I wrote about two models of covenant, the conflict between obligation and choice, the parallels between Abraham and Rebecca, and the Torah's (complex) relationship to family life.
With thoughts on @PatrickDeneen and Pierre Manent along the way.
The pairing of Abraham and Rebecca recurs thorughout Jewish history. The first set of tablets are given to us by God, while the second set are composed by Moses.
The covenant is said to have begun when God lifted the mountain over the heads of the people and threatened them with death, while it was only ratified later, in the time of Purim, when the people “established and accepted it upon themselves.”
Abraham, the first set of tablets, and the mountain over our head, are figures of origination, figures in which consent has not yet entered the picture. Rebecca, the second set of tablets, and Purim, are figures of choice, figures of agency, figures of modernity.
Neither obligation nor choice are good in and of themselves. Obligation to bad norms is terrible; choosing endeavors that are harmful may be a victory for the abstract principle of choice, but it is a loss for virtue.
The problem is that we don’t always choose what is virtuous. And so while liberalism celebrates the choice as an end in itself, anti-liberalism claims that it knows best how to mold people to make the right choices.
I found more than a grain of truth in Deneen’s description, which offers a critique, from a socially conservative point of view, of the American Dream.
And yet the ability to leave a bad place, a bad community, a local tyranny, is something that is only possible under a regime of choice.
Taking the long view, we see the power of origination not only in Abraham’s theological quest, but in Rebecca’s earthly one. Perhaps her desire was not to follow God, but simply to get away from evil.
For some, the language of God is meaningful; others struggle with theological language, yet resonate with the sheer sense that the world should be ordered by a principle other than “might makes right.”
Sometimes we are obviously called to greatness, and sometimes we must find the call ourselves, hiding, like a lily among the thorns.
Shabbat Shalom.
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The one was a Scottish classical liberal, while the latter was a German conservative. The one ascribed to what Isaiah Berlin calls negative liberty, while the latter believed in positive liberty.
Yet both thinkers founded their work on the metaphor of the hand.
Critics of classical liberalism are right to suggest that belief in markets requires a kind of faith. What they often miss is that this belief also requires a sense of tradition. Things work not because they are unbreakable, but because they are capable of being reconstructed.
Forthcoming on my Substack: A comparison of Adam Smith's theory of the Invisible Hand with Heidegger's concept of Vorhandensein ("Readiness to hand"), both metaphors for tacit knowledge.
The motif of hands is under explored in the history of philosophy.
Here's another one: Comparing the motif of hands in Western thought to that of Talmudic thought.
The Mishna's tractate on the laws of shabbat begins with the image of people moving their hands across domains, e.g., a beggar extending his hand to a home owner or vice versa...
If Nietzsche thought Christians needed to become unChristian, Kierkegaard thought they needed to become truly Christian. If Nietzsche thought the problem was Christianity, obstructing a pagan truth, Kierkegaard thought the problem was paganism, obstructing a Christian one.
An imperial victim remains an emperor. The early Church Fathers who fasted in the desert found solace in the trials of their marginalization.
The problem for Hegel is not that liberalism is empty of a conception of the good, but that its conception of the good does not take sufficient account of the “struggle for recognition.” Critics (and defenders) of liberalism are strongest when they take aim at utilitarianism.
Utilitarianism isn’t empty; it’s thick. The problem is that it defines the good in terms of “hedons”—but pleasure and fulfillment are more complex than registering dopamine hits.
We still haven’t cracked the Nietzchean nut that sometimes terrible experiences *can be sources of great learning, joy, and growth.
Protagoras says, “Man is the measure of all things.”
Modern self help days, “You manage what you measure.”
Ergo: Man is the manager of all things (that can be measured).
The history of time is the history of time management and time measurement— from the sundial to the lunar and solar calendars to the clock tower to Greenwich Mean Time to the alarm app on your phone.
All of these thinkers are grappling with the limits of reason; what does it mean to care about mystery, about unverifiable, non-empirical phenomena in a world governed by scientific method. 2
Some are religious, some are secular. Some are more on the side of Jerusalem, others more on the side of Athens. But all realize that "authority" is not what it used to be. 2