Reviewed by Rabbi Reuven Chaim
Klein (Rachack Review)
Eli Rubin’s book Kabbalah and
the Rupture of Modernity paints a rich intellectual portrait of the
Chabad-Lubavitch movement by intertwining a history of the movement with a
theological history of the movement’s core ideas. The historical/biographical element
primarily follows the lives of Chabad’s seven rebbes, whose collective lifespans
cover two and a half centuries from 1745 to 1994. Rather than adopting a
reductionist approach — wherein succession disputes and internal developments
are chalked up to economic, social, or personality-driven factors — Rubin
foregrounds the subtle theological distinctions that shaped the movement. In
this way, the history of people/events converges with the history of ideas. In Rubin’s
telling, ideas and individuals evolve in concert, and the tensions between them
illuminate deeper spiritual commitments rather than surface-level rivalries.
Rubin shows how each of the
various rebbes of Chabad had their own unique area(s) of focus and contribution
to Chabad thought, with their writings often in conversation with each other
over the generations. These transgenerational theological dialogues span from Chabad’s
founding figure Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi (1745–1812), known as the Alter
Rebbe or Rashaz, all the way to the movement’s seventh and final Rebbe, Rabbi
Menachem Mendel Schneersohn (1902–1994), known as Ramash. Rubin’s narrative
shows how developments in Chabad thought were inextricably shaped by the
broader historical contexts in which they developed, especially the various
sets of the circumstances in which Chabad Hassidim and their leaders found
themselves from Czarist Russia to Communist Russia to wartime Poland to postwar
America.
A recuring concept discussed throughout
the book is the idea of tzimtzum, the Lurianic doctrine that God
"contracted" Himself to create space for the world. Rubin tracks the
way this concept was interpreted and reinterpreted by Chabad thinkers over the
generations. Already in the early 18th century, Italian rabbis like
Rabbi Immanuel Chai Ricchi (1688–1743) read tzimtzum literally, while
Rabbi Yosef Ergas (1685–1730) maintained it must be understood metaphorically. The
idea of tzimtzum looms large in the discourses of Rashaz. This is especially
true of Rashaz’s work Likkutei Amarim (colloquially known as Tanya),
wherein he emphatically taught that tzimtzum must be understood
non-literally, and he preached the idea that God’s presence continues to
permeate all of creation such that there is no space that is free of Him. This
non-literal view of tzimtzum became a hallmark of Chabad theology.
This interpretation was not
without controversy. The Misnagdim (opponents of Hasidism, often derisively
called “Snags” by those in the Chabad community), led by the Vilna Gaon
(1720–1797), championed a literal reading of tzimtzum, viewing the
Chabad position as dangerously close to pantheism — or even heresy, in the
manner of Baruch Spinoza. Indeed, Rashaz’s view that God did not actually
constrict Himself to create the world heavily suggests that the world must then
be a part of God. Contemporary scholars like Rachel Elior have interpreted Tanya
as promoting a kind of acosmism — the notion that the world does not exist as
an ontological reality independent God. [Curiously, the author does not engage
with the recent work of contemporary philosopher Sam Lebens, who actually finds
the acosmic view that the world only exists as an idea in God’s mind (what he
dubs “Extreme Hasidic Idealism”) quite compelling.]
In pushing back against these
criticisms of Rashaz, Rubin follows Elliot Wolfson in distinguishing between
Spinoza’s pantheism that represents a secularization of the divine, and
Chabad’s “divinization of nature.” In this theological framework, God is indeed
everywhere, but human beings must find Him and make His presence more palpable through
mitzvah observance and Torah study — acts that induce a sort of
effacement whereby one re-enters in rapture with the omnipresent deity (whose
absence in the material world is only metaphorical, but not
ontological/metaphysical). Performing such “good deeds” dissolve the ego and
allow one to reunite with the omnipresent divine (the apotheosis of action). According
to this reading, the point of tzimtzum is not a rupture by which God
intends to separate Himself from His creation, but it is rather an illusion of
Divine concealment that invites human agency and longing for the Divine. The
author shows how this theology is not only explicit in later expositors of Tanya
(most prominently, Rashaz’s descendants and successors), but can be gleaned
from close readings of Rashaz’s works themselves.
Besides for delving into the
intricacies of the content of Chabad theology, this book also highlights
the different modalities that the various rebbes used to relay and broadcast
those ideas to a wider audience: verbal discourses (sichos), transcribed
talks (maamarim), glosses and reworkings of earlier Chabad works (hagahos),
multipartite discourses (hemshech), epistolatory missives (iggros),
and institution-building (i.e., founding Yeshivas and dispatching emissaries). Each
rebbe had his own distinctive style and approach to spreading Chabad ideology,
whether more inwardly focused or outward-looking, ascetic or worldly,
conciliatory or polemical.
Among the more intriguing
chapters is Rubin’s discussion of the fifth Rebbe, Rashab (Rabbi Sholom Dovber
Schneersohn, 1860–1920), and his reputed encounter with Sigmund Freud in Vienna
— a moment that hints at surprising intellectual affinities between Hasidic
introspection and psychoanalytic method. Rubin also delves into Kabbalistic ideas
such as reshimu (the “trace” of Divine light left behind from before tzimtzum)
and the Chabad perspectives on the nature of materialism.
The book culminates with a
treatment of Ramash, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the late seventh rebbe,
who was both a direct descendant of Rashaz and the son-in-law of his
predecessor, the sixth rebbe Rayatz (Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn,
1880–1950). With university training in science and engineering, Ramash was
said to have introduced a scientific-like aspect of synthesis to Chabad
theology in his efforts to bridge gaps between disparate views. As Rubin shows,
Ramash was the first rebbe in the movement to entertain Rabbi Irgas’ literal
reading of tzimtzum — not as a repudiation of the traditional Chabad
view, but as a complementary perspective that could, after a fashion, be
harmonized with Rashaz’s non-literal understanding. In so doing, the Lubavitcher
Rebbe sought to resolve centuries-old disputes between Hasidim and Misnagdim.
Rubin further contrasts Ramash’s new look at the future redemption with his
direct predecessor’s: Ramash focused his Messianic vision by looking towards an
idealistic future, whereas the previous rebbe Rayatz sought out a
redemptive model by looking back at an idealized past.
While Rubin’s focus is squarely
on Chabad, readers should be aware that this is not a survey of Hasidism in
general. Foundational ideas from other Hasidic works — such as Noam
Elimelech, Kedushas Levi, and Me’or Einayim — are entirely absent
from the discussion, but this is consistent with internal Chabad usage, wherein
the term “Chassidus” refers exclusively to Chabad teachings. In fact, this book
presents Chabad literature as mostly internal, and only very seldomly looking
to the broader works of Jewish literature. For instance, the only reference to
Jewish Medieval thought in this book is when the fourth rebbe of Chabad
Maharash (Rabbi Shmuel Schneersohn, 1834–1882) cited from Ibn Gabbai in the
name of R. Azriel of Gerona (in addition to Ramash’s special interest in
Maimonides, which is a later, 20th century development in Chabad
discourse).
Although Rubin occasionally
touches on some of the splinter groups that broke off and rejoined Chabad (like
Strashelye and Kopust), he largely sidesteps the more contentious aspects of later
Chabad history (such as the anti-Zionist Malachim, the Gur-Aryeh controversy, or
the Liozne Rebbe’s claim to succeeding Ramash). Similarly, he refrains from
in-depth discussions of external polemics, such as disputes that Ramash had with
important non-Hasidic leaders like Rabbi Aharon Kotler or Rabbi Elazar Menachem
Shach.
In this, the book largely follows
the official historiography of institutional Chabad. This should not come as a surprise
because the author himself is personally very much a part of the Chabad
community as an insider, besides having earned his academic credentials with a
PhD from the department of Hebrew and Jewish Studies at UCL. As befits a person
of such dual personality, his sources (as copiously detailed in the book’s
endnotes) include both scholarly works from the halls of academia, as well as
close readings of classical Chabad works.
This is a dense and
intellectually-demanding volume, laden with technical kabbalistic and academic
terminology. It is not a light read, and at times the arguments may elude
non-specialists. This reviewer freely admits that he did not quite follow all
the deep intricacies and nuances discussed. The addition of in-text
cross-references or summaries might have helped the reader keep track of the
different ideas swirling around, although the index does a decent job of
helping the reader find specific points. Overall, this book is a compelling and
interesting read that is sure to be a useful resource on Chabad theology in
academic circles for years to come.
