The Long Ascent: Genesis 1-11 in Science and Myth Trilogy

The Long Ascent: Genesis 1-11 in Science and Myth Trilogy [3 volumes] (Wipf and Stock Publications, 2019–2023), by Robert Sheldon

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

This work is a trilogy that promises to bridge the gap between the ancient and the modern, the mythical and the scientific. Written by a trained physicist with a strong Christian background, the series attempts a line-by-line interpretation of the first eleven chapters of the Bible. The author's proficiency in both the hard and soft sciences, as well as his deep understanding of ancient mythologies and the midrashic tradition of the rabbis, positions this work as a kind of scientific midrash or "technical exegesis."

The author's approach is meticulous, integrating recent scientific discoveries with linguistic analysis of Hebrew texts and ancient mythologies. He differentiates between semantic and visual coding within these texts, offering original insights based on linguistic tools and dictionaries. This method allows for a nuanced understanding of the original intent of the Hebrew words, adding a layer of depth to the interpretation of these foundational Biblical chapters.

One of the most striking aspects of the trilogy is the author's ability to read ancient mythologies as coded information, integrating them into his theories. This is particularly evident in his discussions on the location of Eden, which he intriguingly posits lied in the Mediterranean seabed (“Med bed”), using — among other things — bathymetric analysis to support his claims. Mr. Sheldon draws connections to Egyptian elitist wisdom and the ancient Greek legend of Atlantis, suggesting a technologically-advanced society in Eden, complete with portable nuclear power.

The author also tackles the origins of humanity, distinguishing between Cro-Magnons and the descendants of Adam, and offers a controversial take on the flood as a divine punishment for engaging in genetic editing. These interpretations are highly original and engaging, presenting a fresh perspective on well-worn biblical narratives.

The book is commendable for its presentation, featuring numerous tables, maps, and pictures that enhance the reader's understanding. The prose is easy to read, making complex ideas accessible without overwhelming the reader with citations. However, the interspersed short narratives of prose fiction (which resemble and draw upon ancient myths), may not appeal to all readers. Personally, I found these sections less engaging and tended to skip them.

Despite its many strengths, the trilogy's ambitious integration of science, myth, and theology may raise some skeptical eyebrows. The author's conclusions, while well-argued and supported by various forms of evidence, often venture into speculative territory. The idea of Eden as a technologically advanced society or the flood as a reaction to genetic manipulation, for instance, might be seen as a stretch by some readers. Additionally, the book's reliance on a mix of scientific and mythical sources could be perceived as selective, potentially leading to confirmation bias.

Overall, these books comprise a highly original and thought-provoking series. They offer a compelling read for those interested in the intersection of science, religion, and ancient mythology — even if it requires a healthy dose of skepticism. The author's passion and expertise shine through, making this a noteworthy contribution to the ongoing dialogue between faith and reason.

Making Sense of “God”: What God-talk Means and Does

Making Sense of “God”: What God-talk Means and Does (Wipf & Stock, 2023), by Norman Solomon

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

This book serves as a delightful specimen of healthy skepticism in the often-murky waters of theological discourse. Although the author is an accomplished academic scholar, this particular work is written for a popular audience. With its engaging style, thoughtful insights, and provocative questions, it has the potential to spark lively conversations and inspire readers to rethink their own beliefs and biases about the Divine.

Solomon's aim is not to indoctrinate or convert, but rather to provoke thought and stimulate discussion. His book presents a dynamic dialogue where ideas collide and intersect, rather than adhere to a rigid doctrinal framework. In other words, this book does not take one specific approach, but rather presents everything as in dialogue with each other. This encourages the reader to approach the subject of the God/god and other facets of the Divine with an open mind and a critical eye.

In doing so, the author aims to frame conversations about God/god within the contemporary intellectual milieu (dominated by scientism, atheism, and secularism) and shows how intellectually-rigorous versions of those conversations might look. The author is armed with a buoyant skepticism that injects a breath of fresh air into the discourse, while also unravelling the complexities implicit in discussions of the Divine.

Throughout this work, Solomon delves into the multifaceted nature of the concept of "God/god," probing whether, when referencing or invoking God in conversation, people are alluding to: a metaphysical or theological reality, the prime mover behind nature, nature itself, a moral or legal imperative, an expression of social identity, a deeply personal experience (perhaps facilitated by psychedelics), or something entirely distinct from all these interpretations. The author observes that a wide spectrum of beliefs about the Divine can be found even within a single society or culture, highlighting how diverse interpretations of God can and must coexist.

Another recurring theme in this book is Solomon’s caution against the temptation to superimpose contemporary understanding and language onto ancient texts. He emphasizes the importance of appreciating these texts within their original historical and cultural contexts, recognizing that their intended meanings are intricately tied to the specific times and places in which they were written.

Although many theological works adopt a singular approach or perspective on “the truth,” Solomon embraces the diversity of thought. Therefore, rather than presenting a monolithic argument, he presents to the reader a multitude of perspectives, allowing for a more nuanced understanding of the topic at hand. As a result, the book’s exploration of “God talk” extends far beyond the confines of any single religious tradition. In fact, by drawing on examples from the so-called Abrahamic Religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam), as well as Hinduism, Buddhism, and a myriad of lesser-known faiths (both historic and current), the author offers the reader a panoramic view of the diverse ways in which humanity has grappled with the concept of the Divine throughout history.

Additionally, the author provides readable (yet comprehensive) summaries of the fundamental lines of inquiry tackled by a range of disciplines, including history, anthropology, psychology, philosophy, linguistics, jurisprudence, and other various branches of science. Through this interdisciplinary lens, Solomon invites readers to explore the multifaceted nature of human beliefs related to the Divine and what shapes those views.

While Solomon's approach is decidedly skeptical and cautious, it is also imbued with a sense of curiosity and wonder. He invites readers to join him on a journey of discovery, challenging long-held assumptions and interrogating strongly-held beliefs. Yet, for all his skepticism, Solomon never loses sight of the profound significance that the concept of God holds for countless individuals around the world.

Because this book focuses on digesting these sophisticated discussions and bringing them down to a popular audience, it is light on citing exact sources but instead opts to present things in broader strokes (that said, there is an average of one footnote per page). The author’s tendency to rely more on broad strokes than meticulous citations may leave some scholars craving more academic rigor. For that, they would likely have to consult with Solomon’s more serious academic works.

Additionally, some readers may find some of Solomon's humor a tad irreverent, although a cynic like myself can actually appreciate his tone. That said, these minor quibbles pale in comparison to the book's overall strengths.

One of the book's greatest strengths lies in its accessibility. Solomon eschews the dense and impenetrable language often associated with academic discourse, opting instead for a style that is engaging and approachable. This makes the book eminently readable for a wide audience, from the casual reader with a passing interest in theology to the seasoned scholar looking for fresh insights.

Moreover, while many scholarly works on theology tend to adopt a solemn and reverential tone, Solomon's approach is refreshingly different. With a touch of wit and a pinch of humor, he navigates through the dense underbrush of theological debates, offering readers a lighter reading on a weighty topic.

The book's original format is as innovative as its content. While the majority of the text takes the predictable form of discursive essays, the author injects creativity and originality into his presentation by interspersing those chapters with chapters written in a totally different style. Those chapters are crafted as dialogues between two Divine beings (wryly named William and James), with the younger god being more interested in overseeing the creation/development of the world and of humanity, while the older one pessimistically expresses his expectation that that experiment will ultimately fail. This literary device adds a playful dimension to the discussion, inviting readers to consider complex ideas through the lens of imaginative storytelling.

Other chapters are presented as the minutes of a seemingly-fictitious academic society called the Crumpet Club, where a cast of seasoned scholars gather to discuss profound questions over tea and crumpets. Per the rules of the club, these academicians would converse about deep questions in intellectually-charged but jargon-free conversations, all the while partaking in tea and crumpets. The author presents himself as a member of that club who was privy to those conversations between experts. Besides breathing some fresh air into the serious discussion, this literary device is used as a way of illustrating to the reader how rituals and their meanings can change over time, as the book’s records of the Crumpet Club span several decades and the scholars in the conversation change over the course of the time-period documented.

Solomon makes it clear that the ultimate goal of the book is not to provide definitive answers, but rather to guide readers through the complexities of theological discourse. To do so, the author takes a common-sense approach to these matters. In some ways, this methodology infuses the text with authenticity and is a delightful departure from conventional theological treatises.

The author’s profile as a British nonagenarian, whose long and varied career has seen him serve as an Orthodox Jewish rabbi in the pulpit and as a professor (of Jewish Studies and of Jewish-Christian relations) adds another layer of charm to the book. Yet, as a reviewer who shares Solomon's Orthodox Jewish background, there is a sense of disappointment that he does not delve deeper into this aspect to explain how the discussions in his book shape his own beliefs and practices. Likewise, he does not proffer a view of how the book is or is not compatible with Orthodox Judaism(s).

But then again, the author makes clear that the “bottom line'” is not the point of the book; rather he admits that the final destination is beyond his understanding. He only seeks to help people avoid deception by those who claim they have already arrived at the understanding of the One Immutable Truth by showing that nothing is quite that simple. Through its creative presentation and thoughtful insights, this book serves as a model of intellectual curiosity and a reminder that the search for understanding is an ongoing and ever-evolving process.

Collected Essays: Volume III (Haym Soloveitchik)

Collected Essays: Volume III (The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2020), by Haym Soloveitchik

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

As can be expected from Soloveitchik's previous work, the meticulous analysis and scholarly depth found in this anthology offer invaluable perspectives on medieval Jewish civilization, historical inquiry, and halachic discourse. As the reviewer delved into its pages, he found himself immersed in a thoughtful exploration of these complex topics, guided by Soloveitchik's expertise and clarity of thought. This collection is not only informative but also thought-provoking, marking it as an impressive resource for anyone interested in Jewish intellectual history.

The first part of this book is dedicated to analyzing the pietist phenomenon known as Chassidei Ashkenaz (associated with Rabbi Shmuel HaChassid, Rabbi Yehuda HaChassid, and Rabbi Elazar Rokeach, who were active in Germany in the 12^th and 13^th centuries). In that part of the book, Soloveitchik delves into the intricate world of Chassidei Ashkenaz, looking at the pietist ideologies and practices of this elitist movement with a critical eye. In doing so, Soloveitchik masterfully dissects the core tenets of their worldview, highlighting the concept of retzon habore (“the will of the Creator”), which fuels its adherent’s profound yearning to fulfill the Creator's “complete” will. This is accomplished by following rigorous adherence to strictures above and beyond those codified by mainline halacha. Within the realm of halacha, this ideology gives way towards an inclination towards stringencies, coupled with an (over)emphasis on the purity of thought (exemplified by their stringent prohibition on gazing at women).

Moreover, Soloveitchik intricately explores the possible evolution of Chassidei Ashkenaz thought, considering whether or not there may be nuances between its various developmental stages or differences between the ideas espoused by its above-mentioned intellectual heroes.

Soloveitchik astutely examines how the movement's ideas continued to reverberate throughout the broader Ashkenazic world even after the collapse of the movement proper. This is particularly seen in the case of self-mortification and other forms of penance as rites of repentance. Additionally, Soloveitchik delves into the intriguing interplay between Chassidei Ashkenaz and the Tosafist movement, unraveling the complexities of the dynamic relationship between them.

In the context of his work on Chassidei Ashkenaz, one of Soloveitchik’s more well-known contributions to scholarship lies in his groundbreaking insight regarding the seminal work commonly known as Sefer Chassidim. Soloveitchik’s astute observation notes that the first 153 paragraphs of that book are actually sourced in pietistic writings/teachings from outside the particular pietist community of the Chassidei Ashkenaz. Soloveitchik shows how the content of those paragraph actually diverges from the core ideals of the Chassidei Ashkenaz movement (while sometimes retaining their verbiage), at times even citing passages verbatim from Maimonides. Soloveitchik's spirited exchanges with scholars who questioned his assumptions about Chassidei Ashkenaz offer a fascinating glimpse into the scholarly dialogue surrounding this controversial movement, as much of the materials printed in this first section of the book detail the opinions of those who disputed Soloveitchik’s assumptions about Chassidei Ashkenaz and how Soloveitchik replied to their arguments.

In the second part of this book, Soloveitchik embarks on a scholarly exploration of the Jewish community in Provence (in modern-day Southern France), particularly focusing on its revered rabbinic figure, the Raavad — Rabbi Avraham of Posquières. In this section, Soloveitchik shows how even though contemporary Talmudic scholars see the Raavad as primarily a critic of Maimonides’ and Alfasi’s halachic magna opera, in earlier times the Raavad’s legacy was shaped by his commentaries to the Talmud. Thus, Soloveitchik brings to the fore the multifaceted legacy of the Raavad, shifting the spotlight from his role as a critic of Maimonides (which only occurred as a sideshow to the Raavad’s main work, as he only encountered Maimonides’ writings at the end of his fruitful life) to his role as an independent and creative Talmudic commentator and Halachic decisor. Much of the Raavad’s work and originality was overshadowed by the later work of Nachmanides and his students, but Soloveitchik urges the reader to see the Raavad's groundbreaking output for what it truly is. In doing so, Soloveitchik also shows how the Raavad’s commentary differs from the monumental contributions of Rashi.

This section of the book also contains a series of essays penned in response to criticism about how Soloveitchik framed Raavad’s relationship with Geonic rulings and how the Latin legal terminology used in Provence may have influence the Provencal sages’ way of looking at sureties in Halachic discourse.

In the context of discussing Provencal Jewry, the figure of the Meiri emerges as a compelling subject of inquiry, and in a chapter dedicated to that figure, Soloveitchik offers a critical description of Meiri’s Talmudic methodology and his contribution to Talmudic study. Through Soloveitchik's sharp lens, we gain a deeper appreciation as to how Meiri's voluminous Talmudic commentary has been received throughout the ages and what led to it gaining more prominence in the last century than it has ever held.

In discussing Talmudic commentaries, a recurring theme emerges from this book: Soloveitchik's profound reverence and awe for Rashi as a commentator who transformed the Talmud into an open book in a way that was unparalleled in the medieval world. While acknowledging the contributions of other commentators, such as the School of Mainz (printed in the ubiquitous Vilna Shas under the name “Rabbeinu Gershom”) and the Raavad, Soloveitchik sees Rashi's contribution in shaping the way Talmud is studied as entirely unmatched.

Another theme that runs like Ariadne's thread throughout this collection of Soloveitchik’s writings is the question of how and when historical data can be culled from halachic literature. Unlike some scholars who view halachah as predominantly shaped by the ideological leanings or even personal interests of its decisors, Soloveitchik presents a compelling argument that halachah — like any legal system — operates according to its own rules and considerations. Soloveitchik therefore cautions against the tendency to "historicize" rulings by attributing them solely to extra-halachic motives, emphasizing the necessity of identifying a "smoking gun" in the form of unsound halachic reasoning that points to the notion that the decisor is motivated by something other than purely halachic thought before making such accusations. This evidentiary criterion, which Soloveitchik terms the "angle of deflection," serves as a guiding principle in much of his historical analyses, even when it is not explicitly articulated.

Many of the essays in this collection have already been published and critiqued by other scholars decades ago. Within these pages, Soloveitchik gracefully responds to some of those critiques, skillfully defending and clarifying his positions. Often, he accomplishes this task with elegant simplicity, by simply reproducing his original words verbatim while offering a slight addition or modifications where necessary. He is also not afraid to concede to his interlocutors, when he sees their arguments as compelling. This dialogue with scholarly discourse not only enriches the reader's understanding, but also underscores Soloveitchik's commitment to rigorous intellectual engagement and his own legacy in the study of Jewish History.

As one of the preeminent Jewish historians of the medieval period, Soloveitchik's scholarship is marked by a rare blend of academic rigor and profound reverence for tradition. Hailing from one of the most illustrious rabbinic dynasties and identifying himself with the Lithuanian Yeshiva tradition, Soloveitchik navigates between these worlds, crafting erudite works in eloquent English as befits his towering stature as a scholar. This reviewer in particular has eagerly consumed Soloveitchik's previous volumes and essays, and for him, the anticipation of future scholarship from the pen of this esteemed octogenarian scholar is met with great excitement. Soloveitchik's contributions continue to illuminate the corridors of Jewish intellectual history, leaving an indelible mark on generations of scholars and readers alike.

Philosophy and Rabbinic Culture: Jewish interpretation and Controversy in Medieval Languedoc

Philosophy and Rabbinic Culture:Jewish interpretation and Controversy in Medieval Languedoc (Routledge, 2009), by Gregg Stern

Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein (Rachack Review)

This scholarly work of history documents the rise and fall of a relatively-unknown Jewish community in the Medieval period — the Jews of Languedoc (in modern-day Southern France). That community, often associated and conflated with Provence (which was located to its immediate east), was already home to Jews for some time when the Muslim Almohads intensely persecuted Andalusian Jews from the Iberian Peninsula, and drove many of those Spanish Jews northwards to Languedoc around 1150s.

One of the important Spanish Jewish families who immigrated northward was the Ibn Tibbon family, led by Yehuda Ibn Tibbon (1120–1190). The Ibn Tibbon family introduced the long-standing Languedocian Jewish tradition of translation, as it was Yehuda and his son Shmuel Ibn Tibbon who rendered many Jewish works originally written in Judeo-Arabic into Hebrew, thus opening them up to a wider audience. These works include Rabbi Saadia Gaon's Emunot Ve'Deot, Bachya ibn Pakuda's Chovot HaLevavot, Yehuda HaLevi's Kuzari, Ibn Janach's works on Hebrew grammar and lexicon, and of course the works of Maimonides (especially his Guide for the Perplexed and commentary to the Mishnah). That tradition of translating the great sources into Hebrew also extended to works of science and philosophy of the Greco-Arabic stream, and led to a wide degree of acculturation in those fields on the part of the Jews in Languedoc.

Besides for the Ibn Tibbon family, other towering Torah scholars of Languedoc, Occitan, and Provence include such important figures as Zerachya HaLevi, Manoach of Narbonne, Avraham of Posquières, Eshtori HaParchi, Yaakov Anatoli, Avraham min HaHar (of Montpellier), Asher of Lunel, Moshe of Narbonne, Meir Meili, Kalonymus ben Kalonymus, Yedayah HaPenini, Levi ben Chaim, Ibn Kaspi, the Kimchi family, Gersonides, Dovid HaKochavi (Estelle), Nissim of Marseilles, and more.

Although Languedoc (and especially Montpellier) was an important flashpoint in the first Maimonidean controversy, by the second half of the 13^th century Languedoc had become a stronghold of Maimonideanism, with that philosophically-infused brand of Judaism dominating the community. One of the important characters discussed in this book is Rabbi Menachem ben Shlomo Meiri, who followed precisely that trend. Meiri lived in the Languedocian city of Perpignan, and penned one of the most comprehensive and in-depth commentaries of the Talmud to date. His steadfast devotion to Maimondeanism and proud follower of the Languedocian Halachic traditions make him an especially noteworthy figure in the history of the community. Besides his voluminous Talmudic commentary, Meiri also wrote Kiryat Sefer which defended various local Languedocian customs from claims by Spanish Jews that those traditions were Halachically illegitimate. In this book, the author attempts to piece together Meiri’s world view, especially how he viewed Christianity and other world religions from his so-called “moderate” Maimonidean perspective.

Several chapters of this book are devoted to telling the story of the controversy sparked by a rabbinic scholar named Abba Mari who attempted to curtail the study of philosophy in Jewish Languedoc. He worried that following the philosophical approach to Judaism could steer Jews away from tradition and led them to heresy. He was especially concerned with how Jewish philosophers were re-interpreting Biblical narratives as allegorical allusions to philosophical ideas, an approach which he felt could potentially upend the entirety of Jewish belief and practice.

Although Abba Mari himself personally subscribed to the Maimoinidean approach, he wanted to tone down the importance of philosophy and reserve its study to elite Jewish scholars who were already mature in their studies. He felt that the more overly-philosophical approach should not be openly preached in the synagogues and at family events, but should be an esoteric wisdom studied by only a few. In doing so, he appealed to rabbinic authorities outside of Languedoc to intervene. In particular, he turned to Rashba (Rabbi Shlomo Ibn Adret), a Catalonian scholar based in Barcelona who was widely recognized as the leader Jewish scholar of the time, to ban the study of philosophy for those younger than 25–30 years old.

This book details Abba Mari’s largely unsuccessful efforts and the blowback to his enlisting Rashba — who was actually Kabbalist, and thus suspect in the eyes of Maimonidean rationalists — for his cause. Other important characters in this tale include the Rosh (Rabbi Asher ben Yechiel), who was the exiled leading Ashkenazi authority that had spent some time in Languedoc before settling in the Castilian city of Toledo. Abba Mari compiled many letters and documents related to his crusade against the normalization of philosophy among Languedocian Jewry, many of which were published in the word Minchat Ken’aot.

The tragic end of the Languedocian community occurred in July 1306, when the French king Philip the Fair (1268–1314) expelled the Jews from his territories, thus sending the Jews of Narbonne, Beziers, Montpellier, Lunel and other Occitanian towns elsewhere. Jews were later readmitted and expelled again multiple times, but the Languedocian community was never the same and their unique brand of Judaism eventually fizzled out.

In conclusion, this book serves as a comprehensive exploration of the Languedocian Jewish community, unveiling its rich history through the lens of its key figures. The author's meticulous attention to detail is evident in the extensive endnotes provided after each chapter, ensuring transparency and scholarly rigor. Furthermore, the inclusion of maps enhances the reader's understanding of the geographical and cultural landscape in which this community thrived. Overall, this work not only sheds light on a lesser-known aspect of Jewish history but also invites readers to delve deeper into the complexities and legacy of the Languedocian Jewish community.