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Ian W. Alexander: BERGSON Arturo Barea: ·tJNAMUNO • E. K. Be:tiriet~: sTEFAN GEORGE w. H. Bruford: wHEKHOV ' .. . ... . Ill Roy Campbell: i.o~cA. J. M. Cockin:g: PRousT. · Wallace Fowlic~: PAUL ci.AUDEL Hugh Garten: GERHAR'I' HAU:P'I'MANN ·.Marjorie Grene: MAR'I'.IN \fELDEGGER .· C. A. Hackett: RIMBAtio · tJ Hanns Hammelinanri:. :HOFMANNS'I'HAL Rayner Heppenstall: LE~N BLOY. H. E. Holthtise~: ItiL KE M. Jarrett~Kerr~~C.R.: ¥AURIAC P. Mansell Jones: 'BAlrDELAIRB P. Mansell Jones· :!!MILE VER~AEREN ~nko Lavrin: GONtHAROV t> Rob Lyle: MIS'l'RA;L Richard March: KLEIST Jose Ferrater Mora: ORTEGA Y GASSE'I' Iris Murdoch: SAR'l',RE . L. S. SaJzberger: HO.LDERLIN Elizabeth Sewell: PAUL VALERY . CecilSp.rigge: BE~EDET-'I'O CROCE Enid ·starkie: ANDRE GIDE J; P. Stern: ERNS'I' JUNGER · ·Anthony Thodby: F.LAUBER'l' E. W. F. Tomlin: SIMONE WEIL · Martin Tu.rnell: JAcQuEs RIVIE·RE Bernard Wall: MANZONI
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BOWES & BOWES
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First published in 1957 in the Series ..
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Studies in Modern European Literature and Thought Bowes & Bowes ·Publishers Limited, London
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CONTENTS
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IV~ Man's Way in the World
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Biogra:phical Notes
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Th~ Bibie an~ Hasidism .
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First Principles: I and Thou ·
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in the year o£ the death of King Uzziah, Isaiah ·the prophet beheld the ihrone of . God, and the host of seraphim ranged about it. Each called to ··the other t,he thd~e~spoken Holy. Itis then, atnid · the experience of having seen God with his own · eyes, that Isaiah observes his own corruption artd up.worthiness. . . . . . In· The ·Idea of the Ho[y, Rudolf Otto argues convincingly. that. the· -development. of man's .. response to God is .made in terms of the holy. . The constellationofterror, awe~ infinite distance, .dangerous proximity,. and P<>'Yer. constitutes the primary phase of .awareness. Moses .casts .the foreskin into the face of the arigel of heavep.; . Moses andJoshua rell16vetheir shoes on sacred ground; Uriah dies when he touches the ark. Tl1ese attest to the activity of the holy-direct, · pre-rational,. terrifyin.g. ·God is manifest in the ·terror ofhis presence. He·is·commandirtg power:· he ~~sks · of man and he .takes from man. It· is .only at that moti1,ent in religious history when it beC;onies apparent that· God not only requires but .7 ~I
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·.<. ~:;,. ·. needs as well, that his holiness is co~plemented by his glory. The display of God in his glory is; by contrast to the terro~ of sheer powerf a mitigation of that power~ a complementing of that power by art asking ~fWoJ:ship a11d a statement of glory. Isaiah says,
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" Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord of hosts; The. whole earth is full of his glory. .
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Notwith5tanding his .distance _and inaccessibility, >the holiness of God breaks through to human .·peh:eption ... The affirmation: ofglory is a judg- _. ·• ment ·upon the holy, an. isserdon o( man's en- . counter with holiness. In the fact ofthe.simple worshipper B'eholding this holiness th¢ earth is · filled with glory. It is at this moment in the development of the religious sense thafmanhecomes · aware that God may be approached and praised. Not. distance and circumspection, hut the awe of . recognition and-participation become· manifest. The power of the Holy and the glory of the Holy ·are joined, for the distance and nearness of God are disclosed at the same meeting,focusedthroughthe heart of man, spoken forth as the supernal sub(; ject of mari's. subject.. Isaiah speaks these W.t;3tds . -at such- a moment, for God is, ·as the Hebrew word for. sacrifice signifies, being approached. 8. Oil
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He is distant and remote, yet accessible. and near. The reality of his holiness lies in the fact that it is visibly'.testified, that the heavens -open 'and a man beholds. At this moment one. speaks· holiness i!l aw~, wonder~ a&d am,azement. The history of the holy is circuitous in the West. There have bee'n retreats into sheer terror. There have been equally profound expressions ®f the Unity of power and glory, as in _·.·· the titne ofSt Augustine, St Fiancis,.,and the· Hasidim. At such .times the nature and activity .._. ,_ ._ ofGod were manifest. God was :p1:ese11t and. •- -' '·• .. could make his presence significantly lelL ·•:.·- : ·..- , ;-_,;•(;:;:. . The pe~111iarity ~f our'"tirrte is that God is 1l.b.t·:':·;-~-;!~~,;~~j-~-;;··· efficacious~ The presiding view <Jf our age has·-· ; -;:,:rf·· . · been- tP,a.f he i$- dead. ~ietzsche's statement -· ·; :,> .. ·ann~l.l.nCing:this conclusion i~ peculiarly appr~- •· · pr1ate. It should be noted_ that Nietzsche does not affirm an atheism. His statement is that God .· ·.-· · is dead. .This is to say that God is now d~ad, . though _once, presumably, he lived. _Nietzsche believes the. death of. God is the price both .. Judaism and Ch~istianity ·must pay for. their . · piersiste~t freezing of the human spirit, fortheir ·· · hist~1;ical· efforts to ·endose God withiri moral, .. dogmatic, ·ip;d. ritual formu1re. Martin B-t1ber is one who sees the H()lY as the
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.I centre of the human situation, whose view of the ! Holy is essentially_ Hebraic, but whose concern ~ 1 is for the achievement of that human community l. I in which the Holy, beyond creed and catechism, i · may be realized. I do n<Jit t!iink he ~ould ·object .I to being called,. with considerable qualification, a holy fool; ·indeed, the holy fool 'in Western tradition is one nustaken for a.fool, because .the. presence of God is so profmi'ndly i.nternalized· .· · .· .. ·....•.· as to betome one with the life of the body, the . .. ·. intellect, and the spirit. The Phitokalia, the ··.. · . explicit mystic doctrine of the holy fool, is con;. · · cerned with precisely this-.the restructuring .of <: · ·•· ...· .the total personality through the inner presence of · ;.. , · the Holy Spirtt, that thtough'it man's relation to the; world is redefined. . ..,. . . · ·· · ·~What I should like in this briefsfildy ofthe :·life and .contribution of Martin Buber is to con- . . · ·. c~ntrat~ . upon his pursuit of the holy. ··It i~ a .· . pursuit, hotJ.:l reasonable and intuitive, eschewing . mysticism;:· structured out of a· complete . ·awareness of We~tern history and thought. It . . lj seems to me that underlying his doctrine of the . :. \ . F I-Thou is again the PU.~~it of the holy, tqe attempt to illumine its scope, 'rfS reality<;t its l ·t· \/"efficacy in shaping rtian's search for......... true ~-ot:p· II• ............. ..,--.· munity and authen~ic wholen~ss. l " 10
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. Writing . recently with specific reference to illicit metaphysical extrusions in the empirical studies of C. G .. Jurig, Buber comments:
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a doctritle which dea1s with mysteries without knowing the attitude of faith toward mystery is the modern manifestation of gnosis .. Gnosis is .. nbt to be understood as only a historical category, hut as ·~ · universal one. It-and not· atheism, which annihilates God bJcause it must reject hitherto existing images of God-.· is the real antagonist of faith. 1 Gnosis is not merely a specific method of apprehending .G6d. It 'is not a simpl0 Manichreism, though the divine duality of. good and evil has surely recurred. It is morethan any religious or . cultit formulation.· •It is a descriptive category by which the attitude of manbefore the universe niay be indicated, for Gnosis is a view both knowledge andofaction.. It carries·with it more than philosophic consequences, for 'European culture is, at present, .tacitly gnostic. God can, so ·the modern intellect would· have it, he. taken ... priwp.er by the ·mind, rendered helpless by the
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thoroughness of man's despair and at the propitious moment slain without appeal. . One of Dostoevsky's profoundly mysteri~us creations is Kirillov of. The Possessed. H ·is Kirillov who incarnate~ ··one · direc!ion which man's repudiation . of God has taken. in modern history. Man .... stands • constantly before the borders of death.· Kirillov's conviction is that only man's fear of death has tufued hien to God. The sole-function of God is therefore to mitigate man's terror ofdeath .. Yet,qy some inscrutable logic, the present age no lor1ger r(!sts content with a divine vindicaclon·ofdeath, for·it has been ·· nm:nbed to insensitivity:"by death's pervasiveness. Death.has beoome for many an exi~tenclal alternative as appealing and liberating as life itself. Death has. transcended life and seemingly over- · whelmed it. There is nothing to fear, for God's · hold on history has been broken. . The great· threat of destruction and damnation has been overworked. God . has .'wrought' too much violence. ··Man can then destroy God by devising . some means of .overcoming his own fear of. death. K.irillov decides therefore that the .pur~ act of self-destruction; the freely willed and. eon... summated suicide, will break Jhe grip of. God. Each man can become God if he possesses the 12
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courage to will hls own death ... J:n place of God, . whose role rests on his. transc~p.dence · of death, will a:rise the manifold divinities of men who ·achieved God's role through suicide. The ulti.·. . 1!late i!l,eanthg .of life, 'is. k>cated in its destruction~ .· The Absoll.lte is only a protective fl.lSe, which .· each man ca!l drcurrrvent by orie supr~me act.· .. Kirillov commits Dsuicide. He.has:, sphe believes; .. • .. . . . . becoine G.IDd. ·· · ··.· .• God was fashioned, it appears; o~f~f man~s.·.· · · . horror ofa _disea~ed existence.·····Mail's.d;estrll:C:~-~/· clan. of God· is a protest against the ·app#ept\- : failure. of .his .dominion~ What Dost,aev~~y,·:i11 . · .r87o, percdved.through his ch~racter Kir11lol7,·a· ·.··• long· 'line· of ·thinkers .. has. subsequently inter-.· · Iectualized., and .grounded ·m:ore deeply. The ···· · succession froni Nietzsche and Stitner~. Ot:o Heidegger, ·•. S~rtre, and Jung, is.··. an unbroke~ tradition of various but concentrated efforts to co~firtn the death of God and the· bequest of his · · .· ·. •. , .· · _pd~~r to ~ enthroned. and apotheosized ·man~ . . ·· · . · In contrast to. the modetn mood, .da~sic · · philo~ophy was still a'Qle to encounter the deepest 11}ystery with reverence. Its techniques, ·though pre~sposed · to the 'Objectifying detachment of science, were turned to. ultimate reality. . Plato . sought the .eternal harmony without which the · 13
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transiency of the phenomenal world would be · unmitigated · in its·. meaninglessness and fragmentation. Aristotle, although 'purifying' Plato. ofhis unchanging forms, nevertheless acknow-:-. ledges the necessity of~ ·first druse'! unmoyed, yet ordering the sequence of motion, the highe.st . good by' virtue of his· unceasing contemplation .· ··of his own. harmonizing perfectio~..·Ho\vever .. much _lucidity the universe .dfsdos.e
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· that wonder has ceased; and with it the passion ·. to. pursue the ultimate has passed. The mind is · not, unfitted by nature to the pursuit. lt must achieve, however, an order of perception in which not proof, bu·c life, is its motivating interi~ . tion .. By contrasting him with the God of the philosophers, Pascal did hot intend. that the God of Abraham, Isaac; ·and Jacob .should be unintelligible': He e6uld as easily have meant that God could not on(y be intelligible, ·.or yet that· he could neve.r ·be wholly unintelligible. As has ·. been pointed out in Emil Fackenheim's recent study of Schelling's philosophy of religion/ religious truth cannot be tbtally beyond the scope of philosophy, for ultimate· catego1ies must be at least rationally lucid, however C>bscui:e their content. ·If theological formulations are unsusceptible of rational statement, then . all interpretation becomes impossible. .· . ·. . .·.··. Buher's attack is never a direct repudi~tion of · ·philosophy as such. It is rather. a searching explo~ation of its pretensions artd ~goism. .Buber has never actually . examined philosophic doct~~ne for its own1sake. Philosophy has always bee11, for him ari.,.~index of culture. Even in his
i Bclip!e of God, Harper & Br~th~rs. New York."1952, p. 6z •.
t Fackenheim, ·E. L., 'Schelling's Philosophy of Religion', Universi!J of Toronto Quarterly, XXII; pp. 1-17.
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i. ·: study, 'What is Man?' his .critical. distinction between philosophies . that .leave mari a,t home in the world and philosophies which cast Jum adrift, is a· cultural, not a philosophic distinction. It does not allow one to i:scertain 1..he truth of doctrine. Such truth, being contingent upon the acceptance· of philosophy's ·objective·, that is, the· ·achievement of a systematic, consistent, and . . adequate statement of imint.s kn~wledge ()f reality, tis insufficient to Buber's task. The con. cern of Buber's religious philosophy is to in-diCate rath~t where such philosophic investiga-tion fails of the niatk. .Kant .requites God for the moral law, thoughh~ allows him l;mt the most tenuous· existence, contingent as he is to the .necessities ·of moral psychology;·. Hegel ·sees history swept into .the current of an onrushing Absolute, ·carrying with it the reality and spontaneity of man's concreteness. Heidegger, accept.:. ingthe 'death ofGoci',formulates ~new ontology which provides · for the introduction of novel gods; yet such gods, drawnas they are into the .flux of historical time, appear as· adjuncts of individual consciousness, having no · enduriJ?.g status beyond t4e flux of time. · Kant, ~gel, Heidegger are philosophers who variously transgress the precincts ·of the divine. They have . 16. .
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.. absoh.1tized a· fragment of the Absolute, having :made' of. c;:onsciousness, or mind; or being, the,· groltnd ·of knowledge. They have obscured, so\ · . Buber arguc;s, the Holy which is beyond cate:.. \ • gories, which ·exists -only in meeting, never iri i . pure thought. : · • · .· . · The ··pecqliarity ·of modern philosophy which · .. Buber indicates with admirable dire~tness is· the metaphysic~l sta~'s to which cUssati~faction· h~s: · · ;: beenelev~ted.· Where once trum'sfacebeftJreGcjd · ·.·.• / ·. ·.,':·· .. could be described by Rudolf Otto as. that· (W· awe before· the mimen,. it. has. no~ ;.become.: ·• · · < _, anxiety (angst) bef~re the ~holly u!lkti
..i~~:: :::.:.....,_ .PWlo~ophy has employed a revexse ontolo~~~ ' . ·• · .argument.. HaVing ascertained tha:: there i~ no: . . · avenue ·by which God n:uiy be known, it-has-:.con~· ,:.. ·· · eluded· that Go~ ·.• does .. not ·exist~ Previously,: · ·. · .. _. philosophy had ·arg,l;led, until Kant's refutation gained currency, that God's existeilce·could be .· p.ro'Ved from the character of knowledge. This .· ptq~fha~ faded. away, however Jrequent the . ·.... · :attei{ipts to revive it. In its place has .been · ·.•:· e$tablished ·the. utter negation of proof, .the·.· .... irrationality of the very conception .of God, th¢:' .. ·• · · fruiths.sness of all etfort to achieve clarity· of . understanding. In substance, however, the:teisa · deeper sotirce to the repudiation of God.· Wheri · J3 17. ·
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· orice man ascribed the natural order .of life, -the flow of the seasons; the· events of history; and . the consequences of moral· a,ction. to the p1;ovi~ .dence ofGod,.:his'imrriecllate efficacy as a.being· ·.·. was ·• accepted; · \Vith ·. Mie ·'developthent of th~ .. • · natural · sciences and the increasingly technical . character of modernsociety the activity of God is ·. less and less ttrtderstood in its concreteness~ •· As ·more ~nd more. of human life fu withdrawn from ·.•· . . the ptd'virtce of God's •effective concern there :i$' \ · less grouncl on which to base the knowledge o( / · God~ Medieval Hebrew and Christian traditiori · . .. .can readily adduce the existence of God from th.e .: . .· . unexplruned marvels o"f the world.. Knowledge of . .
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God's .· extstence and prov1dence. God 1s today, however; the. truly . Unseen and Unrecognized: ·.. Ptesence; -his created wonders have been wi~~... drawn by science. and ·the bureaucratization of · · .·. t:he· social order from his providential purview.. . . . . .. . . . God no long~r exists for modern philosophy, f6.r J~e no longer acts. That God is dead~ not merely concealed or eclipsed, is the key to the modern rejection of God. For De~th . means the cessation ·of' activity. It is· this~. Gtrod's activity, ~hich is no longer perceiv·ed. 'Buber, on the contrary, having ·affirmed that' God is 18 ..·
never available ·to logical or empirical proof, can maintain the continued, eternal. activity . of God. God has merely been shrouded by man . He has been: ·covered over. . It is for man to I remove the veil. .
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The Bare Bones . It is extremely difficult to imagine the figure of a .·prophet in our society. It is probably true to add that the difficulty of imaginailon d.i:dallows the possibil'lty of his real presence. Indeed, . the · prophetic figure is as much made by the attentive c~edulity of the· .human ·community as by th~ forceful constructions of the prophetic imagina~ tion i.tself. On~ occasionally, a~ sophisticated parties, . playf:/ at imagining how Jeremiah ·ot Jesus would be received in twentj.eth-cenn:try· New York or London. The reaction is usually dismal and the prospects of their survival dim. As. might be expected, Jeremiah is stoned .and Jesus crucified. .. . · Martin Buber is among those rare human beings who are both conscious· of their prophetic role and aware of precisely those conditions in the modern world which contrive to neutrali~e prophecy. Leon Bloy .was . another; Slrtione Weil, · whatever tlJ.e . contortions of her per. sonality, was another .. Where Leon Bloy sounds
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alternately like Amos and Hosea and Sinione Weil a considerably mote strident Book ofLamentations, · Ma~tin . Buber · contains within his work and writing many :tnore and balanced dimen.sions. Buber is .lcons.ciout treat he bccupies a· unique . position iri: our time, pa~ticularly ·in the West. He is ·called by Reinhold' Niebuhr 'perhaps the greatest living- Jewish philosopher'. This state~ ·. ·.• · mentis booh riglft and wrong. Martin B1.1ber is· profoundly Jewish, but he is riot, ~son~ would . ... traditionally understand it~ an: obser:Vant Jew-~ : · ~or is: he a philosopher, . if one: understand~( ' philosophy to be the use of reason as a suffiCient , .tnean:s ··ofarticulating.an .ordered,. coherent, 'and·.··. .dear conception of ·the universe.. He· is· n9tf :in · opinion, the greatest c~ntemporary JewJ~li .. phil~sopher; though. :he is assuredly, to the Christian world:, the greatest Jewish thinke:r. 1 He is, in the spirit of prophetic Judaism, beyond . · Ju~aism, .yet ·~ judge i:n her midst; beyond . :<;:,hristertdotil, . yet .a question to ·.her ·. <;:om- ·· : 'pl~~encies. He is riot angry, though he is occa-. _~ion9_ll}T'. indignant (see his speech on ac<;:epti!lg ·.
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}:i: wouldcountFranz Rosenzweig (x886-19i;) as the, most, profound and authentic Jewish philosopher and , . theologian of mo<:lern times. Cf. N. N. Glatzer, Fri:m:<, . · · Rosenzweig: His Lifi and Thought, Schocken: Bo<)ks. New .· Yotk, 1953. · · ·
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the Goethe prize). . He is a Jewish prophet·. to the Gentiles and a. witness of the holy to the vagrancy of Israel .. Had we been left with but Baruch's scribal recollectior1'.6fthe events and persohalities. that filled ·the life· otJeremi~h, we should have but · .little. •We sho~ld be ~ble to sense, rio ·d.oubt; the · ·· lineaments of the spirit as. tpey left their impress· .. ' . upon history, but little or'the ~piriti@self wou!~;· . have be~n revealed~ It is extremely. diffictrlt to ··imagine the figure of a prophet. in our ·socie~t · · · We may hold, as with Jewish folk tradition,tll.at .·. creation is sustained by thirty-six secret saints-·· ... ·. ·unknown, unpraised; unwitp,essed ·except by ~· · Gocl; howevtr, iti the· matte~ of prophecy· and the pt()phetic attitude, it is the attentive hell~f . . of the human community that. transtmites th~ .· · .· . man ofinsight and grasp into the man of histq_ry,. . . . . •· who. alt~rs by hls insight and transforms by the .: . :firmness of his grasp. We possess considerably ··.more ofBuber than; alas, of Jeremiah :to sustain ..· our historical memory. He hasworked\vith considerably. more discipline·. and •consequent prolixity than Jeretriiah. It is, however, no judgmep.t . upon him that the holy spirit worked, . i11t; the . days of Josiah,. wjth greater sucCinctness . and clarity. We, twerity~two centuries after the holy .
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spirit depart~~ from Israel, ·must -explain· more fully for we address ours~lves to a heart that · hea,rs hut poorly.
' . . : . . . · The life.· of Mar~n · Buber is unusual in the record of twentieth-century Jewry.. His childhood was spent in an age' in whichJewryunder-· went three, rather simultaneous~ developments:. ·. . ·. ,.·(a) the . ris.~ of. s&ular enlightenment, (b) the· re-. . . trenchment of orthodoxy, and (c) the "develop· ment of the Zionist movement. . These move_. . ments should: not be seen as separate, disjunct. strands of Jewish history; So fat ~s Central and Eastern Europea1,1 Jewry was concerned; they were profoundly interrelated. · . · ,,. ..The fundamental challenge, to which the years of Buber's youth were subject, ceritred upon the . · rationalization of secular knowledge. · From the. early part of the ninet~enth century onward, the . tradition of emancipation, formally ·inaugurated · by Napoleon and atterwards confirmed throughout Europe by the impact of the liberal revolts of · . 1848, matured. TheJew for the first time was ~~lowed·. a. modicum of economic, political, and social, padty. . The ·languages of Europe were learned. A movement arose to confine Yiddish and Hebrew to the home artd synagogue and .
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adopt national tqngues as. the language of public· affairs. A Yiddish literature developed which . no longer dwelt exclusively on divine themes, l)ut involved statement orthe histo.dcal and political . destiny of the Jew. ·A J e11vish: historiography and exegesis, prompted by the discoveries of Pro~ . testant exegetes, unfolded a world ofarchreological and philological reconstruction of sacred · text which shattered the classic insbJiation of . Jewish spirituality. In the face of this profound.· , · em.otional·a:nd intellectual· emancipation; ortho~. · dox reaction was severe. All shades of orthodox ..· religious opini<m .ralll~d to f'orrii cipposition.to the threat of intellecttral' secularism, but their task was made· formidable by the fact that they now opposed, not foreign .influence rumoured by· report and. distant testimony, but active and militant spokesmen within the Jewish community for scientific knowledge, n.on-religious studies, and extra-Jewish political activity. . It ·was, as well, the era in which the first tenta"" · .· . tive statement of Zionist aspiration was formtiIa.ted; when sonie few socialist and communitarian factions actually. immigrated to. Palestine.; . ·when theorists and pamphleteers· begap c· to · propagandize the J ew~sh homeland as a necessary · response to the repressive measures thatfollowed 2.4 I
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J had encou,raged. . . 'It was, int<:> this· ·Jewish milieu that . Martin. .·Buber W'as ~otn: in·•February~ 1.878 •.,- .. When· he was but three his. parents were divorced, and young Btiberwent to live"at Lembe~g.i.n GaU¢ia . with his distinguished, gr~ndfather, Salomon · . Buber. SalJ>nion•Btiber was an exemplary pro~ · duct of the. emancipation. . He·. ma!ntatlled. the .• intensity and dedication of Jewish ~cholarshlp; in spite of the increasing alienation of Jewish youth,. •. . the attenuated piety of liberated adults, and ·the· ··· nafruwing. ranatk:i~m of a threatened orthodoxy. . In~ ac:ldition to, being 3: wealthy ~anker and a · leader.in'the Jewish co~rimnity, Salomon Buber ,wa8' one of the most ·b~!lliant and perceptive of . m.odern. editors.of classic .tabbink texts. In his· hoine Bl1ber absorbed the world of Biblical and ': Rabbinic tho~ght and learned the refinements of ·.· ~lassic:Hebre\y., which grandfather wro.te. and , .· spoke: with doql}ence. Presumably in the home. : of hi~ grandfather Buber enjoyed his. all:-too-brief ·. and .tretnbling years of piety.. In his thirt~enth . . . year~h,owever, shortly after his corifirmatio:ti 4lto theJewish religious community, J3ub~r notes in a · letter ye~rs . later, he · ceased · to observe the 185
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., wrapping of the. tejillin.l. He remarks, in the ·same letter, that his grandfather, although an en. lightened Jew, would pray · nevertheless ip .a small~ intimate Hasidic Klaus, using a prayer book · filled with mys_tic direction~ The irAplication of > this letter to Rosenzweig, confirmed many times . by his own utterance, 'is that in these early years.·. of adolescence .he ceased a1lformal ·r~ligious ·,· observances. His reasons for tHis, as for 6th¢! his det'artures from normative Judaism; ar~ . profoundly based, as will be seen later. It is . somewhat questionable to inflate, as he does in his · · .•. ·. correspondence with Rosenzweig on thes~ issti~s, the implicit wisdom a'hd sens~bility of the child. ·. The intuitiv~ decisi~ns of y~uth, though frtll, rich,. and· intense, do not possess the for~ed and· ·... ·textured .subtleties -of mature rationalizatidn; . . ·· It is enough that Buber records that he ceased, _in • ·. -.··this period his formal obedience to Jewish law. It was in these years, under the guidance ofhi,s . . ·. gdndfather, that Buber made 'the discovery of · . · ._ the Hasidim, a pietist movement characterized by inten~e concent:ratibn upon directness of · relation with man, nature, · and · God. Tpe · >
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. .Hasidim, some .of whose. communities. . were . . · . locatedin Sadagor and Czortkow hi Galicia, were · dis~iples of the great Rabbi Israel of Rizhin~ It was in their midst that the Bubers spent many ' . . summer months; and ptoesumably. in their synagogues t_hat Martin Buber prayed as a boy.·· . Shortly after his fourteenth birthday he returned · to the home of his father· in Lemberg; entering a Polish Gy!jlnashiin, and in: the sumrner of 1896 ·· he enrolled in ·the philosophic faculty• at.·the University of Vienna. _·;.\. .These were the years when the resthetic renaissance evoked ·the last passion of the . romantic traditiot'-, wheil Schopen:hauer and . Nietzsche fixed the tone of phil~sophic state- ·. ·. n:ient, when . Stefan George and Hoffmansthal · . were inauguratitig their careet:s, when Rilke was · ·shbrtly -to establish the rhythm of a beauty in . tension witJ:l the divine. It was the era of the lo~t . ·.. . . · coilsciousne~s, drowned in a ·sea of images and · ·..• _.meanings, ·. · subtleties · .and. radiations, · . whose .
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Lettet of Octobet r, 1922, to.F. Rosenzweig,'quoted in Franz Rosenzweig, On jewish Learning, ed., by N. N. Glatzer, Schocken Books. New York, 1955~
source·· nobody knew, whose direction few fathomed~ ··. The dream was characterized by s~arch and longing, the concrete life was one of the~e(lasse, the alienated, the distressed. ·This was particularly .true of the Jewish com.:. munity of Vienna, few of whose members knew·.
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:1 . or cared anything for their so recently discarded Jewish past. Buber, ·in ,these years, was not i I unlike his fellow Jews.. Not the Hasiclim ·of. his youth but the past formed ·of Chri~tian saints .\ . "'. and · spiritual heroes ot:cupied .his att~ntiori-·. ~· Jacob Boehme, Meister Eckhart (Buber · somel' times worked with C-ustav Landauer on the latter's modern rendering of the works of Meister .I . Eckhart), Nicholas ofCusa; '-·! · . .· t.t .·· .·l.. The ehoice of spirittial influences is never . casual. Influences .of this kind are selected (one how). by a kind of pre-rational inclina.·.· ·. i . ···wonders . ·, . '. . . ... .[ · tion; .. Certain kinds pf speculation attract . . and>· ·.· l form· one subtiy, presumablY.: becaus~ one' has. . . \.' .· implicitly 'aslted' t_o be. so formed. · It is note·.1· worthy that Buber was : attracted . by those · · I mystics who sought. to explore the internality, the implicativeness of relations between man and God-.·who, like Boehme, were· · co'nsdous of . divine passion .and concern, · of the . divine fire · ' and ·the creative rol~ of evil arid, like Cusa; struggled for a greater whole, for a binding ·· . community in. which God fornis and encom·.· passes man,. while sustaining. man as an accurate image of divine life~· . • . . . ·~· f What emerges in .the. record of Buber's : academic years is a. revolt· against the complacent .·!
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satisfaction ·of the sciences, against the .. triumph of rel~tivism in 'the social scientific and human:.. istic disciplines. The decisiv(! step in the. direc:. .tiort of. p:l~~rig concrete his vague, although intense, preoccupati~n ""oith Western mystics. and .~osme>logists is his gradual:enttan2e. speculative . .. . . . - ... . . into the Zionist mov<;ment. .··.. ·. .· · . · · · •. ·.· . ..·As Buber noted 01any years later,1 'the. desire .. ·. f6r a Jew1sh st:ife and the idea of Zion were, ~d perhaps ~emain, vastly antithetic... it lS ~he·. . awareness·of their antithesis ~cl its. in1plications. . which w~re to. defin~ both the intensity ~:i his : · sn~ring .in ·the Zionis~ movement and the limits. .which he ·set to his affiliation. The dedicated • .. ·. ". · .·passion. of· Tb:eodbr Herzl, ~uthof' of Th~. Jewish S:t@'e the primary p()liticalJheorist of ~ion ;is·~~ and his experience ofthe First Zionist Con~· gress ·of 1897, J:enewed the vitality of Buber's concern for· the Jewish commupity. and its destiny. Although for many Zionism became the . · cloak of pride, the. instrument of masking· their .. · . ·"a1i~nation and· lack .of roots in ·European soil, . . #= was for Huber tpe .means of .:renewing roots, •. . the: .: ultimate device of. re-establishing, not . sumiering contact, with the European tradition. .
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· .As he has many times ·noted, the tragedy ·of . Zionist theory 1ies less in its having broken with Western. tradition than in its. having broken without fully having comprehende'\ it. Bqber ·. came to Zionism a We~tertfer, but a Westerner.·.· · to whom everything conveyed an ancient .echo. · ·of spontaneity and directness· that 'W::ts, at root~ . Biblical and Hebraic. The sense. of s6il~ nature, . . .. place, the meaning of a shared centre, t~1e struggle for· con,munity and identity-which underlie.s, ·. · although abbreviated and obscured, much Western European national aspiration-·is given · . station in the· Biblical view of the . created.· order.· . . . ·. . . : It was not with misgiving pr reluctance, but .with an entl\usiasm. tha1:· ·did. not ·yet:. reveal · .·.·difference, that Bube:r joined the staff of the ·Zionist periodical Die Wdt in 1901.· It became ... clear, slJ:ortiyafterwards, that his concerns catrkd .···hint farther than the limited political vistas qf the · ·periodi~al would, allow~ He left shortly there-: ::tfter. In .19o4, .·Buber and Chaim ·weizmarin~ ·. later to become the fust President ofthe State of . Israel,. proj-ected iri. Berlin a Zionist monthly, 1 . What they sought was a journal th~t·· De;Jude. . . . . .. .. .
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The. manifesto of Buber ahd Weizmanri is teprQdCJ.ced . iil . et'lorrtiously. 'Valuable source. work~ ·HailS .K6hn; . Martin 13uber: iein rPerkundseine Zeit,. Verlag von Jacob · · Hegner;· Hellerau, 1930, p. 296~ ·· ·.. ··
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..·.·:would. add~ess, :not the. circwnscribed: ~rnbitions ... 6£ the Zionist moverile~t, but the· r~ality ·of the Jew-·his situation, his inwardness and manifest . actuality, .his. past_, and. his. direction. · ,Though .· the · monthly did. 1·Wt .appe~r, its · manifesto,1 · · which lw had·. helped to compose, became for· · him a crucial formulation: It seemed to define · · the motive to accomplish for. himself what he . . was then t:but .exhorting others . to . achieve-a· relocation of Jewish meaning and, by ,~mplica- ··· tion, a reassessment of himself as a: Wester.tier and as aJew. Buber attests, •in his untrat.J.slated · book· .·1\4Y . Wtry. .to Hczsidism, that in. his tWenty-sixth year,· . . . . 1904, he happened to read a; statement of Rabbi: .Israel ben Eliezer ·(r7oo..:.6o), the so'-'named Baal Shem Tov, founde~ of the Hasidic movement, in which the Baal.Shern describes. the intensity arid·· depth of. the .· daily ren~wal expected of each ... Hasid. In this description Buber recognized ·withih himselfpreeisely this quality of intensity and teturn. A.sa. result of this experience a~d its consequences,, Bl,iber retired from his journalistic and engaged for a period of and Zionist. activities . fiv€~ y,ears in dose study of Hasidic texts. The fruit of these years was. a series of works, which .
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constitute a v~ritable history of the .literature of the Hasidic movement. With painstaking atten.:. cion and devotion he succe~ded .hi recoristruc!ing and publishing versions . of the traditions and .teachings of many. of the •-greatest 'mystic$ the , world has ever known~ The impression made upon him by Hasidic . writings we shall cqnsider later; but his return to the public community after his ye~rs of isolation fm;,nd him with renewed grasp and concentration. In 1916 he reasse.rted his interest in ·Zionism, although a 2;ionism now hued with a · more profoundly stated concern with the com.,. munity and the sanctification of the community. Der Jude, whifh he foundedand edited from 1916 to I 92.4, bears the impress of this redefinition. From 192.6 to 1930 he published jointly with. · . . Joseph Wittig, the Catholic . theologian, and · Viktor von Weizsaecker, the Protestant physiCian . and psychotherapist, the journal Die Kreatur, which concerned itself primarily with the application of shared religious insights to social . and. pedagogital problems. In . the interim of .these ·public activitit:s, Buber's philo~ophical and'- religious views,, ~s,. sumed form and redefinition. Daniel, which was published in !913~ ·exhibits · a view which~
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.. ··.··.though it approaches his later concern with the dialogue, is stiU ·held· ptis<:>ner by· the traditional • · sub}echobject dichotomy~ It is, however, :re. · miniscent of the ~merging principles of ext'stettz- · · . · philqsophiei~ t_hat the 1celation of man· to the. ·.'world is. seeri.as 'that of an interaction···of man's .... .! .· 'oriept~tion' to his .· environment and man's ·. . 'reaJization'; thro1.1gh a deepening. of experience . and a fullri.tss ofparticipation, ·of the undisclosed . meaning. of his .environment...•· Tti ·a ·ser1se . this .. I .··· i view is more a consequence of the· iriiti~l stage· . · o£ his :rediscovery of his .Jewishriess ·tiian .· · . .might be re~lized~ .·Much earlier Buber had com~ mented that the task of Zionism was not. to '· restore, life to th~e Jew, for· the \1 Jew, if self~ C()mpi:ehending, . was . life,: .was in effect the .affi.rmatipn ~this e.O.virontnent and the enriching · >< ·. of both self and environment by the intensity of his expe:dence. By 192.3, . when I and. Thou appeared;· the existential emphasis had passed . ·. into •the dialogic, . never to return except as a · .... ~esse:r stage of the dialogic. .. . Outing the twenties Bube:r became acquainted .. · with. perhaps · the :most remarkable Jewish .the~logian and, in my estimation~ one of the .. :··· most· remarkable figures of our tinie, Franz ·. Rosenzweig. Together. they sha1:ed in. forming c 33
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at Frankfurt atn Main a progr~mme of cultural ·and educational activities which, perhaps more . than any other, came close to realizing the 0nly urban religious community the West has known in modern times. Adlong the fruits of their of.. collaboration were a translation· into Getman . c ·.. ·. ·. . . . most of the books of the Hebre)Y Bible, a trartsla- · tion whichhas been hailed as piobably the great- . est since the Luther Bible.· •:As ·· \f'ell;. ·. Buber · joined 'Rosenzweig in the work of the Freies · ]iidisches Lehrhaus (Free .Jewish Academy),. ·founded in 192.0 under Rosenzweig's direction~ 1 . . The Lehrhaus was a unique institution of· open: · seminars on Jewish religious" history, theology, . Bible, Hebre\v language : and literature. . At its height it had an enrolment of I,too st1.1dents; or · • .··.approximately 4 per cent of the entire Jewish •· · population of Frankfurt-·a. remarkable figure if ·.one·. considers •the nature· and seriousness· of its . programme; For a decade after I 92.3 Briber was . professor. of Jewish theology and later history of reli:gions.at the University of Frankfurt am Main. . With the access of Nazi tyranny~ Buber remained in .Germany' tO·. supply spiritual ,lead~r-. .
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ship and utrlty to • the German-Jewish com~ , munity; however, in 19;8, at the age of sixty, he dep,arted for Israel, there to become p~ofessor of social . phil?,sophy at the . Hebrew · University. During the strife that a~companied the .prelude· and consummation of the State of Israel, Huberassumed a position (the natural consequence of his spiritual Zionism) which. ali~nated vast ele-:. ments of the Israeli community. Arguing with Judah ¥agnes, Ernst Simon, and othl-!t:S, ·that the only solution to the Jewish problem was a bi-:national state · in which the Arabs and Jews .· ·should jointly participate ~nd share, he· aroused great bitterness and resentment. It ~itS a posi., · tion~ noble and Olympian, to say 11:heleast, but not designed to realize w:hat appeared to be a motivation earliei: in his .. career-namely, the possibility of actualization. The realities were not on his side, and the ·realities., whatever ·the force .of spirit, di4 not contain sufficien,t possi- · bilities for achieving concord. ..... · At present, honoured on two continents, having visited the United States in 1951 lecturit1g ·. tq, wide audiences, .. and having received the Pewte Prize of the German :Book Tradein ~95 3, Buber is now in semi-retirement in Jerusalem. He is at work completing the translation of the , 35 ,.,;
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Rosenzweig; I.ri 1958, MartinBuber, it is hoped, ~ will celebrate his eightieth birthday; These are the elements, the bare bones. Tlie . . . G events do not mask the liriea>ments of continuity. There is a thread that unites .each stage in the progression-from being a. child in the home of the Jewish enlighte~ment, to concern with Zionism, to the rediscovery of t't1e my~tic centre, to puri:lication of that centre from all admixture of esotericism and distance, . to .di~tlogue, to .renewed participation in the <:ommunity .and pursuit ~f the tQ.le comiriUnltyand the holy deed which would be worthy of a w,orld th~t is seen as ·a divine gift ~nd a human offering.
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': 'Pirst Prir.ciple.; ~· J and Thou . It is not accidental that Martin Huber should choose S¢ren Kierkegaard to . underscore_. the tragic misplacement .• of the Holy in the modern world; A't pre~Isely .the moment in German scholarship when the Kierkegaard · remUssance . . . . . . was at its height 1 Buber published The Question. · '.· . to .the Single One~ 2 The year 1936 was marked as. well by the ·entrenchment of Nazi ·power .. in Germany. As Buber himself noted: 'The book appeared in Germany .in· 1936-·~stonishlngly, .. · . sl.nce it attacks the life..basis of totalitarianism.: 3 . · · · When one sets out to disturb the complacencies .. . of ·the :race, .it is useless. to choose its meanest . · examp~es, for such. do· not height(!n the percep.. ·. · · ., > tion ofits f6lly. · Rather, as does Buber, choose an ••
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Studies and evaluations by such distinguished German ·theologians· and· critics as Przywara; Barth~ Guardini, ·. Dempf, Brunner, Lowith, as well as numerous French · thinkers, ·.had appeared during the· period· from:. I 924. to· · 19~6. See Jean· Wahl, f3.tudet Kierkegaardiennet; Lib~i:dre Vrir..t: Paris, 1949. ' · . . . . .. . 2 In Between Man and Man. London-New York, 1948, pp. 40-8.2, 3 Foreword, idem; P•. :vit., · ..... 1
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idol of the race, one who p~ssesses wisdom and penetration, a:nd depose him-disclose the error .and describe the. consequence it yields. It is well known that Kierkegaard 6 met Regina Olsen in iS 37 and ~was'· shortly thereafter ·affianced. It is equally well known :that some four years later the e~gagemedt was 'termin-ated and. Kierkegaard ·. determined to remain un·.. married and celibate. Were tits tht sufficient . . content> of th.e nar~~tive. it would be retained as a ·rn.inor incident,. unfortu~ate and somewJ:iat sus-·· . .picious~ in an otherwise exemplary career...· . · Kierkegaard . chose, .however, to make his (}ecision of renunciation the emotional- centre of . his llfe and the touchstone of his way t.o Chris- . . tianity .• In ·defining the content of his solitude ·· .. Kkrkegaard is at pains to emphasize that to be · ·'·. · 'a Single ()ne, a solitary man whose contact :with .tf1e. wbrld is . su11.deted, .is paradoXically 'the instrument whereby to embrace the world in its · truth; its fullness; and lts divinity. . .. · The category of the. single one is,. as Kierke~ gaard observes, that 'through whi~h, from the religious standpoint, tiine and history. and tjle. . race must pass'. The. elaborated choice that !bn- : fronts, man is whetherto become a single one,. . or be assimilated to the faceless ~ctow~l'. The · .
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choice is insularity and isolation 'or .anonymity.· It is clear that · the Christian paradox lies for . . lqerkegaard precisely in the acknowledgment . that~ thoug\1 one must become a single one to achieve community··~with 'God, one can never become a perfec~ single one-there are· always unfulfilled stages of . depth and growth which define the ineradicable conditions of his finitude before Goa. Tcf become a single one therefore · is to direct oneself solely to God. The'"'way of affirmation is pursued by the bramble path of ·denial. · 'In .order · to come to love,' writes · Kierkegaard about his renunciatioti' of Regina:, . 'I had to remove the object;'. · Buber begins his constructive reply to Kierke.:.. gaard by ndting what Kierkegaard. had failed to recall: it is. precisely. the Jesus to whom Kierke. gaard makes himself tontempo'raneous who is the spokesman of that double cdmmandment of the Hebrew Bible-to love God with aU one's might and to love . one's ·neighbour as oneself. . Presumably the . enrichment of the single one .does .. not lie in the path of divestment and simplifica- ... · tion but in ·the embrace of manifold relation. Tht single man is bidden to become pivot between , the love of God and the love of man, turning the one in.to the. enrichment of the other and .
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realizing the :t"ullness of the other· as witness to the creative affection of the . One. . 'We are · created along with one another and directed.to a • life with one another. Creatures are placed in my way so that I, their fellow creature, by means of them and with. them find the way to God. A . .· . God reached by their exclusion would not be the . God of all lives in whom all life is fulfilled.' 1 It .is not. diffi,£ult for Buber~to d~monstrate, from tl)is source of convittion, that a reassessand society. . ment ofman's role in the commufl.ity . . . . must follow. If it is true that man's life with others is not a delusion o~ a· diabolic temptation·, it must then share what is c;,onsidered essential to life. · If cfue grants that the Single One is related essentially to God, but· o;n.e acknowledges God as existing in relation to the created manifold, then,. in some sense, every man is bound by the nature .of God to share· with others. Where Kierkegaard wills to polarize· the individual and . the mob, Buber · chooses to view .them both l1nder the regis of a transformlng redefinition. It ·is .true, Buber will admit, that both. the single · man and the mob.· ought to b~ kept apa.rt, but only to the_ extent that th~ single man ·is '~elf~
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deceiving and the crowd is, in fact, a mob with.out humanity. · When the individual and the · mo.l? take their centre in God- and oneaclillowledges God, through the other and inakes his way . to· God through :the· other, then both the single orie resumes his nexus with others and :others< · become transformed through him. : The position which Buber elaborat~d ip The · 'Question Jt.J.the :1ingle One was one developed in . th,e midst of crisis when the Si~gle. e.>n.es of . Europe w~re wrapped in·· despair a~d· the ~oh. , indeed ruled.. It is perhaps oneofthe: fe'Y do~u-::'.. ni~nts of the spirit, . composed in our ·tim~; written with. prop,hetic direction to the h9t:1~\b( crisis. The attitude he assumed~ how~~~£.'.::'· . one· which had come tO maturity before and one ori whi~h it wasinfactbased. ·· ·. •.. . In Dialogue (1.92.9),1 an autobiog~aphic tecol. lection. intended to, explore fu~th:er hi.s phil, osophy of I and Thou, Buber recqunts an inci•dent ·which presumably took place .some time · · . . .· · towards the- end of what might l?e termed 'his . ~j<·years of silence'. 2 As will be recalled~ in 1904
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···• ;1 Diaiogue1 London~New York, 1948, pp. ·1.:_39· •··. · · . · · ~id~m, p; I 3. Bubel; gives no actual date ~o the e'f:peri- . . . • ·.
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Between Man and Man. London-New York, 11948, 5~·
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ence he describes, but one gathers from his reference th;Lt it must have taken place during the period from 19o~p6 the end of theFirst World War.. · ·
.· · .·.· . · · ·
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. · ' ;Buber. retired from public acti~lty·:~6i';k~rsue his . studies of· Hasidic sources~ · Withlli a. period of . .. fiv~ years he published anl1mber of works. ort.th.e ··· Hasidic ·literature as well as on :&:astern and ._, . _-•· Ch.ristiarJ. mysticism. The· \mystic way, as he . rightly ·understood it, involved two alternative . . .. ·. · paths : that of absorption' · of the I . into . the · .. . .· absolute at the sacrifice of selfhood or the draw·.. · ing of the absolute into the seit and •the conse< · ·. quent e\pansion of selfhood. Mysticism, what-_ . ·· ever 'its forms, is consummated by the a.n.tlihila~ 'tion of relation-either the world disappears' into "-..·the One or the One is drawn into the welter of ,·the world to transfigure it. The consequence of •.•.••. either .alternative is; from the .view of the initi· . ·.... ate;' a m..oment of ultimate preoccupatio11. ~ith !:.,. -the; Self and the sacrifice of the wodd a~d ·others. ;•,,]t;:~as .duririg such· a period that the· :following :3: <~xperience occurred: . ·
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.. One after~oon, after a morni~g of 'religious ertthusiasm', I· had .·a visit from an. unknown · young man, without being there spirit. I certainly did. not fail to let. the nieeting. 'be .. friendly, I did not treat him any more remi~sly ·. than aU his contemporaries who were in the. habit of seek.irig me out about this time. of day·
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as an oracle that is ready Jisten to reason. l con,versed attentively· and openly with him-· . . o;tly I omitted to guess the questions which· he did not put. Later, not long after, I learned · from one of his Ji:iends-.· he himself was no longer alive-..the. essential content of .these ·questions; !.learned that he· had come to me not casually, but borne by destiny, not for a . chat bub for a'~ decision. ·He had come· to me,. he had come in this .hour. What do wc.r~expect when we are in despair and yet go to a man? .. Surely a pres~ce by means of which we are . · told that nevertheless there is me~ning~ 1
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. This experience, recounted crisply,~ but with · passion, was apparently :decisive for Buber. It moreover contains a personal,·.· but thoroughly .explicit, statement of the elements which only later appear as principles· in the view of dialogue. Discounting for the moment the ·orily slightly ironic note ofvanity with 'which this recollection . commences.. (for Huber is honest .enough · to acknowledge the. vanity of the oracle), what em,erges is crucial. A human being is brought ·· (hd'.v, . one does noe know, nor does it matter particularly) into one's way or, as. in this case, . · . 1 Di;log~e, London::...New York, 1948, pp. 13 f. 43
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seeks one out... Presumably a man. s~eks a disclosure whether trivial or momentous-.and, quite frequently, which is at the heart of. the tragedy, is so beset that he cannot .flsk directly what his heart knows to ask. He is met by one (whom indeed he has sought) who is possessed . by the consciousness truth, indeed wrapped in truth, who yet, in his self~preoccupation, cannot . ·· .· .1ook out upon his fellow~ . Q;..... · •· Bub~ .has told us .·that it . was a morning of .·.~religious enthusiasm' an:d presumably, on such· mornings, though one inwardly .communicates with truth one has dosed the ear to the echoes of truth that assail it from thf world. Meeting does not occdr. Courtesy and attentiveness perhaps~ butthe opening of oneself, wrapped as one is in 'religious enthusiasm', does not occur. Each meeting, moreover, asks a question which only the meetitig can answer~ The young man did not ask other thari by his presence, and he· cpuld· not be answered other than by a presence given to him.. The dialogue need not be .marked by words or speech, for the address of being, of being present in the moment of meeting, wouJd have sufficed to disclose meahlng and breach'the :wall of despair, · . The young man apparently- co1Ilmitted suicide.
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He· had come to ask that meaning be con:fit:med~ not by argument arid demonstration, but by' the ·. pres;nce of anothet who, having taken his centre in. meaning,~ communicated its activity, power, . and reality.. F~om thls mo1nent (though, irideed, not . from this momeri.t alone) the change -in Bubet's-. views may be datea . . There are th,ose_ critics who see the progression -• . :ftqm the m.fStiC ttl the dialogic as a normafpro~ .. .• gression, a gradual corning· to fruition a11
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most mysterious warning that produce~. a break. - :;f . .. . ·. . with the· past. Granting, with Bergson, 'tl:ie:::.<;' · decisive character of primary intuitions :which:. · define and unde~cut the fund~mental theses. o(~ > creative life, what Buber describes he ackiio~~;·>. ledges to be an. aCt of grace .which was paid for. . with •a life and atoned for by an· urir.elenting: .··.search for the authenticity of mec;:ting~ ........ · .· . ·.It is ~ignificant as well that in this inddent 6ne : ·. rnay date what l discern_ to be the pr.oph¢.ti.c ' concentration of Bubei:'s career. The mystic·i~ · . . ...· satls.lie<;l with the anguish. of a lonely purst.Ut.;. . '· . .the world, though emb~aced· sometimes ·in love, ··· · sometimes in desp~ir; is always, in its Christian .
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·.statement,. a thing sanctified-· by the_ union· to which one may return or to ~hich one may pro-. ceed. The Hasidic visiori.·:(wW~!i we shall discuss ~:·.. later),. . on, w.hich Bt1be~· c1ep.e~ds, is. 6'. conside;ably .. • .. . . . . '.... .. ·.· ~--·. · . ·different. The :World, creat\lres, nature, ari.d the :·~ s1lffe~i1igs of man are embraced precisely: because · ' ·. · in them and with them alone. is God ·disclosed. Th~ .~orld and God are not polarized... The ·,: :;~oi:ld is no simple mirror oftlib diviite nor God ... ·. -. ': ·.Its {m~~proachable perfecti~n-rather, the wodd, •\._ //-for the fact that it is seen as created world, is the . ::,''0:.-hla~fest ~nd enduring presence- of God. ·_ ,·One· · ..,:\.i_QI!.es. Witl1 God ocly through the world and its .. .;_:i~teawres, · and only· in commitment to creation ;,tjl~y th~ wotk of cre~tion. b~ redeemed. What tb~t
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sustained works of universal meaning. written in . . 6ur time. Unlike the works of other religious iP thin~ers, I and Thou is not tied to arr established ·. c1ogmatics (l-lnless indeed the obviously Hebrew and Jewish cast o( his insights constitutes a • ··_theological dogmatics).· Unlik~ .. the writing of ·. <. · ·. Guardini or Maritain, Barth or Brunner, or even · -.-that.· of Franz Rosenz:wdg arid the . late Chief · · Rabbi Kook, Bhber's religious position presupposes no dogmatics. This· is not t() s~y that I and Thou is without presuppositions, premises· · one grants or declines. There are""sine qua non ' without which · one can read little and under~ stand less of this work. . ·_The opening paragraph establishds.a ione·and • _,_~. .. -.' · a mode of access; It is this tone· and mod~ of . access which one must grant.. kis mor~over a . r :_:- .. . · . Ii . . . . _· tc>ne not easily comprehended~ Where. -it is . ! resisted with finality the views· Buber .develops .1 l are successfully resisted.. Where it is successfuily . ~- .· ! · encountered_ a11d._assumed, an initial premise is !. ·granted, from which all follows. .
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, To man the world is twofold, in accordance ~th his twofold attitude. The attitude of man is twofold; in accordance with the twofold nature of the primary 47
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words which he speaks. ·The : preliminary words are not isolated words,· but combined words~ The one primary word is the coml,>ination I-Thou. The· other primary1 word is the . combination l-It; wherein~ without a· change in the primary word, one of the .words He and She can replace It. ·Hence the I of mart is also twofold.· For the I of the primary word · 1-:Thou is a different I from tl:iat o£c1~he primary . word l-It.], -
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Many senses a11.d values are contained· by this self-consciously ambiguous ·language; yet the . . . .· ambiguity neither obscures thought nor distorts fundamentaf darity. ·One may casually discard .· · Buber's mode ·of expression as annoyingly metaphoric or even mystic, but such would be to· miss the point. If we assume that what Buber seeks is a manner of expression which ·cuts beneath the separateness of the world-.the di~ crimination_ of.· subject-knowers. and objectsknown which are presumably required by the · empirical sciences-·his language is eminently precise. The. world is .·not an o!(jectum to .. be seized and reduced to .manipulable form'tllre. .Su,ch may be necessary in disciplines where utility .
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I. cmdThou/f. & T. Clark. London, 1937, p. 3· 48
· an.d application are central or, in speculative· inquiries; where the knowledge derived will be conv;erted by engineers or technicians · into .applicable fprmulre .. (pure mathematics, astro- · .· physics, biochemistry); What Buber concerns himself with is the human consequence of know~ ·ledge-··what does knowledge do to man? How does .man's way ofknowing the world (whet_ller ·.. know:ipg be pufsued through' .science,. or ..art, · . through speculation, or .the passions) affe'ct; :.1#~ ·fundamental· attitude towards th~ .world.? :Th~> · ..
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. which we should 1;lote; What· is really implied· : i<~'-· ' . ·b!' it is the manner in which a man_.· colllpo~ts ': :· '": ;, :;.':~:~~i ·. himself before the world,· how. he stands; fixes . ::-. ,~:.,
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somewhat inaccurate, for what .is ()f moment is ' ·. /.';,1 not how man~ reflecting upon hhnself,. dete.r:-<< · · · · inines lrl~ vie; of the world; but.how man,. in the\· .· wholeness of his being, piaces hirnselfbefote,th~·~:-·- . . world~. Similarly, the world is not specified. or' · -linV.ted-·'it is rhe whole world in its panoply and' . •.• - ·.. '. dis~ay, the world that· is usually-' perceived, :_, · · experienced, ·Iov~d, manipulated, and destroyed. . . Buber, in this statement an ontologist~ wishes to. D ·
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find man and.reurtite hlm:to the world. He seeks to Ii:>cate ·man !is he:·is Jii ,his. wholeness, prior to the ¢oriient'·when each ,11.1ari. puts on his pr~vate mask and depart~ ~s-s:ip'ar~te way.rin the process ofdeficing~ itl)e¢oro~s tlear that Buber must · pass al()ng ~: via:'-#egatipa. (r~ininiscent of the ..•·• ·.•.mystic) :prepa,t:atory.'>_ev~cuacl.on ···.of conscious·. · ...·· ness)' deny~g:tlje c6nve1J.ti()nal·"!lnd~rstancling of .. · _·activity, e*perience, knowing. ~li slfth descrip~ . · tfv'e ~~rmtserve only to de~cribe the constari.t ·. .,; : -conversion. of the world into the. realm of . ,, ·< :,)gpject~jthe pervasive It. What .the wodd of It, · · ';;f':\·_:\vb.et]1ef·J.1rimanized transiently as He or· She, . ~· . ,.ili-\r.oi~e~ ~s a fundamental usitig of the world, a .······•····.. ·.·.· .:.•. ··•··.·-.P. . . . . . . ·. : ·\:' i)ifa,iriing of the· world, a· manipulation .of the .· ':;:··wotld~: .·The. w~rld .surrenders itself :as -a·· slave· ·: ~·, befqte.)~s pot~nt master. The irony which Bubet · · isi:~(paiils to.·emphasize is that the. slave.·i~Lin ·.¢ffettthe nl.ister and the master the ultimate slave ··:··· -_;_{or·th~ _nian whO seizes the world, experiences . ft, acts upon it, turns it fo his uses, wirts from it onlyits si:q:>erfidal.secrets-.·its .lnner meaning is · never disclosed nor revealed. The world will not surrender its truth to violence, but only to the . . . .. . .· . . e .. asking. in which Thou is spoken. . · · . ··..... ·. The world is formedout of myriad •lines t>f relation, objects are surrounded, human beings ·. 50.
.. are enmeshed in multiple dependencies and ~itua~ t!ons. When one wishes to single out an object, give,it special love and affection, draw it forth. .· ... · from the wr.tlter of its involvement, one cannot ·. ·:·· command it forth ..·. One must address it differently(whethef it be the lov~ which one shows an . animal, so · bea11;tifully., clescribed · in Huber's Dialogue, . or an inanimate object, say a precwus . . porcelain . ~r Eskimo whale-bone mask, with ..which one stands in intiinate relation). The 'Thou . is spoken only in meeting. The Thou, let us be .. dear, is· not. a -state .(which can be frozen and· preserved); it is not a synonym for Love (the. Provens:al troubad0urs and romantic poets have no place here, for the Thou is not a:· grammatical device for expressing love, though itis true that· the Thou cannot be. spoken where there is .no . love); the Thou is hot a spok~n word {in the . sense in which words are uttered and exchanged . . ., ·· in normal discoursei for, althol1gh ·the Thou is . . · spoken, it may be spoken without sound and, if · . · . ;spoken only with sound, a true Thou ha.s not · · been spoken, for only with the whole being can a 111an address his Thou). The Thou is spoken . . .· . . · · ou~over being and, as such, serves to draw being together. It arises only in relation~ ·• As the _I of ·. man is formed through taking a stand· in the. ~
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Thou of another, the world oflt wanes and the Thou emergesever mo.re dearly. Buber makes quite clear the an~logy of lllOVement in the speaking_ of Thou to th~ activity of .· grace. Grace, a term constricted and frayed ~by. · · theological .usage, describes spontaneity and undetermined choice. The I not only encounters i l' its :fhou but is discovered hy it. Recall the · ma!lner in which Buber has d~scribt!d his conversion-'He had come to me, he had come in . . . . . this hour'-.and n,ote that the Thou is not fore'- ·•· · ordained or prescribed~ It.· comes and passes, addresses and is gone, discovers and vanishes. . Each nlari,. each single 'I, ~comes before · the . . . . . .. moment 111 which the Thou ts present and encounters . it in.. a .• t;ofold. manner: .·he either ignot~s the challenge of grace and the Thou dissolves into an object of time and space, or the I . is. filled arid transformed, relation is. achieved, and the !-Thou, the nexus !-Thou, is realized. As Huber comments;/'all real living is meeting', so . the Thou both forms the. I and enables it to address the world (as grace) and .the I speaks to the Tliou (as meedng). ·It is not .difficult to ~ee the consequenGCs which Buber will derive frbm · . ,.. ·: ·.· this fundamental insight-the W:otld of freedom, · ·. , ;: · destiny, gtace . are affirmed_. Freedom, for no · · Q,
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·Thou is spoken in coercion; destiny,for freedom_ faces an open future in which time and space -vanish before the Thou. · Buber is-y:1ofantast, . .. . ' nor is I and ThQu a· useless mystique~··· It is. a useJess mystique if one chooses tO view the world under the continuing hege- . . mony. of tired distinction:s. As Buber ass~sses tll(! sitUation of man (and it shotil~ not h
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of hu111:an life are devised to . effect distinct~~J The iffithediate consequence .ofBubet's ·l:an~; .; '~~ " · . version 1 is a ·revised understanding .6£,. th~: ': -. > •.· religious life.·· !fit is true that love is ~responsi-· ·,· i bility of an I for a Thou', 2 that the young ma~ • who came to him by 'destiny in the forenoon wa~ . • .. · to be met and the Thou was to .be spoken, then . injleed religi~n which- withdraws m~n from the · stteam of life falsifies" the truth.of life. If the end. · of religion is to teach mari. the right way to · 1
Op. Cit., pp. I 3 et
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· conduct· hims¢if b~fpre God,then surely the right way is. one \vhith iestores man to the flow of life, .rather than removing him:.(rom it. The.atti~ude . of I and Thou is, if anything, anti-myst4k. Though the popular mind · often confuses the difficult · and. slightly lyrical w!th the mystic st~nce, it is .· .···· · 'the . ·impatience of the ·popular·· mind that is at fauJ_t,~. Unfortunately life does· not speak easily, however simple its ultimat~ trut~s mat be ..·What · ':'..·. Buber•derives from his conversion is explored ·.···.·.: ·. · · · £1-irther. in the final section of I and Thou. If all :·tru~ rel~tionis ultimately that of an I to its Thou; >)nd the lhnita:tion of tiine and insight and human ·. ~delltyand the recalcitrance oHfinitude consbtntly /' (Qtce. the r. Thdu to beconie, in turn, l-It, then, ·:" ::,--: . : indeed; the perfect Thou would be that being !·;:;~·:·;i1;t. ·. which, pi~ dejinens, could. not become It; Bubel: ·>~< -t;(i is tiot..satisfi,ed \vith a merely formal, a posterior.i,. ·.e-. ·• : c16fihlti6~ oE'God's 11ature; God is not; by extra. · . :p6latiort, the. ThoU. who ca~ot become it (it is .·. · ~neweakness, I fear, in·the.ffiethod of I and Thou 1 1f it is true < tha~ God ~ppears last and pot first). .
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i I am ca~tious in this c:ritidsm because ,I am awat:e of_· the ohservatio_n 6f the greatest.ofpU:re methodologiSts, Aristotle (P hJ'Sics, Book I, p. 1 84a~ : We iriU:st proce~d ~m that which is clearer and more accessible to us. to ·wh~t is clearer in nature; nevertheless,· by admitting this, it. is no less true that what is clearer in nature may be prior :in the ~'
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eternaL Thou is He who can never be.:. · . L .. . . ~otne It; understanding of God'~ attributes . · :·/ be~omes considerablv cleater. God is the un·. , . . con:ditione~~.this i~ billy to say that God is self- . identical. · Since' (Jod cannot become It, no thing limits him~ Ifru.1y !nan c?uld persevere forever .iri the speaking of Thou, such a man ,would be . ··. (Jod; but such· cannot be, for man cannot :.y;oid ·. the constYictin~ limitations . of his situation. · Man cannot· banish the It; he can seek only to ·. transform it. This isthe religious passion, 'not to disregard everything but to see everything in the Thou, not to .renounce the world but to it on its true basis'.·. · · ·. ' establish . The Thou is the Holy and· is ~described .by Buber.predsely in the terms of the Holy.· 'God ....,.:. is the "wholly Other"; but He ~lso ·the wholly ·· _,.: ·Same, the wholly ··Present. ·Of course· He •is the ·· ·. M.J$te~ium Tremendum that ~ppears and overthrows; but H:e is also the mystery of the self- . ¢vident,. nearer to me than my I.' The· Hoiy, . as Rudolf Otto interpreted its character~ consists ·. of the contrasting .elements of Tremendum and that
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ot!@er of being to what we immediately comprehend. Al-. · · though God, the eternal 'Thou, pre-exists the Thou spoken in finitude, only through the discovery of the Thou of finitude may one discover· the never-ending eternal Thou.
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Fascinosans, the .awesome . and terrifying ·set,.. .off . . by the magnificence and· appeal of God.·. (}od ·repels and draws close. This is the Holy deffu~d; ·the eternal Thou which, by the fact t~at He does not succumb to our efforts at''manipti.lation in the days of our falling aw.ay, both .. terrifies us and " . draws us near. Both moments_ expre~s the tot~li,ty of the Holy; and the Thotds described by .nothl~g accurately if not- by the€Holyf fo:r Holy · is the term which will not sub111it tcdimiting. · construction. The Holy; as the Thou, surpasses . the effort to cottciin it;. and ,yet,· mysteriously~ ' though it eludes·. us, is paradoxically, at every moment, close at hand. u . .. It is the binding up of man. and:the eternal Thou 'which makes possible the. re<;:onstruction of ·the world. · Man .cannot bind God to the ploughshare of history nor can God force m~ to .. be his Thou-.both must be companions and helpers. Gog: .is as near . his creatures as his . creatures will allow, but he withdraws at precisely the mo¢ent whe11 · man, in his thirst to · hold fast to God, seeks to tie him to liturgical continuity. Buber submits the cultic de:finitio.Q., the location .of God in terrest~ial p:r · tempo~al worship, to severe .criticism. Such criticism of institutional. religion is inevitable, given his vi~w, s6 .
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fqr any attempt to force man's cliscovery of the · . .Jh<>il into a fitted and .unyielding mould distorts· t"he }:hou.' ·The Jioly will. be contained. It . 'will e~ter Qach dayl but each day it .must be sought anew~ . It. will present itself in every . . nwrnent but onlyi~ ili.e givenness of the hour and the novelty'of each moment are introduced hlto · ~ts greeting~ Th~righ man seeks the assuran~ of God's .· pe1~everlnce; :continuity, and abiding the . uruformity' ' it is precise1y ofth~: nat)Jre etetnal· Thou to be ever /new~ In stat@g the ' formula 6£ the process~theologians., l}uber .cC>in7f, ,· niehts ~-· 'there is· a becoming of the. Gocl :that:'fs?~ . . Wh~t is ·meant by God's. ·answer to--:M:~s·es' ·....
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his name: . Eljyeh asher ehyeh-P . 'J:'h~··:•- ?'(,;>:,. .··. 'thonrlst'formulation 2 is patently a rniscons~~~c~ :· .,P_;~:~t!' tion of the Biblical text· and a falsification of the ·... ·.:.•. ~.:\t~l Hebrew spirit-not I Am Who Am, but 'He t:;:::: 3 · • -~-' .· Who. Is Here' . . ' or 'He Who Will De Prese1lt'~ . . . . ·.. ·. This is to s~y that the eternal Thou is He Who · · · .. . Will Be Present each moment that His presence is sought.. God unfolds according to his nature_, and this unfolding is what confirms meatl,ing in ;
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J, I and Thou, p. 82. . . · . 4111Gilson, E., God and Philosophy, Yale U.¢versity Press. New Haven, 1941, · .
Cf. Moses, p. H· Also Israel and the World, 'The Faith · of Judaism', p. 53; Prophetic F(lith, pp. 28...:9• 3
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life. It is th~t- which sanctifies the 'speaking of .·Thou, which conyerts it from. an isol~ted ·statement ofperson.il dlscov~ry into a speaking which is cons~quential for all of cr~atic>:n. F,r • The woild of It is augmented in each age,.the techniques of mariipulation and perversion are ~attired and perfected, violence becomes subtler, ·th~1~eapons of distortion ate fashiohed more brillhmtly...· The Holy is screent:d oflj and what light h sheds is filtered endlessly until but the · · · . · . 111erest stream i1himiiiates the darkn~ss'. In those .· • ages, however, · where the greatest distortion occurs there frequently~ emerges the greatest re.;. discovery ·.of . the Thou. ·Alt precis~ly those . moments. wh~n the. world of It accumulates and . the WordofGod seems most remote: and in:.. ··effective; th~ ~orld halts: and regains its breath. , The world_ is constarttly·ca.rried··forward t().;an .. ·. abyss a,11d in the hou:r when it would d~stroy itselt 11: cbnfrorits itsdfanew and thereby reper·Ceives the Thou;· Jrt such moments there is . .·renewal and a .reversal mart's way. 'But the · · event that from the' side. of'the world is called is called frotn God's side .salvation.' ·1 .. reversal .. ·. . ·.·.:.· ..: .. . .
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Buber's use· of the idea.of man's 'reversal' or ~tutm:t.g 'is an adaptation and redefirtition cl the Hebrew .word for ' 'repentance' .(t'shu\Tah) which means, quite literally~ both' a turning away from evil and a turning. God. ·
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Buber addressed .·.a gathe~ing of .some: twenty students,. at whiCh I wa$ preserit, in the spring of... . ·. I952.· He,,was ·asked by one if he considered himself 'a Jewish theologian'. His response was .· that he did not consider· himself a theologian, but · ·. a religious thinker. He did not, moreover, regard · himself .as a Jewish religious thinker,. if one meant by such thatihis position as a Jew required his support of normative Judaism add his opposi. tion. to what traditionally worild be deemed nonJe~ish traditions~ . He considered himself; if I remember his answercorrettly, to .be ·a Hebrew thinker. By this presumably he meant one whose fundamental sources of insight were more closely · akin to · that of Hebrew Scripture than to any . other, but that, by virtue of the implicit uni"versality and breadth of Hebrew insight, he felt close to all others who manifest its · essential tilt!Pth;_,...whate:Ver the 'limitations which they im- . · pose upon its authentic and total disclosure. Buber is an exegete, not ·a critic of the Bible, 59 .
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His task is not that of .imposing upon the Bible · the· superior enlighteriment of a detached and uncommitted intellect,. hut of exposing the ipner. unlike the ··· spirit of the Bible.· .The exegete;w .. crjtic, is essentially one wh.o .acknowledges that God. communicates hill).self in the Bible and . believes that, by pl;cing himself open to his w<1~.d,, one may enter into the unending dialogue of God and nian. · The. critic, o!i. the 6ther hand,. is frequently .one. who, by. default .of faith, em':" . ploys the. Bible fls: art extension of _bis own .· scepticism. . If one considers carefully the translation of the Hebrew Bible made by St Je§:ome, or the commentaries of:. Rashi or Ibn ·Ezra, the great . .medieval Jewish exegetes; one becomes aware that the text of the Bible. is first and foremost holy. The holiness of the Bible is not .confused· · by the e:regete with the illusion. of self-evidence or lit(!ral clarity. · .Theological. presupposition car.ries with it the awareness that God js ·not ·• limited by his utteranc~; that each phrase of Scripture conceals· more than it discloses. The function. of the exegete is to draw out of Scrip- ' ture the reality whis:h its "words only. parti£>y . expose.·· The·. critic faces, ·however, a different · task. . His fungamental assumption is ·that the · 6o
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. text ;he Bible is reliable, that · it~ lang'Uage is ; frequently opaque and uirin':" ·.tdligibl~· (as itis), that it does not conform in · sali¢nt det~ls:_to tl:ir· observations of philology; hist6ry;. and· ar¢hreological finding.· The task qf the critic is, therefore, to ~eparate the authentic . · froin the in~mt:heriti<:, to distinguish between the histori~ally . viable, and .unacceptable, and. in . :ord6:i: ultiliiate1)1 to.·· save the.· text,. to .emerid its ~ language so as •. to achieve conformance?with ··caP:pils ofdarky and logical order.· The critic; ·. ··. ·wl:l~iever .the ·character of his personalieligious: .•.· · .. ·. (jd~viction.., • to· .the .Biblical·· text .as . ·· natpr.alistic redacior~ He elevates natural. in-...•. . <· · cfe.tJ11lity into a principle of pro~cedure. .The . · · •· .· B!bl~ does :not challenge him .or .address· -him..;>.. ·. it' i~· rather a problem~ Such. procedure is.· '.im- . ·.. possible .for . the exegete. The exeg~te begiJ:l::s •. · • . by asking for nieaniilg and, in the search for . ., ' ·meaning, inevitably raises. the same . questions · ·· · ~s · those . of scholarship. The fundamental . · .· difference between the exegete and the critic .is .. the attitude of being with which the question is . as1red. ..,The· e:x:egete presupposes .that meaning is of prior importance to that of textual authenticity. Questions of fact succeed judgm~nts of faith. 6x
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·• · · 1edgment of· need-·.it is rather that being is _ ·· This does· not: r.en,d~f-~~h~- prbcechi~es bf the inadequately· expressed unless it is capable ·of ·. .. · exegete. scientifically tt!lsound-.·one has only to saying Thou. ··it might -be asked why such· a . recogri.ize that Ibn Ezr~ and Da~id Kimhi were .· •.. ·. ·. ··. ·.· ...· : . :. < . requirement.t is exact~d·of him who -is capable of·· ' ~aising. rather: fundamental g_uestioni about the .. ,·- .. · . . · . .·. ~ · all things-whose 'l' may, as in the theological '3 ·· . language and structure of the Bible at a time in history .when the practice of 'Higher .Criticism'. mechanics of Aristotle, ·cal~ itself Thou without ·_: would·. have brought "charges _of heresy (indeed,. necessity of creation. Essential to Buber's view i.ti th~ case ofSpinoza, some timeJater, similar . of Biblical reality is .the .conviction that God is ~c·· ..· . . . . •··'· . . . . . . . . . questions carried much furthef' resu~ed in ex- . .fulfilled in'•othet:hess, irithe irreducible, uniq~~ · --··-F""''" . comnl.unication);. · The. : difference is that •: Ibn • arid underivative person·of man. God entersthe. ·Ezra and Klmhi begiri. with the conviction ..that .· ., ·-···world through man. Ask further if you will, and , Buber· ri:mst, as one among those trapped in the . . / . .Gqd' :addresses them. Their task is not to a~ say > .·-magiC circle··of faith, acknowledge that no proof ;~;' <:_:..· the authentiCity of the address, but ·merely to ,· can be spoken further. This is the uriderived ~~f.[;?}~~~/",'~;~~ess its me~tiing. . _ . •-.- t . •• . .. _ . · __ ·· .. __ ··. ... ·· ·; ··· · ·Martin Buoer is an exegete in the. sense under.: ·· · mystery to which the Bible amply testifies ..· ···:. · -... , stood. T)lere can be little question that iri .th~ ·· ;Jewish history (and it is Jewish history, ·Bubet ·_. · period .when he arid Franz Rosenzw~ig · <;om.believes, ·which manifests_ most. ·perfeCtly the· .. mericed their monumental tratislatio~ of the .•· entrance of God into the historicalorder) is a . ..•.· -Bible .irtto . German . issues of Biblical resear~h · . · . .. record of creation, revelation, and redemption . . ···. . . . . . . .,;.· ·· .·..· w¢te. ~harply focused; · . · .· ·· _ .•- - · . .. ever-presaged, always .occurring~. and interniin--. ·. ,_·!'. -·.· '13ubet .-· conceived the Bible ~s the·. meeting- : · • ably repeated. . . The distinction .which. Buber draws between: . place of God and m~n. ·• GOd is the eternall in . . .. r the history of Israel and the emergence of Chris. ·_._· quest of a Thou to whom he can speak, and man . _ . ·. is the T who cait.return to God the address of . ··.· < ··~ .. tiapity is the core of what is perhaps his most pro. f«.nd . work of Biblical study: Two Types of ·. Thou.· The creation out ofloV:e, J~ng a· dGctr~£ ,_ ··_ of classic theblogy, is ·here differently defined; . ·t · · Faith. Here Buber explores the theological -.• difference of Judaism and Christianity. Judaism Love is not rendered l~ss perfect ·by the acknow· •. ',·62 63 .. J
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is formed .out of a faith (emunab) art ap!earing: .· : that nfan is ·c~Ued· Thou by God (revelaup.rl) ;.· and the enclq.rillg trust that when all creation and concealing God,. who enters ·history at · · sp~~}rs forth ·Thoil_the Messiani~ age will dawn · critical junctures and : withdraws; . leaving the ·.• ·. ( rt:demp1:foc~ .· consequences of His .entty 1;.0 man's ,Jlecisio~. It· · is faith which binds Israel to the moment of . · ]3,uber's: _co!lside~~?le •a~ection for the person and teaching -of J ~sus has been a source of .con- . revelation, and only through the binding its person to that moment (the covenant) is there\.. . . . ~ternatiq.ti to the)e\llish commW).ity and delight .· to: Christians who see in er's appreciation of · .. . de111ptioil antidpated and the created order raised ·(. . J up to God. It is. the ·task of lsrael ·to sanctify· J~sus .a md~ficaYio!l o{class .. ·Jewish obdur~~ . Both con$ternatio11: and delig are unwarranted creation. Buber believes, as Abraham Heschel ~u)..d. beside the point. :. Both w ess less to any has brilliantly noted, . that 'sirt; though . not · .clear \W.der&tanding of the po ition involved · · . original, is universal', that creation falls through . th~n to the hardened pride of bot .communities. . man and is raised up by man. The· metaphysical ·. · :· .. split .in creation~ ·the final rapture from God ' c Co~temporary •. Jewish·. ·• theology Buber: and · ·· . Franz: Rosenzweig in particulat . . re 110 .less · <· .::< (which only an apocalyptic redemption can :restore) is denied. Since the relation of God and · man in Biblical' language is a constant dialogue of ·love and judgment, praise and blame, joy and ·. affirmation that 'from .·my. youth onwa.t ~- I.have .J .· · sorrow-·at each moment creation· is broken and . ., . . . . .. :. . . . -. . 1 healed. It is man who has the task of rendering .· . . found in Jesus my great brother' at·· ts .only ··" to God the sanctification of creation. In .the · '- ' · . to the co11:sistency of.J;3uber's position d his moment of sanctification there is bound up the . unquaijiied honesty.· 'The Jesus, Jn.who Buber .•...· · finds companionship,. is he whom .Bube · con~ · . initial speaking of .God to ·the Thou of man (creation); the continual historical reaffirmatipn siders the .inheritor of tfe prophetic tradi n of ·"->r·.> '~fire suffermg servanty. ' 1 See the essays 'TheFaithof Judaism' and 'The Two .; In The, Prophetic. Faith Buber fiotes that Fqci of the Jewish Soul', Kampf um Israel, Schocken; I 933, i
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· . qqalities are 'manifest in tie. figure . ing servant' elaborated in. Deutetti~Isaiah: first, . . . { ' ~he futile labour~ of -~h .prophet, he who s~ri~es ... 1n.· secret; who· 1s bu ·thea·arrow rhat remains . . . . .... ·... .. : secreted in :the ·. quiv r of God, readied·· for· the . momenf of ·withdra\val•and use; second, the . active bea#ng affliction, the transformation of ·. the win to suffer for the sake ofGod into actual .,.,.r·r-c··· ·. ·. · •·. · · · · r. .... ·. : · . . . · . . . ·· . · /· ~- . <s~ffermg; and, .thiid, . 'the work h6rn out of .· afflittion', ·the. 'consun:lmat~d achl~vement·of a· . . new ~ovena~t hetweeri. the peoples of the earth .:.~L .\~' aP:d 'God; .1/hese three stages are not necessarily_ .· ~:~;~L. ·
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Israel'l! Buber. <xmsiders Jesus as h~wing seen the · :task of prophetic dialogue in the redefinition and ·. vitalization of the relation of individual and community,,and the, community and God. The .· .· unsanctified is not abandoned, past history is .riot cut off from the future, .the evil is. not shut away from the transforming moment of redemp. tion. Jesus :sees himself,· if one can trust the ·primary s.position .. Even the efforts ·. of medieval .• Jewish theology to· articulate a
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dogmatics possess a rather peculiar . . . inconsistency and incoherence..· Maimonides' · articles of faith are non.,.implicative·a~d yield to ••. no rational formulation. Each ' .. article lJ; known to be true, not through the assent and submission of the mind, but through the witness .of history. Emunah. (faith) is an acknowledgment of t~e .. conduct life of the com-. ,. of God in the historical ·. :rp._u:niiy. Maimonidean principh;s a~.$ at best verba-l extrapolations of the- lived experience of · history: the superiority of Mosaic prophecy, the redemptive power of God, the coming of the · · Messiah are all· Biblical,. formed out of the continuing encounter of God and Israel within the historical order. Paul turns the living witness of the community to the life ~nd death of J esllls, however irrational, into an object of propositional statement. In his address to the citizens of Athens, whatever his conviction of the 'folly' of· Christian faith, Paulmo9uhtes its irrationality .into an · argument ·.that .·may . be described as essentially 'logical dr noetic'. 1 Nolonger faith, ·: . . but assent to propositional sta'tement (pis tis) emerges as characteristic ·of Christian professiop.. · · Unlike Jesus, Paul will •speak Of·. J ew.s ~: . Greeks, but never irt connection with the specific • 1 Two Type$ of Faith, p. 172.. . . : 68
which they are m~mbers. The old co~tttll,ty ·perishes and clisappears and the newly,-f9U.il.qe~,~ommunity is all that demands .attenti~:>ri/·~:tbe str\cf senSe the mobilizing conception ofJeJ.rls.~faith, 'the kingdom of priests' (that,is; kqhanim; those who serve God direcdy) · and 'a holy ~ation~ (that is, a nation consecrated · . 1 . . ' ..· :to9pd a~ its ruler arid''Lord) disappears and're~ . . emerges ia ~cumenical . dream of Chr.fsti~!l.;; ;w#;~--·'"·"" unity which is nevertheless. con~ummated tnde~. penoently .of the national and civil life of pio~ ·. fe$.shtg Christians. Individuals) not indhddtia!s ~s.. as~cts .~f'the larger corporate com~unity, b~~ ·'; coih~··chrisdans, bblt the community as such does< · · •> .· not,~~ess any longer to divine truth~ . . . ' ;,_::,~i.: .:<:~;/:, '; .·Th•.,:·fi· ,.d· 1 b ·h f J. d ... - · : ..;,,;..y,.a·-·'·····.,,......,.i,· .·.·.·• .~> un amenta reac o u atsm;.iii,"~><'.:':,·(;;!:~. christiap.ity; . however •dlversifiet;l, the- 'in1pli~~~···. :•.,:,<~':·~bJ .... tions Of the way of cmunah and p{rti.r,, h~~· .been·: .j\'~t defuled· by'Bube~ in an address whlth h.~-gayeat .·.·.···.··.. . . .. . . ...... ···. StUttgart; m. 1930, before a gathering offour · · · Germanl~guage missi<:>ns to th:eJews~ In this . address, ~The Two Fo~i o£ the.Jewish Soul? .he •.. ·' co.ntended ·that·the ess~ntial Jewish position. con:-· sists of two. conc~ntric: circles : ·the belief that,
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though God' is who.lly . reach, he is yet i~·;im~ediate face~to-face rela.., tion with him ana'the beliefthat, though God's ·redeeming'pbwet.,is at work fttalltim€s and with.. ·.·' 0\lt StitceaSe, fulfliled redemption eXists. nowhere: · :;· .The apocalyptic fo~mqlation .of Pauline Chris......... :tiariity, ·'Which ... stands···in: contrast to. prophetic eschatology, hqlds · a .view· ..of time . essentially e . . . . · ~""';,t.~ ~IJ;anian in origin. · Whereas. propltetic ~chatology ,.. ·.'. . . promises ·the end oftime as a con~uminati
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· · · . · th.e final sanctification.. The apQcalyptic ·se~s; the ..... workof.the end of days.as the great.refin~#l~nt of creaiiort, the dispatth of its dt~ss ..... .. ... ·,.of .the. .metal . . ·.. .... ·•. . of evil and the preservation ofits adrn.jxed Kbod. : <.In the apocalyPtiC yiew, eVil i~ urtredeenlable; . whereas, itt the prophetiC, the evil is· always tb be .·.· .... tescued.and.transformed~ · In·suin, whereas ·the· · • p~opheti~ view allows toGoifthe consurnmat.ipn .·..·of his . created order ah.d the reafuation.. ofi~ .. ·hldden perfection~ the· apodlypti~ .sees .the:. ·created order as cut off from the.!l~w world arid. .
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·abandbtied by God. In the context of the Chris.:. ..·. tian experience history moves in. l.iriear ··pro- . · · gression · to 'an unalterable immovable ·future even:t' ·(then Christological . reading of Hebrew . scripture) through cycles of time iach of which does its work and yields to the next.. The Jewish, on the contrary, anticipates redemption 'fot the 1 As Buber observes in . sake of .those who . turn'. . . · .his discus3ion Bf the Book of Jonah: thou~h . Jonah would have Nineveh damned because. of · her unrelenting evil, Ninev~h repents and God grants that her destiny be reopened. 'Those who , turn co-operate in the redemption of the world.' ·. It has been objected to Buber by some Christian· .theologians· that ·his view is ·arrant activism, in which grace no longer functions or· obtains. Butis grace the o11ly·lileans that.man possesses of authenticating the mystery of Gbd? Is the de.:. pendence upon unme1::ited grace the sole instru- · •• 1Ilent by whichtnan.testifies to his insufficiency? As was remarked earlier, it is not that God needs man, through some incompleteness in ]?.is nature, .· · but rather that God desires that the redemption to, be wrought be achieved with man's com~laisan:ce. God wills to have need of man, for the sake ofman and for the sake ·6f God's dia~
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logue with ~an. The. role of manin ptiparing• . the redemption of creation is carried on througp. concealment-each man assesses his own heart and readies it . for the moment whe:U @Qncealment .·l shall give way to open historical statement. The · moment of preparation lies in man's relation.. ship to God and in ~he power of atonement in an unatoned world. The former involves the . L .~-. -9ecla~ation of God's presence ih direY'.:t relation . II··__.· . II' . ~~'1he flesh of creation, without the m~diation l .· ofan incarnate form, and the latter the unbroken work of history which turns GOnstantly towards ... •!!···· . ··.!\. 1 fulfilment and decision. "•\
homil(J is theJanguage of dialogu~, whereby the person. ofQ-qdis intimately addressed; the Law, the record of dialogue, by means of which God's path is. cb_art~dthrqugh-the concrete.· Wherever Law. is conc6ived. as an immediate acknowledg:ment of.th~ pow~r of God, Law lives andpartici-:- · pates in di~logu~. · Wherever Law is eternalized, as if theword of is formed abstractly, apart .frotrt the -'Situation which evokes it, the ~aw is ,... ~ seen ~s ~ ·defence .against the Holy rather than .. as ap,opening to it. . .·· . . . .. . }4aitin Buber has, throughout hiS. life, sought. ··. . tli~::,.}loly ·within the concrete. ·. The ·hi$to!y of ·•· · .· · . J~~ish religio11 has been the: record of struggle~ . , . t() pt(!SerVe .the concrete against the'incursions of . "}\~·
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The primary . concern. of . Judaism is the fashioning of a way for the Holy amicl the con. crete. The •two dimensl~ns in which Judaism defines itself, that of history and Torah, form a. dialectic which has never been interrupted. History presented the. challenge of immediacy,; to which Judaism responds wit\1 the spontaneous answer preserved in both the Bible and . the homiletic literature of rabbinic Judaism. It also responds with the way. of 'Law'. 2 ~he :'
Buber quotes Talmud Berakhot, p. 38. 2 One of the misfortunes, to which the Rabbinic literatur.e testifies abundantly, was the traruilation of the Bible 1
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.These terms are convention~lly translated as . a .rendering of the Greek 'nomos' and the Latin ' . . ·. 'L~~\ 'Halakhah', however, means 'the way' or, better · sti11,, 'th,e path which man follows'. 'Torah' includes con~ siderably more than· 'Halakhal:i'. 'Torah' hot <;mly charts. · man's ~ay through creation.(halakhah) but contains the· · lt~gend by which. that way is to be followed. ·.As such~ 'Torah, means 'teaching' !n all'its facets.: The legalism which has·been unfortunately imputed·to Jewish doctrine. ,~esults Jroiir the harmld>s inadequacy of the Greek Ian- .. guage, the apologetic passion of the ·Gospels, and· the . wanton over:.:simplification of . twenty centuries of · Christian conu:n.entators. · .
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· fixity and enc;ustati<m~ :~n4·th.~press1lre of} social · . up]leaval and •catasfrdphe .to insulate .· and · :: :.;~~ien:gthen the community .against .the threat of . : . ;::···,~he. concrete. ·.:By .. the hite .~ev~nteem.th-century ... :.~/ii';<):~llgious spontaneity had well-nigh disappeared. ·· . .
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~~~;!~4e0~=~:~o::':r~t:,a<¢~;;i;;;in~;·· . . ·. . · [,~>:;;~¢pAration of speculation. :frani the.·· study of· t · · · · · · · .· ;;<; ~ i.Maitnonides was produced in an ~frort to ·.:;;;:::_··: .cty$tallize the · principles of Law through the . ;:: ·.•Y ..• introd;u~tion of rational procedure a~cl tl1,eo~ .· . . .logicaL system, the studies the Talrnl.ldic .· e .. . . . · · ···.centres .·of. seventeenth- and eighteenth;;;ceniury · Poland had· devitali~ed the . concrete and ·;_~"Vis• ·. 'cerated. ratiort~J prot<~dure of the speculative .. prdblerns which .mad~ its.: method ·. mea~ingful. . · What· remained was a highly aristocratic? caspisti.c, and arcane study of 'legal precedent .an~. · implication. Legislation was defined for a world . which no longer existed and whi~h, it was 74 c':"·c·;y
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· realize4, might exist again only in the: Days· of Messiah. There is a touching innocence, both admirable in piety and self-delusive, in .the passion with whiclt scholars concerned. them- ·· . selves with the study of the methods and laws of sacrifice to be restored in the Messianic age . ·This is the theology of the concrete. (even where Judaism is most incomprehensible it is always the worlduof COi~cretion .that concerns it) t~rned .on its ·. head-for the concrete that · Jewish . scholasticism pursued was one cut off from the grandeur and misery of the human situation that surrounded it. · Meaningfui life .within the· concrete is always .hard to sustain.· It occurs infrequerlHy in human history and perishes rapidly. Man .pushes too· quickly beyond what is given to him in search of £nalities and · ultimate resolutions. He returns with his precious parcel of. abstraction to dis- . .cover that the· wo~ld ·for which he· has prepared. his thought has vahished. Living within the . . ·. . concrete is rarely achieved through the trans·. mission of communicable teaching or doctrine. It is learned, to the extent that it can be learned,. ~~ir~m ·other human beings who, by the gesture and form of their relation to immediacy, .communicate directly. 75
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"" The commUnity of Hasidim, 'those wrw·keep faith .with the covenant',1 . was founded in the . early. eighteenth century by Rabbi Israel·. ben Eliezer of Mezbizh (called tpe Baal ..~hem "l'ov, .· 170o-6o). The Baal. Shem Tov, Master of the Good Name, was not a ;teacher in any ordinary sense. Unlike St Francis; theintimacies of whose "life and teaching are organized and preserved by . . . .. . ·.. ..._St Bonaventura, Baal Shem has ~eft 0!1ly legend .. upon legend to recall his life. Although numerous pamphlets and voh1mes purporting to retell the authentic words that the Baal Shem spoke are preserved, each is. shot through with the inaccuracy of imaginative enthusiasm. 'r.his, too, is characteristic. -o{"Hasidim-·a tradition which has little use for the recorded wor<:l or the artfully recollected story.2
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Ha,siq.ism is not a teaching, but ~ manner of · community . ·U.hlike most religious teaching, that of· St ,f#nt.~s: or. the Buddha, which press for- · . ward: to cbm.mtr!uty .~tnd life, Hasidisin proceeds ·• by the rey~rse path. Theology and teaching follow upqp. life, follow it, moreover, in its hour of di~Integration. · In its moment of asser- . tiort, Hasidism· proceeds by the way of oral instr:uctioria~ld exil!mple, rathe:r.than by the.~eans of wtitten and argued doc:tri11e. . ~ The 'J3aal Shem, for· upon him alone have~ ~e room 1:~ · concentrate, is the founder,·. :Bober ,. affirr.ri$,.•.of. the greatest religious movementin: 'the· history ofthe .spirit'.1 · It is _particularly .just. that.H~sidism should have emergedjin the tnost ·. · wmliitti?~~ hour · of trial· which .Judaism. had._... .· :)~~5·,·i;\;, known-sirice ·the days of the 'dispersion. ...•. :.~.:~1 . Jud~ism .is an eschatological· faith. ·:Wh~tev.e:r··.. ~/: :._·;~ the :efforts of:modern-"day Jewish. schblarstc.i··. ':,' cohyert Jud~isrri into a practical, adjustab.l*; . .·· •I)· • and fundamentally . boring ' affair of the spirit~ ' .
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'The Early Masters', Tales of the Hasidim, Vol. I, p. 2; Schocken Books, I 94 7. 2 A fault which obtains in most of Buber's reconstruction of the Hasidic tradition. One is troubled by Buber's consCious effort to make the stories he preserves resthetic~ <;ally appealing and coherent; whereas itis preCisely the ejaculatory directness of hasidic teaching which carries much of its power.. This fault is partially acknowledged and corrected in the Taids of the Hasidim, which he plt.e.pared sonie forty years after most of his earlier writing Ol'lll· Hasidism had been completed. See also the forthcoming· study of Hasidism by Gershom Schoeleni, in which the historical perspective proru.ises to exceed the theological.
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'!n a centuq whi~h was, apart from this, not very pro:.. d~ctive; religiously.. obscure Polish and Ukrainian Jewry prO,c!riced the grea~est phenomenon we know in the his- ·· torY, qf the. spirit; something which is grea,ter than any. 1
;.-,Htary geruusin art or iri:'the world of thought, a society which lives by its faith'. 'The Beginnings of Hasidism', Hasidism, Philosophical Library, 1948; Mamre, Melbourne , University Press; 1946, p. 4;
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Judaism is most profoundly hedelf whep: she is . turned, through.histoty, to, the future. Eschatology is.· ilways. dangerotis,..·however; . When . history stl:ffers' its <:tuellest ~gonies, ,eschatology risks becoming apocalyp#c, and the yawning. ·. abyss apocalypse releases inevitably the ;,:::: · . ·demons· of gnostic temptation. ·:;i·•.. :, . . :The sevent~enth. century witnessed 6ne ofthe· ~· /,:,;. .· , m,ost.,extreme and violent perse~utiorM; of Je"o/ry . .·~: :':::: ; . which the West had kn6wri; In I 648 the Cossack: ,,_,/\~: hit~fut Bogdan Chriri~initki h~d led a peasant
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the Jewisl1. . townsfolk, ~ho were frequently employed . as stew::trds ·for the landed ·aristotnl:cy~ ·It has ·b.een .·•. . .•. •· . es#inated ·that_ 1oo,ooo Jews·· perished bet.ween . · ... I64s arid 1658.1 The Jewish· commuriity )YilS \ ·.rent and devastated~ Such disaster could not but •· ·.·_· :beviewed~s the suffering.which::tcco~panies.the · .·.· adve~t of the Messiah.: .· .· .. · . ··. .· .· . . .. •• . - .· ..A people passionate for salvation are rarely : patient; . The wise prepare their S()uls and consult . . . .
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Consult the magnificent f.tovd of Isaac J?ashevi. Singer, Satan in Gorayj Th~No6ndayPress,'·i955Joq)er haps the most. profo:und _recreation of~he· apoca~yptic. atmosphere that formed in the. wake 6( this disaster. · 1
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the Ps~Jter to. still their anguish, but the activists are willing at such junctures to take profound and· dangerous risks . Sahbatai £Zevi (tp2.5-76) 1 was apparently a . · .quite tindistingl,lished person-neither a scholar nor a mystic of particular stature. Through the. accident of association (his fame is to be credited. rather to his considerably more bf'Uliantdisciple, Nathan ol? Gaz<£), Sabbatai Zevi emerged~.from the psychotic obscurity to which he would have been fated to the ·self-proclamation of his Messiahship in 1666 and his subsequent apostasy to Islam. in 1667. 2 The catastrophe of Sabbatianism follows ~in the wake not of Sabbatai's · enunciation of his messianic mission, bt1.t of his . conversion,. with thousands: of followers, -,.to Islam. The problem of Sefardic 3 .arid ·Galidan Gershom Schoelem, Major Trends in]ewish Mysticism, Schocken Books,. New York, 1946; Thames and Hudson, London, 19.55, for his exhaustive treatment of Sabbadan theology. · · . 2 'Sabbatianism and Mystical Heresy,' idem, pp. z·sG.1
324. 3 Sefardl.c Jewry was that portion of the European Jewish population which was dispersed throughout Southern Europe .following the expulsion of the Jewish c£ommunity ()f Spain froti'i. I 391 ·to 1498. Many thousands of these Jews were crypto-Jews (Marranos) who out~· . wardly observed the forms of Christian worship but secretly maintained their Jewish religious life.
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Jewry, which were deeply impres~ed wU;h ·Sab~_ .batian doctrine, : was ·.the double problem of. Redemption . and the reconciliation of such re,.. demption with what was spparentJy the"consummate evil of apostasy. The spirit in Jewish life, to which Hasidism provided a response, was produced by the Sabbatian conviction that only by the dragging of life beyond the pale of law and continuity into a nether wtrld of consummated evil would the regimen which sustains an unredeemed world be ended ... The paradox of Sabbatianism was that . it believed that by corrupting the order of the world arid distorting its processes redemption would be .achieved and the Messiah legitimated. In a peculiar sense the rise of antinomian heresy was intended as a confirmation that the Messiah had come, that the old world had ended, and the world beyond law had·been realized. Though the Baal Shem was intimately aware of Sabbatianism, he did not form his world i,n apologetic answer to its challenge. It was his uniqueness that he-undertook to repair thewor~d by accepting it. In the difference between ,.an attitude of passive acceptart'ce and that which the , Baal Shem adopted lies the great accomplish.ment of :f-Iasidism.
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·The ~B.tst.··and."roremost principle of Hasidic teaching,. Buber believes, is the concept of a life offetvOM1,: andexalted joy.· It is indubitable that I I all gteat r~:Jgions. iiave . as their objecti~e the achiev:eflient· ~f . a joy ; which transcends the palpable ·suffering which the experience of ·the. world .• abun.dantly supplies. . Some traditions a~eve this·jC>y bytraiffing man to surpa~~ the limiting idi1nerisibt:is of terrestrial enjoyment, to. •· pass :out of this earth and flesh into the ~o~ld of · .~ .i . coritempl.a.tion. . ·Stich·. traditiOns-··.assetiC: ··~nd .· rn<:>n~stk. Christianity ·and Hinayana BUdd,hisri1 . are. e~arnf'les-.supply a ,discipline whereby the ..· .... ' ' .reality oflife .is' pe-rfected only by the seiZUl:e' in . .., ·.. th~ spirit of ~·world unseen qr a world 2~me. :. .· . _,.. :.~:. ., ...·. Hasid.i~"m: had ·such choke .. Contemplation. in .:~:*~,.. .t"• · the Weste~n . or:Eas.tern.~¢nse.would hav6 ·4e.::;:d~{J:%J:~~~~.~ stroyed .··Judaism •. .:The anchor:· of Jewish -life ~::;. :}i/!'j'Z~i . ·. . ·: ·:.·· ·.-' ·.. ::· ·_,.. _: .. :·. :. '·· . . .. . . '· ·.· .. · ·. . . : . . ·. ·..... :· ·\.. _.,.i!~'~:..;~';-~~=--:··.:~--~·r 1:esided . iri. ·the·,m~sse::? ·.of.· poor·· and .'despairing_ ~'·~ Jews :Who were either to be·reassured or allowed · .to perish. The failure of Sabbatianisrri and the .. ·.·.· . .·en1:ra!lce:of Messianic hope into the daily stream ,, · . .· . 6£;1if~ d.i.dnot destroy such hope, but served. only ....··. to.r~directat1:ention to the world as it was and is. ~he Messianic hope was revived. Though each . Jew continued to antic:ipate his ultimate redemp:.. j;.ion, he began once again to prepare the work (>f . ·.·._.:>_,
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redelilption. ·. Jnstead .of forcing ~edemptlon (as .' the Sabbatians had. dorte). or demanding {)f God .that he act at rrian' s ·blcidiri.g, _Hasidism ·sought to restore the balance of life •.~The enel of H~siclic . · · prayei: and life was to do the work of redemption .·:~to de) all· with· such joy; dedlcation, darity ·of.· ' · · · ···intention:, and holy purpose asto raise up tit1le · . . :.to eternity and bring. earth an.d·Jieaven cl<)ser~ . . . :·:it has been and remains}he. task of .I~rael to r~~.: . ·. unite the Divine Pi:ese~ce (which, according 1X) ' Jewish belief, wanders throughout the 'Exile · of the World) arid the· I:Ioly Ohe,.· t() .tetrirn e fragments ·of creation tq~':tb.eir :unlty··and
i)eg~it-y~ · ~ .... <'.·: · <.~.: ·. ·... ·. . . · ... ·:rt~; . ' If is remarkable that a trac:Utioh, . such
and the ?ther asa dedication to his affecting little book, Ten Rungs: . For thereis no rung of being on which we . ' cannot find the holiness of God everyw'here aO:d at all times ..· . .·.
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. Hasid.ism,. should . find . in a .·twentieth:-ceiltiiry .·· thinker such pass~onate espousaL )tet it is !iot .· . ' 'surprili{lg if one is clear ' about the primary •., . , · . -direction .Of Buber's tho11ght; ·. ··, . . .. ·· ··.: .. There a:ie two passages :which Buber has written, ohein the introduction to The Legend of ·· .· ·· the Baa/Shem: · · .. · The legend is the myth ofT and Thou,ofthe ·_. · · calkr and the called, tfie · finite. which enter~ into the infinite and the infinite ;hich has .· .· need of the finite. c
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The first· passagewas written in . 1907, and thepassage ofdedication was written in 1947;. In the intervening peridd the position which Buber developed ln land Thou had beenformally elabor~ · ated; yet there is an unbreakable continuity, the character of which we should observe more closely. · The legends of the Baal Shem are called myth. Buber here, as in other areas, enjoyshis accesses of romantic exaggeration. He .polarizes myth, which .bursts ~ut of life~· with . He . . . . the .'Law\·· . observes that Judaism, in its attempt tO define and fix the eternal lines of man's passage through time, struggles to suppress myth. · He . exaggerates, no doubt, the historical and theological · ·.. opposition of Ha!akhah, the definitions of Oral Law, andAggada,.thehomiletic anctfolk exegesis .· · ·of ~cripture; Beneath his unnecessarily rhapsodic language is the conviction that the power which ·. . life possesses to fashion its own meaning and supply its. own sustenance cannot be suppressed. 83 .
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Life struggles to surpass and fulfiUts limj..tations, . to transform. the given from factum brutum into factum ineffabile. Legend projects beyond ordet and returns to it. The given-is n6h~os. given, bt~.t is, in the wake of· transformation, now welcomed, no longer opposed. The Hasidic genius.· lay in the ability to fashion .. .· a co~munlty in which creatio!l was raised up,· was 'inffuitized' by th~ fa¢t of nb longer viewing it under the judgmeri.tof rejectionand_separation; · The finite entered the ·infinite by affirming the portion which it shares with divinity. Creation is divine . if it be.. considered such. In sum, the Hasidic vision ·anticipates the uni- . verse of I :and Thou .arid .implies its essential · character. The Hasidic world~ which, alas, survives only in books and its .few degenerated.· communities, was a world in which the I ·and Thou . was spoken. The holiness . of. God, according to Hasidism, was wherever man chose. to find it and open hlmseif to its greeting. The on work of Martin Buber is but a .commentary . this conviction~ .
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·The thqught of Martitl. Bubet is divided rather clearly into three 1!1ajor •. areas of concentration: : . -•·· : .. ···, ·. the- primttry p1:6blem of being (J and r:~~~. Dialogue, Dahiel, The Question of the Single :o~c); · , the literature of Biblica~, Hasidic, ~d Je\vjsh .... exegesis,. which historically exemplifie~: his iri~ .· ·.· . ·. · 1>ig~t into the problem of being (MoseS,:'Th~ · ·.. . ,. Prop~etic Faith,. T~c Lege~dof the Baal Shem, The. ·. · . ~.)'-~ .· Tdfe.;r.:ofR,~bbi }Jqcman, For the Sake of Hea~en~· . .:.•.... ·. .Tivo Types 6j Faith)· ·.and his efforts to iiiake~~t~';i j
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In· a recent,.essay, · (tkeolo$.j Tt?dtry,]uly}955~ yql. }{:II, ~~·.2, pp. zo6~r5), ·. J . Ronald. Gtegor Srruth proposes a div1s1on of Buher's . . ! . work a~cordi~g to whathe ¢on<,:eives to be its pdm~rY, ~.'. ;~J;J:1phases. sr:uth.ttilfortunately,lbeliev~, I?isc~n~ttues : . ... .: ·. : Suber's ·• affectionate comments on Chdstlaruty to _1mply 1 . ~ ,; . some subtle of crypto..:Christian commitment•. This . ' .. . :· •is not quite accurate, as we have tried to show. Smith.Is ,,:-1·· ' p~o.fo.un~l~.. rig·.h.t in his cr~ticisms.of~uch theo!o. gicalmi.s- . .· · ·. appropr1at10!i.arid paroch1alapplicatmn of many of:Buber' s ·· · furtdarriehtal,iijsights. I prefer the separatio~ of areas I . .. .·.. \ .. · ·.
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Buber's thought pursues the joini,ng- of principle and event, tho?ght and life. His work would pe incomplete had we. but the speculative - writings alone; Th~ writin&s on Jttd~sm ·and _ .the •Bible a~e _inten:?ed _- t9 bear wiirte~s to the • _historical reality of thelartd Tho4,_Hie function- -·.i!lg_ presetice ·()f cli~lbgue in the gtceat religious . ·: ' .. ttiOVe!Jlents of .rnankirtd.. Tlie lif~ ofdialogue .• is·_. :n.ot, h6weve.t; .exhausteq by t:h~ r~c&rd of its .. . , ~. · --·~ · ·past tri~rnph~ · ancl :··dci(~~ts. _;If,--_ indeed, -the dialogue qf God" ~d ttian d9es .riot ~nd, but -• . ·unfolds -~ontinuously;as. eaCh: m.ari ~sks.- ~tid is . ··.
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····-·.:su~er turns'·in thatsignificant:.hody ofhls~wiork. whichtakes up theis~ues'ofthe.·d~y. . .. ."' ; . •· e.. .·.. ..· Before entering)lpOn extended discussion . . .·. . -· . : . . . . .·.. . ... " ofthis literature,-it would be w~ll to recall a · . theme whi~I~ ha~ recul:ie
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have_ proposed to his betatis~ 1· fe~l it should n~t be limited to pdmadly religious emphases, hU:t should turn . oh the problem of man's being in general. ·
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life prP.isses to the union of community and the ··Holy. The joi-ning. of community, informed by the Holy" a-9:d _the Holy, completed by the mirror. 6f e:on:in:mil!lty,• i~ normally called 'sacrame.titaFexiste11ce'. -· · · ·. , _ · In a brillidnt ~ssay which many critics have not suffiCiently. considered, 'Symbolical and· Sacra:mental Existetice in Judaism? the sym~ol is seen as the. emergence of meaning, .the mani' . festation and statement of meaning within the order of human existence. The sacrament is, howeyer; 'the binding of meaning to body', th~t ._ · is, the petf{)rmance 'of an act which seals the symbol into the meaning of life and, implicitly, renders. life Jess meaningful (or meaningless) if the sacrament is dissolved. In its indi:Vidual statement a. sacrament is the binding 1n friendship, in marriage,· in brotherhood-wherein the. covenant of the Absolute arid the concrete is
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· Sacramental-Existence in Judaism,' ·.. . Hasidism, op. cit;, Mamrc; op. dt., pp. r,z9~58~ 121:....48. Christian theologians are chary of this essay, no doubt because-it employs one of the mostcharged of theological . terms, 'sacrament'' to mean something which is not so ·.- fr;::ely understood. Paul Tillich is, of course, very close to · . i• Ht,1ber in his 'tfi.inking on the relation of symbolic and sacrament3.lexistence, but Buber is one of the first Jewish ·thinkers to elaborate the meaning of sacrament in Jewish life. . · ·
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·. ·i·" .'consu~ted secretly'. The public covep.ant is, ·l· .. however, the sacraffi.~ritalllnion of the Holy and the community. · 1: The problem of the religious community is t .r the selection and incorporation of the Holy . into the order of its .existence. The sacrament is not merely symboliC · appropriation, . but real . .· .·. \ appr~priation. 1 The sacrament is neither limited ·. •· It by lit~~gical expressi<:>n nor fixed···by tHe artifici~l .. f
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gestated the divtne and. filled . '\Ji71th Hts · presence, it is .11ot penetrated by the Holy until it has been retriev~d from its:. ·. neutrality . by. the . e .· . . ...... . . community. 1Jle crisis ofmodern culture is that it leaves more and more ofthe world beyond the . reach of sacramental transformation. .The crisis .is, in effect, the increasing disjunction of the H()ly_, · and the C
'Introduction'>I;~acl and Palestine,.· East and West·.·
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to. artic{Ilate ihe bases from which sacramental e:x1,stence ... may be· reaffirmed and the Holy reclaimed. In.' the.flandbook oo h~s lectures on logic, Kant · added to.the three. questions which he posed to philos(:)p~y · in . the Critique .of Pure Reason a ·.. fourth: Whatis Man? Inan attempt-to formulate ·. .. · the,:prohlem and limn the dir~ction of J. reaJ -. answer, Buber ~wrote, in 1938, a long study, . ·'What Is. Man,?' The essay pursues its critical .a ·. co'llrs~ brilliantly;·. successiyely examining .the . sy~1:ems 'of thoti:ghf which· have emerged in·. the . · h.f'$t~ry of W~stern philosophy. Although the ..... .an~ly~is• .is_f~r toqinvolyed and its subtleti~s tOO:.··.·· . : ....,.. . . .. ·.' .· . '·. . l . . .......:.; .. · ... t:dihed to be reco:untc;d here,it is well to indica
·. .·~~~.,;;i~~:!e;~';~~ez':fg:... is s~n·~~·~\'fj}>;''' 9bjecdvy_probie.tn in which~ the concrete thinking .. ··•· to: recognize that. h~ is pot only the......ril~.. ',f~ils: .. : . : ... · . . . . . .·· . . obj~ct,. but :.the .subject -of. thought~ Man is a .. thing among the things· .C>f nature· (Aristotle):; . ,~. m..a~ is the fix<::c1.:cifv1a1ng line betwee~ spirituaT ,· . .· · •· . a:nd · .· physical-11ature .·.(Aquinas); •· man· is · the .. cr~aturethrough whom God's love for himself is · . . marJ.e · ma,njfest (Spinoza); man is tendered . 'U,tteriy alone by the awareness of his · 'infinite · srp.allness' iil relation to an infinitely large ~d · ,_
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· -·unfathomable universe (Pascal); . man,1 but a · · 'tnoment•·iJ;I. a moving dialectic of history, is. the -. principle in which universal reason achieves self. consciousness· and· completion (H~gel); by ·.a . ..sociological reduction of the Hegelian)rriage dC · · . the uni\rets~, ·the whole of man'S. wotJd is litnited . to his society (Miuix); is the central, prdb- ._. . . •. .··iem~~c being-irithylitrl~¢rse,~nd;:asproblematic,· .· ~is: fif~l.'for:¥ -~a:\{~o/7£einent~:' is stm unfixed.· ..· F. .and :urid;~termined ·:.·(N1etzs~he);' man 'is . the ' creature, the ' ~ssentiality of . whose eXisteO:~e, . . ·.· ·• · :however 'he Jive ~ith others, i~: tC> be ~lori~ -..
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;,,{~~~~~~J!~e~:~:tl~~i:~b~. himself intact from its : ni.vagi!lg • de.m.a1lds.· :'ln. eithe~. cas~, whether it be philo~ sophie c6ne~tivi5m or philosophic irtdiv'idua1ism, · . . the questions· o£ J?hilosophical antlirof>ology · · whlth Bhber poses are not answered; It is as a · philosophic anthropologist that Buber's ge1;1ius is ·realized-·for I and Thou is not a syst~m .of . . . . . .v . -. ·.. ·: ._.: . _.. ·...• ·.·• thought or a metaphystc. · Although ·dist:ln-" guished students of :Suber's thought see 1n -his . work answers to primary epistemologic~f ~nd 90
metaphvsicaJ questions, his .serious coptribution · ·....·.·. does hot. lie here. Buber is not a philosopher, but an anthropologist.• The skein of myth which he casts .qv~r the fame of reality. is no less indiqi- ·. tive for being myth. As in all great myth, its power ~es in its successful. pointing_· to realities that are n.ot,properly n~med~ · Buber is only too aware thafwhenonenames his Thou it van~shes . God doest':not 'Wish to be named nor does the ···_.beloved, bur· fellow creatures. When w.e ~ prize them in the relation·of speech, love passes acrqss the bond of words, as lightning might ·. · •dance along .a wire suspended in space.. Where ·the speaking :fu:es the spiritin words, the speaking .destroys~ · _, · . . B1,1ber's anthropology is ofa specific .nature;. It is a bqdyofinsight whicJ:iparadoxically cannot .· . be formulated. .. ·. It s-erves him . as an .. instrument of criticism, .for with it he·. ~an cut through arid isolate the distortions of man in the views of others~. but,_ constructively, his insight can serve us orily by its indirection.· Su~h indirection does not reduce it to ambiguity, for its application _cap. be indicated and· described. Like Socrates •in the Protagorai, the . fundamental issue is whether· the principles .can 'be taught and com.municated, .whether one can fashion a gerietation .
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• con;urmnaljoining to meet a specific lite eXIgcL.·.,_,, .for\vha\ binds 1,11en together is not programl!latic' . '•agree11}etlt, ·.but· th~ transference from.' one 'to . · ·.· aP.oth~r o§. •. ··~.· vit~l· portion ·of his nature-. '\Vhe~her one ca11 it, love or. sympathy. or respect or trust.: Jn case, what' passe.s betWeen man . : and ~ahjc)i.tls themover and above the occasion .. : that br()U.ght them. together. ,. The occasion .of . . . '. . : '.. . . ·.!> .111eeting ts ~mt~jdy them both-it is fortuitous · . and cl1ance i hut: whe.p. meeting. transpires, the ,J .occasion.' i~ ibri.ger · chap.ce., but an ~ven.t. :,of des.tiny. What occurs. bet~een tV-an and.rp.an does · . 1 · not-; transpire over neutral ground, but. d~a:ws
At the ~lose of 'What Is ·M~n?' Bubtr assesses the prospects of his constructive anthropology. Between the extremes of individualist and col:, lectivist ideologies th~re is a third way. In,. di~idualism, Buber. cdntends; ·conceives of ni.an· in hisi! partiality. ;· whereas .collectivism can see : man only as a part. Neither e'ncom}>asses the @; whole of man. In the former man is reduced to his being in· solitude, .an4 in the latter mati. is assimilated to society.· The consequence of man's cosmic and social homelessness and his resultant ·· of···. the . universe has. . produced both . ex-.· dread . . . . . .. . . tremes~the retreat' iJJ,to solitilde and the willing surrender of c~eative p~we:r to the :hithority of.. · . ..• 'C\· ··.··. the collective mind .. Both distort man's nature~ 1 of God's instruc;tion to M~ses the at1;gel;s : . . ·'·· 'The fundamental fact ofhuman existence is man with man.' 1 Neither .·man secreted within . :<······ ··. . . .·...... -:vords to Joshua that they remove t~eir sand~ls7- . :.~ himself, rio:r man assimilated to the group, but ·1. ~n the/~oment ";hen_ Go~ and m:m\speak, -w~at rather the relation of man to.man completes the. :> . · . 1s betWeen them 1s drawn mto theu conversatmn / ·~ri.d:is hallowed.by:,it,••-:o; :/. · · ..... · ... · ·· .· · · ··..· ·. . . picture ofhls nature. Both extremes, which ·. Buber. rejects;· giye distorted glimpses of the ·. · 'the ·«;>pje,c#oti _tb this 'formulation of man with · .......·. final truth, but both, py the extremity of th~ir · m,~P.,is·.-i?ticipated, perhap~ ·~nsatisfac orily, b~t .· angle of vision, result in cutting off from t) ) ~tici:pated nevetthe'iess.· ·rt. would. ap .ear that.· man. · Man with man is not defined by his simple ·· l ....·. . . a:ri.'t addresses and calls into being its rThou .in . 1 f . ~orne terra sancta that is . neither s:u.bjec 've·.P.O!, : . 'What Is Mah ?',Between Man and Manj op. cit., p. io3. '' 1. . ... ' . . . .. . 93 . 92.
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be grasped i11: the pro-.· ··spe~tive~,vision of man. As a prophetic figure .··.· ·-Buber ca~s himself in the role of one who holds ' up the min:or of ·m~n's self.:.cllstortion to his self.· congratulation and the image· of man's perfec- . . tion· to the reality of man's. d.esp~ir. ·In either role he can but ask ·man to trust the possibility of the way the .narrow ridge holds open. In the end, .after'man has spoken. all that he. can speak, God will answer at last. In the meantime man must set himself to his ·task. In thi~tasktherearetwo conGtete ~venues····; of realization,: (a) the formation of new c~m- '•.·· •. munity, and (b) the education . ofman. . In the (~losing ~hapter of Paths --in Utopia . Buber expands >the closing . chapter 'What Is . Ma~ ?' Though it is writtert ~ decade later, apparently Buber is aware thathis statement of . the. true basis of philosophic anthropology carr be. proved onlyby exemplification. The life of mart with man; however it may be examined and . formulated by the critical intelligence, is demon;. . strated only concretely.· It is not whether ·man's essence 'is to be with man, but whether man is ·.·. ever with man, whether · he can successfully trave~se the ·• ground that. _separates him from ':- · a~other and be bound with him together. Having
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1ts trag1c fatlute~ Buber comes to the <:<>nstructive . corrective; Although the . analy1is of its polit~cal and econ?mic ·orga1ilization ~s schematic · and, ·I .fear, somewhat. vague and naive, what underlies it is of the order of vision. ·.. . Commt.tnity is not founded .. It is rather the response of human beings, joined by historical . . ·. . . . destiny, to. confront a. spedfic eXigency 01= chal-: lenge. oflif~. What binds them together. is not the ,;mere concern to resolve ·~· contingent dilem~ . .· rna, but a concern :Which unites them through a · common centre in which they take their stand! The dialectic. weaves betwe~n the.· concretion of ·their task-··the clea~ingofland.or the joint production of a cornfr?.o.dity,-,--'and ·the centre· which which the work is pursued. · defines the spirit Community is :therefore al;.ays rdigim~s, for it · . is centred not in leaders 11or committees no1: in multiple individual.:~:elation:s that fortuitously weld, but in the divine centre whose manifest · presence interpenetrates transforms .the living members. .. Paths in Utopia closes with a discussion ofiln . . e}(p~rirpent ·that has noi failed-.· the .. Israeli '" ·. kibbutz(collective community). Although Huber acknowledges . · its · dilemmas and confusion~) · . ·. · · .;· · ·
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education in' basic:. intellecti.tal skillk· and iils,truction in the mo~af.ia~·1I~~t .pt6dtic~ciA~t&t~ti . •· . .·. whose'. cre~tive v'ita.liiies had heeri. di$$ct,ci~. ~b.d. ·impaired.. The. reactiC>ii, both irt El.lJtope · a~1d. ih · the Unit~d States, Was to J,ose tq ·~d'\l~ation. :th~ . >..task .····of · liberating the : irr1pou;nded · :·. ;c,r,eathr{ ·' . ·~···.· .. · energies .of the child; to thi~f9rriiulati9~·'.~fthe
ib.J.ust r~iSC! a generation that has turned its face :·}towarci~ ·the Spirit· of God· brbod!ng on the .face.. ,.?fthe W~\er~, towards Him of whom·.we'know not\Vhencc:hHe tom-=s nor whither He goes. This .··\'is min's true autonomy which no longer betrays . . ·. hutresponds.' . l:fh~ prophet closes, as do the p,rophets of old, ·. leaving a legacy of·cryptic instruction. Essentially Bubet is .1 prophet of an old and ~arely . .· . te~t~d way. As would willingly· acknowledge,... . 4.·. :·. . . . . . · .· . . 't4t! narrow ridge' has been trod but twice in the J·iist~ry' of m~rtkirtd-in the days of ancient lsrael and in thedays ofHasidlsm. It is a rather ···. . ··reinote
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consequences which await an unr~pentanf Israel ~ If a .man chooses· to. illuminate the world he . . ' .•. . . : .. : . ·. ,. -not merely the paralysis of the innew life or the desiccation of the spirit. (assure~\y these), . !··········. .. but violent judgment and· e;x~ision. l.he pain of &t anony. failure and desertion was judgment. Only when ! . , ;: >J!A<)US face of ·the mass; th~ light contmues to .·· · · the judgment had qeen achieved was mercy. readied for the remnant.. What awaits man in Huber's eschatology? Each retreat from the imitat!odei, eachwithdrawal of th~· heatt!'from the · \ "'.· :. .· . . To: tn.y knowledge there is no extended dis~ ...· encounter with God signals that contraction into evil which,· as in the Kaballistic teaching of ...···1 . · '-~::':. ~?.s~~AP.of the:ideaofthe.f!6ly inth~.writhigs .·• ·f. ·. ~ :B,:Uqe~; ·It' should be clear .that no ·si~gle dis'" · Yitzhak Luria of Safed, prep. ares the wodd for· . · salvation only .by. destroying it the. more.. Al- .. ..· .· ·J. ~·~ · ~u~s;iC>11 is ne.cessary, ~oi the Holy is ever~her.e. ·:. though this view tom:h~s the superfit;:es of ·I . .:Unli~~: flasstc. theology, w~ encounter little .~~ ,< •. Buber's thortght, it is always surpassed by the more · profound, abiding, and authenfic:ally Biblical .cqnviction: cre~tion is rendered eV:il. by man's n~glect and redeemed by man'shallowing, ·l · .· ~ .11.1eql~'\t,~A •th..eology~the va1idity of proofs,: the:.: .. The mome~t of deceit, ih which the worldJs: ·~ . · surrendered to darkness:; .pa,sses in the turning (T'shttvah) of manto God• The id~a.of ·· · · .Goa i({n~ J?tesence 'Yho ·authenticates life.. .X.f.l~ "'· ·· J .· . . authent;icitlon.oflife ¢6tisis'ts in. God's offering' ·. . · ·. · ·' man turning from evil td good misses Bl1.ber's . ·.· . . .. Itectly.'•tb !Ilan, that is, ma,ldng·· his .,.. . ·point and incidentallfmisses the Biblical point. · · It is not that man tUrns. from the. evil tO il~ble. 'The.. task of •. min is. •n.o; •t() ~: ... .. the good, artificially consigning a portion of hP:tiness' irito cteatiori, but to raise: :o: hoU~~ss. · It is. ~ckncrwl~pg~~ rh~t ·. · .·.· the world to darkness artd a portion to light; ·.. ,. . The world is ·neuttal before the light of 1Il~!l~: > •·.: ~..
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Isaiah is embolclene~ .. Failure. c:o~r~s truth; · Thougr,_ the truth fa1lm the histoncal111oment,. · .··..... the. tnes~(a~e .of truth is ... pteserved ···and borne thr<>Ugh h*otory. . .. . . . . . ......· One cannot ·help but feel, in. r¢ading .Bube~ ··.... ···.
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. ~h: ~enil1S~t1~ ~~tici¢n.cy.o~ ~~~~~~$·P?~Afi .. ~elieved it.'. It is n~ttruly believe,d .be~~ms;,. un~ . ·.· lie .m hls acceptam;e,()f.,f.a~lu~e a~antfl!~scapable ., like the fit1th o'f Isa1ah, I am not convmced that.· /i Buber ascribes to God power equal to his mercy. demerit bf.his tr\ith~ ··lti)t profoundf~~:i~portant ..,. .· .· .... ·.. ·•·•' ...... . ···· ·.,'; ."',.. . . ' . ·. .·.. . .. .... address, .'PlatO. ;a;1,1d ~saiah~, delivered.',as):t~ intr()~ .. .··.·There is a resurgent emphasis,. in theological' . ductory lecture befot,e ihe Hebrew U~y~t~liyin . • · . Circles, on the mercy and compassion. of God. · 1938, Buber cloc~r4ents:thetragedyof·J#Sfrpth,. . When the world's misery is descrihed.and the In• comparing P,l~to;- .~h.e.·' educator ot .Pi9n: ()f ·. ·. · .. horrors of these decades are recounted~ the mercy · . Syracuse, antf.lsaiah,i e_dttcator ·of :the p~()pl~ ;of . · . · · , of God.is invoked-·G-od remember::S,, God weeps .·..· .· Israel, he·dt~"o/S'.•the.folfbwio.g conttastS:"~h..ere .·. ' ; over creation (as indeed he does), God sorrows, Plato believ~a·;;th~::spfrit be ·a .posse~s~?h of forgives, and loves. But the virtue ofprophetit the wise ·man <·~rid. pe:rfectiori of the sp"lll·.to f indignation (which to my knowledge Buber only ·. ·.r· fe~ . conim~~abie,(Isaia~ bdi~ved that.\~~ ~ t• a~tic~lates in his magnificent Peace Prize; accept"- . ·~· . •. · sptrtt was an• .event· •which se1zed one :;fr()t,ll . . ance speech to the Getman Book Trade 1n t953) ·· .· · the outside artd perfection . of the sour' to :~>,:~ •· . '. is absent. All is enclles$. exhortation; patience, •· · non-existent and in .:Utte.r contrast to man'{.t1i{{ . . , trust, and compassion. I admitt:Q.atthiscriticism . · . is perhaps impressionistic, for whlch I apologize. worthiness. 'Wh~r~ .Plito; in the passioh:J~.> . . . !.have, however, always imagineg that the real bring thetruth:{>tthe,splritinto the>matl~~f~·:';:c:;·::x: ..;. / ·.·. place of p6;~r;. fails, :~Is~iiah ~ommence&·~i{~:~ ....~::l~~:·,"':.:, ' .. niercy of God will go out to the true monsters. of history who, in the hour of their death, will·· the assumptior1 t~~t· ta4i~al truth· will al~~~~~_}f·'1;: .~.·;; fail. Where Plato ·is Cllsillusi6rred. by faP,d.reF · 1··.·· come before God and remain · forever · . in his
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Presence-k.tiowing, for eternity,-that indeed he ,._. .... ' . lives whom they have, through their Jkves and -~-- r. _ detds, denied. Igive heaven as judgm{.b.t to the · •monsters. The judgment vpon t~J' 'upright' ·_ middle classes and the ~elf~indulgent rich-·all this iS,·. focused· by ·Buber through •the gentee~ conimendation of the waJof ~ncounter. · The._.•.. gap which separates, howeve:r, the poverty. and ~h.arit!g-that define the way of the- poor"ln HasidJim: an.d. "the rich, comfortable, ' and established . . \V6stern bourgeoisieis vasf Few indeed will go .. · . ·t~ Israel kibbutzim. -What' of the vast millions · · who .can. :be touched py. . nothing. else than.. the . . . .. . ·.. .. words of· scattered ·nien and ·raridom · hooks? ..~ For them th{propheti call cannot be calm and -· . judidqus. Buber transmutes tl1e .poverty arid ..filth of central 'European Jewish life, but does __ not, to my tnind, retain the meaning its ugli- ' . ness. In his -retelling ~f Hasidic stories·. the • incidents of }!~s without food or money to buy . wood and· Sabhath · candles become folk . •.' . . . .t~les, warming us ori cold nights-but for those . . ; Je\\1'~ life was a na~ty ·busineS§ which they fti/1 . redeemed. · J w~uld Buber _had spoken more . . of the nastiness and ugliness of this life and ., . judged more ·harsl~ly those of us who can· read. 'jt .. _.. . · ·-·his wotds with calm and detachment. To be sure,_ ._.·_ t . . .
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Receives Goethe Prize at the University. of Hamburg. . .••. ·.· .· .;leceives Peace Prize of the German Book irade · at Frankfurt am Main. •- · .Apc1jversary of his eightieth birthday. <· , :· ·
.•·. Bube:r; lrtade. coiitact_(ltiring suriurter months . with nuinerC>tuiHasiaic coriirtiunitidiofGaJi- .· · ·.. ·. : ' ' . ., da where hf( spent his·;~cations. ' . ' ' .• ·...· · ··.•. i 896 Enrolled in the Facul~y hfPhiJ~sophy~t the 'lJni~ ·ve:rsity of Vienna. ·. . . . • . -~· 01S97 Attends Fir.st ZionistCorigress; .• -... · ... 196i: · • Joins staff of Zionistp~riodichl; D.i.e. JP"eit.: 1901 · Assists in foundingthe]lid/sther Ver[dg,' .·-..·..······-. · I90 } . ·... :.· - • ..· 1 · 1916~23 Edits the Zionist p¢riodical;[ Der ]uc(e; · .· · . 1923 Publishes I and>Thpu,· •·• ... · .· .······ -. · · -. '1:923-33 Teaches Jewish phU9soph~ of religion atthe ·. . Univer~ity0£f1t~~Jtturt atn Main. . .·_ .. . .192 5 . Commences:, With,·J..1r~nz Ro_ enzweig, a new Ger:. fl; . . . .. . man· ttatislatiori.of the brew Bible. . _ .-_ ·_. 19~6-3o Edits; \YithJ~e(Wittig a d Viktor von Weiz:; . . .._ saecker, DifKreatur. . . · ; • :i: 3· · Assumes• dj~e~#~A-CiNhe R eies]iidi:rches Lehrhaus
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Routiedge
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J:w.o Types of Faith. New York: The Macmillan Co.;,. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1951. · ·: · The Way of M~n. London: Routle9ge: and•kegan Pa:ul; 1950; Chicago: Wilcox & Foll(!tt; 1951:~ .· · · ·.
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Eplipse of God. New York: Harper & Brotht:rs, 1952; · Vjdor Goll~~cz, ~td~, I 9.5 3: ·. . .· ·. . · . . •· · ·. · · ·flor the Sake ofHe(l~en. 2nd ed.;New York: liatper & Brothers, 195 :z> · .· · · · · · . .·; ; •.· · · ::.;ood and Evil. Two Interpretations. (Includes Right l::md ·. Wrong. and Il.age(oj Good and Evii.)NewYork: Charles Scribner's Sons, I953• .. · · · . · Hasidis.m. New York: The Philosophical Library, 1948. I and Thou. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1937. Images of Good .and EviD ·Lo11don: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1952. ·. . · · · :. .·. . • • Israel and Palestine•. London: East and West Library; N 7w 1 · York: Farrar;Strau:s and Cudahy, .195,2. · .·· .· . Israel an.d the World. ·New York: •Schocken Books, i948. TheLegendoftheBaa/Sh~m.. New York: Harper a'nd Bros; London: East and WestLibraiy, 1955· . .· ·..· ... • . 'Revelation and Law' ,theLetters of Buher and RosenZweig) Qn Jewish Le~rnfng(eqiteq by N. N, Glatzer). ~ew York: Schoc~{en Books:; I95 5.; .· .·· .. . .·· . . Mamre .. Londott>and,. Melbourne:·: Cambridge University • • .·Press and Melbourii.e University Press, 1946. . · Moses. Londori: E~~t and West Library; New York: Farrar, Stral.ls;·.}nid ~udahy~. 1946.
,..
&. ..Kegan •I>a:ul~ . ..
z -vols; New· . York~: .Scho~ken.Books, 1947; London: Thames & .. .• .Hudson; Ltd., 1955~ .· . . · . . . . · ·. ·The T:ales 'O]RabbiNachma~. New York: HqtizonJress; .. · ·
· Between fv[an and Man. (Containingth~Englishtranslatiort ' of Ji,falog'#e, The Q'iteition tothe Single Q,ne, Edgcation, The ·.·• ..... Educa#rm:ojCha.racter; a!J.d What1s Man?) London;·Rout- · ledge &;Kegan P~mr; NewYork:.Macmillan Cornp~ny, · . 1947···
~rothers;London:
T,q/(>offbeHasidim.: Early and Late
At tkeTurning. Three Addresses onJudaism. New York: . Farrar, Str:ims, and Cuc,h1hy, !952 •. ·
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J,?ropbeti~:\faiib. ·~New York: The MaGmillan Co.,· : 1949· : . ' . . . . .. . .. ·. . .. .· Righland Wrong; London.: s:c:M. J;lress,· Ltd~; .195 ~: .
Work~ ~ vail~ble. in English· Translation
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SELECTEbBIBLIOqRAP;iy
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Lo,ndq1l: • R.<;>utled~~
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P~intint the Way: Colkcted Essays. New Y ot:k: H~~perC)& .
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S~lected l)n~r~rtslated -Works··.
..]?aiiiei. Ldpzig; Insel Ve~lag~ 19 I .3. . ; .. . . . . . . . .· Drei J..{eden tiber dcN]udentum .. Frankfurt am Main: Rutten : & Loening, L9.JV . . . .· .• . . . .· . Eksjaiische. Konfessionen . .Jena: Eugen .Diedrichs Verlag,
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.,
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1909
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.. . . . · Erqigne;se un4Eegeg~ungqn. Leip~ig.: Insel Verlag, 1917 •.. D~r giwse lviaggid und seine Nachfolge. Frankfurt am Main: . · · . · . ·, . . · • · 1\i,itten &'.Loeriing, 1922,. DfCfu4i.scJiBe~egung. Vol. I, 19oo.,-14• .:S~rliri.: J~discher · ·Verlag; i9.x6: . Vol. II~ 1916..:::z.o, B:erlini Jtldischel' Verlag, '19.33· ·. ·. .· · ; . ·.· , ...· : , Konigtitm Gott~s. · Berlin: Schocken Verlag, I 931; 2nci en- . · . · · · · · .· ·..· .· : ..· )lltg¢d edition:, 1936;
·: • Ma'jn Ufegziim Cbassidismus. Frankfurt am Maini Rutten·· ••· · • ·. & tqening, r 9 1s. · .· Die S~hrifi. Translation of the Bible frqmHebiew iQto . · ·
· German 'by Martin ·l3uber. in· collabqratiori w:lth Franz Rosenzwdg. Berlin: Schocken Verlag, 14 yol~:~> • , .
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109
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. Books of Particuhir:Significance·about Buber · • . . .. Friedman, Maurice~ M;~tin Buber: The Life of J{ia!ogue . . · London: Routledge &Kegan Paul; Chicago: ':(he Uniyersity of Chicago :l?ress, 1955. · ~~ .·. • No doubt the· b~st. introductory work to :Suber's · .· . .· ... • . .. . thought. . . ..· ... ·. . . Herberg~ Will ~~ditor), The W.ritings·of MartiliBulieri New· .. York: Meridian Books, 1955. . . .· · · : · 'Kohn, Hans,· Martin Buber, .rein Werk und J·eine Zeit.·. ·H.d:.. . let~.V: Jacob Hegn~r Verlag, 1930. •' · .: ·
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-Martin B~b~< is one of the few truly prophetic minds of the age. With his roots in Jev\.ish theology and mystici~m, he soon came to realise how immediately relevant its dor-trines and problems are to the whole contenYJotary intellectual scene. Ever since, Buber r.~s been preoccupied in all his writings with the possible ways-ways still accessible to the modern mind --of atoning for the b_etrayal, steadily, increasingly and insensibly carried on, of the spiritual origins from which our moral and intellectual tradition stems. Their persistent disavowal may mean doom; and Buber is sure that they arc being disavowed in the progresoive loss of all spohtaneity and immediacy in .6ui: social relationships, in the transformation of the. world · into a mere-· ·bject of human !l'anipulation, a:nd · . in the arbit1~-·y violence done to the created order. ltis through his philosophy of dialogue --"'rhat-Martin Buber seeks to recover the sense of .., the Holy, obscured in the eclipse of the God of Judaism anc.J.. Christianity. ;.. In this study Arthur Cohen follows the .. development of Buber's doctrine of "I and Thou", his rediscovery of the literature of Hassidism (a remarkable community ofJewish 't\1ystics); his interpretation of the Hebrew Bible and Christianity, and his manner of bringing ilo the principles of dialogue to bear upon the . - problems of the contemporary world. . Arthur Cohen, living in New York, is the "'"' author of several essays on Jewish theology and> philosophy, and is at present preparing a book fon The Making of the jewish Mind.·
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