as the intellect. Thus the essay begins: I want... to focus attention on a human life situation in which the man of faith as an individual concrete being, with his cares and hopes, concerns and needs, joys and sad moments, is entangled. Therefore, whatever I am going to say here has been derived not from philosophical dialectics, abstract speculation, or detached impersonal reflections, but from actual situations and experiences with which I have been con- fronted.... Instead of talking theology, in the didactic sense, eloquently and in balanced sentences, I would like, hesitantly and haltingly, to confide in you, and to share with you some concerns which weigh heavily on my mind and which frequently assume the proportions of an aware- ness of crisis.32 If all this seems very "existentialist," it should, since that is the mode in which Soloveitchik consciously chooses to write in "The Lonely Man of Faith." In doing so, he is directly echoing the point of view expressed in the introduction to "Halakhic Man"; there Soloveitchik praises Soren Kierkegaard, Karl Barth, and Rudolf Otto-all of whom stand within the broad stream of existentialist thought-as the three modern thinkers who best appreciate the "antinomic" quality of the religious experience. That experience, as Soloveitchik puts it in the very same passage of "The Lonely Man of Faith" which we have just cited, is one which is "fraught with inner conflicts and incongruities, [as man] oscillates between ecstacy in God's companionship and despair when he feels abandoned by God, [as he] is torn asunder by the heightened contrast between self-apprecia- tion and abnegation...." 33 Existentialism indeed!34 The one common element in "The Lonely Man of Faith" and "Halakhic Man" is Soloveitchik's use of a typological analysis. In his existentialist mood, he introduces us to "Adam the first" and "Adam the second," who are also referred to, respectively, as "majestic man" and "covenantal man." As already noted, Soloveitchik bases his analysis on the two versions of the creation story in Genesis (chapters 1 and 2), which are notably different in several ways: in the account of the manner in which man is created (in the first version, man is created in the "image of God"; in the second version, man is formed out of the dirt of the ground and God breathes life into him); in the depiction of the first human being(s) as a male-female pair (the first version) or as a single individual (the second version); in the nature of the commandment which is given to man (in the first version, man is told to "fill the earth and subdue it"; in the second version, man is charged to "serve and keep" the creation); and, finally, in the names by which God is designated (in the first version, the name "Elohim" is used; in the second version, "Elohim" appears in 241 David Singer and Moshe Sokol conjunction with the tetragrammaton). What the Bible is offering us here, Soloveitchik argues, are "two Adams, two men, two fathers of man- kind, two types, two representatives of humanity. .. ."35 Thus, Adam the first-majestic man is creative, functionally oriented, and enamoured of technology; his aim is to achieve a "dignified" existence by gaining mastery over nature. Adam the second-covenantal man, in contrast, eschews "power and control"; as a non-functional, receptive, submissive human type, he yearns for a redeemed existence, which he achieves by bringing all his actions under God's authority. Majestic man, in short, glories in the assertion of human will, while covenantal man seeks its extinction. If majestic man and covenantal man as "ideal" types have a familiar air about them, it is because they are strikingly similar to, respectively, intellectual man and religious man, who appear in Soloveitchik's study of talmudism. To be sure, the matched types are not fully identical. Thus, intellectual man is preoccupied with theoretical knowledge, while majestic man seeks to translate it into the practical realm. Or again, religious man turns away completely from the natural world, while cove- nantal man retains strong links to it. These differences, however, (which are fully explicable in terms of the diverse ends toward which Soloveitchik is theologizing in "Halakhic Man" and "The Lonely Man of Faith")36 only serve to underscore a larger pattern of similarity. The most im- portant characteristic which majestic man shares with intellectual man is creativity. Thus, Soloveitchik states: "There is no doubt that the term 'image of God' in the first account [dealing with majestic man] refers to man's inner charismatic endowment as a creative being. Man's likeness to God expresses itself in man's striving and ability to become a creator."37 As for covenantal man, he is most like religious man in yearning for a direct experience of the divine. "The biblical metaphor referring to God breathing life into Adam [the second]," Soloveitchik tells us, "alludes to the actual preoccupation of the latter with God, to his genuine living experience of God.... His existential 'I' experience is interwoven in the awareness of communing with the Great Self whose footprints he dis- covers along the many tortuous paths of creation."38 An awareness that Soloveitchik is dealing with very similar typo- logical pairs in "The Lonely Man of Faith" and "Halakhic Man" is im- portant precisely because it brings into focus the sharply contrasting ways in which he relates to them in the two essays. In "Halakhic Man," Soloveitchik is clearly in sympathy with the Adam the first type, i.e., intellectual man. It is intellectual man who provides the basic model for the talmudist; the latter, like the former, is this-worldly oriented, given to quantifying, and always creatively involved with a priori ideas. To be sure, Soloveitchik also introduces religious man into his typological scheme, but that is by necessity, since intellectual man (who is best repre- 242 Joseph Soloveitchik sented in the mathematician-scientist) evinces no interest in anything smacking of transcendence. A longing for transcendence, then, is what religious man contributes to the makeup of the talmudist. Yet, as we have seen (and it is a point which Soloveitchik repeats time and again in "Halakhic Man"), the talmudist refuses to follow the lead of the religious man type in locating transcendence in a realm beyond the natural. Rather, he seeks to achieve it in the world of the here and now by using the tools which intellectual man has bequeathed to him. Hence the peculiar secular cast to the talmudist's religiosity, a cast which testifies to the dominant impact of the intellectual man type in shaping his outlook. How different is "The Lonely Man of Faith". When Soloveitchik expresses himself in an existentialist mode, he completely reverses things; he sides squarely with Adam the second. The diminution in status which Adam the first-majestic man suffers in "The Lonely Man of Faith" has nothing to do with the fact that he varies in some way from intellectual man as the latter is portrayed in "Halakhic Man." Rather it reflects a transvaluation of values in which Soloveitchik now denigrates the very same human qualities which he had previously lauded. Thus, the secu- larity of majestic man takes on a negative coloring: it results, Soloveitchik tells us, in a "surface" existence, in a "fenced-in egocentric and ego-ori- ented" life.39 Indeed, at its most extreme, it brings to the fore a "demonic" personality, "[whose] pride is almost boundless, [whose] imagination [is] arrogant, and [who] aspires to complete and absolute control of every- thing."40 As against this, covenantal man is a repository of virtue alone. He is an "in-depth personality" who manifests an "all-embracing sym- pathy" for other human beings even while experiencing the "grandeur of the faith commitment."41 Not surprisingly then, covenantal man has much to teach majestic man: "[His] unique message speaks of defeat instead of success, of accepting a higher will instead of commanding, of giving instead of conquering, of retreating instead of advancing, of acting 'ir- rationally' instead of always being reasonable."42 For his part, majestic man has nothing to teach covenantal man. To say the least, it is startling that Soloveitchik assigns radically dif- ferent weights to the Adam the first and the Adam the second types in "Halakhic Man" and "The Lonely Man of Faith." Even more eye-opening, however, is the fact that in the former essay, he ultimately brings his types together, whereas in the latter work, he resolutely refuses to do so. The unity which is achieved in Soloveitchik's study of talmudism comes about through his positing the existence of a third type-halakhic man -who, as has been pointed out, synthesizes elements of intellectual man and religious man. In "The Lonely Man of Faith," however, majestic man and covenantal man remain permanently at war with each other; there is no end to. the conflict between them. Moreover, Soloveitchik insists that both types exist simultaneously within every religious Jew 243 David Singer and Moshe Sokol and, beyond that, that God regards this situation as fit and proper. Why is this so? Why should the religious Jew not try to cast out secular majestic man from his inner being? Because, Soloveitchik argues-in what is certainly a key interpretive point of "The Lonely Man of Faith" -Adam the first's secularity has religious sanction, the stamp of God's approval; majestic man, after all, is created in the "image of God" and commanded to "fill the earth and subdue it." Thus, Soloveitchik arrives at a "tragic" view of the nature of religious life as entailing a "staggering dialectic": [God] wants man to engage in the pursuit of majesty-dignity as well as redemptiveness. He summoned man to retreat from peripheral, hard- won positions of vantage and power to the center of the faith experience. He also commanded man to advance from the covenantal center to the cosmic periphery and recapture the positions he gave up a while ago. He authorized man to quest for "sovereignty"; He also told man to surrender and be totally committed. He enabled man to interpret the world in functional, empirical "how"-categories. . . . Simultaneously, He also requires of man to forget his functional and bold approach, to stand in humility and dread before the mysterium magnum surrounding him, to interpret the world in categories of purposive activity instead of those of mechanical facticity....43 It only needs to be added that the Soloveitchik of the main body of "Halakhic Man" would find this statement totally alien, while the Solo- veitchik of the introduction to the essay would fully endorse it. What about loneliness? How does it fit into Soloveitchik's typological scheme? Here again we have a striking illustration of the vast gulf in outlook separating "Halakhic Man" and "The Lonely Man of Faith." In Soloveitchik's analysis of talmudism, the religious virtuoso exhibits in- tellectual prowess; he is the thinker par excellence. In "The Lonely Man of Faith," on the other hand, the model religious individual (sometimes labeled by Soloveitchik the "knight of faith," a Kierkegaardian term) manifests an acute feeling of loneliness; he is the sensitive soul par excellence. This loneliness, Soloveitchik argues, has its source in the covenantal man side of the human personality and reflects an "I" aware- ness of "exclusiveness and ontological incompatability with any other being."44 Soloveitchik expands upon this point in the following way: "The 'I' is lonely, experiencing ontological incompleteness and casual- ness [sic], because there is no one who exists like the 'I' and because the modus existentiae of the 'I' cannot be repeated, imitated, or experienced by others."45 Not suprisingly, existential loneliness is a source of pain; it evokes a sense of the "absurd," thus leading the individual to doubt his "ontological legitimacy, worth, and reasonableness."46 It is something, Soloveitchik stresses, which must be overcome.47 244 Joseph Soloveitchik The way in which the individual overcomes loneliness is by estab- lishing a "covenantal relationship" with God and fellow humans. This mode of existence, Soloveitchik emphasizes, is unique to the covenantal man type within the individual, since the majestic man side of the human personality never experiences loneliness. There is an irony in this, in that majestic man is by nature a "social being, gregarious, [and] com- municative."48 (This is why in the first account of the creation story, dealing with majestic man, Adam and Eve are described as coming into existence together.) However, his sociability has nothing to do with the need for dialogue. Rather, it represents a "creative social gesture"; he joins forces with others because he believes that "collective living and acting will promote his interests"; he forges a functional community in which he can better display his dignity and majesty.49 At bottom, then, majestic man remains self-sufficient, "ontologically complete," even while living in a "natural community."50 In that community, Soloveitchik tells us, ... Adam and Eve act together, work together, pursue common objectives together; yet they do not exist together. Ontologically, they do not belong to each other; each is provided with an 'I' awareness and knows nothing of a "We" awareness.... The in-depth personalities do not com- municate, let alone commune, with each other.51 If the majestic man type within the individual points him in the direction of the natural community, the covenantal man type prompts him down the path toward the "covenantal community." It is in the latter mode of relationship that true dialogue is achieved and the circle of existential isolation broken. Since covenant-making takes place on two levels-between man and God and between fellow humans-it may be wondered which comes first? Soloveitchik's answer here is clear-the lonely individual has to reach out to God before he can open himself to other human beings. Paradoxically, though, this reaching out comes about through an act of "recoil," in which the covenantal man side of the human personality humbly submits to God's will. It is when covenantal man "lets himself be confronted and defeated by a Higher and Truer Being," Soloveitchik argues, that "finitude and infinity, temporality and eternity, creature and creator become involved in the same community. They bind themselves together and participate in a unitive existence."52 Having made an initial "sacrificial gesture"53 vis a vis God, the inner covenantal man now turns to fellow humans and repeats the act: he "give[s] away part of himself" in "surrender and retreat," with the result that true human companionship is born.54 What emerges from all this, in Soloveitchik's view, is a "community of commitments . . . compris[ing] three participants: 'I, thou, and He,' the He in whom all being is rooted 245 David Singer and Moshe Sokol and in whom everything finds its rehabilitation and, consequently, re- demption."55 Given Soloveitchik's insistence in "The Lonely Man of Faith" that the model religious individual is a great emoter, it is to be expected that he would have difficulty in integrating Torah study into the overall scheme of the essay. What possible connection could there be between the emotional need to overcome existential loneliness and the intellectual probing of sacred texts a la the talmudist? Apparently, Soloveitchik himself is aware of this, since he does not so much as mention Torah study in "The Lonely Man of Faith." Rather, in a fashion that would do honor to a Hasid but is totally out of character for a Litvak, he focuses on prayer as the central religious act of the religious virtuoso. In this analysis, prayer is linked to prophecy, and the two are presented as twin com- ponents of the man-God dialogue. What prayer and prophecy have in common, Soloveitchik argues, are three key elements: a "confrontation of God and man takes place"; powerful feelings of "human solidarity and sympathy" are evoked; and a "normative ethico-moral message" is is- sued.56 Since prophecy no longer exists, Soloveitchik stresses, it is prayer alone which permits the "covenantal God-man colloquy" to be maintained at present. Prayer, in fact, is the "continuation of prophecy and the fellowship of prayerful men is ipso facto the fellowship of prophets."57 What a claim for a champion of Litvak religiosity to make! While Torah study finds no place in "The Lonely Man of Faith," Torah observance does-but in a manner that is very far removed from the way it is presented in "Halakhic Man." In Soloveitchik's essay on talmudism, the halakhah, to the degree that it is functional, represents the concretization of the ideal a priori Torah. The halakhah is the divine blueprint for reality brought down to earth, and as such can serve as a vehicle for achieving transcendence in the world of the here and now. While something of this view (minus the a priori element) is also suggested in "The Lonely Man of Faith" when Soloveitchik refers to the "normative ethico-moral message" which issues in prophecy and prayer, this is not the main thrust of his discussion of the Law in his existentialist theological statement. Rather, in "The Lonely Man of Faith," Soloveitchik depicts the halakhah as a tool which God uses to maintain the tension between the majestic man and covenantal man sides of the human personality. The "halakhic gesture," he informs us, embodies a "paradoxical yet mag- nificent dialectic .... When man gives himself to the covenantal com- munity the halakhah reminds him that he is also wanted and needed in another community. the cosmic-majestic, and when it comes across man while he is involved in the creative enterprise of the majestic community, it does not let him forget that he is a covenantal being who will never find self-fulfillment outside of the covenant and that God awaits his return to the covenantal community." This, then, is Soloveitchik's existentialist version of the teleology of the halakhah.58 246 Joseph Soloveitchik It is in connection with his discussion of the halakhah that Soloveit- chik expresses momentary-and that is all it is, momentary-doubt about the bold existentialist claims that he is putting forward in "The Lonely Man of Faith." Having just made the point that the halakhah functions to reinforce the individual's ontological turmoil, Soloveitchik suddenly pulls back, apparently afraid that he has created an opening (or at least the appearance of an opening) for a theological dualism.59 Could it be that reality is divisible into secular and hallowed sectors, and that majestic man functions in one, while covenantal man operates in the other? Cer- tainly, this view might be implied when the halakhah is depicted as entailing a dialectical movement. Soloveitchik is quick to add, therefore, that Judaism has "a monistic approach to reality, and . . . unreservedly reject[s] any kind of dualism."60 However, he now goes much further, stating that the "steady oscillating of the man of faith between majesty and covenant" is, in fact, a "complementary movement," and that the halakhah serves as a "uniting force."61 These astonishing claims are followed by the remarkable assertion that the task of the religious Jew is to "be engaged not in dialectical surging forward and retreating, but in uniting the [natural and covenantal] communities into one community where man is both the creative, free agent, and the obediant servant of God"62 Shades of"Halakhic Man." Yet, having said all this-which com- pletely contradicts his existentialist exposition of the teleology of the halakhah- Soloveitchik simply drops the matter, and proceeds once again to dwell at length on the unending conflict between majestic man and covenantal man. His loss of confidence is of the shortest duration. The reason why Soloveitchik is so confident about what he has to say in "The Lonely Man of Faith," is that he-in good existentialist fashion -is drawing upon his own experience as a religious Jew. Soloveitchik, as we have seen, underscores this point in the very first paragraph of the essay. A bit further into his analysis, he makes it clear that he, indeed, is lonely: I am lonely.... It is a strange, alas, absurd experience engendering sharp, enervating pain.... I despair because I am lonely and, hence, feel frustrated. On the other hand, I also feel invigorated because this very experience of loneliness presses everything in me into the service of God. In my 'desolate, howling solitude' I experience a growing aware- ness that. .. this service to which I, a lonely and solitary individual, am committed is wanted and gracefully accepted by God in His transcen- dental loneliness and numinous solitude.63 It is evident from statements like this, that Soloveitchik's existentialism is something very far removed from a detached philosophical outlook. His is an existentialism born of life rather than intellectual study. To be sure, Soloveitchik borrows a broad array of concepts and terms from such thinkers as Kierkegaard and Martin Buber64 in giving expression to his 247 David Singer and Moshe Sokol existentialism, but what he has to say is based on his personal religious experience. Existential thought, then, plays the same role in "The Lonely Man of Faith" that neo-Kantian philosophy does in "Halakhic Man?'-it is a packaging device. Soloveitchik is quite explicit about this: "Whatever I am about to say, [in "The Lonely Man of Faith"] is to be seen as a modest attempt on the part of a man of faith to interpret his spiritual per- ceptions and emotions in modern theologico-philosophical categories."65 Given the existentialist credo that subjectivity is truth, Soloveitchik might well have been satisfied to simply express his religious feelings and let it go at that. As an Orthodox Jew, however, he clearly finds himself under a compulsion to demonstrate that his personal religious experiences are in line with classic Judaic teaching. Hence, the elaborate typological analysis of the two versions of the biblical creation story which he puts forward in "The Lonely Man of Faith." Needless to say, Soloveitchik is not offering us the plain meaning of Scripture in his essay. Rather, he presents an extremely sophisticated philosophical drash which plumbs the depths of the biblical text. The total effect is stun- ning- Soloveitchik enables us to see dimensions of the biblical story that we never dreamed were there. Yet, the radical newness of what Soloveit- chik has to say should not obscure the fact that his intent is thoroughly conservative. He is seeking to anchor his personal religious sensibility in the Jewish tradition. V A comparative analysis of "Halakhic Man" and "The Lonely Man of Faith" makes it abundantly clear that Soloveitchik's theological stance is extremely complex. Additional evidence for this may easily be provided by turning to an examination of the traditional and modern elements in Soloveitchik's religious outlook. Despite the popular impression to the contrary, Soloveitchik is not fully committed to a "modern" approach to Orthodoxy. Indeed, there is a strong traditionalist bent to his thinking which manifests itself in a variety of ways. Moreover, even when Soloveit- chik operates within a modernist framework, his discussion often veers off in an unanticipated, i.e., unmodern, direction. Orthodox admirers and critics alike agree that the modern side of Soloveitchik's religiosity is best expressed in his openness to Western culture. As was pointed out above, Soloveitchik is unique in this regard among contemporary masters of the Talmud, those men who wield ulti- mate authority within the Orthodox community. At the same time, however, it is crucial to note that Soloveitchik is not an ideologist of secular learning, as was Maimonides in his day or as was Samson Raphael Hirsch in nineteenth century Germany. We do not possess a single essay 248 Joseph Soloveitchik by Soloveitchik in which he advocates that Orthodox Jews obtain a secular education. Of course, Soloveitchik takes his own knowledge of Western culture for granted, and happily makes use of it to better present his theological views. But that is as far as it goes; he is not in the least interested in convincing others to follow his path. For Soloveitchik, in short, secular learning is a matter of personal preference-or better yet, personal need-but not a religious imperative. Even as regards himself, Soloveitchik is not an unqualified enthusiast for Western culture. Mathematics, science, philosophy, theology, litera- ture-these are areas of Western thought which strongly appeal to him. On the other hand, he has not the slightest use for modern historical scholarship. Thus, when Soloveitchik sits down to study a Jewish text, be it Talmud or Bible, his approach is utterly traditional: a talmudic sugya is always examined in terms of the logical categories developed by the classical commentators; a biblical narrative is always seen through the prism of rabbinic (midrashic) interpretation. While Soloveitchik was introduced to the historical-critical method of Talmud study during his student days in Berlin, when he enrolled in the "modern" yeshivah headed by Rabbi Hayyim Heller,66 he clearly did not find it to his liking. As for modern biblical criticism, which calls into question the Mosaic origin of the Pentateuch, Soloveitchik considers it to be nothing less than "heresy."67 Not only is Soloveitchik highly selective in choosing which elements of the Western intellectual tradition to appropriate, but also in the uses to which he puts them. Since he is such an ardent admirer of Maimonides, one would expect him to be greatly influenced by the latter's religious rationalism-the attempt to logically demonstrate the truth of what Judaism teaches. In fact, however, Soloveitchik completely eschews any such aim, offering, as Lou Silberman has noted, dogmatics in the place of apologetic theology.68 When Soloveitchik harnesses his secular learning, Eugene Borowitz adds significantly, it is to "illustrate and amplify . . . ideas, not to demonstrate them."69 In part, this rejection of religious rationalism reflects Soloveitchik's sense that logical proofs are really beside the point when it comes to the fundamental claims of religion. As he states in a footnote in "The Lonely Man of Faith": The trouble with all rational demonstrations of the existence of God, with which the history of philosophy abounds, consists in their being exactly what they were meant to be by those who formulated them: abstract logical demonstrations divorced from the living primal ex- periences in which these demonstrations are rooted. For instance, the cosmic experience was transformed into a cosmological proof, the ontic experience into an ontological proof, et cetera. Instead of stating that the most elementary existential awareness as a subjective "I exist" and an objective "the world around me exists" awareness is unattainable as 249 David Singer and Moshe Sokol long as the ultimate reality of God is not part of this awareness, the theologians engaged in formal postulating and deducing in an ex- periential vacuum.70 Even though Soloveitchik wishes to address a modern audience, then, he presents his theological views on an essentially take it or leave it basis. While skepticism about the utility of the logical proofs goes part of the way in explaining Soloveitchik's chosen mode of theologizing, there is an additional factor that has to be reckoned with. Strange as it may seem, Soloveitchik is to some extent a simple man of faith, a naive religious believer. Of course, one would hardly guess this from reading such high-brow theological works as "Halakhic Man" and "The Lonely Man of Faith." Yet, the fact remains that time and again in his essays and speeches, Soloveitchik focuses on the "man-child" as the ideal religious personality.71 Abraham and Moses, he tells us, were such figures, as were, to leap to the modern period, LHayyim Soloveitchik, Moses Soloveitchik, and Hayyim Heller. What is a "man-child"? Soloveitchik describes this exalted religious type in the following manner: The great man, whose intellect has been raised to a superior level through the study of Torah, gifted with well-developed, overflowing, powers-depth, scope, sharpness-should not be viewed as totally adult. The soul of a child still nestles within him. On the one hand, he is knowledge-sated, strong of intellect, rich in experience, sober-sighted, crowned with age, great of spirit. On the other hand, he remains the young and playful child; naive curiosity, natural enthusiasm, eagerness and spiritual restlessness, have not abandoned him. If a man has aged and completely become adult, if the morning of life has passed him by, and he stands, in spirit and soul, at his high noon, bleached of the dew of childhood, if he has grown up completely, in thinking, feeling, desire, trust-he cannot approach God. The adult is too smart. Utility is his guiding-light. The experience of God is not a businesslike affair. Only the child can breach the boundaries that segregate the finite from the infinite. Only the child with his simple faith and fiery enthusiasm can make the miraculous leap into the bosom of God. The giants of Torah -when it came to faith, became little children, with all their ingenu- ousness, gracefulness, simplicity, their tremors of fear, the vivid sense of experience to which they are devoted.72 The force with which this is put should make it clear that Soloveitchik is talking about a religious gestalt that is known to him through first-hand experience. And it is that experience, most certainly, which provides the explanatory background for the remarkable claim which he puts forward in "The Lonely Man of Faith": I have never been seriously troubled by the problem of the Biblical doctrine of creation vis-a-vis the scientific story of evolution at both the cosmic and the organic levels, nor have I been perturbed by the con- 250 Joseph Soloveitchik frontation of the mechanistic interpretation of the human mind with the Biblical spiritual concept of man. I have not -been perplexed by the impossibility of fitting the mystery of revelation into the framework of historical empiricism. Moreover, I have not even been troubled by the theories of Biblical criticism which contradict the very foundations upon which the sanctity and integrity of the Scriptures rest.73 Soloveitchik, in sum, is a "man-child," and the child-like side of his per- sonality stands in no need of rational proofs in the religious sphere. While one can point to ambiguities in Soloveitchik's attitude toward the Western intellectual tradition, this is certainly not true of his view of Western technology. Here Soloveitchik's modernity comes to the fore in a truly striking fashion-he is totally approving of any and all techno- logical endeavor. The carte blanche approval that Soloveitchik gives to technological striving in an essay like "The Lonely Man of Faith," it is important to note, has nothing to do with tolerance of an essentially secular enterprise. Rather, Soloveitchik sees Western civilization's tech- nological thrust as a noble attempt to carry out God's command to Adam the first: "fill the earth and subdue it." He adds: Man of old who could not fight disease and succumbed in multitudes to yellow fever or any other plague with degrading helplessness could not lay claim to dignity. Only the man who builds hospitals, discovers therapeutic techniques, and saves lives is blessed with dignity. Man of the 17th and 18th centuries who needed several days to travel from Boston to New York was less dignified than modern man who ... boards a plane at the New York Airport at midnight and takes several hours later a leisurely walk along the streets of London.74 Soloveitchik's religious appreciation of technology extends, in fact, even beyond the earthly realm: "Adam the first transcends the limits of the reasonable and probable, and ventures into the open spaces of a boundless universe.... Man reaching for the distant stars is acting in harmony with his nature which was created, willed, and directed by his Maker. It is a manifestation of obedience to rather than rebellion against God."75 In the light of this, one can only wonder how Soloveitchik would interpret the biblical story of the tower of Babel. The fact that Soloveitchik portrays Adam the first as a "creative esthete"76 as well as a technological virtuoso, serves to alert us to yet another aspect of his religious modernity. Alone among major Orthodox figures today, he is keenly aware of the esthetic, both as a mode of con- sciousness and as an interpretive category. This awareness, no doubt, reflects Soloveitchik's immersion in Kantian philosophy at the University of Berlin (both Kant and Hermann Cohen wrote massive tomes dealing with the subject); it is hardly something that he could have absorbed in an Orthodox environment in Eastern Europe. To say that Soloveitchik is 251 David Singer and Moshe Sokol aware of the esthetic realm, however, is not to imply that he is totally enamored of it. Here, in fact, the evidence is contradictory. On the one hand, it is certainly significant that Adam the first-an ideal type whose nature is God-willed-is depicted as "always an esthete," his "conscience . .. energized ... by [the idea] of the beautiful."77 Moreover, in "But if You Search There" Soloveitchik explicitly states that the esthetic is a key element in all religious experience.78 Finally, Soloveitchik's own written work, which is carefully crafted so as to achieve a strong esthetic effect, points to a positive attitude.79 On the other hand, he approvingly cites Maimonides' view that the sin of Adam and Eve consisted in their sacri- ficing the ethical on the altar of the esthetic.80 Related to this is Soloveit- chik's objection to esthetics as working against the halakhic concern for detail: In esthetics the overall configuration, the gestalt, is important, not the detail. Indeed, one steps back to view a painting so that the detail disappears. If the detail is too compelling it disrupts the overall effect. Halakhically, the detail is important. One minute before sunset Friday eve and one minute after is the difference between identical acts being permitted or forbidden.81 All in all, then, Soloveitchik appears to be of two minds about the esthetic. Yet, even his negative judgments, it is important to stress, represent an involvement with a realm of experience that is beyond the ken of Or- thodox traditionalism. What about Soloveitchik's Zionism? Is it not still another element of his religious modernity? Certainly, confirmed Orthodox traditionalists would maintain so, since they regard Zionism, in its modern political form, as a secular heresy-an arrogant human attempt to act inde- pendently of God's will (as expressed in the coming of the Messiah). This anti-Zionist point of view-which was institutionalized in the Agudath Israel organization-was communicated to Soloveitchik as part of his family heritage. In strictly personal terms, then, there is no question that Soloveitchik's move into the Zionist camp represented a break with the bonds of tradition. And a painful break at that; in joining forces with the Mizrachi (the religious Zionist movement), Soloveitchik tells us, he had to "sacrifice peace of mind and ties of community and friendship."82 As for Soloveitchik's mature Zionist position, it includes an affirmation of modern Jewish nationalism as the fulfillment of the biblical command to conquer and settle the land of Israel. The State of Israel itself, he main- tains, is invested with the full sanctity of the holy land; indeed, its very existence is a token of God's loving concern for his people in the wake of the Holocaust.83 Having made the point that Soloveitchik's Zionism seems radically new when seen from a traditionalist Orthodox perspective, it remains to 252 Joseph Soloveitchik be said that it appears remarkably old-fashioned when judged by typical Zionist-even religious Zionist-standards. The key point here is that Soloveitchik does not regard the rise of the State of Israel as an event that has fundamentally (let alone permanently) altered the nature of Jewish life. To be sure, he rejoices in the fact that the Jews now have a place of refuge and an army with which to defend themselves, and that the State of Israel has bolstered Jewish morale throughout the world. At the same time, Soloveitchik does not believe that the Jewish state can offer a solu- tion to the problem of anti-Semitism, or that its existence creates any new imperatives or standards of judgment for Jews. There is, in short, not the slightest whiff of messianism in Soloveitchik's Zionism. Now as in the past, he insists, Jews remain obligated to study and practice the Law- that is the yardstick by which the success or failure of the State of Israel will be measured. As Walter Wurzburger explains: "In the final analysis, [Soloveitchik] sees in the Jewish state not an end in itself but an instru- mentality for the realization of the value system which is ultimately grounded in the Sinaitic revelation."84 Woe unto Zion, Soloveitchik warns, if Torah does not proceed out of it! Since Soloveitchik does not view the rise of the State of Israel as an event that has decisively reoriented Jewish life, it is not to be expected that he would look upon the Holocaust in a different manner. This point needs to be underscored because an effort has been made of late to enlist Soloveitchik into the ranks of the "Holocaust theologians," i.e., those Jewish thinkers who see the destruction of European Jewry as an event that has shattered the traditional framework of Judaic existence. Thus, Irving Greenberg, in arguing that the conjunction of the Holocaust and the creation of the State of Israel marks the opening of the "third cycle of Jewish history," points to Soloveitchik's "major and seminal response to the Holocaust" in "Hark, My Beloved Knocks" as his source of inspira- tion.85 In truth, however, there is nothing at all radical about the essay; "Hark, My Beloved Knocks" is a sophisticated restatement of an utterly traditional position. The basic premise of the work is that it is not only metaphysically futile to question God's ways, but also Jewishly unau- thentic to do so. Indeed, Soloveitchik goes Job's friends one better by criticizing Job for even daring to ask why he suffers. Such is the way of the "man of fate," Soloveitchik maintains, whereas the authentic Jew is called upon to be the "man of destiny." The latter, viewing his suffering as a challenge and call to action, asks only one question: "what should I do now?" Here Soloveitchik's answer is absolutely clear: repent! As he states: Suffering comes to elevate man, to purify his spirit and sanctify him, to cleanse his thoughts of the dregs of superficiality and vulgarity; to refine his soul and broaden his horizons. A general principle: suf- 253 David Singer and Moshe Sokol fering-its purpose is to correct the flaw in man's personality.... Suffer- ing appears in the world to contribute something to man, to make atonement for him. . . . Suffering obligates man to return in full repentance to God.86 This then is Soloveitchik's ultra-traditional response to the "absolute hiddenness of God's face" in the Holocaust, to "suffering unparalleled in the history of exilic millenia."87 Among the things that the Holocaust swept away was the world of East European Jewish piety into which Soloveitchik was born. This, no doubt, goes a long way toward explaining yet another aspect of his re- ligious traditionalism-his nostalgic idealization of the past as embodied in "Brisk." "Brisk" in this context does not refer to the method of Talmud study that was developed by Soloveitchik's grandfather, but rather to the religious lifestyle of Lithuanian Jewry. Consistently in his essays and lectures, Soloveitchik invokes "Brisk" as a yardstick by which to measure true Orthodoxy; it is the paradigm of authentic Judaic existence. Yet it is most certainly not a fair yardstick, in that it denotes an imaginary world. Here, for example, is how Soloveitchik describes the "Brisk" of his youth, at the same time comparing it to the current Orthodox scene in America: ... I remember a time when ninety percent of the Jews were observant and the secularists were a small minority.... I still remember-it was not so long ago-when Jews were still close to God and lived in an atmosphere pervaded with holiness. But today what do we see? The profane and the secular are in control wherever we turn. Even in those neighborhoods made up predominantly of religious Jews one can no longer talk of the "sanctity of the Sabbath day." True, there are Jews in America who observe the Sabbath .... But there are no "eve of the Sabbath" Jews who go out to greet the Sabbath with beating hearts and pulsating souls. There are Jews who observe the precepts with their hands, feet, and mouths-but few who truly know the meaning of service of the heart. What is the percentage of religious Jews today in contrast to the ninety percent only two generations ago? Absolute zero.88 This is sheer romanticism, of course, romanticism born of nostalgic longing, and fueled by a sense of irrevocable loss. In comparison to "Brisk," then, modern Orthodoxy cannot help but appear as "rootless," as having "snipped wings."89 How ironic that the leading Orthodox advocate of openness to the new should be so tied to a model of Jewish life drawn from the never-never land of the past. Given Soloveitchik's idealization of "Brisk," it is not surprising that his career choice was to become a talmudist, rather than to pursue an academic career in philosophy. How could he in good conscience have opted for the latter alternative? After all, Soloveitchik had. to honor the claims of the past. In becoming a talmudist, it needs to be stressed, 254 Joseph Soloveitchik Soloveitchik set the pattern for his everyday existence, a pattern that continues unchanged as he enters his fifth decade of teaching at Yeshiva University's rabbinic training school. Thus, any attempt to assess the traditional and modern elements in Soloveitchik's religiosity has to come to grips with that fact that day in and day out the vast bulk of his time is given over to the pious examination of Judaism's sacred texts. Any secular interests that Soloveitchik may have- and they are far-reaching, of course -have to be pursued in his spare time; they are, by definition, secondary. Beyond this, Soloveitchik's involvement in the yeshivah side of Yeshiva University means that his activities are carried out in a hothouse of re- ligiosity. All of Soloveitchik's students and colleagues are Orthodox, and some of the latter even sport long black coats. Anyone who has seen Soloveitchik participating in the afternoon prayers with his students (in the classroom!) following one of his Talmud lectures, knows how comical it is to think of him as a modern academic type. Such behavior is fully appropriate to "Brisk," but would be unimaginable at Harvard, Berkeley, or the University of Chicago. Is it going too far to maintain that Soloveitchik's strangely negative attitude toward inter-religious dialogue is prompted by a lingering concern over what they would say in "Brisk"? Of course, there is nothing strange per se in the view that Jews should desist from discussing matters of faith with Christians or others. This position may easily be sustained on both prudential and theological grounds. Soloveitchik himself has chosen the latter route, arguing in "Confrontation" that "the word of faith reflects the intimate, the private, the paradoxically inexpressible cravings of the individual for . . . his Maker. It reflects the numinous character and the strangeness of the act of faith of a particular community which is totally incomprehensible to the man of a different faith com- munity."90 Fair enough, but how can Joseph Soloveitchik say this? Has he not read widely in Christian theology? Does he not point to Kierkegaard, Barth, and Otto as thinkers who have plumbed the depths of religious experience? Most importantly, has he not drawn on these Christian theologians in formulating his own Jewish theology? If, despite all this, Soloveitchik can take a stand in opposition to inter-faith discus- sions, it seems likely that, deep down, he feels a certain amount of guilt over what he is doing. After all, in "Brisk" the talmudists did not read Christian religious works. That much restraint-and here Soloveitchik's modernity again comes to the fore-he is not prepared to show. But at least, Soloveitchik apparently feels, there is no need to talk to the goyim in public. There is yet another area where Soloveitchik's idealization of "Brisk" would appear to serve as a conservative brake on his outreach to modernity. This involves his view of the proper role of women in Jewish life. Judging by his actions alone, one would have to conclude that Solo- 255 David Singer and Moshe Sokol veitchik is squarely in the modern camp of Orthodoxy on this issue: he married Tonya Lewit, the recipient of a Ph.D. in education, and put her in charge of a day school (the Maimonides School in Boston) in which girls and boys study all Jewish subjects, including Talmud, together. Yet, in his writings, Soloveitchik fails to provide even the barest rationale for a greater involvement of women in those areas of Jewish life which have traditionally been male preserves. On the contrary, he makes possible a staunch defense of the status quo by arguing that men and women have very different roles in transmitting the Jewish heritage. It is the father, Soloveitchik maintains, who teaches the child "discipline of thought as well as ... discipline of action. Father's tradition is an intellectual-moral one."91 The mother, in contrast, as Soloveitchik sees it, is involved with the emotions, helping the youngster "to feel the presence of God . . . to appreciate mitzvot and spiritual values, to enjoy the warmth of a dedicated life."92 The conservative implications of such a view of male-female religious roles hardly need to be spelled out in detail. What does need to be stressed, however, is that Soloveitchik puts forward this position in the course of memorializing the wife of a Hasidic rebbe, a woman of the old school, a woman whom, he tells us, was very much like his own mother. Is this not a clear indication of the powerful hold that "Brisk" has on Soloveitchik's thinking? VI If Soloveitchik manifests a remarkable tolerance for theological contra- dictions, it is most likely because they are his very own-they reflect the reality of his personal religious situation. It is one thing, however, to assert that Soloveitchik is a conflicted personality, and quite another matter to define the precise nature of that split. An obvious stumbling block here is that Soloveitchik offers us little in the way of direct guidance on the matter. While there are some tantalizing autobiographical tidbits scattered throughout his theological oeuvre, they only take on signifi- cance when seen in the context of the larger religious issues that are being addressed. And these issues, in turn, need to be viewed in the broad religio-cultural framework in which Soloveitchik operates for their true biographical importance to emerge. Thus, a methodology adequate to the task of probing Soloveitchik's personal religious dilemma requires a constant shuttling back and forth between the man and the work, and vice versa. Seen in this light, however, all of Soloveitchik's theological writings turn out to be quite revealing in a personal way. Indeed, they may be said to constitute multiple installments of his spiritual autobiography. 256 Joseph Soloveitchik Every analysis has to begin somewhere, and when dealing with Solo- veitchik the surest foundation is to be had in his forthright declaration that "The Lonely Man of Faith" is based on his personal religious experi- ence. It is in this essay, of course, that Soloveitchik projects a religious type conflicted to the core-a fact of crucial importance. Beyond that, Soloveitchik's statement that he is the model for the lonely man of faith makes it crystal clear that he has a deep personal stake in the bold exis- tentialist claims which he puts forward in the essay. Yet, it is just this element of personal involvement, directly expressed, which is conspicu- ously absent in Soloveitchik's defense of Litvak intellectualism in "Halakhic Man"; nowhere does he suggest that he is the model for halakhic man. Soloveitchik, to be sure, labors mightily to make talmudism appear attractive to a modern audience, bringing to bear on the effort his broad secular knowledge in general and the perspectives of neo-Kantian philosophy in particular. Yet he does so, quite clearly, out of a sense of duty, of obligation, rather than personal religious need. "Halakhic Man," it is to be remembered, was written in the early 1940's, at a time when Lithuanian Jewry was being destroyed by the Nazis, and when Solo- veitchik was still mourning the death of his father, a supreme Litvak. In a very real sense, then, the essay stands as a memorial-to "Brisk," a dis- tinctive religious culture, and to the Brisker (Soloveitchik) dynasty, which played a crucial role in shaping Litvak intellectualism. It is hardly an accident that members of the Soloveitchik family are prominently fea- tured in "Halakhic Man." Piety, both familial and cultural, dictates Solo- veitchik's theological position in the essay. If use of the word "dictates" in connection with the theological views that Soloveitchik sets forth in "Halakhic Man" suggests a man acting under compulsion, that is fully appropriate. Evidence for this is readily at hand in the talmudic citation that Soloveitchik uses as the epigraph for his essay. In context (Sotah 36b), the passage-"At that moment his father's image came and appeared to him through the window" -refers to the biblical Joseph, who, while in Egypt, was sexually enticed by Potiphar's wife. As Joseph edged toward sin, the Talmud tells us, Jacob appeared to him in a vision and issued a stern warning: pass the test at hand or be forever cut off from the children of Israel. This, then, is the situation in which Soloveitchik finds himself in "Halakhic Man": he is a Joseph,93 with a father looking over his shoulder, who will either uphold the honor of the Brisker dynasty-or else; Soloveitchik simply cannot afford to fail the test. Small wonder, then, that having worked prodigiously to provide an elaborate rationale for talmudism, he con- cludes "Halakhic Man" on the following prayerful note: "... it is revealed and known before He who created the world, that my sole intention was 257 David Singer and Moshe Sokol to defend the honor of the halakhah and the halakhists.... And if I have erred, may the Lord of mercy forgive me."94 But is there not something fundamentally wrong here? Why should Soloveitchik require any special incentive to make the case for talmudism? Does he not stand foursquare behind the values of Litvak intellectualism, values that are so powerfully projected in "Halakhic Man"? The answer to the last question, apparently, is a qualified "no." Most certainly, there is a side of Soloveitchik that responds with total enthusiasm to his familial- cultural heritage of undiluted intellectualism, of a fierce commitment to mind as the one sure guide to truth. Soloveitchik the Litvak is no figment of the imagination; he does exist. But there is yet another side to Solo- veitchik, and this side is incapable of endorsing what the Litvak in him affirms. Litvak intellectualism may speak to Soloveitchik's mind, but it ignores the reality of what he feels- feelings so strong that they eventually burst through the dam in "The Lonely Man of Faith." The Litvak tradi- tion is simply too cold, too rational, too unyielding to the emotions. What is a Litvak to do if his own religious experience tells him that the truth lies elsewhere? Try as he might to keep his non-Litvak side carefully under wraps in "Halakhic Man," Soloveitchik does not succeed in doing so.95 It comes to the fore both directly and indirectly; directly in the existentialist intro- duction to the essay; indirectly in the anecdotal material that is scattered throughout the work. As to the introduction, we have already had occasion to indicate-and the significance of this should not be lost on the reader-that it depicts a conflicted religious type very much like the one portrayed in "The Lonely Man of Faith." What needs to be added here is that this type is centrally, even radically, involved with the emotions. Caught in a permanent tug-of-war between the intellectual man and religious man types within his personality, the "ideal" type of the introduction experiences severe psychological stress, ongoing emo- tional turmoil. Yet, far from viewing this in a negative light, as a good Litvak would, Soloveitchik sees it as something positive, arguing that a "deep split of the soul" promotes religious growth, ultimately producing a personality of "incomparable splendor and glory."96 In short, if the message of the main body of "Halakhic Man" is use your mind, that of the introduction is trust your feelings. Turning now to the main body of "Halakhic Man" itself, we may ask: how does Soloveitchik view those Jews-the confirmed Litvaks-who refuse to place any trust in feelings? A surface reading of the essay would certainly seem to indicate that he is completely approving; that here Soloveitchik's Litvak side is powerfully manifested. We refer specifically to the anecdotal material that he presents to illustrate the nature of halakhic man. This material-briefly described above - is strikingly con- sistent: time and again, Soloveitchik, with apparent relish, shows us a 258 Joseph Soloveitchik model Litvak, usually a member of his own family, emphatically rejecting the siren call of the emotions. Yet, there is something strange about Soloveitchik's tales of the Litvaks. The behavior he describes is so radical, so extreme, as to make his presumed heroes seem grotesque. Who, for example, wishing to portray Litvak intellectualism in a positive light, would boast that his father and grandfather set aside all human sentiment and refused ever to enter a cemetery, because a stark encounter with death would have distracted them from the contemplation of the Law?97 Or again, who would tell with pride the following macabre story about his maternal grandfather: The beloved daughter of Rabbi Elijah of Pruzhan became ill about a month before she was to be married, and after a few days was near death. Rabbi Elijah's son entered the room where Rabbi Elijah was praying, wrapped in his prayer shawl and phylacteries, to inform him that his daughter was in her death throes. Rabbi Elijah went to his daughter's room and asked the doctor how much longer it would be before the end. When he received the doctor's reply, Rabbi Elijah returned to his room, removed his Rashi's phylacteries and quickly put on the phylacteries of Rabbenu Tam, for immediately upon his daughter's death he would be subject to the law that an onen [a mourner whose dead relative has not as yet been buried] is exempt from all the commandments. After he removed his second pair of phylacteries, wrapped them up, and put them away, he entered his dying daughter's room, in order to be present at the moment that her soul departed.... 98 Stories like this, while ostensibly presented in order to glorify the Litvak, cannot help but evoke strong disapproval in the reader. And this dis- approval, it seems safe to assume, is shared in part by Soloveitchik him- self, specifically by that part of him which rebels against the Litvak tradi- tion's spurning of the emotions. The vein of anger that runs through the anecdotal material in "Halakhic Man" is not to be missed. Seen in a broad cultural context, the stories that Soloveitchik tells in "Halakhic Man" seem like nothing so much as Hasidic parodies of the brainy but soulless Litvak. The thematic link with Hasidism that is evident here should alert us to a still larger truth: Soloveitchik, within his own personality, recapitulates the religious debate between the Hasidim and the Mitnaggdim. To say this is not to imply that Soloveitchik is in any way a closet Hasid. Rather the point is that his critique of Litvak intellectualism exactly parallels that put forward by the Hasidic move- ment. In both cases the argument is made that the Litvak tradition is excessively cerebral, not allowing sufficient play to the emotions; that the Litvaks, as the Hasidim were wont to express it, honor torah (study) at the expense of yirah (religious feeling). But for Soloveitchik to say this is to reject that part of himself which is unreservedly committed to the Brisker heritage of pure talmudism, of a self-sufficient intellectualism 259 David Singer and Moshe Sokol that seeks nothing beyond study, study, and still more study. Small wonder, then, that when, in the introduction to "Halakhic Man" and in "The Lonely Man of Faith," Soloveitchik gives greater weight to the emotions than the intellect, he also projects conflicted religious types. Soloveitchik, most certainly, is speaking to his own religious dilemma. Given the fundamental split in Soloveitchik's theological outlook, it is not to be expected that he would follow the lead of the Hasidim in emphasizing the joyous side of religious experience. On the contrary, in both the introductory section to "Halakhic Man" and in "The Lonely Man of Faith," he stresses the inevitable pain that accompanies an honestly-lived religious life. The former writing, for example, contains a lengthy footnote in which Soloveitchik rails against the view that religion offers an "escape from the turbulence of life to a magical, still, and quiet island."" Such a view, he argues, is "intrinsically false and deceptive," masking the truth that "religious experience, from beginning to end, is antinomic and antithetic."100 As for "The Lonely Man of Faith," it depicts religious life as painfully wrenching at every turn; the "knight of faith," according to Soloveitchik, is ontologically torn, existentially lonely, and engaged in repetitive sacrificial gestures. For good measure, Soloveitchik adds that the sensitive religious individual today feels particularly alienated because the covenantal man side of his personality goes largely unappreciated in a society given over to the achievements of majestic man. All in all, Soloveitchik's emphasis on the painful nature of religious experience is clearcut. What is also obvious is that this stress reflects the personal burden of pain which he carries as an individual torn between the claims of Litvak intellectualism on the one side and a Hasidic-like affirmation of the emotions on the other. Once the specific nature of Soloveitchik's religious dilemma is fully grasped, various elements of his larger theological enterprise begin to fall into place. A striking example is his insistence that a group of commandments exist which have both an inner and outer dimension. As he states: [T]here are two kinds of precepts, the first consisting of those whose fulfillment and performance are combined, as for example the precept of taking four species on the Feast of Tabernacles. . . . [When] one actually takes the palm branch in hand one performs the precept and fulfills it at the same time. The same is true, for example, of the precept of sacrificing the Paschal lamb or the precept of counting the omer, the 49 day period between Passover and the Feast of Weeks. But there are other precepts [including prayer, repentance, mourning, and love of neighbor] whose performance and fulfillment are not identical, for example when the performance of the precept is through specific action of some kind or through a verbal utterance, but its fulfillment is up to the heart. The precept is, in fact, performed by means of an utterance or 260 Joseph Soloveitchik 261 an external act, but fulfillment is dependent on attaining a certain degree of spiritual awareness.101 Distinguishing between performance and fulfillment is standard in a Brisker-inspired halakhic analysis. In this case, however, Soloveitchik clearly has a specific goal in mind: to secure a place for the emotions within the four ells of the Law. Indeed, by arguing that a number of com- mandments that are basic to religious life require both halakhic precision and inner feeling for their proper observance, he succeeds in making them over in his own image. How wonderful: the Litvak in Soloveitchik can stand firm on the need for legal rigor, while his non-Litvak side can rejoice that a surge of emotion is not only tolerated but actually mandated. Having carved out a niche for the emotions in the hallowed precincts of the Law, Soloveitchik plunges ahead, offering brilliant analyses of the affective component of prayer, repentance, mourning, etc. The extent of his involvement with these matters, as well as the passion that he brings to them, are hardly fortuitous: Soloveitchik, quite obviously, has found a channel for expressing his powerful emotional side. In dealing with prayer,102 Soloveitchik consistently stresses the point that it is "bound up with the human needs, wants, drives, and urges which make man suf- fer."'03 He explains: Prayer and trouble are inseparably linked. Who prays? Only the suf- ferer prays .... To a happy man, to contented man, the secret of prayer was not revealed. God needs neither thanks nor hymns. He wants to hear the outcry of man, confronted with a ruthless reality. He expects prayer to rise from a suffering world cognizant of its genuine needs.104 In line with his view that prayer represents a "doctrine of human needs,"105 Soloveitchik interprets the classic controversy between Nah- manides and Maimonides about the obligatory nature of prayer as a dispute over what properly may be said to constitute "trouble." According to him, the former thinker (who considers prayer to be biblically man- dated only in time of great distress) is concerned exclusively with a "surface crisis" brought about by external factors, i.e., war, famine, etc., while the latter thinker (who regards prayer as ordained by the Bible on a daily basis) also takes account of a "depth crisis" reflecting man's per- manent condition of existential pain.106 The attention that Soloveitchik pays to the affective component of prayer, while quite considerable, seems rather scant when compared to that which he lavishes on the affective element of repentance. Indeed, in the "reconstructed" lectures gathered together in On Repentance, Solo- veitchik deals with this subject so exhaustively, that one is led to wonder whether anything else remains to be said about it. He makes pointed dis- tinctions of every imaginable sort: between atonement and purification; David Singer and Moshe Sokol between individual atonement and communal atonement; between re- pentance out of love and repentance out of fear; between intellectual re- pentance and emotional repentance; between repentance that wipes out the past and repentance that builds on the past; and between gradual repentance and instantaneous repentance. What is truly remarkable about all this is that Soloveitchik is working with dry halakhic materials; he claims to be doing nothing more than explicating various passages in Maimonides' law code. As for the central message of On Repentance, it comes across loud and clear: "[Repentance] is a precept whose essence is not in the performance of certain acts or deeds, but rather in a process that at times extends over a whole lifetime, a process that begins with remorse, with a sense of guilt, with man's increasing awareness that there is no purpose to his life, with a feeling of isolation, of being lost and adrift in a vacuum, of spiritual bankruptcy, of frustration and failure -and the road one travels is very long, until the goal of repentance is actually achieved."'07 The same impulse which prompts Soloveitchik to stake out a claim for the emotions as part of the halakhic enterprise, leads him to search for an ideal Jewish type that can somehow strike a balance between the affective and cognitive elements of religious experience. The closest he comes to achieving this goal-and it is, in fact, far from the mark-is in "The Hidden and the Revealed," where he depicts "New Moon man,"'08 a type characterized by a cold, intellectual exterior and a warm, emotional interior. New Moon man is totally alive to the full gamut of religious feelings, but he resolutely refuses to express them outwardly lest they be cheapened in the process. His guiding principle is that "the more holy and intense the emotion, the more it must be hidden within";'09 to the world he will show nothing but his cold, rational side. This bizarre formulation reveals in a stark manner the depth of the split within Solo- veitchik's personality. Were he capable of envisioning any sort of genuine synthesis between thought and feeling, between torah andyirah, in the life of the religious Jew, he would have no need for New Moon man's self- denial. The fact that this type is required to repress his passionate side is proof positive that Soloveitchik, however much he might wish it to be otherwise, can see no way of establishing a stable equilibrium between the emotions and the intellect. Once the claims of the emotions are recog- nized, once religious feelings are accorded legitimacy and permitted expression, they immediately call into question the fundamental postu- lates of Litvak religiosity. Is there not a connection between Soloveitchik's failure to find a way out of his religious dilemma and his effort in "But if You Search There" to chart a complete phenomenology of the spirit, to trace, step by step, the process by which man links up with the divine? Such an undertaking, though forbidding in so many ways, cannot help but prove attractive to 262 Joseph Soloveitchik Soloveitchik: by starting at ground zero in the analysis of the religious experience, it enables him to make a completely fresh start in striving to harmonize the claims of the intellect and the emotions. Small wonder, then, that Soloveitchik labors hard, producing more than eighty tightly printed pages that read like a cross between Rudolf Otto's The Idea of the Holy and Maimonides' discussion of the stages that lead to prophecy. Central to Soloveitchik's analysis is the distinction between "natural" and "revelatory" experience. The former has its source in the "logic, order, and light which shine forth from . . . great and mighty Creation"; it is fueled by a "yearning implanted in [man's] spiritual being to attribute the multiplicity in time-bound, limited existence to the first uncondi- tioned existent ... ."10 The latter, in contrast, involves the "penetration of the mysterious into [man's] simple world": "God reveals himself to man ... [in an] incomprehensible and awesome revelatory vision which takes place without his willing it and without his permission.""' In reach- ing out to the divine, Soloveitchik argues, man moves steadily between these two types of experience, until they are at last united in a culminating devekut stage. A process that begins with the posing of fundamental onto- logical questions about the nature of the cosmos comes to an end in a burst of "mad" love that brings about attachment to God. While the scheme of "But if You Search There" is extremely broad -broad enough to encompass such diverse elements as ontological ques- tioning, instinctual drives, revelatory experience, Torah study, halakhic observance, devekut, etc.-it fails to effect the desired conceptual break- through: a true rapprochement between the cognitive and affective aspects of religious experience. Not that the two stand opposed to each other. Rather, it is that they are rigidly segregated. While Soloveitchik permits both the intellect and the emotions to fully play themselves out in his analysis, he allows for no dynamic interaction between them. Perhaps this is due to a fear of failure or of creating an explosive theologi- cal mix. In any case, Soloveitchik makes sure that thought and feeling go their separate ways while moving toward the same goal. In the end, then, the whole enterprise of "But if You Search There" is rendered otiose. For all its sophistication, Soloveitchik's religious phenomenology leaves his own inner conflict wholly untouched. VII Because of the particular circumstances of his family background, Solo- veitchik experiences the conflict between the intellect and the emotions with special intensity-for the grandson of Rabbi Hayyim Brisker it could not be otherwise. Most certainly, however, he is not unique among Jewish thinkers in being greatly preoccupied with the thorny problem of 263 David Singer and Moshe Sokol the relationship between thought and feeling in religious life. We have already had occasion to note that Soloveitchik's critique of Litvak intel- lectualism runs exactly parallel to the one articulated by Hasidic spokes- men. More generally, it echoes a theme that Isadore Twersky has identi- fied as being recurrent in Jewish intellectual history: "gnawing dissatisfac- tion with extreme talmudism.""2 As he explains: [In the face of repeated calls for an exclusive emphasis on Talmud study] there is apprehension and anxiety lest the halakhic enterprise become externalized and impoverished .... We hear resounding calls for vigilance to assure that the halakhic system remain rooted in and related to spirituality .... The spiritual concern, with its eye on the balance between essence and manifestation, trigger[s] a sustained ten- dency to censure halakhic intellectualism and to downgrade talmudism which crowds sensibility and spontaneity out of the picture.... 113 Twersky points to a broad range of outstanding Jewish figures across the ages-from Bahya ibn Pakuda in the eleventh century to Abraham Isaac Kook in the twentieth century-who belong to this tradition. But why, to begin with, should there be a need for an ongoing "spiritual insurgence"? Why is it that, time and again, extreme talmudism comes to dominate Jewish religious culture? An explanation is to be had in Judaism's pronounced legalistic bent: talmudism is the child of halakhocentricity. "A major corollary of halakhocentricity," Twersky notes, "is the repeated demand for . . . a curriculum oriented toward religious practice and hence weighted with Talmud, Talmud, and more Talmud. Study is the handmaiden of practice and talmudic lore is the prerequisite for and source of religious performance.""4 To a Litvak like Soloveitchik, this is, of course, self-evident; an awareness of Judaism's halakhocentric nature is basic to his religious consciousness. Hence, his preoccupation with the Law in "Halakhic Man," and his insistence in that essay that the talmudist is the ideal religious type. But hence also his terrible anguish when, in a very different mood, he feels compelled to offer a spiritualist critique of Litvak intellectualism. In the talmudist- spiritualist debate, Soloveitchik finds himself squarely on both sides of the issue. Something yet more needs to be added here about the nature of Soloveitchik's religious dilemma. Most exponents of the spiritualist view- point look upon themselves as the true champions of the Law; they are convinced that a measure of spiritual leavening will render the halakhic enterprise all the more effective. Soloveitchik, however much he might wish it to be otherwise, cannot bring himself to affirm this position. As he sees it, the talmudist-spiritualist debate is an either/or proposition; there is no way in which spiritualist concerns can feed into the work of the talmudist. This narrow reading of the issue points up a striking irony in 264 Joseph Soloveitchik Soloveitchik's theological stance: even as he rebels against the Brisker tradition, he continues to accept its point of view as normative. Soloveit- chik's perception of the talmudic endeavor as a purely cognitive affair clearly reflects the standpoint of Litvak intellectualism. Were he willing to adopt a less rigid definition of talmudism, he might well be able to effect a reconciliation between thought and feeling in the religious realm. Why, then, does Soloveitchik paint himself into a theological corner? Quite obviously, it is because he is held in thrall by Litvak intellectualism; he has fully internalized the Litvak outlook. The Litvak in Soloveitchik is determined to make things as difficult as possible for his non-Lit- vak side. The pain that Soloveitchik experiences in attempting to reconcile thought and feeling within a Judaic framework, it needs to be emphasized, is that of a man seeking to forge a new identity for himself. We tend, of course, to think of Orthodox Jews as having a fixed Jewish identity; it is the non-Orthodox, presumably, who have Jewish identity problems. Soloveitchik, however, is a striking example of an Orthodox figure who feels an urgent need to define, or better yet redefine, his personal religious identity within the very orbit of Orthodoxy. "What kind of Orthodox Jew am I?"-that is the question that Soloveitchik asks himself; indeed, it is the question that animates his whole theological enterprise. If, in the end, he is unable to come up with a satisfactory answer, it is not for lack of trying. It is simply that Soloveitchik wants and needs the impossible: to be both a full-fledged Litvak and a man of great religious passion. The Orthodox Jew who offers us the following autobiographical vignette is constitutionally unsuited to accept anything less: Father's lectures were delivered in my grandfather's parlor, where my bed stood. It was my custom to sit on the bed and to listen to my father talk. He spoke regularly about Maimonides. This is what he did: he would open the Talmud and read the passage. Then he would say something like the following: 'This is the explanation of Ri and the Tosafists; now we will examine Maimonides to see how he explained the Talmud.' Father would regularly find that Maimonides did not explain the Talmud as they did, and that he deviated from the simple approach. My father would say, almost in complaint against Maimonides: 'I under- stand neither Maimonides' conceptualization nor his approach to ex- plaining the passage.' It is as if father accused Maimonides himself: 'Our teacher Moses, why did you do this?' 'It would appear,' father continued, 'that Rabad [in his critical commentary on Maimonides] is right.' Members of the group would leap from their seats and each one would propose his idea. Father would listen, then reject their words, and say again: 'The words of our teacher are as hard [to understand] as iron.' Nevertheless, he would not say that we should despair. He would lean his head on his fist and sink deep into thought. The group remained quiet and did not disturb him. After a long time he would lift his head 265 David Singer and Moshe Sokol and slowly begin: 'My friends, let us see . . .' and he started to speak. Sometimes he would speak at length, at other times just a short while. I strained my ears and listened to his words. I understood nothing about the substance of what was said. Nevertheless a double impression was woven into my young mind: (1) Maimonides was surrounded by those who opposed him, 'enemies' who sought to harm him; (2) the single defender of Maimonides was my father. Without my father who knows what would happen to Maimonides. I felt as if Maimonides himself were with us in the parlor, listening to father's words. Maimonides was sitting with me in my bed. What did he look like? I do not know exactly. But his countenance was similar to father's good and handsome face. He also had the same name as father-Moses. Father would speak; the stu- dents, with eyes fixed upon him, would listen intently to his words. Slowly the tension would dissipate; father proceeded with power and strength. New concepts came forth; laws were articulated and formu- lated with wondrous precision. A new light shined. Problems were resolved and the topic explicated. Maimonides emerged victorious. Father's face shone with great joy. He had defended his'friend,' Moses, son of Maimon. A smile of contentment appeared on Maimonides' lips. I too joined in the joy. I was bursting with happiness. I would jump from my bed and run quickly to my mother's room with the joyous news: 'Mother, mother, Maimonides is right. He has overcome Rabad. Father helped him. How wonderful is father!' . . . This was a childhood experience. Nevertheless it is not the golden fantasy of a young boy; these feelings are not mystical. It is a past psychological reality which lives even now in the depths of my soul. When I sit and study Talmud, I immediately find myself in a group of the wise men' of tradition. The relationship between us is personal. Maimonides is on my right, Rabbenu Tam on my left, Rashi sits in front and explains, Rabbenu Tam asks a question, Maimonides decides the law, and Rabad criticizes. All of them are in my room sitting around my table. They look at me with love, join with me in conceptualizing, and encourage and strengthen me like a father.115 This is the quintessential Soloveitchik-an Orthodox Jew fully involved with the Law, but bringing to that involvement passionate feelings that a Litvak would never understand. What needs to be added here by way of conclusion, of course, is that the source of Soloveitchik's pain is also the source of his theological creativity. Soloveitchik is that rare Jewish thinker who has produced outstanding writings on both sides of the talmudist-spiritualist debate. This achievement is anything but fortuitous; it is a direct outgrowth of his conflicted religious situation. As a Litvak, Soloveitchik has given us "Halakhic Man," the definitive modern formulation of the program and rationale of talmudism. As a man of great religious passion, on the other hand, he has offered us "The Lonely Man of Faith," a wonderfully original spiritualist manifesto. While one might expect deep inner conflict to lead 266 Joseph Soloveitchik to a paralysis of the mind and the will, in Soloveitchik's case it has the exact opposite effect-it spurs him on to greater and greater achievement. In this connection, special mention should be made of Soloveitchik's creative use of typologies, his sensitive exploration of the affective di- mension of various commandments, and his striking elaboration (in "But if You Search There") of a complete religious phenomenology. Soloveit- chik, in sum, is a driven man, and as such has created a theological oeuvre that is rich, complex, and sparkling with insight. He suffers, but we are the beneficiaries of his unending religious quest. AMERICAN JEWISH YEAR BOOK TOURO COLLEGE NOTES 1. Mark Mirsky, My Searchfor the Messiah (New York, 1977), p. 69. 2. Arnold Wolf, "On My Mind," Sh'ma (September 19, 1975), p. 295. 3. Eugene Borowitz, "The Typological Theology of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveit- chik," Judaism (Spring, 1966), p. 205. 4. Wolf, op. cit., p. 295. 5. Three articles which do offer serious insight into Soloveitchik's overall theological stance are Borowitz, op. cit., pp. 203-210; Lawrence Kaplan, "The Religious Philosophy of Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik," Tradition (Fall, 1973), pp. 43-64; and Steven Katz in his edited volume Jewish Philosophers (New York, 1975), pp. 215-221. Valuable biographical information is provided in Aharon Lichtenstein, "Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik," in Simon Noveck (ed.), Great Jewish Thinkers of the Twentieth Century (New York, 1963), pp. 281-297. 6. One specimen of Soloveitchik's hiddushe torah that has made its way into print is "Fixing the Holidays on the Basis of Sight or Calculation," Or Hamizrach (Fall, 1980), pp. 7-24 [Hebrew]. 7. Encyclopedia Judaica, 15, p. 131. 8. Lichtenstein, op. cit., p. 283. 9. Quoted in Aaron Rothkoff, Bernard Revel (Philadelphia, 1972), p. 128. 10. "Halakhic Man" first appeared in Talpiot (1944), pp. 651-734 [Hebrew], and is now available, together with five other essays, in Pinchas Peli (ed.), In Aloneness, In Togetherness (Jerusalem, 1976), pp. 39-188 [Hebrew]. [All page citations from "Halakhic Man" in the notes refer to this volume.] An English translation of "Halakhic Man," brilliantly prepared by Prof. Lawrence Kaplan of McGill University, will be published by the Jewish Publication Society in 1983. "The Lonely Man of Faith" was published in Tradition (Summer, 1965), pp. 5-67, while "But if You Search There" appeared in Hadorom (No. 47, 1978), pp. 1-83 [Hebrew]. The Spring 1978 number of Tradition carried five essays by Soloveitchik. See also David Telsner (ed.), Five Sermons (Jerusalem, 1974) [Hebrew]. The remainder of Soloveitchik's writings are scattered in a variety of English and Hebrew language sources. 267 David Singer and Moshe Sokol 11. Joseph Epstein (ed.), Shiurei Harav (New York, 1974); Pinchas Peli (ed.), On Repentance (Jerusalem, 1974) [Hebrew] [Now available in an English transla- tion (Jerusalem, 1980).]; Abraham Besdin (ed.), Reflections of the Rav (Jerusalem, 1979). 12. Soloveitchik, "Halakhic Man," op. cit., p. 64. 13. This position becomes problematic for Soloveitchik when, at another point in "Halakhic Man," he seeks to stress the normative nature of the talmudist's endeavor. 14. Soloveitchik, "Halakhic Man," op. cit., p. 68. 15. Ibid., p. 69. 16. Ibid., p. 65. 17. Ibid., p. 101. 18. Ibid., p. 120. 19. Ibid., p. 156. 20. Ibid., p. 157. 21. Ibid., pp. 85-86. 22. For critiques of Soloveitchik's position in "Halakhic Man" see Rachel Shihor, "On the Problem of Halakhah's Status in Judaism," Forum (Spring- Summer, 1978), pp. 146-153; Jacob Agus, Guideposts in Modern Judaism (New York, 1954), pp. 37-44; and Kaplan, op. cit., pp. 51-52. 23. Joseph Soloveitchik, "How is Your Beloved Better than Another?," Hadoar (September 27, 1963), pp. 752-759 [Hebrew] (reprinted in In Aloneness, In Together- ness, op. cit., pp. 191-253). 24. Soloveitchik, "Halakhic Man," op. cit, p. 63, n. 16. Great significance is attached to the fact that Soloveitchik did his doctoral dissertation on Hermann Cohen. In fact, however, he had hoped to prepare a dissertation on a very different subject: Plato and Maimonides. The project never materialized because no one on the philosophy faculty of the University of Berlin felt qualified to supervise it. 25. "Puts on" is the precisely correct term here. Soloveitchik has a remarkable ability to make selective use of his secular learning. There are times, such as in his yearly lectures on repentance, when he studiously avoids any mention of Western thought, even if it is directly relevant to his subject. See Peli (ed.), On Repentance, op. cit., passim. 26. Soloveitchik, "Halakhic Man," op. cit., p. 39. 27. Among the typologies that Soloveitchik puts forward are "majestic man" and "covenantal man" in "The Lonely Man of Faith," op. cit.; "cosmic conscious man" and "origin conscious man" in "Majesty and Humility," Tradition (Spring, 1978), pp. 25-37; "natural man" and "confronted man" in "Confrontation," Tradi- tion (Spring-Summer, 1964), pp. 5-28; "New Year man" and "Day of Atonement man" in "How is Your Beloved Better than Another?," op. cit.; "New Moon man" in "The Hidden and the Revealed," in Zevi Tabory (ed.), Zion From the Torah (New York, 1963), pp. 15-43 [Hebrew] (reprinted in In Aloneness, In Togetherness, op. cit., pp. 297-330. All page citations from "The Hidden and the Revealed" in the notes refer to this volume); "man of fate" and "man of destiny" in "Hark, My Beloved Knocks," in Simon Federbush (ed.), Torah and Kingship (Jerusalem, 1961), pp. 11-44 [Hebrew] (reprinted in In Aloneness, In Togetherness, op. cit., pp. 333-400. All page citations from "Hark, My Beloved Knocks" in the notes 268 Joseph Soloveitchik refer to this volume.); and "king-teacher" and "saint-teacher" in "A Eulogy for the Talner Rebbe," Boston Jewish Advocate (June, 1972) (reprinted in Epstein (ed.), Shiurei Harav, op. cit., pp. 18-26). 28. Borowitz, op. cit., p. 209. 29. Soloveitchik, "Halakhic Man," op. cit., p. 39. 30. Ibid., p. 40. 31. Ibid., pp. 41-42. 32. Soloveitchik, "The Lonely Man of Faith," op. cit., pp. 5-6. 33. Ibid., p. 6. 34. In A Layman's Introduction to Religious Existentialism (New York, 1966), p. 18, Eugene Borowitz offers a definition of existentialism which perfectly highlights the differences in perspective between "The Lonely Man of Faith" and "Halakhic Man": ". .. the concern for real man as against abstract ideas; the passion for the jagged texture of concrete reality as against the clean contours of mental construction; the insistence upon the selfs being involved in thinking as against the objective, detached observer's stance...." 35. Soloveitchik, "The Lonely Man of Faith," op. cit., p. 10. 36. E.g., Soloveitchik has to portray intellectual man as a theoretical scholar if he is to succeed in enhancing the status of the talmudist as a theoretician of the Law. 37. Soloveitchik, "The Lonely Man of Faith," op. cit., p. 11. 38. Ibid., pp. 17-18. 39. Ibid., pp. 23, 38. 40. Ibid., p. 63. 41. Ibid., pp. 23, 28. 42. Ibid., p. 63. 43. Ibid., pp. 49-50. 44. Ibid., p. 25. 45. Ibid., p. 27. 46. Ibid., p. 22. 47. In "The Community," Tradition (Spring, 1978), pp. 7-24, Soloveitchik evinces a more positive attitude toward loneliness, seeing it as the source of creativity and "heroic defiance." 48. Soloveitchik, "The Lonely Man of Faith," op. cit., p. 19. 49. Ibid., p. 20. 50. Ibid., pp. 22, 23. 51. Ibid., p. 23. 52. Ibid., pp. 24, 28. 53. The notion of a "sacrificial gesture" is elaborated upon in a beautiful manner by Soloveitchik in "Catharsis," Tradition (Spring, 1978), pp. 38-54. 54. Soloveitchik, "The Lonely Man of Faith," op. cit., p. 26. 55. Ibid., p. 28. 56. Ibid., pp. 34, 37, 38. 57. Ibid., p. 36. 58. Cf. "Majesty and Humility," op. cit, p. 35, where Soloveitchik avers: "We do have two moralities, one of victory and triumph, one of withdrawal and retreat." 59. Interestingly enough, the one serious critique of "The Lonely Man of 269 David Singer and Moshe Sokol Faith" that has appeared to date-Jonathan Sach's brilliant "Alienation and Faith," Tradition (Spring-Summer, 1973), pp. 137-162-focuses specifically on the issue of monism vs. dualism. 60. Soloveitchik, "The Lonely Man of Faith," op. cit., p. 51. 61. Ibid., pp. 51, 52. 62. Ibid., p. 51. 63. Ibid., pp. 6-7. 64. Soloveitchik is strangely silent about Buber. On the one hand, he fails to acknowledge the obvious fact that his discussion of the nature of covenantal existence (the "covenantal community") leans heavily on Buberian thought. On the other hand, he avoids criticizing Buber's anti-halakhic stance even when he has the perfect opportunity to do so. Thus, Soloveitchik takes Kierkegaard to task for lacking an appreciation of the "centrality of the act of objectification of the inner movement of faith in a normative and doctrinal postulate," but does not mention Buber in this context. See ibid., p. 61. 65. Ibid., p. 10. 66. Heller, a brilliant practitioner of both the old and the new styles of Jewish scholarship, was greatly admired by Soloveitchik. The two men eventually became colleagues on the faculty of Yeshiva University. See Soloveitchik's moving memorial essay for Heller, "The Remnant of the Scholars," Hadoar (April 21, 1961), pp. 400-405 [Hebrew] (reprinted in In Aloneness, In Togetherness, op. cit., pp. 257-294. All page citations from "The Remnant of the Scholars" in the notes refer to this volume.). A partial English translation is available in Epstein (ed.), Shiurei Harav, op. cit., pp. 7-17. 67. Soloveitchik, "The Remnant of the Scholars," op. cit., p. 286. 68. Lou Silberman, "Concerning Jewish Theology in North America," American Jewish Year Book (1969), p. 54. 69. Borowitz, "The Typological Theology of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik," op. cit., p. 204. 70. Soloveitchik, "The Lonely Man of Faith," op. cit., p. 32. 71. See, e.g., Epstein (ed.), Shiurei Harav, op. cit, pp. 52-53, 97 and Soloveitchik, "The Remnant of the Scholars," op. cit, pp. 289-291. 72. This passage is drawn from the English translation of "The Remnant of the Scholars" appearing in Epstein (ed.), Shiurei Harav, op. cit., p. 16. 73. Soloveitchik, "The Lonely Man of Faith," op. cit. pp. 8-9. 74. Ibid., p. 14. 75. Ibid., p. 16. 76. Ibid., p. 15. 77. Ibid., p. 15. 78. Soloveitchik, "But if You Search There," op. cit., p. 4. 79. See, for example, "But if You Search There," ibid., where Soloveitchik uses a variety of biblical verses (most especially from Song of Songs) to poetically frame a highly sophisticated philosophical-theological analysis. 80. Soloveitchik, "The Lonely Man of Faith," op. cit., p. 15. 81. The words are not Soloveitchik's own, but are taken from a summary of a lecture which he gave in 1972. See Epstein (ed.), Shiurei Harav, op. cit., p. 57. 82. Telsner (ed.), Five Sermons, op. cit, p. 25. 270 Joseph Soloveitchik 83. Soloveitchik's views on Zionism and the State of Israel are set forth in Telsner (ed.), Five Sermons, ibid.; "Hark, My Beloved Knocks," op. cit.; "On the Love of Torah and the Redemption of the Soul of the Generation," Hadoar (May 27, 1960), pp. 519-523 [Hebrew] (reprinted in In Aloneness, In Togetherness, op. cit., pp. 403-432); and "The Eternal Link Between the Jewish People and the State of Israel," Or Hamizrach (Fall, 1957), pp. 27-31 [Hebrew]. 84. Walter Wurzburger, "The Holocaust," Shoah (Spring-Summer, 1980), p. 16. 85. Irving Greenberg, "Orthodox Judaism and the Holocaust," Gesher (1979), pp. 55-82. For a critique of Greenberg's position see Steven Katz's essay in Alvin Rosenfeld and Irving Greenberg (eds.), Thinking about the Holocaust (forthcoming.) 86. Soloveitchik, "Hark, My Beloved Knocks," op. cit., pp. 339-340. 87. Ibid., pp. 347, 354. 88. Peli (ed.), On Repentance, op. cit., pp. 57-58. 89. Soloveitchik, "The Remnant of the Scholars," op. cit., p. 273. 90. Soloveitchik, "Confrontation," op. cit., pp. 23-24. 91. Joseph Soloveitchik, "A Tribute to the Rebbitzen of Talne," Tradition (Spring, 1978), p. 76. 92. Ibid., p. 78. 93. In "The Hidden and the Revealed," op. cit., p. 312, Soloveitchik states explicitly that from early youth on he strongly identified with the biblical Joseph. 94. Soloveitchik, "Halakhic Man," op. cit., p. 188. 95. Our assumption here-and that is all it is, an assumption - is that Soloveit- chik is not consciously manipulating the reader, i.e., Soloveitchik is unaware that his non-Litvak side is showing. Still another possibility would be that he is carefully planting subversive hints so as to undermine the main line of the argument in "Halakhic Man." This view cannot be dismissed lightly; a man divided against himself, who feels compelled by circumstances to suppress a whole side of his personality, might well turn resentful. There is no way of making a definitive judgment about the matter. 96. Soloveitchik, "Halakhic Man," op. cit., p. 40. 97. Ibid., p. 81. 98. Ibid., p. 124. It is interesting to note in this context that in Soloveitchik's own life, death functions as a great galvanizing force. A large part of his published oeuvre is made up of memorial essays. Were it not for death, then, we would have far fewer works from his pen. 99. Ibid., p. 42. 100. Ibid., p. 43. See also Joseph Soloveitchik, "Sacred and Profane," Gesher (June 1966), pp. 5-8. (This essay appeared originally in Hazedek (May-June, 1945). 101. Peli (ed.), On Repentance, op. cit., p. 40. 102. Soloveitchik's views on prayer are presented in "Thoughts on Prayer," Hadorom (No. 47, 1978), pp. 84-106 [Hebrew]; "Redemption, Prayer, Talmud Torah," Tradition (Spring, 1978), pp. 55-72; and Besdin (ed.), Reflections of the Rav, op cit., pp. 77-87. 103. Soloveitchik, "Redemption, Prayer, Talmud Torah," op. cit., p. 65. 104. Ibid., pp. 65-66. 271 272 David Singer and Moshe Sokol 105. Ibid., p. 65. 106. Besdin (ed.), Reflections of the Rav, op. cit, pp. 79-82. 107. Peli (ed.), On Repentance, op. cit., p. 44. 108. This type gets its name from the one or two-day New Moon (rosh hodesh) celebration which inaugurates each month of the Jewish calendar year. While the New Moon is invested with special sanctity, it differs little in outward appearance from an ordinary workday. The holiness of the New Moon, Soloveit- chik maintains, is hidden rather than revealed. 109. Soloveitchik, "The Hidden and the Revealed," op. cit, p. 312. 110. Soloveitchik, "But if You Search There," op. cit., pp. 15, 19. 111. Ibid., p. 19. 112. Isadore Twersky, "Religion and Law," in S. D. Goitein (ed.), Religion in a Religious Age (New York, 1974), p. 69. 113. Ibid., p. 71. 114. Ibid., p. 70. 115. Soloveitchik, "But if You Search There," op. cit., pp. 63-65.