Toleration and Tolerance in Medieval European Literature

by Albrecht Classen

  As the philosopher clearly recognizes, most people who adhere to a specific faith follow this practice out of tradition and fear of losing the general approval or of being excommunicated. Many people admit that they simply believe what they cannot understand, which means the elimination of reason and rationality in the discourse about God (26). There is the danger, as the philosopher sees it, that the followers of a certain religion subscribe more to the mere words than to the mind, or to rational thought. Of course, faith is not a matter of reason, as we would say it today, perhaps, but the philosopher insists on this important distinction, expanding it to include also the tension between the ineffable and the power of logic. In modern terms, we could say, the philosopher identifies religion as the escape route from rationality to the numen, hence as a phenomenon that refuses any critical explanation and cannot be grasped through the rational mind (26).

  The philosopher at first turns to the Jew, asking him to make his case for his own faith. The Jew takes this as a privilege to explain his own religion, and this not only to a Christian, but also to a rational scholar. The Jew acknowledges the philosopher’s great advantage over them both, especially because he operates with reason alone, and yet also has access to the Holy Scriptures as possible evidence. Even if the disputation might not achieve the desired result, they could all hope to gain some insights. Such an outcome would confirm for all sides that their disputation might be fruitful for everyone, even if they could not agree on the fundamental issues.

  The philosopher refers to natural law once again as the foundation of all religion, and thus indicates how many essential aspects could be shared by the representatives of the various faiths. Most people would acquire such faith through their early upbringing and societal pressures, and not through a spiritual vision or other experiences (26). So, religion proves to be much the result of tradition within a community and not of visions or revelations. The ultimate goal would be to bring together people and help the community, and consequently faith constitutes a construct contributing to the establishment of social cohesion.

  Significantly, Abelard has the Jew call the Christian his “brother,” who would help him compensate his own shortcomings, especially because he can rely on two scriptures, the Old and the New Testament (28). Undoubtedly, the author writes his narrative from a Christian perspective and puts those words into the Jew’s mouth, who is going to lose out in this debate at any rate. Nevertheless, Abelard projects a platform upon which the Jew enjoys equal rights with the Christian and can voice his opinion openly without any fear of being persecuted. He also begs the philosopher not to take the outcome of this debate as the ultimate verdict over the entire Jewish people because if he were to fail in the debate because of a lack of logical arguments, this should not condemn his entire community (28). Subsequently he emphasizes that young children simply follow their parents or relatives in their faith, while young adults finally turn to rational thought and make up their own mind regarding their religion. Jews follow the law given to them by God, whether they learned about it firsthand or secondhand. Obedience under God thus constitutes their greatest accomplishment in matter of faith (30–1). According to his observation, people are prone to turn over to malice, unless there are laws to prevent this, which God had generously granted to humanity. Chaos would rule without the law, so the Jew argues logically that their own submission under God represents the first and crucial step forward in preventing crime and vices from dominating human life.

  The Jew also points out the enormous suffering his people has had to undergo all over the world such as being lost in the diaspora, subject to cruel rulers and hostile environment, never being able to rest, and having to rely on the princely authorities that are supposed to protect them. Although the entire world seems to conspire against the Jews and constantly harbors negative feelings against them, they still survive and prosper, although they are not allowed to own land, to become farmers or craftsmen, and must make their living by lending money (33). The Jew laments the harshness of their living conditions, the pain of circumcision, and the demands to eat only kosher food (34), but he also insists that their zeal in all those matters make them into good, faithful people. He appeals, in other words, to the empathy of his audience and hopes that the philosopher will understand the difficult circumstances for Jews, who try their best to live a pious life according to their tradition and laws.

  Indirectly, Abelard allows the Jew also to criticize their Christian neighbors among whom they have to live because they tend to mistreat them and act arrogantly, if not even violently, against them (33). The Christians become guilty of “oppression of men” (34) in their hatred of Jews and, thus, undermine their own ethical and religious standpoint, whereas the Jews labor hard to observe God’s laws despite all hardship involved in it (35). The philosopher then examines this position and suggests to the Jew that he should allow him to test his own lawfulness in light of rational categories. The first point is that circumcision is accepted as a ritual practice requested from Jews by God, but that it does not grant any particular reward. Hence, the ritual itself could not be sustained by the law of rationality and would not make the Jewish faith more acceptable. Circumcision would only result in earthly prosperity, but would not open the gate of heaven to Jews (39).

  The arguments by the philosopher might be valid and could certainly mean that the Jew does not fully apply rationality in the defense of his faith. As scholars have pointed out numerous times, it would be difficult to recognize here any tolerant attitudes toward Jews, who were increasingly targeted by anti-Judaism in the twelfth century.19 Constant Mews, above all, has emphasized that “Abelard was primarily concerned not with proving Jews wrong, but with understanding the supreme good and how that supreme good should be reached.”20 His investment was focused on the ethics of religion, and he hoped to find common ground for all three participants in that debate. But Mews questions whether Abelard truly subscribed to the idea of tolerance, which could be solved by resorting to the much more appropriate term ‘toleration’, insofar as the quest for truth and the inquiry about the proper path required rational strategies, which all three participants in the debate command and are privileged to exercise.21

  However, the very premise of having a philosopher debate with a Jew over the truth of the latter’s faith, granting the Jew the full right to explain the basis of his religion and justifying it at least to some extent, deserves our attention. The philosopher does not refuse to debate with him; instead he is listening carefully to his points and then attempts to defuse them one by one. We would have to agree that Abelard does not provide the Jew with the full rights in the debate, as is the case for the Christian, but there are several aspects that allow us to identify this intellectual debate as a remarkable step forward in the history of religion. After all, Abelard himself indicated through the Dialogue that the understanding or finding of truth was dependent on the ability to employ rationality and also a form of spiritual insight, which left considerable space for other opinions and even faiths, as he had already formulated it in his Theologia ‘Scholarium’ and then also in numerous other works throughout his life (De intellectibus). In Mews’s words, “an estimation (existimatio) of something was not the same as an understanding, which conferred certitude. He did not deny the existence of truth, only our capacity to give it final definition.”22

  The Jew enjoys the same respect as the Christian; he is allowed to speak up fully and is given complete freedom to express his opinion and to defend it carefully. Abelard must grant the Christian the victory at the end because he himself was a Christian, wrote for a Christian audience, and was expected to reach that conclusion. Nevertheless, in that process, he opens the door for the Jew at least to gain respect, to enjoy intellectual liberty, and grants him the right to elucidate both what constitutes his own faith and to outline the global suffering by all Jews who live in a rather hostile environment.

  Even though the philosopher believes that ultimately he has dem
onstrated by means of logical arguments that the Jew is wrong in the defense of his own faith, and even though subsequently the Christian will have the final say and even convince the philosopher that Christianity is the only true religion, there is no denying that the Jew gains a remarkable space of freedom to speak up and to explain the historical situation of the Jews. After all, he listens carefully to the philosopher and responds in a kind way, presenting valid counterarguments that deserve to be listened to as well. Abelard has the Jew outline in impressive detail what his laws prescribe him to do and how those have determined the entire history of his people. The Jew argues just as convincingly as the philosopher, and later the Christian, on the basis of Scripture and reaches solid conclusions concerning the reading of his own text. In fact, the Jew gains a point in refuting what the philosopher has said, referring to passages in his holy text that were ignored by his opponent, especially those pertaining to the covenant with God (48–49). As the Jew sees it, quite convincingly, “he calls himself in a special way the God of the Hebrews” (49), accepting the practice of circumcision as a marker of belonging to the community of faithfuls.

  The external physical sign, thus, transforms into a marker of the internal, spiritual union with God, making themselves into members of the divine community (49). Circumcision is here identified as a physical operation comparable to pruning vines, purifying the impure, and transforming the natural dimension of the faithful into a spiritual one (50). Irrespective of how his contemporaries might have viewed circumcision, Abelard grants that the Jew makes a very solid case in favor of it, as based on Scriptural commandments. His arguments are detailed, consistent, and forceful, granting him much respect, even though the philosopher and the Christian do not say so in any particular way. Consequently, many people converted to the Jewish faith, convinced that the Jewish teachings were the right way toward God: “We know that our people had many proselytes from the Gentiles who were converted to the Law, and this surely not so much out of imitation of their parents as out of a kindred virtue” (53).

  The Jew underscores the supreme importance of the laws, which only he and his co-religionists observe. Obviously, Abelard had studied the Old Testament most thoroughly and was here able to discuss the issues as closely to the Jewish position as possible. Did he learn from any Jewish rabbi to develop these arguments? Did he copy from relevant texts? And how might his contemporaries have reacted to them? When we consider those statements closely, we recognize easily that Abelard put ideas into the Jew’s mouth, which could be easily accepted by any Christian, such as when he has him state:

  Indeed, the Law carefully makes the point that the love of God is to be perfect and it expands on it so far as to command that God is to be loved with our whole heart and our whole soul and with all our strength.

  (56)

  It would be rather difficult here to identify a difference between Jewish and Christian thinking. This deserves particular attention when the Jew formulates, in an almost modern fashion,

  We are also commanded to love the very foreigners who live among us as ourselves, and the Law itself extends the embrace of love so far that its benefits are not to be lacking to our very enemies and to those who harm us.

  (56–57)

  As much as the Jew argues on the basis of the Old Testament, it would be difficult to claim that his interpretations differ specifically from the Christian teaching. Abelard did not hesitate to grant him much space to explain specifically what Judaism means and where it draws its inspiration from. Most significantly, he has the Jew explain his faith in the following words:

  True love of God and men is sufficient for every virtue of the spirit, and if words should be lacking, nonetheless, a good and perfect will would never be diminished in its merit…. Therefore, although the perfection of love is enough to merit true beatitude, certainly the additional precepts of a more constrained life ought to have gained something additional in this life at least, so that by the assurance of earthly benefits we would also become more prompt and secure in the service of God.

  (58)

  Undoubtedly, the Jew is not even explaining his own faith; instead he reflects on universal aspects underlying any monotheistic faith, which makes him into a fully accepted partner in the discourse on religion as outlined in this debate narrative. It remains unclear whether the philosopher subsequently proves to be justified in his criticism of the Jew’s defense of circumcision, especially because the latter procedure does not matter so centrally in the Jew’s defense. After all, he rightly claims that God would forgive their sins if they truly repent and live a pious life (59).

  For the philosopher, those explanations remain worthless because the Jewish rituals pursue, as he sees it, only formal practices and are not substitutes for spiritual cleansing (70), which represents, as we could say today, only an argument by itself without absolute validity since it addresses religious issues where real proof no longer exists (“salvation of the soul,” 70). This is especially significant because he sees himself exempt from submitting under the Jewish laws, without providing, however, absolute evidence. A judge, who is suddenly introduced here, refuses to issue a statement and prefers to listen to the Christian’s arguments first (71). In the further exchanges, the philosopher suddenly accuses the Jew of lacking in “reasoned arguments” (78) and depending on physical manifestations of the true God, but he does not realize the extent to which he himself suddenly relies on spiritual phenomenon as evidence for the true faith, abandoning his own rational procedure in favor of a purely religious argument (81).

  In contradiction to his own claim early on in his exchange with the Jew, the Philosopher goes so far as to suggest that “reason ought to have absolutely no hearing in matters such as these” (81). The Christian, of course, completely agrees with that and suggests that his own concept ought to be accepted as an absolute truth, irrespective of all reason, or rationality (82). He goes so far as to claim, perhaps really representing Abelard’s own concept,

  The question of what is really the truth is not an issue for the building up of the faith, but rather it is a question of what can be held by opinion; and many questions arise concerning the words of the authority itself, so that judgment must be rendered on them before it is rendered by means of them.

  (86–87)

  It remains very unclear here where rational logic is still accepted as the guiding principle and why the Jew, for example, would be wrong in his own perception. Surprisingly, however, the Christian himself, speaking obviously for Abelard via the reference to the work Christian Theology (87), insists that “the faith must be subject to rational investigation” (87).

  Both the philosopher and the Christian increasingly turn to the issue of virtues and the supreme good and no longer pursue the question of which religion would be the true one (90). As the philosopher himself confirms, the ideal is to act well and to subscribe to virtue, and this insofar as the highest ideal of virtue can be equated with blessedness (91).

  The subsequent exchanges between the two no longer addresses the original issues, and specifically do not pertain to the Jewish faith, or any particular faith, because the central focus concerns ethical ideals and the question regarding how to achieve the supreme good via virtues (95). Further, there is the quest for justice in global terms (119–20), for fortitude (121), temperance (121), frugality (121–22), and then, again, the supreme good (123) and also the supreme evil (123–24).

  Abelard’s treatise remains incomplete, and it does not grant the Jew to speak any further; instead, the remaining part of the treatise pertains exclusively to the exchange between the philosopher and the Christian. Nevertheless, as the latter confirms at the end, rationality remains the central force in all epistemological explorations (165), as much as ethical ideals need to be observed. While in the early part, the question focused on the issue of what the true faith might be, the later part moves far away from this issue and addresses primarily the criteria pertaining to good versus evil, God’s interve
ntion in human life, and His direct impact on the individual. It almost seems as if Abelard at first ventured out to explore what we would call ‘toleration’, but in mid-course, he turned away from the global purpose and returned to fundamental questions regarding the relationship between God and people.

  Nevertheless, this Dialogue still proves to be predicated on the possibility that representatives of different faiths and philosophical convictions can talk to each other and can explore the ethical foundation of faith. Christianity remains the central concern, and there is, at the end, no room for the Jew any longer, but Abelard still granted rationality the greatest space, even in the discussion with the Christian. We observe here an early emergence of toleration, although it is soon forgotten again because the critical issue consists of how faith can be explained in a rational fashion and not whether the Jews are entitled to hold on to their own religion. Nevertheless, despite this limitation, Abelard still allowed enough intellectual space for a philosophical discourse on faith that could grant also non-Christians to be equally involved. As little as it might be, in this Dialogue, we encounter a remarkable openness toward Jews since they are recognized as worthy members of a rational discourse. When the matter finally focuses on faith, of course, we no longer hear of the Jew, and instead, only the philosopher and the Christian debate with each other. However, we still need to keep in mind that they do not really explore the Christian faith but the question what constitutes goodness versus evil altogether. In other words, Abelard pursues an ethical and philosophical inquiry; hence his ultimate disregard of the Jew and the exclusive focus on the “divine ordinance” and “supreme good” (169) according to which good people should lead their lives. Most significantly, the exchange between the philosopher and the Jew concludes with the judge intervening and stressing that they are all present in this debate driven by the desire to learn and to acquire wisdom (71). This, thus, implies explicitly that the Jew also receives high respect and an equal treatment, although we no longer hear of him once the Christian voices his opinion and discusses with the philosopher, who then becomes a rather passive listener.