This chapter develops a puzzle about one of the central tenets of Judaism: that God revealed the Torah at Mount Sinai. The puzzle arises from a combination of more specific views, each of which is widely held in the Jewish theological tradition. First, that the realization of the Torah is the purpose for which the world was created. Second, that we couldn’t on our own discover the truths in which the Torah consists. Third and finally, that the Torah is a sort of wisdom; indeed, that once revealed we can see the wisdom in it. The combination of these views is puzzling. If the Torah is a kind of wisdom, it seems that God could have endowed us with cognitive faculties powerful enough to discover it on our own. Given that the Torah is the purpose of creation, it seems that God would have done so. But God didn’t. It looks like creation wasn’t properly matched to its purpose. The author of this chapter suggests two ways of solving the puzzle, both of which contend that while a way of life in keeping with the Torah exhibits great wisdom, it’s not the kind of thing that a wise individual could discover. One, drawing on the work of Hasdai Crescas, points to the demands of love, and love of God in particular. The other, drawing on the work of Nahmanides, points to the intrinsic systematicity of philosophy and theology, and the collective nature of the Sinaitic revelation.

Maimonides famously says some rather radical things about God – radical even by philosophical standards – both about what God is like “in Himself” and about God’s relationship with the created universe. Maimonides’ most detailed and sustained presentation of these radical ideas is in his discussion of divine attributes in chapters 50–70 of the Guide. Indeed, it seems evident that Maimonides’ point in that section is to make plain these radical ideas. To put matters rather simply and straightforwardly, the radical ideas are these: Strictly speaking, God shares nothing substantive in common with created beings, neither existence nor life nor power nor knowledge. Indeed, strictly speaking, God has no intrinsic nature at all, no attributes at all, and stands in no relations whatsoever to the created universe – save for negative attributes and attributes of action. Even speaking strictly, God does have negative attributes and does stand in whatever relations to the created universe are ent

This chapter argues that it’s possible for something to be brought into existence by something that is non-actual. Segal distinguishes his argument from arguments for causation by omission, and draws a comparison between his argument and Zeno causation. Finally, he connects the topic to Jewish mystical traditions.

To what extent are the methodological assumptions of contemporary Jewish studies in conflict with the project of this book? Tzvi Novick begins a discussion with the editors in order to bring the contours of this issue sharply into focus.

A handful of analytic philosophers have examined certain legal (halakhic) passages from the Talmud to uncover what appear to be fairly clear views on the metaphysics of material objects, actions, identity, and time. Should we take these appearances at face value? I will argue that the rabbis of the Talmud employed legal variants of concepts that are naturally and automatically employed in ordinary metaphysical theorizing, where the variant is determined in large part by what would make the rabbis’ metaphysical claims true. This latter fact has the consequence that it is very difficult for a Talmudic rabbi to stake out a controversial metaphysical claim, or even a straightforwardly metaphysical claim, period. We philosophers should continue trying to extract metaphysics from halakha, but we shouldn’t presume that what we uncover will involve the metaphysical concepts we’re accustomed to. We should rather be prepared for a halakhic reconceptualization of the world.

A Priori: Theism . WHAT IS THE A PRIORI? WHAT IS THEISM? You know as well as I do—and without needing to trust anyone else on the matter— , and [...]

This chapter attempts to characterize analytic philosophy as an intellectual tradition, and sketches the potential it has to spark a new age in Jewish philosophy. The chapter also outlines the structure and content of the rest of the volume.

The traditional Jewish view of the afterlife has a labyrinthine landscape and a complex chronology, including no less than: reincarnation, purgatory, annihilation, a world of departed souls, the messianic age, the bodily resurrection of the dead, and the world to come. Our paper first addresses some of the skepticism in contemporary Jewish thought about the afterlife. We then outline the central features of the traditional Jewish view, along with some disagreements within the tradition. We then turn to a philosophical puzzle about the significance of the afterlife and close with a related discussion of its purpose.

This chapter formulates a version of idealism and argues for it. Sections 2 and 3 explicate this version of idealism: the world is mental through-and-through. Section 2 spells this out precisely and contrasts it with rival views. Section 3 draws a consequence from this formulation of idealism: idealism is necessarily true if true at all. Sections 4 and 5 make the case for idealism. Section 4 is defensive: it draws from the conclusion of section 3 to reply to a central, perhaps the central, anti-idealist argument. Section 5 is on the offense: it develops a new argument for idealism based on the contemporary debate in philosophy of mind. The contemporary debate in philosophy of mind has been dominated by physicalism and dualism, with idealism almost totally neglected. This chapter rectifies this situation.

Moses Maimonides'Guide of the Perplexed (c. 1190) is the greatest and most influential text in the history of Jewish philosophy. Controversial in its day, the Guide directly influenced Aquinas, Spinoza, and Leibniz, and the history of Jewish philosophy took a decisive turn after its appearance. While there continues to be keen interest in Maimonides and his philosophy, this is the first scholarly collection in English devoted specifically to the Guide. It includes contributions from an international team of scholars addressing the most important philosophical themes that range over the three parts of this sprawling work - including topics in the philosophy of language, metaphysics, epistemology, philosophy of law, ethics, and political philosophy. There are also essays on the Guide's hermeneutic puzzles, and on its overall structure and philosophical trajectory. The volume will be of interest to philosophers, Judaists, theologians, and medievalists.

Since the classical period, Jewish scholars have drawn on developments in philosophy to enrich our understanding of Judaism. This methodology reached its pinnacle in the medieval period with figures like Maimonides and continued into the modern period with the likes of Rosenzweig. The explosion of Anglo-American/analytic philosophy in the twentieth century means that there is now a host of material, largely unexplored by Jewish philosophy, with which to explore, analyze, and develop the Jewish tradition. Jewish Philosophy in an Analytic Age features contributions from leading scholars in the field which investigate Jewish texts, traditions, and/or thinkers, in order to showcase what Jewish philosophy can be in an analytic age. United by the new and engaging style of philosophy, the collection explores rabbinic and Talmudic philosophy; Maimonidean philosophy; philosophical theology; and ethics and value theory.

In this innovative volume contemporary philosophers respond to classic works of Jewish philosophy. For each of twelve central topics in Jewish philosophy, Jewish philosophical readings, drawn from the medieval period through the twentieth century, appear alongside an invited contribution that engages both the readings and the contemporary philosophical literature in a constructive dialogue. The twelve topics are organized into four sections, and each section commences with an overview of the ensuing dialogue and concludes with a list of further readings. The introduction to the volume assesses the current state of Jewish philosophy and argues for a deeper engagement with analytic philosophy, exemplified by the new contributions. Jewish Philosophy Past and Present: Contemporary Responses to Classical Sources is a cutting edge work of Jewish philosophy, and, at the same time, an engaging introduction to the issues that animated Jewish philosophers for centuries and to the texts that the

The fact that philosophy is systematic—that philosophical issues are thoroughly interconnected—was a commonplace among nineteenth century idealists, then neglected by analytic philosophers throughout much of the twentieth century, and has now finally started to get some renewed attention. But other than calling attention to the fact, few philosophers have tried to say what it consists in, or what its implications are. I argue that the systematicity of philosophy has disastrous epistemological implications. In particular, it implies philosophical skepticism: philosophers are rationally prohibited from believing any philosophical thesis. The argument goes by way of a new principle that connects inquiry with what is rational to believe. I conclude with a discussion of the relationship between my argument and other, more well-trodden arguments for philosophical skepticism.

According to certain views about human ontology, the way we seem is very different from the way we are. The appearances are a threat to such views. Here I take up and defuse the threat to one such view. Pure immaterialism says that each of us is wholly immaterial. The appearances suggest otherwise. I argue that despite the fact that we might sometimes appear to be at least partly material, and that we can be perceptually justified in believing something solely on the basis of having a perceptual experience as of its being the case, none of us is ever perceptually justified in believing that we are even partly material (or that we’re not). Bottom line: we might be able to know whether we’re material, but we can’t know just by looking.

All adherents of hard determinism face a number of steep challenges; those with traditional religious commitments face still further challenges. In this paper I treat one such further challenge. The challenge, in brief, is that given hard determinism, it’s very difficult to say why God couldn’t, and why God wouldn’t, just immediately and directly realize the final end of creation. I develop the challenge, and a number of solutions, through the work of the medieval Jewish philosopher, Hasdai Crescas. After arguing that Crescas is indeed a hard determinist, and showing that he forecloses all the easy solutions to our challenge, I piece together from his work two solutions. They both start from the assumption that the purpose of creation is creaturely love of God. Each then lays down a constraint on proper love of God, which can be satisfied only if God demands of us to realize some state of affairs other than loving Him.

In this paper I argue for the incompatibility of three claims, each of them quite attractive to a theist. First, the doctrine of deep dependence: the universe depends for its existence, in a non-causal way, on God. Second, the doctrine of true transcendence: the universe is wholly distinct from God; God is separate and apart from the universe in respect of mereology, modes, and mentality. Third, the doctrine of robust creaturely freedom: some creature performs some act such that he could have done other than he in fact did. After laying out the claims, I show that their conjunction has its adherents—most clearly, the medieval Jewish philosopher, Maimonides. I then argue in detail that the claims are in fact incompatible. I conclude with a discussion of which of the claims is best jettisoned, drawing in part on the work of the Absolute Idealist, Mary Calkins. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]