It’s common for parents of young children to dream
about their children’s futures. I can
easily imagine a new father looking through a glass of wine and smiling about
his newborn’s vast potential. “Perhaps my son will become a world-renowned
doctor – the chief physician to the head of state. Or maybe he’ll write groundbreaking books
about medicine. Of course, I wouldn’t complain if he devoted his time instead
to law and became a great judge. Or if
he turned out to be a statesman with vast political and administrative powers,
which he uses to guard the people against tyranny. Then again, maybe my son will become a
religious figure, a revered teacher of the Holy Word, who will so brilliantly
and concisely summarize the laws of his faith that his work will become the
standard for centuries. Or perhaps he’ll
be a respected mathematician. Or ... I
know, he’ll become a great philosopher, one of the foremost synthesizers of
religious and secular philosophy that our species has ever known.”
Or maybe he can be all of the above. It’s possible – if his name is Maimonides.
“From Moses to Moses, there was no one like
Moses.” So read the inscription that was
erected on the grave of Moses Maimonides in the Galilean town of Tiberias,
where he was buried. To many Jews,
Maimonides is no more of a secret than the other Moses – the one we call “Moshe
Rabbeinu,” which literally means Moses Our Teacher. But the interesting thing to me is that in
the so-called “Judeo-Christian” – aka “Western” – world, every educated person
knows a lot about Moshe Rabbeinu even if they don’t know him by that name. By contrast, only a small percentage know
much about the second Moses, the one known as Maimonides. Unlike his predecessor, the second Moses
wrote many books, and contemporaries wrote about him. In fact, unlike the earlier Moses,
archeologists will tell you that this second Moses definitely existed. And yet, most educated westerners don’t know
much about him – they might know the name, or the fact that he was a famous Jew
from history, but that’s about it.
Let me tell you the dirty rotten secret about the
term “Judeo-Christian.” It’s a
misnomer. It really refers a whole lot
more to Christianity than it does to Judaism.
Obviously, insofar as this term involves the so-called “Old Testament”
(a Christian term), then sure, it takes into account a portion of Judaism. But whatever religiously Jewish teachings or
teachers came after Christ are pretty much absent from “Judeo-Christianity” as
that term is commonly understood. That’s
why Maimonides, who lived most of his life in the 12th century, is just another
dead philosopher who even educated western Christians know little about. Isaac Luria?
Another non-entity. The Baal Shem
Tov? “What the hell language is
that? Is that a person?”
Muhammad? Now
yes, that’s a well-known name throughout the occident. But the sad truth is that despite the fact
that Muhammad entirely located himself and his teachings within the family of
Abraham, he and his followers are explicitly excluded from the
“Judeo-Christian” world. If you ask me,
that latter term belongs in the scrapheap of history; it may claim to talk
about the world view pioneered by father Abraham, but in truth it excludes not
only Islam but post-Biblical Judaism too.
Each of the names I’ve referenced above ought to
matter to all of us -- whether your background is Jewish, Christian, Muslim,
Buddhist, or Hindu. I would say the same
thing about figures like Jesus, Paul, Aquinas or Martin Luther – figures I learned
a fair amount about when I was a kid but only because “Western” ears inevitably
hear about them, not because I actively sought them out.
Fortunately, as an adult, I have opened my
mind to teachings about great men and women from faiths other than my own. Religious Christian voices were the last ones
from whom I was willing to listen because I resented the way they strawmanned
my own (Jewish) faith and the way their followers claimed to have transcended
it. Even when I recently read the New
Testament from start to finish, I was shocked by all the nasty references to
the Pharisees, who I had been taught were deeply moral teachers. I still don’t like all those nasty
references. But damned if that’s going
to keep me away from learning what the Christian Bible has to offer – or at
least from trying.
During my upcoming summer vacation, I’ll be
privileged to spend time with Christians delving into Paul’s Letter to the
Romans. Thirty years ago, I would have
hardly wanted to read, let alone discuss, that book. Now, like the rest of the New Testament, it
fascinates me. I look forward to
learning in a safe space that encourages me to be both critical and inspired,
depending on the portion we’re discussing.
Indeed, the beauty of interfaith learning is that adults can study a
great teacher with almost childlike, awe-filled interest because we probably
didn’t have the best kind of exposure to that teacher when we were kids. In the case of Paul, few Jewish children are
taught anything but distrust for what he had to say. I was no exception.
If I may speak primarily to my Christian friends and
family right now, my concern here is not just with my own learning. It’s with yours, too. So allow me to ask the question: have you studied Maimonides? Or Isaac Luria? Or the Baal Shem Tov? Because they are three of the greatest people
that Judaism has to offer, and if I can learn from Paul (with all his nasty
statements about our beloved Jewish rabbis), you can learn from them. They all lived a long time after Jesus. But that shouldn’t be a problem. Remember – Jesus didn’t come to supersede
Judaism. Nor did he render it
antiquated. Judaism – like all of the
great religions – is a living, breathing organism. It lives through the men and women who taught
us in centuries past. It lives through
those of us who are alive today. And it
will continue to live indefinitely through our children and grandchildren who
are lucky enough to emulate Maimonides – as a doctor, a lawyer, a statesman, a
mathematician, a theologian, a philosopher, or above all else, a mensch.
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