The Price of Tolerance

With God's help

De'ot – 2013

Introduction

The terms 'tolerance,' 'pluralism,' 'openness,' and the like are very prevalent in our world. Many identify them with one another, or at least see them as cousins of one sort or another. In this article I wish to clarify the polar differences between the meanings of these terms, and several implications of those distinctions. Although I will begin with a philosophical introduction, I do not intend here to address the abundant literature that exists on these topics, since my concern here is to express a position, not to survey the field. There is no theoretical novelty in what I say here that has not already been noted, but it seems to me that many nevertheless do not pay attention to the practical implications of these matters.

Two more preliminary remarks. First, I stress that I have no interest in semantics, and from my perspective the terminology can be changed according to the reader's taste. I use these terms only in order to sharpen the differences between the concepts to which they point. Therefore there is no point in arguing whether the term 'pluralism' really describes what I place under it. If the reader prefers, he may use the term 'Yekum Purkan,' so long as it is clear to him that this is a different concept, indeed the opposite of what I describe here as 'tolerance.' Second, it is clear that a short article of this type does not permit adequate philosophical resolution and precision, that is, attention to different shades and sub-shades of these phenomena and concepts. I define the concepts here rather crudely, but sufficiently for my purposes.

Between Tolerance and Pluralism

My first claim is that tolerance is a value, whereas pluralism is a philosophical worldview (essentially a kind of fact). Pluralism stands opposed to monism. The pluralist maintains that there is not only one truth; rather, there is a multiplicity of truths (even if they contradict one another). Extreme pluralism will say this categorically: there is no possibility in any situation (except in a case of logical inconsistency) of deciding in favor of one truth over the others. Such a view reflects the philosophy of the person who holds it, but neither it nor its opposite (monism) contains a value judgment. Pluralism, from the pluralist's perspective (like monism from the monist's), is simply a fact: there is not—or there is—only one truth. Tolerance, by contrast, is a value. The meaning of the term tolerance, as I define it here, is that one ought to respect the differing positions of another person, and therefore also not force him to act or think differently from what he understands or wants. If pluralism concerns truth and falsehood, tolerance speaks of forbidden and permitted, or proper and improper.

David Hume taught us that values (ought) cannot be derived from facts (is). Moore, following him, coined for such a derivation the term 'the naturalistic fallacy.' Norms belong to a semantic field, or conceptual sphere, different from that to which facts belong. From this comes my second claim: logically, it is impossible to ground tolerance in pluralism.

And yet, on its face it seems reasonable that if I hold a pluralistic position then I will likely also be tolerant. If I think the other person is no less right than I am, I have no reason to force on him the mode of thought or behavior by which I live. But there is a conceptual error here. Such behavior is not tolerance. I indeed will not force anything on him, but I do not thereby necessarily endorse the value that nothing should be forced on him. I do not coerce him simply because I have no reason to do so. It follows that the fact that I do not coerce him does not justify awarding me moral credit for it. In order for me to merit the moral credit due to a tolerant person, I must have a reason to coerce—that is, the condition must hold that I am a monist. If I uphold truth A, and my friend who upholds truth B is, in my opinion, mistaken, then if despite this I do not coerce him to accept my position, it is correct to say that I am acting in accordance with the value of tolerance.

Thus we have reached a third conclusion: not only can tolerance not be grounded in pluralism; the two are actually contradictory ideals. A pluralist cannot behave tolerantly (in the moral-value sense).

The Paradox of Tolerance

Aviezer Ravitzky, in his article 'Tolerance,'[1] points to a built-in paradox in the value of tolerance, which is really just a generalization of the argument I raised in the previous section. I will now describe it briefly (in a somewhat different way from his).[2]

From what was said above it follows that tolerant behavior with value significance is possible only for a person with a monistic philosophical outlook. This naturally raises the following question: if in my view my friend is mistaken, why should I not correct the mistake and forcibly prevent the consequences expected from his erroneous conduct?

One can think of several possible answers to this question. For example, I have no chance of influencing him (he is stronger than I am). But such behavior is not entitled to moral credit. I do not coerce simply because I will not achieve my goal. That is mere rationalism, but not necessarily moral behavior. Another answer is that I do not care about my friend. Such behavior, of course, is not entitled to moral credit. I do not coerce because I see no need to do so. A third answer is that I do not do so because I fear that when my friend becomes the stronger one, he will coerce me. But again, there is no tolerant behavior here in the moral sense, for I am acting from my own self-interested motives. Another answer is that my friend's mistaken actions are not harmful (to himself, to me, or to others), and therefore I leave him in his error and do not intervene. But this too is not behavior with the value significance of tolerance, for here as well I simply have no reason to intervene.

The conclusion from everything said until now is rather surprising: whenever there is a good reason not to coerce, that cannot be tolerance. Tolerance exists only when I have no reason whatsoever not to coerce, and nevertheless I do not coerce. In other words, we have reached a fourth conclusion: in order for me to be considered someone who behaves tolerantly in the moral-value sense, several conditions must be met: 1. I must be a monist and think my friend is mistaken. 2. I must think his mistake is harmful. 3. I must have the power to coerce him. 4. I must not fear countermeasures on his part. 5. I must care very deeply about my friend's moral conduct.

But if all these conditions truly obtain, then why in fact be tolerant? Why not coerce, if all the conditions are such that coercion is the obvious step?

Tolerance and Autonomy

The only way I see to ground the value of tolerance is by giving weight to the autonomy of the other person. I do not coerce my friend despite all the conditions presented above because I uphold the value that every person has a right to act as he understands, even if it is mistaken and harmful. Why is this line of reasoning not vulnerable to attack like all the previous ones I proposed here? Because here we are dealing with a value-based justification, not with a justification that merely explains why there is no point or need to coerce. Therefore tolerance that is based on valuing the autonomy of the other person certainly deserves moral credit.

The Similarity Between Tolerance and Pluralism, and Its Implications

On the phenomenological level there is great similarity between tolerance and pluralism. Both the tolerant person and the pluralist do not impose their views on others who hold positions different from their own. The difference between them is ostensibly only theoretical, and concerns only the rationale they offer for this behavior: the tolerant person (who is a monist) grounds it in the autonomy of the other, whereas the pluralist grounds it in the fact that his own position has no superiority over that of his fellow (both are equally true, or equally proper).

This phenomenological similarity leads many people to identify, or at least not distinguish, between these two positions. For example, Avi Sagi, in his book Eilu Ve-Eilu,[3] brings a collection of Torah sources that in his view express a pluralistic position (a pluralistic interpretation of the rule These and those are the words of the living God). But to the best of my understanding, almost none of them (except perhaps Maharam Gabai, author of Avodat Ha-Kodesh) actually expresses a pluralistic position. Almost all of them hold a tolerant position (according to my definitions here).[4]

Phenomenological Differences Between Tolerance and Pluralism

Is there nevertheless also a practical-phenomenological difference between these two positions? It seems to me that one can point here to at least two important differences:[5]

• Openness. If the pluralist holds that there is no exclusive truth, then there is no point in searching for it. Listening to the other person's arguments loses much of its value, since the main importance of openness to the other is the possibility of learning from him and thus drawing closer to the truth. But drawing closer to the truth is a concept borrowed from the world of monism. The tolerant person, who is a monist in his philosophical outlook, ought to behave with openness so that he can learn and come as close as possible to the one truth. Thus we have reached a fifth claim: openness is connected specifically to monism and not to pluralism.
• The radius of coercion. The pluralist, who holds that logical consistency is a necessary and sufficient condition for a legitimate position, cannot criticize any other position (so long as it is logically consistent). On his view, there is no point in coercing anyone, whatever his position may be. By contrast, the tolerant person refrains from coercion because of an equilibrium between two forces: on the one hand, the error and the harm that may result from it; on the other hand, the right of the other person to act autonomously. If the expected harm is very great, the tolerant person will find himself compelled to employ coercion in order to prevent it. If I see someone about to commit suicide, or become addicted to hard drugs, there is certainly room to consider activating coercive mechanisms. Moreover, if the other person is not acting out of genuine autonomous judgment (such as a child, a fool, or a person acting rashly and not from considered judgment), then again there is no necessity to refrain from coercion in order to direct him toward the right course. Thus, from the tolerant person's perspective there is some finite radius up to which his tolerance extends. Beyond that point his tolerance ends. This is unlike the pluralist. We have seen here that this radius is determined by two kinds of considerations: the severity of the harm that the other's error may cause, and the level of judgment that the other person is exercising.

"These and those are the words of the living God"[6]

In order better to understand the question of the radius of coercion, we will briefly make use here of the rule These and those are the words of the living God (Eruvin 13b; Gittin 6b). The Talmud in Eruvin says the following:

Rabbi Abba said in the name of Shmuel: For three years Bet Shammai and Bet Hillel disputed. These said, 'The law is in accordance with us,' and those said, 'The law is in accordance with us.' A heavenly voice went forth and said: 'These and those are the words of the living God, but the law is in accordance with Bet Hillel.' But since these and those are the words of the living God, why did Bet Hillel merit that the law be established in accordance with them? Because they were gentle and humble, and they would teach both their own words and the words of Bet Shammai. And not only that, but they would mention the words of Bet Shammai before their own. As we learned in that mishnah:

There is a determination here that both Bet Shammai and Bet Hillel are the words of the living God. The Gemara immediately senses that there is a difficulty with the continuation of the sentence: and the Jewish law follows Bet Hillel. If both are correct, then why is the law decided like Bet Hillel? On the other hand, if the truth is like Bet Hillel, then in what sense are both of them the words of the living God?[7]

It is no wonder that some read this statement in a pluralistic way, in which case the ruling of the law like Bet Hillel reflects mainly technical considerations, not the fact that they are more correct. Indeed, the Gemara itself explains that this is a kind of educational consideration ('because they were easygoing and humble… and moreover, they would mention the words of Bet Shammai before their own').

But Rabbi Yosef Karo, in his Kelalei HaGemara, proposes the opposite, monistic, interpretation: [8]

It is puzzling to me: if the law was not in accordance with them, was it because of their many good character traits that the law was established in accordance with them? Perhaps this is what it means: Why did they merit always to arrive at the truth? So that, because their view was true, the law was established in accordance with them.

He understands that the law was ruled like Bet Hillel because the truth is with them. Ostensibly he is saying that they merited heavenly assistance because of their good character traits. But perhaps one can explain that the very fact that they were easygoing and humble and prefaced the words of Bet Shammai to their own is precisely what helped them arrive at the truth. Their openness and willingness to consider the view of the opponent are what led them to better decisions.

It is clear that according to the monistic reading of the rule These and those are the words of the living God, and the law follows Bet Hillel, an explanation is required as to how the words of Bet Shammai too are the words of the living God. In my aforementioned article I proposed that their reasons are true, as in every dispute between Torah scholars, where certainly each side advances true reasons according to its own approach. In most cases the dispute is not about the reasons, but about their weighting, which produces the decision. Here we have a dispute in which only one side is right (according to the monistic reading).

Something like this may be seen in a dispute about eating chocolate: Reuven says that it is worth eating chocolate because it is tasty. Shimon argues against him that it is not worthwhile because it is fattening. Who is right? Both are right. Both reasons are certainly correct. The dispute is not about the truth of the reasons, which both parties accept. The dispute is about their relative weight: which is preferable, health or taste. Here, according to the monist, there is only one truth.

This is the basis I proposed in that article for a tolerant (and not pluralistic) reading of this rule. According to the tolerant conception, there are several positions based on correct reasons, but the relative weight of the reasons of some of the sides may be mistaken. Therefore there is one halakhic truth, but nonetheless there is room for several legitimate positions, since they are based on genuine reasons.

Here appears one of the criteria mentioned above for the radius of coercion. Tolerance is relevant toward positions that are based on correct reasons, when the error lies only in the relative weight. The unlearned—that is, people whose reasons testify to a lack of familiarity with the material—are not entitled to a tolerant attitude. For example, we would not expect a physicist to listen patiently and tolerantly to the position of a person who has never studied physics and is unfamiliar with the subject. This is one of the two criteria presented above as determining the radius of coercion: when a position is formed without serious judgment, it lies outside the radius of tolerance.

Tolerance is based on allowing a person to act in a way that is not correct according to Jewish law. We do not coerce him, because there is value in his acting autonomously, even though he is mistaken (and in fact committing a transgression). This means that the law is determined by balancing the value of truth and the value of autonomy, and so long as we do not move very far away from the truth, autonomy is preferable.[9] In this context it is important to cite Maharal in Netiv HaTorah, chapter 15, who writes:

For it is more fitting and more proper that one issue rulings from the Talmud itself. And although there is reason to fear that he may not follow the path of truth and may not rule the law correctly, so that the ruling will accord with the truth, nevertheless the sage has only what his own intellect yields and understands from the Talmud. And when his understanding and wisdom mislead him, even so he is beloved to God, blessed be He, when he rules according to what follows from his own intellect, for a judge has only what his eyes can see. And this is better than one who rules from a single code and does not know the reason for the matter at all, for he proceeds like a blind man on the road.

Perhaps one might say: if so, in this generation, when people are not expert in the Talmud and do not know it, how can we issue halakhic rulings? Surely this is indeed difficult, for Torah has been forgotten and we are not fit to rule Jewish law. And all this is because no one reviews his Talmud in order to become expert and well practiced in his learning…

The Surprising Ruling of the Author of the 'Magen Avraham'

The Magen Avraham, in section 156, brings several laws that have no defined place in the Shulchan Arukh. Among other things, he brings the following law:

If one heard a legal ruling and it seems to him that the law is indeed so, he may state it in the name of a great authority so that it will be accepted from him [Eruvin 51a and Pesahim 112a]. But at the end of tractate Kallah it says that one who says something in the name of a sage when he did not learn it from him causes the Divine Presence to depart; and so too in Berakhot 27b, see there in the commentary of Rabbeinu Yonah, and this requires further consideration.

If a person wants to persuade his friend regarding a certain legal ruling, he is permitted to lie and state that ruling in the name of a great authority so that it will be accepted. The source of this law is in the passages in Pesahim and Eruvin. Admittedly, he raises a difficulty against this from the passage in Berakhot, where it appears that this is forbidden. Moreover, this law itself is problematic, for it contains a lie, and beyond that a concern about causing one's friend to stumble into a prohibition (if the ruling is not in fact correct). A pluralistic reading seems called for here, but on the face of it the matter is very puzzling.

It seems to me that the required interpretation of this halakhic ruling is altogether different. We are dealing with a friend who accepts things only because some great authority said them. Precisely to such a person it is permitted to lie and tell him the matter in the name of a great authority. But now it is not clear what the point is in doing so, for in any case he will not simply accept the matter. Clearly, we are dealing with Reuven trying to convince Shimon that the law is X, and Shimon assigns no importance to Reuven's considerations and arguments (because he looks down on him). In such a situation Reuven may say the matter in the name of the leading decisor of the generation, because when Shimon hears it he will certainly consider it several times before forming a position. In the end he will form the position on his own, but only after seriously considering all the sides, exactly as Bet Hillel weighed the words of Bet Shammai before forming a position.

If so, there is certainly no causing someone to stumble into a prohibition here. But even so, how is Reuven permitted to lie to Shimon? Simply because this is done for Shimon and for his benefit. This lie will lead him to make a better decision, because he will consider sides that had not previously been taken into account by him.

A Halakhic Example

A common phenomenon is that a significant part of the discussion of meta-halakhic questions is conducted not from halakhic sources but from the writings of halakhic sages and Torah scholars about Jewish law (in books of thought, or introductions to books of Jewish law and commentary, and the like). There is a methodological fallacy here, because in many cases there is a built-in gap between what sages write about Jewish law and what they actually do. The same is true regarding the discussion of the pluralism of Jewish law itself. How can this question be examined from halakhic sources? I dealt with this in my aforementioned article in HaMa'ayan. Here I will bring a particularly clear and especially interesting example, because it allows us to bring the question into the laboratory at high resolution. It is a halakhic test case in which the pluralist, the tolerant monist, and the intolerant monist will each reach a different decision from the others.

Suppose that Reuven holds that act X is permitted, and Shimon holds that it is forbidden. May Reuven cause Shimon to stumble into transgression X? Surprisingly, pluralism here would actually express itself in the stringent ruling: the pluralist would forbid this stumbling block, since on his view the halakhic truth binding on Shimon is what Shimon himself thinks. It makes no difference that Reuven thinks otherwise. By contrast, the monist would be lenient here, for on his view the truth is that X is permitted, and Shimon, who thinks it is forbidden, is simply mistaken. There is no reason not to cause him to do an act that is certainly permitted.

Now we find such an example in the Babylonian Talmud, tractate Sukkah 10b:

It was stated: Decorations of a sukkah that are four handbreadths distant from it. Rav Nahman said: It is valid. Rav Hisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna said: It is invalid.

Rabbi Nahman holds that it is permitted to sit beneath those decorations, whereas Rav Hisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna forbid it. Immediately afterward, the following case is described:

Rav Hisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna came to the house of the Exilarch. Rav Nahman lodged them in a sukkah whose decorations were four handbreadths below the roofing. They remained silent and said nothing to him. He said to them: Have the rabbis retracted their view? They said to him: We are engaged in the performance of a commandment and are exempt from the sukkah.

Rabbi Nahman seated the two who disputed with him in a sukkah whose decorations were four handbreadths away from the roofing (which, according to them, made it invalid). Ostensibly there is here a violation of the prohibition of 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind,' for he made them consume a prohibition according to their own view!

Indeed, the Ritva, in his commentary there, notes this:

Rav Hisda and Rabbah bar Rav Huna came to the house of the Exilarch; he lodged them in a sukkah whose decorations were four handbreadths below the roofing. פירוש: Even though Rav Nahman (variant reading: the Exilarch) still did not know whether they had retracted their opinion or whether they were engaged in the performance of a commandment, he lodged them there according to his own view, and was not concerned that for them this was a prohibited matter and that they were sitting (variant reading: and going out) in an invalid sukkah and reciting a blessing there improperly; and this would be like placing a stumbling block before the sighted.

Some say that from here we learn that one who feeds his fellow something that is permitted according to his own opinion does not thereby violate 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind,' even if he knows that his fellow regards it as forbidden according to his own opinion, and that fellow is competent to issue rulings; for the one feeding him is likewise fit to rule and relies on his own opinion to permit it for himself and for others. And it seems to me that here this is so specifically because the prohibition is recognizable to his fellow, and if he does not agree he should not eat it; but where it is not recognizable to his fellow, no. For there we say, 'May the descendants of Abba bar Abba be spared from being fed something that he would not accept,' in the chapter Kol HaBasar (Hullin 111b), and so my teacher ruled for me. However, where the halakhah has been decided not in accordance with his view, it is forbidden, both for himself and for others, as is evident from what I wrote in the first chapter of Avodah Zarah and the first chapter of Yevamot.

He learns from here that someone who regards a certain thing as permitted may feed it to his fellow who regards it as forbidden, and this does not fall under 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind.' Ostensibly this is a straightforward monistic position.

He adds, on the basis of Hullin 111b, that this is true only if the matter is recognizable to the eater—if he does not agree, he should not eat—but if the prohibition is not recognizable, it is forbidden to feed it to him (unless one informs him of it).[10]

The halakhic situation created after the Ritva's qualification is not clear. Ostensibly there is no innovation here at all, for in a situation where the prohibition is recognizable, the person eating can decide on his own whether he thinks it is permitted or forbidden. In such a case there is no prohibition of 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind' upon the person feeding him, since the decision is the eater's. If so, this qualification apparently pulls the rug out from under the very innovation of the Ritva, namely that such an act does not constitute 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind.'

To understand this, let us compare the situation here with the case of handing a cup of wine to a Nazirite, to which the Talmud (Avodah Zarah 6a) applies the Torah prohibition of 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind.' After the cup of wine is handed to the Nazirite, he has the choice whether to drink, and he certainly knows that it is wine. If so, why does the giver transgress 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind'? The Nazirite is not blind in any sense. Clearly, even in such a case there is a prohibition of 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind.' The fact that he knows and decides on his own to commit the transgression does not neutralize the prohibition upon the giver. Why then does the Ritva distinguish in our case between a situation where the person being caused to stumble knows, and one where he does not know?

It is clear that the Ritva holds there is a difference between a situation in which Reuven hands Shimon a clear prohibition, and a situation in which Reuven hands Shimon something that he himself thinks is permitted and that is forbidden only according to Shimon's own view. In the first case there is a prohibition of 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind,' and in the second there is not. How can this be understood? As we saw, if there is a prohibition of 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind,' it does not depend on the information in the sinner's possession. And if there is no prohibition, again there is no dependence on such information. Moreover, we saw that monism leads to permission to cause him to stumble even if I tell him nothing at all. Pluralism, by contrast, leads to the decision that one may not cause him to stumble even if one tells him that according to his own view this is prohibited. After all, there is a prohibition of 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind.'

We are therefore forced to the conclusion that if the person causing the stumbling does not tell the other that he is sitting beneath a sukkah invalid according to his own view, then the value of halakhic truth is not harmed, because the Ritva, as a monist, holds that according to the person causing the stumbling, the halakhic truth is that the thing is permitted. The duty to inform him of the situation is because the value of autonomy is harmed here. As we saw above, a person ought to act consciously and according to his own decisions and reasoning. This is the only justification for allowing him to act in an erroneous way. If he does not know the circumstances and does not make a decision out of full deliberation, then this is not autonomous action, and there is no justification whatsoever for allowing him to commit a transgression. The Ritva's innovation is that if Reuven causes Shimon to stumble by ensuring that he is not acting on the basis of his best judgment, that too involves a prohibition (perhaps of 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind,' and perhaps another one).

Let us summarize the situation described here. According to the pluralistic picture, in which the halakhic truth is only according to the person's own opinion, there would be no room to permit the kind of stumbling that Rav Nahman caused, even if the prohibition were recognizable or he informed them of it. By contrast, according to the monistic position, it seems that in every case (even when the prohibition was not recognizable) it would have been permitted for him to cause his colleagues to stumble, since at the end of the day, in his opinion the halakhic truth is that they did not commit a transgression. The complex ruling we have described here, which distinguishes between a situation where the prohibition is recognizable and one where it is not visible, can be understood well only from the tolerant position we have proposed here. According to this model, there is one halakhic truth that results from a correct weighing of all the reasons, and every person ought to act according to his best assessment of that truth. But in addition there is the value of autonomous decision, and therefore a person's opinion has halakhic weight even if it does not hit upon the truth. Rav Nahman, who thought his colleagues were mistaken, was nevertheless obligated to give weight to what appeared in his eyes as their legitimate mistake, and he was forbidden to cause them to stumble in this respect.

It is interesting to note that this is probably why the Ritva used the language of placing 'a stumbling block before the sighted,' unlike the Torah's language, which speaks of the blind. The reason is that he wanted to emphasize that the prohibition of 'do not place a stumbling block before the blind' exists even when one causes a sighted person to stumble, and here this is an exceptional case because we are dealing with a halakhic dispute.

The Price of Tolerance: Religious-Secular Covenants as a Test Case

Years ago I met with a group from the Hartman Institute that was involved with the Kinneret Covenant for understanding between religious and secular Jews. I told them that although no one asks me how to live—and perhaps that is just as well—for my own part I would in no way have been willing to sign such a covenant and grant legitimacy to a secular position. The reason is that I am a monist and not a pluralist, and therefore in my view there is one truth. Naturally, to the best of my judgment, that is my truth. Of course I may be mistaken, but so long as I have not been persuaded otherwise, this is my truth and I act in accordance with it. Therefore I also try, as far as I can, to influence others to act correctly (and also to hear what they have to say in order to learn. That is the openness expected of a tolerant monist).

When they argued against me and asked why I think my view is necessarily more correct than that of others, and why I am not willing to grant legitimacy to other interpretations of Judaism, I replied that so long as no one has convinced me with arguments that I was mistaken, this is my position. Clearly, there is a possibility that I am wrong, but that is not a reason to give up my positions, or to decide in advance that even if I have a position it is not preferable to others.

But of course this argument is also true regarding others. Moreover, as we saw above, even a monist can and should be tolerant toward other positions (even such as he sees as mistaken and even harmful). If so, it is still not clear why I am not willing to be tolerant and grant legitimacy to different positions. This depends on the criteria proposed above for determining the radius of tolerance.

In light of what we have seen, the duty of tolerance exists only when we are dealing with a person who examined the arguments as best he could and reached a conclusion different from mine. In such a situation, as we saw in the case of Bet Hillel, the tolerant principle applies. It is the right—and even the duty—of each person to act as he himself understands. And no less than that, it is my duty as a tolerant (monist) person to allow him to do so. But if we are dealing with a person who refuses to examine his position and to hear my arguments in favor of my own position, then I have no obligation whatsoever to behave tolerantly toward him. A person who does not exercise judgment is not entitled to a tolerant attitude. I have already mentioned that this is similar to someone who is unwilling to study a certain field and sees no problem in expressing views about it that differ from those generally accepted. Such a person is not entitled to a tolerant attitude, and I would demand of him that he go and study the material, and then come with a formed position that arises from serious judgment.

The meaning of this is that tolerance has a price, and one who benefits from it must earn it honestly: he must examine the different arguments and sources and arrive at a formed position of his own. If he has done so, he is entitled to full legitimacy. But if he has not done so and nevertheless demands legitimacy for his path, this is like a child who expresses a firm position on some issue without having examined it deeply. Such a position is the position of Bet Shammai (who did not weigh the words of Bet Hillel before their own), and as is well known, the law is not according to them. As we saw above, they are both farther from the truth and less deserving of tolerant consideration, because they have not paid its price.

When we apply this approach to religious-secular relations, it means that the secular or religious person is entitled to demand tolerance for his position only if he formed it through deep examination and clarification, to the best of his ability, of the arguments in the different directions. If he did so and came to a conclusion different from mine, then indeed he is entitled to a tolerant attitude. Just to sharpen and clarify: the claim is entirely symmetrical. The religious person too is not entitled to a tolerant attitude from his secular friend if he has not seriously examined, as best he can, the other's claims and formed a position on the basis of the overall picture.

It is important here to clarify that the demand for systematic and in-depth examination does not include mastery of the details of Jewish law, or of the Bible and Talmud. Most of the religious public is not fully expert in them either. That is not what is at issue here. The price of tolerance of which I speak here is not familiarity with legal details, but a systematic examination of the arguments for and against faith, and likewise for and against the halakhic tradition and its validity, and the formation of a position on the basis of acquaintance with those arguments.[11]

When I want to examine empirically whether the signatories of the covenant, or the secular public in general who are supposed to be represented by them, meet these requirements, the easiest thing is to demonstrate the ignorance of Israel's secular citizens regarding Judaism, which is a matter of common knowledge.[12] But for my purposes here, indicators that test knowledge of Judaism are not enough, since the price of tolerance is the systematic examination of the arguments for and against faith and tradition, not the details of Jewish law. That, of course, is hard to measure, and as far as I know it truly has not been examined systematically. But I do not think I would stray very far from the truth if I were to say that very few among the secular citizens of the State of Israel have undertaken such a serious inquiry. The lack of knowledge, sometimes disgraceful, is some indication of this, even if not exclusive and not unequivocal. From my experience in conversations with groups and individuals, I find that almost none of those with whom I speak has bothered to do so in a systematic and orderly way. It is important to note that this is true to a large extent of the religious citizens of the state as well, but they are not the subject here.

If the situation is indeed that most citizens classified as secular did not trouble themselves to seriously examine the arguments when forming a position regarding their Judaism, then their demand for a tolerant and respectful attitude from me has no basis. A position formed not through proper reflection on the issue is not worthy of respect. My feeling was (and still is) that the Kinneret Covenant and similar initiatives ask me to grant legitimacy to ignorance and to an unwillingness to examine and form a Jewish position seriously. For tolerance toward such conceptions (?) I see no value-based justification whatsoever. As noted, this is similar to a person who proposes a different thesis in physics without having studied the basic principles of that science and demands that I respect him. That is of course his right, but equally it is my right not to respect him for that and not to grant him legitimacy from my perspective (to the extent that he wants that. And the fact is that the signatories of the covenant do want it).

A different situation is when a secular person sits with me around a round table, I examine his arguments and he examines mine and the various sources, and in the end it becomes clear that he arrives at a formed position different from mine. In such a situation it is clear to me, as a tolerant person, that from my perspective he is entitled to all the respect and legitimacy in the world. With such a person I will sign covenants of legitimacy and mutual respect, and concerning him I will say These and those are the words of the living God (in the tolerant sense, not the pluralist one. In my opinion he is mistaken, but it is a legitimate mistake). A person who examines the arguments and arrives, in ways acceptable to him, at a conclusion different from mine is certainly entitled to respectful and tolerant treatment from me. I would stress that in my opinion there is no necessity that he be an expert in philosophy or history; rather, he must have sufficient familiarity (in his own view) with the relevant fields, and he must form a position in a manner and form that are adequate from his own perspective.

The demand to grant legitimacy to ignorance—that is, to someone who has not paid the price that entitles him justly to a tolerant attitude—is not tolerance, but at most pluralism. If there is no truth, then there is nothing to listen to (see above regarding openness) and nothing to examine. In a pluralistic world every position (?) is legitimate, and therefore pluralism has no price. But, as I already wrote above, pluralism is a philosophical outlook and not a value. Tolerance, which is a moral demand required of each of us, has a price, and one who demands a tolerant attitude toward his positions must pay it. To the best of my judgment, what underlies the demands for mutual respect in the style of the Kinneret Covenant is a pluralistic outlook. I do not share it, and therefore I find no justification for signing such a covenant.

To remove any doubt, I will add two more clarifications:

• My decisive style of writing may give off an odor of condescension, as if I am the decisor and arbiter regarding the truth and legitimacy of all the different positions around me. But that is a mistake. First, no one is obliged to care whether I grant him legitimacy or not. It is entirely reasonable that quite a few people do not care about this at all, and that is entirely legitimate and reasonable. My claim here is only toward those who do demand legitimacy from me, for example those who try to establish covenants in the style of the Kinneret Covenant. Here I insist on not signing until the conditions that justify such a signature are met. Second, this is my own decision, which determines how I relate to other positions. It is not about the absolute truth, regarding which there is certainly the possibility that I am mistaken. Third, everything written here applies to me as well, and not only to others. I too am not entitled to legitimacy and tolerance from others if I have not examined, to the best of my ability, their arguments and positions. The claim here is entirely symmetrical and addresses all sides, though naturally I present it from my own side.
• Clearly, one must not make generalizations. Not everyone sitting around the table in covenants like the Kinneret Covenant, and not even all those whom those sitting there are supposed to represent (the secular public as a whole), belong to the category of those who have not paid the price (that is, who have not examined matters properly). There certainly are such people, religious and secular alike, who have formed a position through comprehensive judgment and adequate familiarity with the other positions. Among such people it is indeed fitting to sign a covenant. My claim here is that the value of tolerance does not require signing such a general social covenant, one that does not distinguish those worthy of respect and does not demand the price that it is proper to demand of them.

Several Remarks on the Question of Coercion

Until now I have dealt with the question whether to sign a covenant of mutual respect and legitimacy. I argued that when a position appears that was not formed in a balanced and responsible way (the price of tolerance has not been paid), it is not worthy of a tolerant attitude. But tolerance also touches on the question of coercion. The other side of the coin is that lack of tolerance may also express itself in coercion. Do my remarks mean that in a situation where the price of tolerance has not been paid there is also justification for forceful coercion? This question brings us into several further issues. Since my concern here is only to complete the picture and survey the implications of the philosophical map laid out in the first part of the article, I will only sketch here a few basic lines of the issue of coercion, and the relation between it and what has been said until now.

First, the cruder and more severe my intervention in the conduct of the other person is, the greater the justification it requires. If I want to come and persuade a person that his positions are not correct, that is not intervention but a legitimate and proper step. The other person can only benefit from it. Clearly such a step has justification without any price that the other person is supposed to bear. By contrast, if I am considering signing with him a covenant of mutual respect, here some price is already required of him, namely to form his position through serious judgment. But when I consider whether to coerce him to change his behavior, here it may be that even if he has not paid the price of tolerance—that is, even if he forms his position in an unsystematic and improper way—there is still no justification for coercion. Coercion is a very drastic step. Of course, even within the world of coercion there are different levels: one can threaten him, beat him, deprive him of freedoms, impose various social sanctions on him (such as withholding budgets), or legislate laws that will be enforced by the state's legal authorities. The more dramatic and invasive the step is, the stronger the justification it requires. Not everything that justifies lack of tolerance and refusal to grant legitimacy and respect also justifies coercion.

Second, my being a monist does not mean that I am convinced that I am right. The meaning of pluralism is that at least in the issue under discussion there is no right and wrong at all. All of us are equally right. But monism does indeed mean that in my opinion there is a truth, there is a right and there is a wrong, but not necessarily that the truth is in my possession. On the contrary, a proper measure of humility requires taking into account the possibility that the truth is not with me, certainly not in full, and certainly not at this moment. The monist generally believes in the conclusions to which he has come. Despite humility and the fear that he may be mistaken, he walks faithfully in his path. The monist understands that a person has no ability to determine values and principles in an absolute way, but he thinks that he can still reach conclusions that are more or less reasonable, and he is willing—and thinks it proper—to rely on them (so long as they have not been proven otherwise). Humility does not mean abandoning monism in favor of pluralism. Humility means that even if there is a truth (monism), I am aware that it is not necessarily fully with me at this moment. There is some chance that I am mistaken. Therefore, although in practice I will conduct myself according to the values and principles that seem correct to me, and although I will not relate with tolerance and respect to other positions formed irresponsibly, I still will not be able to justify coercive measures against another person.

This is another difference between lack of tolerance and coercion. Lack of tolerance is the withholding of legitimacy or respect, but without coercion. In order for me not to relate respectfully to another who thinks or behaves differently, it is enough for me that in my assessment he did not form his position in the proper manner (even according to his own path). But in order for me to coerce him forcefully, a greater confidence in the rightness of my path is required. Blunt coercion carried out on too many values and principles testifies to a lack of humility. There are basic values that I am convinced are correct and therefore I am willing to coerce more forcefully in their name, such as not murdering, not betraying the state, not stealing, not selling drugs, and the like. There are values in which I also believe, but they are less basic or less self-evident, and therefore even if I believe in them I will not permit myself to coerce another person to behave in accordance with them in a forceful way.

Third, the issue of coercion requires us to examine the degree of benefit in it. It may be that a person will indeed behave correctly under coercion, but his behavior will still be devoid of moral or religious value. For example, a person who keeps the Sabbath, or does not eat pork, or honors his parents, only because he was coerced to do so—there is certainly room for the reasoning that his acts have no value, moral or religious. If so, there is no point or sense in coercing him to do so, for the coercion will not achieve its purpose.

Fourth, the question of coercion also brings us into a discussion of the social order, the role and status of the majority or the strong in society (the tyranny of the majority, or the tyranny of the strong), the fear of the undermining of freedom and of forceful domination that will erode basic human rights. One of these rights, to the best of my understanding, is the right to behave and think foolishly and unsystematically. This right does not mean that I must respect such behavior, and therefore I will not be tolerant toward it in the sense of signing a covenant, but it does mean that I have no license to intervene forcefully and change the conduct of another person, however foolish it may be.

How all this relates to coercion in the halakhic world is a substantial issue that requires separate analysis and clarification.

[1] In the book Middot Ve-Regashot, Assa Kasher and Aharon Namdar (eds.), Choshen La-Mishpat, Ramat Gan 1994, p. 193.

[2] These matters are detailed in the fourth section of my book Two Wagons and a Balloon, Tam Publishing and Beit El Library, Jerusalem 2007. There I mentioned the event at Sde Boker that sharpened this problem for me.

[3] Hillel Ben Haim Library, Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 2002 (fourth printing).

[4] See my article 'Is Jewish Law Pluralistic?', HaMa'ayan 47:2, Tevet 2007, p. 41. There I also discussed the reasons (logical and meta-halakhic) why a halakhic pluralistic position cannot exist, but at most a tolerant one.

[5] These two characteristics certainly describe halakhic discourse, and this is another indication that Jewish law is tolerant and not pluralistic.

[6] See my aforementioned article in HaMa'ayan.

[7] See the discussion in the introduction to Avi Sagi's aforementioned book.

[8] In the book Halikhot Olam by Rabbi Yeshua HaLevi of Tlemcen, edition of Shemaryahu Portnoy, Tel Aviv 1970, p. 51.

[9] See my article 'Autonomy and Authority in Halakhic Ruling,' Meisharim 1, Yeshivat Hesder Yeruham, 2002.

[10] And so too it is brought in the responsa of Maharalbah, sec. 121, in the name of the Ra'ah; see there.

[11] I will bring here two examples of additional contexts in which a similar fallacy appears.

• A common mistake is to think that a person who does not observe the commandments but is thoroughly familiar with Jewish law and the various Torah sources (for example, various formerly religious Jews) cannot be a tinok shenishba (a person raised without awareness of Judaism). A person may study and know all these sources in detail, but do so from the perspective of an anthropological researcher, that is, without awareness of the obligation involved in them, and he is then a tinok shenishba in the fullest sense. This is not about knowledge but about awareness of obligation.
• The same applies to conversion. The various conversion tracks boast of the intensity of study practiced in them. Some explain that converts in their track study and know far more than was customary in conversion processes in Jewish communities throughout the ages. That may indeed be true, but it is simply irrelevant to the discussion of conversion. The validity of conversion does not depend on the knowledge of the convert. It depends on whether the convert is aware of his religious and halakhic obligation—that is, on acceptance of the commandments. No one expects the convert to know what even great Torah scholars do not know. Is there any Jew who masters all the Torah sources in detail? Clearly here too what is required of the convert is awareness of obligation and acceptance of the yoke of commandments, not familiarity with the halakhic details. It is the same mistake.

[12] Instead of citing surveys, I refer here to the testimony in the article by Abraham Tirosh (lecturer in communications at Bar-Ilan University and recipient of the Sokolov Prize for Journalism, 1983), 'Jewish Education Is Not Necessarily Religious,' on the nrg website, dated 26.5.2010.

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On Tolerance and Pluralism

A response to Michael Abraham's article 'The Price of Tolerance,' De'ot, issue 60, 5773.

Ephraim Yerahmiel

I read Rabbi Dr. Michael Abraham's article with great interest, and I also read his book 'God Plays Dice' with great interest. I cannot shake the feeling that Abraham faithfully represents the neo-fundamentalist position founded by Samson Raphael Hirsch and defined by James Barr.[1] According to Barr, the classical fundamentalist believes that God created the world, the laws of nature, and rational humanity in six days some six thousand years ago. He also governs nature and history, and he gave or dictated the Torah to Moses, so that it is therefore divine. From this it follows that the laws of the Torah, the laws of nature, and the conclusions of human reason must in principle be identical, and that everything recounted in the Bible occurred literally in space and time, and every scientific, physical, geographical, historical datum and the like written there is the one truth, since a divine text is inerrant. Therefore every difficulty or apparent contradiction between the dictates of science and reason and the dictates of revelation will be resolved in accordance with revelation, and thus reason and science will be purified.

The neo-fundamentalist too allows religious faith to determine theory. But for him the theory is not fixed; rather, it changes without consistency. So long as the rational-scientific proposition remains a hypothesis, the dictates of revelation in their plain sense determine the truth. But the moment the scientific proposition is proven logically or experimentally beyond refutation, the standard is reversed, and the proposition of revelation is interpreted non-literally so that it accords with science.[2]

Thus Rabbi Hirsch determines that ordinarily the Torah is our standard for determining truth. Yet the proven fact that the earth is not at the center of the universe and that it is billions of years old we accept from science without fear, and we interpret the creation story in these respects non-literally (just as some claim today that the Big Bang is the creation of light). This is a stumbling block into which even Maimonides fell when he decided that Aristotle's physics was the truth and interpreted the account of creation accordingly. Rabbi Hirsch determines that even if Darwinian theory is proven, we will not fear it, and we will interpret the Torah so that it accords with it. The opposite is true: the theory of the evolution of species only strengthens the Torah's position regarding an all-powerful God who created one molecule with the potential to develop into all the variety we see before us today.[3] Abraham's general position is very similar to this position.

In the article under discussion, Abraham tries to justify his position that he does not agree to sign a covenant between religious and secular Jews and honor them, on the grounds that he is convinced of the religious position after deep study, whereas his opponents are superficial and refuse to grapple with the issue deeply, and he sees no reason to sign a covenant with such people. According to him, his stance toward them is a tolerant monistic one that holds that there is only one truth. Although he thinks the truth is with him, he will not impose his position on others even if he could, and despite the fact that their position is harmful, because the tolerant position is value-laden and recognizes the autonomy of the other and his right to err. He distinguishes between this tolerance and pluralism, which is a philosophical conception meaning belief in many truths even if they contradict one another, but lacking value content, because the pluralist does not impose his position because he has no reason to do so, and not out of preservation of any value. The other's position is true just as my position is true.

In my opinion, here too Abraham's theory is determined by his religious faith and not the reverse. Abraham recognizes only one type of pluralism, namely postmodern pluralism, which advocates many truths. Were there no pluralists before our period? In my understanding, a pluralist too can believe that there is only one truth (or two, according to the position of double truth[4]) and no more. What distinguishes him from the tolerant person is not the number of truths but the degree of humility (which is of course value-laden). The religious pluralist recognizes that the positions of religion cannot be proven by his reason (since Kant), and he may err, and it may be that the liberal secular position is the only truth (or perhaps only both are true, despite their contradiction and without any bridging illusion[5]). By contrast, the tolerant person is (almost) certain that the truth is with him, except that in his goodness he recognizes the autonomy of the other.

To my taste, this is a condescending position that is not value-laden (although Abraham of course denies that he is such), and its expression is the claim that most secular people do not think whereas most religious people do think, or at least that he thinks and has proofs that convince him, whereas his opponents do not think enough. If they were to think, or confront him, he would persuade them to believe that God writes or dictates books and constantly governs nature and human history. Is there no one among his opponents who thinks? I wonder. It seems that Abraham himself senses the possibility of such a position, and toward the end of the article he does in fact present such a modest position, but according to his initial mistaken definition of pluralism he attributes it to the tolerant monist, because the pluralist in his opinion is only one who believes in many truths.

I am not a philosopher, and therefore I am unable to analyze, by pure logic, Abraham's claim that the postmodern pluralistic position is not value-laden. In my understanding, a philosophical conception does not fall upon a person from heaven; rather, he chooses it according to his value-positions. Intuitively, it seems to me that a pluralist cannot be an egoist, chauvinist, racist, nationalist, fascist, or fundamentalist—all positions that in my eyes are immoral. By contrast, the monist can be any one of these and claim that he is value-laden because he tolerates others out of respect for their autonomy. One can see in David Hartman, Yeshayahu Leibowitz, Eliezer Goldman, and Rabbi Soloveitchik moral figures into whose consciousness postmodern pluralism seeped to one degree or another. Gili Zivan pointed this out in detail in her book, and I hope I am not mistaken when I say that she and my teacher Avi Sagi saw this pluralism as a deeply value-laden position, and to my taste even more value-laden than monistic pluralism.[6]

Once Abraham's theory collapses, the phenomenological differences between tolerance and pluralism that he presents collapse as well. His interpretation of various statements in the words of the Sages and of halakhic decisors can also be disputed, and at times it is far from the plain sense and amounts to a midrash on the words of the Sages. For example, his explanation of These and those are the words of the living God proceeds from the assumption that this is a halakhic truth. In my understanding, this position of Rabbi Abba in the name of Shmuel should be interpreted only according to the 'revealing position'—or, according to Moshe Halbertal, the 'constituting' position—of Nachmanides and Ran, according to which God gave Moses at Sinai all the possible opinions regarding every law, and therefore all the words of the sages who disagree with one another are the words of the living God, and their task is to reveal the truth intended by the Giver of the Torah at Sinai—or, according to Halbertal, to constitute the halakhic truth that retroactively determines the text. The holy spirit assists them in this activity. This is a romantic mystical position that relies on a heavenly voice, or on a revelation of Elijah, or on the holy spirit. Rabbi Yehoshua, Maimonides, and perhaps also the Geonim would not agree to accept such a position, nor this rule of Shmuel. In their view there is only one halakhic truth that was transmitted to us at Sinai, and we do not heed a heavenly voice and a prophet is not permitted to introduce a new law. This is a rationalist position that relies on reasoning and logic.[7]

[1]  James Bar, Fundamentalism, Philadelphia 1978.

[2]  On the fundamentalist and neo-fundamentalist according to Barr, see my book The Middle Way: The Beginnings of the Growth of Modern Religiosity, Jerusalem 2011, pp. 111-115.

[3]  On Hirsch's position in this regard, see ibid., pp. 277-290.

[4]  On the position of double truth, see ibid., pp. 330-339.

[5]  On religious and secular truth, see Moshe Meir, Two Together, Jerusalem 2012.

[6]  See G. Zivan, Religion Without Illusion, Jerusalem and Ramat Gan 2006, especially pp. 56-58.

[7]  On the dispute between Nachmanides and his students, on the one hand, and the Geonim and Maimonides, on the other, regarding what was transmitted to Moses at Sinai, see Moshe Halbertal, By Way of Truth: Nahmanides and the Creation of Tradition, Jerusalem 2006, chapter 1, and in my aforementioned book, pp. 118-127.

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With God's help

My response to Ephraim Hamiel's remarks.

While reading these remarks, I pinched myself to make sure that no mistake had occurred here. It became clear to me that I wrote and detailed my position on various subjects, in books and articles, very thoroughly, all in vain. Hamiel insists on making no use of any of it. He prefers to deal with the doctrine of another Michael Abraham (apparently from the period of the anonymous redactors), a product of his imagination.

Hamiel writes:

I am not a philosopher, and therefore I am unable to analyze, by pure logic, Abraham's claim that the postmodern pluralistic position is not value-laden.

Since he is unable to analyze my claim by pure logic, he makes use of impure logic, which, as we shall see below, is a highly powerful critical tool. Beyond that, Hamiel uses another critical tool: he simply invents positions of mine out of thin air and then attacks them. This is deconstruction in earnest. Derrida's lips are moving in his grave. This is not some mistaken interpretation of a marginal claim of mine. I rummaged through my words and found in them nothing (!) of what he attributes to me. Below I will demonstrate this.

Hamiel's response is divided into two parts, whose connection I did not understand. In the first part he deals with my position regarding science and faith (in light of my book, God Plays Dice). In the second part he deals with my remarks on pluralism and tolerance (in light of the article). What the two parts have in common is that both attack positions unfamiliar to me.

At the basis of the first part stands the festive declaration that I am a neo-fundamentalist, from the school of Samson Raphael Hirsch. I do not know Samson Raphael Hirsch's doctrine very well, but I had naively thought that I knew my own position. I wondered: what am I being accused of? What is the nature of this terrible neo-fundamentalism? This is the explanation:

The neo-fundamentalist too allows religious faith to determine theory. But for him the theory is not fixed; rather, it changes without consistency. So long as the rational-scientific proposition remains a hypothesis, the dictates of revelation in their plain sense determine the truth. But the moment the scientific proposition is proven logically or experimentally beyond refutation, the standard is reversed, and the proposition of revelation is interpreted non-literally so that it accords with science.

Well, I am not especially enthusiastic about this approach either. I pass all my writings before the eyes of my mind one by one, and I cannot find a source for this conception. The article does not deal with any of this at all, while in the book I actually display great trust in science, together with a consistent and systematic attempt to separate it from faith and its contents. From where was this description of my position taken? Hamiel will have to explain. And I have not yet remarked on mistakes such as logical proofs for scientific results ('beyond refutation'?…), and so on.

I also do not quite understand the claim that a rational-scientific proposition is a 'hypothesis.' Does this mean an inaccurate statement? Or perhaps an incorrect one? Is it a speculative and unfounded conjecture? Or perhaps merely a non-final statement? With the last I agree; with the former, less so. What does all this have to do with me? Hamiel will have to explain.

And here is another quotation:

Thus Rabbi Hirsch determines that ordinarily the Torah is our standard for determining truth. Yet the proven fact that the earth is not at the center of the universe and that it is billions of years old we accept from science without fear, and we interpret the creation story in these respects non-literally (just as some claim today that the Big Bang is the creation of light). This is a stumbling block into which even Maimonides fell when he decided that Aristotle's physics was the truth and interpreted the account of creation accordingly. Rabbi Hirsch determines that even if Darwinian theory is proven, we will not fear it, and we will interpret the Torah so that it accords with it. The opposite is true: the theory of the evolution of species only strengthens the Torah's position regarding an all-powerful God who created one molecule with the potential to develop into all the variety we see before us today. Abraham's general position is very similar to this position.

I must note that my book does not deal at all with the biblical descriptions of creation, and with the relation between them and science. The book deals only with belief in God in its philosophical sense. This follows from my opinion that these discussions ought to be separated. Where did he see my position regarding these questions? Hamiel will have to explain.

But now that this topic has been raised, I confess with embarrassment that I did not understand Maimonides' 'failure.' Can interpretations that are not based on science not also turn out to be mistaken? Every interpretation contains insights that are the product of its time and place, and science is not essentially different in this regard. What Hamiel proposes is to withdraw entirely from biblical interpretation for fear that it may turn out that we erred. According to this impure logic, it seems to me that it would also be better to stop building airplanes or manufacturing medicines, lest our physics or biology and chemistry turn out to be mistaken as science advances.

In the second part Hamiel moves on to my doctrine regarding tolerance and pluralism. Here we are offered two types of insight: a. semantic; b. classificatory.

There are phenomena that I call tolerance and that in his view it would be more fitting to call pluralism. On this I already wrote at the outset of my article that I do not intend to make semantic claims. The terminology is defined there for the sake of my own discussion. If someone prefers to call what I define as pluralism 'tolerance,' 'humility,' or 'Yekum Purkan,' good for him—provided that he preserves consistency and clarity, which Hamiel is careful not to do. The humble type that Hamiel proposes as an alternative to my pluralism is also discussed by me (though I called him a tolerant person, but that is only semantics, as stated).

On the classificatory plane, here I am granted the honorable title 'condescending' (which apparently characterizes 'neo-fundamentalists' like me):

To my taste, this is a condescending position that is not value-laden (although Abraham of course denies that he is such), and its expression is the claim that most secular people do not think whereas most religious people do think, or at least that he thinks and has proofs that convince him, whereas his opponents do not think enough. If they were to think, or confront him, he would persuade them to believe that God writes or dictates books and constantly governs nature and human history. Is there no one among his opponents who thinks? I wonder!!

Where in my remarks did he see the claim that most secular people do not think and most religious people do? Apparently in the hidden writings of Michael the anonymous redactor. In my own opinion, among both the religious and the secular, most do not think, and there is no principled difference between them in this matter. Needless to say, I do indeed think that the religious are more correct (that is of course my opinion, since I am a believer). But I take into account, with due humility, the possibility that I am mistaken, as every person ought to do.

In the hidden writings of the anonymous redactor there is probably also the claim that the proofs in my possession would certainly persuade my opponents. By contrast, what I actually wrote is that if the one who disagrees with me listens to me and still is not persuaded—or if he persuades me (!)—then I would certainly sign with him a covenant of mutual respect.

And while we are at this passage, it is worth noticing another innovation. As far as I know my own position, God certainly does not govern history, and in simple terms not nature either. But in the hidden writings Hamiel found a definitive assertion that God governs both nature and history 'constantly.'

I will not peddle, like a hawker, the whole array of problems that fill Hamiel's short response. In my life I have never encountered such a treatment, and I hope I will not encounter it again…