166 - Tamar Rudavsky on Gersonides and Crescas

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Tamar Rudavsky joins Peter to talk about the two great medieval Jewish thinkers after Maimonides: Gersonides and Crescas.

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Further Reading

• T. Rudavsky, “The Theory of Time in Maimonides and Crescas,” Viator 11 (1980), 289-320.

• T. Rudavsky (ed.), Divine Omniscience and Omnipotence in Medieval Philosophy, (Dordrecht: 1985).

• T. Rudavsky, Time Matters: Time, Creation and Cosmology in Medieval Jewish Philosophy, (Albany: 2000).

• T. Rudavsky and S. Nadler (eds), The Cambridge History of Jewish Philosophy: From Antiquity to the Seventeenth Century (Cambridge: 2009).

• T. Rudavsky, “Christian Scholasticism and Jewish Philosophy in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries," in D.H. Frank and O. Leaman (eds), The Cambridge Companion to Medieval Jewish Thought (Cambridge: 2003).

• T. Rudavsky, Jewish Philosophy in the Middle Ages: Science, Rationalism, and Religion (Oxford: 2018).

Comments

Peter Adamson on 9 March 2014

Sound quality

Apologies for the sound quality on this one which is not great - it was recorded over Skype.

Maciek Zajac on 9 March 2014

Still I think it was a pretty good one

Episodes on Crescas were definitely most intresting among the Jewish philosophy ones.

If I may have a question on a much earlier topic - what Greek expression would Plato use to render the meaning of "moral/ethical knowledge"? Would Aristotle use a different expression? One of my friends remembers that in the metaphor of the cave Plato discerns four levels of knowledge the escaping philosopher reaches, each time using a different word. Would the appropriate expression be phronesis? Epsiteme with an adjective? Or something different still?

In reply to by Maciek Zajac

Peter Adamson on 9 March 2014

Moral knowledge

Glad you liked Crescas. I kind of knew about him before writing the episodes so to me the big revelation was actually Ibn Paquda, whom I'd never read before.

Re. your terminology question I think (though maybe there is a passage I am not thinking of in Plato) that phronesis is defined as a specifically practical faculty first in Aristotle. In the passages where Socrates proposes an identity between virtue and knowledge he just calls virtue an episteme. It's right that Plato gives four kinds of cognition in the divided line, the top ones being noesis (all the way at the top) and then dianoia, which the Neoplatonists understood to mean respectively pure intellection and discursive thought. Neither of these seems to refer exclusively to theoretical or practical wisdom; indeed it would probably be fair to say that Aristotle's distinction between those two goes against the spirit of Plato's epistemology, which tends to see practical wisdom as intimately related to "theoretical" knowledge (i.e. grasp of the Forms).

In reply to by Peter Adamson

Maciek Zajac on 10 March 2014

Thanks a lot

That was very helpful :)

Tom Roche on 10 March 2014

Crescas and Augustine

Correct me where wrong, but ...

In episode 166, Rudavsky says, and you concur, that "of course" Crescas didn't know Augustine. But

* before that (IIRC) she maintains, and you concur, that both Crescas and Gersonides were engaged with the Scholastic tradition
* the Scholastics (e.g. Aquinas) are seriously into Augustine
* Augustine is one of the more Jew-friendly Church Fathers (granted, not stiff competition :-)
* Crescas is born ... what ... 900 years after Augustine dies?

Sooo ... why "of course"? Am I missing something? And, speaking of missing something: given

* Rudavsky's @ OSU
* you're from NJ
* your demonstrated inability to resist comic opportunities however minor

I am shocked (shocked!) that you did not sign off episode 166 with, "goodbye, Columbus" :-)

In reply to by Tom Roche

Peter Adamson on 10 March 2014

Crescas/Augustine

Oh, that's a very good point. I guess we would have to sort out whether it is likely he could have read the Confessions, which is rather a different proposition than, say, chatting with Ockham. But at least indirect influence could definitely be there if he is exposed to scholasticism.

Sorry to miss the joke opportunity; I won't let it happen again. By the way I'm from Boston, not NJ!

Dave Martin on 11 March 2014

Time... And Time Again

Dear Peter,
Thanks for another excellent episode. I find it fascinating how the history keeps coming back to this problem of 'what is time'?

One thing struck me during this most recent episode: If time were not eternal, there must be difference between time and the units applicable to defining the extent of eternity. In our current reality, we are presumably experiencing the combined effects of both time and whatever medium contains eternity, but what was it like when only this eternity-filled medium existed (ie pre-time). Although this episode suggested several definitions of how 'time' exists and/or is perceived within a larger eternity, it's not evident that any of these philosophers adequately describe what there is when we have the medium for eternity to 'be' but no time to mark it out.

For example, with existence in such a timeless state, can anything change and can there be causality? It seems to me that for something to change, it not only has to have two states that are different, but also some separation between those states (usually that separation is 'time' for us). Without separation, the states simply coexist, and if they coexist, they are one and there is no possibility of change. For example, if I have a blue doorknob and then at some later time paint it red, there is change, but if I try to make it red and blue at the same time, it will always be unchangingly purple.

The nature of causality would have a similar problem, because causality requires change.

If causality breaks down in an existence in which time is not eternal, then a lot of other things would fall apart. For example, going back a good few episodes, Avicenna's proof of a necessary existent also breaks down, since it relies on axioms about the nature of causality to prove that a non- contingent existent must exist. In fact, if the nature of causality is not eternal, any pre-time creation cannot be ascribed to an agent, and we cannot know whether creation of the first contingent things actually needed an agent or not.

Further, if change is impossible without time, then time ( along with anything else) cannot be created, so it would seem that it must therefore be eternal.

Regards, Dave M

In reply to by Dave Martin

Peter Adamson on 12 March 2014

Time, eternity and causation

Right, there is a whole cluster of problems here, and one big one as you mention is that it is not so obvious how A can be the caus of B without any temporal relations (at a minimum you might think B has to first not exist, then exist, in order to be caused). I think that Avicenna pretty much solves this with the essence existence distinction: if the essence is contingent whatever makes it exist is its cause and that can happen either eternally or with a temporal beginning. But people like al-Kindi would not agree: he makes "created" and "eternal" mutually exclusive.

And then another issue you raise here is what to say about the "time" before time would exist. This isn't necessarily absurd: you can have two types of time, one which is eternally elapsing, the other tied to the phenomena that are occurring once, say, the universe is created. This is Razi's view, and one that Crescas at least entertains. We'll find it again soon in Abu l-Barakat al-Baghdadi. However the usual move would be to say that God is in timeless eternity and that time simply begins when he wants it to, so there is no "temporal" extension prior to God's creative act.

In reply to by Peter Adamson

Dave Martin on 12 March 2014

Time, Eternity and all that

Hi Peter,
Thanks for your response. There's a few things here for me to think about.

I see the Avicenna solution to causality, but I'm not sure it's truly satisfying. The only 'causality' we ever experience is marked by a temporal extension. Even when you take something like, say, gravity that seems to be there all the time and holds planets in orbit, it can be seen to be causal because of the temporal changes caused on the motion of the planet. It's not clear to me that an 'eternal causality' (something that perpetually holds some other thing in existence) is the same phenomenon or that it would follow the same rules as causality we experience in a temporal reality. For example, how do we know that contingent things needed a 'cause' before the existence of time (in our temporal reality, they only need a cause to flip them from nonexistent to existent; in the pre-temporal reality, there can be no flipping, so do things that exist before time need a cause)? Indeed, how are the caused things differentiated from the things causing them in a motionless timeless reality?

I accept what you say about the possibility of two types of time, but - if there are indeed two types - we live in a reality where both types are elapsing. It's not clear that any of the axioms or logic we are using to do 'philosophy' would hold in that part of reality in which only one of the two were operating. (Another way of looking at this is to say that if there are two types of time, there must be two types of causality and we shouldn't asume we know how the second type works, or - in Avicenna's case- use it to prove the existence of God.)

In reply to by Dave Martin

Peter Adamson on 12 March 2014

More on time

Yes, I agree both those points are a worry. With regard to the first what we need to do is make a case that causal dependence is possible without temporal sequence. Actually Avicenna's theory can be taken to mean that a cause is ALWAYS simultaneous with its effect: the cause is responsible for the effect's continued existence for as long as it goes on. On that view temporal sequence has nothing to do with causation at all! But that isn't an argument, only a way of looking at things that may not convince you. Gazali mentions an example that was offered by "the philosophers" of a finger eternally stirring water: no one would be confused about which is cause and which effect. Augustine gives a nice similar example of a foot eternally making a footprint in sand. What we need in any case is the idea of asymmetry without the idea of literal precedence.

Regarding the second point, you are right that there's an epistemic puzzle here: how do we know about this other kind of time which idein dependent of things we experience? Razi and Baghdadi both anticipate this and claim that time is immediately intelligible to us without needing motion as a prompt. This is something in the direction of the Kantian idea that time is just a condition of our experience rather than something we extract from experience. More on this in the episode on Baghdadi.

In reply to by Peter Adamson

Dave Martin on 12 March 2014

More on time

Thanks Peter
I'll look forward to the episode on Baghdadi.

I can't agree with Gazali and Augustine though. There is no way of knowing if the finger is moving the water or vice versa without applying knowledge gained from previous experiment. Similarly, you couldn't know whether the foot is making the impression or whether the formation of the impression was lowering the foot, without some preexisting knowledge about the nature of gravity. Therefore the idea of having 'no doubt' when doing either action 'eternally' is moot.

By the way, I don't think modern Physics has a comprehensive idea about what time is either, other than its passage seems to be associated with the direction of increasing chaos in the universe.

In reply to by Peter Adamson

Xavier on 9 February 2023

Non-temoral causation

Joining the above conversation very late.

 

Augustine, at some point in the Confession, maybe when he's discussing "in the beginning" suggests that an example of atemporal priority is like how song is the ordering of sound ad yet neither exist at different times to each other.

 

Do you think that this works as an example of non-temoral causation?

In reply to by Xavier

Peter Adamson on 10 February 2023

Non-temporal causation

Yes I like that. A nice example in Ghazali is that a finger stirring water is simultaneous with its effect; I think it is Augustine who has one about a foot causing a footprint while standing in sand. 

Xaratustra on 17 August 2016

Time

Hi Peter,

I am not quite following the discussion about time. Things out there in the nature take time to happen, i.e. basically exchange energy. Even the whole universe, which is the home to time (and space) takes time to expand. The relation between time and energy is one of the most remarkable achievements of the 20th century by the lady physicists Emmy Noether in 1918.

Any phenomenon from planetary movements to chemical reactions in our body to seasonal behaviour of animals could in principle be used as a clock for time keeping, according to which other phenomena could be measured (of course the more accurate the scale, the more precise the time keeping is, for example by using an atomic clock).

This still remains unaffected by the modern (relativistic) physics, where one talks about "proper time". For instance if Hiawatha needs equivalent of 460 days (e.g. measured in units of a precise clock) to give birth to baby giraffe "Diantha", she would still need that amount of time even if she would be travelling past us in a spaceship with near-light speed, carrying a similar clock with her. Only our impression of time here on Earth would be different.

In fact, while floating in the mid-air, subtracting 100% physical interactions, there is no way for Avicenna to grasp the passage of time, unless he's hit by at least two migrating birds. It is his time-independent intellect though that says: ouch!

Apart from modern explanations, I wonder how did philosophers ever come to the conclusion that time could exist only in our minds?

In reply to by Xaratustra

Peter Adamson on 19 August 2016

Subjectivist views of time

Wow, that comment raises a lot of issues; obviously the modern way of thinking you discuss here has numerous different presuppositions that ancient and medieval thinkers did not share, including the idea that any motion could arbitrarily be made a clock (usually, they felt pressure to have some one universal time, often tied somehow to the motion of the cosmos). Regarding the last bit, Aristotle's definition of time as a measure of motion clearly invites subjectivist ("only in the mind") accounts of time, because it seems that a measurement happens only when someone measures, which sounds like a mental process. Augustine gives some other reasons for a subjectivist kind of view, which I discuss in episode 110.

In reply to by Peter Adamson

Xaratustra on 24 August 2016

Subjective account

Giving it a further thought, it seems that it might be possible to allow for an almost subjectivist account of time and still go strong with physics.

Physics tells us that we have to wait until something has happened (no matter relativistic or classical), e.g. exchange of energy or its conversion from one form to another. By choosing another phenomenon, we can quantify the "waiting" for the former by counting the number of occurrings of the latter. For example by experience you know that boiling an egg takes a bit longer than making two cups coffee in a row.

Put in other words, it is not the time that is passing, it is the physical phenomena that happen, but not instantly (regardless of any observer waiting for it or not). Assuming they either do happen instantly, or not at all, then there could be no waiting, and hence no feeling for time.

So time is more like a meta-concept that every body agrees on and makes the everyday life easier, much similar to paper money which is used by
everyone, instead of really trading goods with goods.

Therefore, in this sense, time for itself does not exist. It is just a concept in the mind!

I hope this definition can make the most subjectivist of philosophers happy.

Cheers!

:-)

SocraticPlato on 23 February 2022

Crescas, Augustine and time

Hi, nice episode as always!

I was wondering if there's any difference between Crescas's conception of time and that of Augustine.

 

In reply to by SocraticPlato

Peter Adamson on 23 February 2022

Augustine and Crescas

Ah, that's a nice question: both of them seem to be some sort of subjectivists about time and say it is dependent on the soul. So definitely comparable. If there is a difference it might be that Crescas is more within the debate over Aristotle's conception of time. So, if I understand him rightly, he is saying "sure there are measurable changes and motions out in the world but time only comes in when we count/measure them." Whereas Augustine's discussion in the Confessions offers a deeper exploration of how we experience time, because it is more about memory and expectation. Still I think as far as the metaphysics of time goes, they pretty much have the same view.

Xavier on 9 February 2023

Crescas anti-rationalist?

How come you and Tamara both described Crescas as ati-rationalist?

 

It seemed to me like he was engaging in rational work and was only being anti-Aristotle.

 

While I'm at it, what exactly separates the philosopher and the theologian? How come the Mu'tazilites are described as theologians and not philosophers when they're doing their work like expounding negative theology or divine simplicity?

In reply to by Xavier

Peter Adamson on 10 February 2023

Crescas and Kalam

This was a long time ago, and I don't remember what Prof Rudavsky said; but looking back at the text of the scripts, I said it was "tempting" to describe Crescas as an anti-rationalist and then went on to say that this would be a mistake. Here is the passage: "It’s tempting to caricature Gersonides and Crescas, the two great thinkers of medieval Judaism after Maimonides, as standard-bearers for the rationalist and anti-rationalist paths open to Jews in this period. There may be something to that idea (it’s easy to remember, for one thing). Yet Gersonides, despite his enthusiasm for Averroes, was also a critic of the previous philosophical tradition, and Crescas structured his Light of the Lord in pretty much the same way as Gersonides structured his Wars of the Lord. Both proceed by listing classic arguments of philosophy and then passing judgment upon them." (That's from the book version, not sure if it is exactly the same as in the audio podcast.)

And as for kalam and philosophy, you are preaching to the choir on that one! I have been arguing in many places for years that kalam should be counted as a philosophical tradition which is why I included it in this series. See also for instance my online article here:

https://aeon.co/ideas/if-aquinas-is-a-philosopher-then-so-are-the-islam…

In reply to by Peter Adamson

Xavier on 10 February 2023

Aquinas and Averroes

Just read your article, well said. 

I was not warm towards Russell because of his dismissal of Aquinas as not really being a philosopher (and some very rude off hand comments relating to the wellbeing and treatment of children of large families in "Why I am not a Christian", but that was merely personal). I guess it'll need to be said that Russell was consistent though when it came to Aquinas and Averroes. He didn't like the religious philosophers of any stripe it seems!

 

His contemporary, Frederick Copleston, on the other hand quite liked the scholastics as philosophers but he also led me astray with the "no more after Avicenna because of Al Ghazali" line. I have his 11 part History of Philosophy, which I am sure I'll read eventually but I've only read vol 1 and 2 (1=Greek/Latin and 2=Medieval until the start of 14th C) and that was about 5 years ago. Although, if I recall rightly, Copleston criticizes Ghazali in a way similar to how Ockham, and sometimes Scotus (as with Pope Benedict XVI in the Regensburg lecture), are often critiqued in Catholic circles: For introducing voluntarism to theology. The problem with doing this, they say, is that it kills the validity of reason as a way to understand God. The extreme voluntarist would say that God can arbitrarily decide that 2 + 2 is 5 or that murder is virtuous. In the wake of this, reason and thus philosophy can not be regarded as ultimate guides to objective true and fade away.

 

I have only just started your later Eastern Islam episodes and I'm sure you'll probably disabuse me there anyway. But I wonder what you think about this old strain of thought.

1. Is Al Ghazali like a Muslim parallel to William of Ockham?

2. Does theological voluntarism cause problems for the project of doing philosophy?

3. Is Frederick Copleston's History of Philosophy a worthwhile series or do you think it has become irreparably dated?

 

Kind regards,

In reply to by Xavier

Peter Adamson on 10 February 2023

Ghazali etc

1. That's an interesting comparison; I guess I'd need to hear your reasoning there, the comparison who leaps to mind for me more is Fakhr al-Din al-Razi and Scotus.

2. Well, maybe. Voluntarism is often associated with limitations placed on reason, or even outright skepticism. But you can place even severe limits on reason and still leave plenty of room to do philosophy (e.g. about the nature of those limits, but also whatever doesn't stray beyond the limits). I think this is basically what we get in Asharite philosophical kalam and also in Protestant philosophy, cf. the current episodes that are coming out.

3. You know I own Copleston and read the series back in college or grad school, but I have deliberately avoided going through that or any other single-author general history of philosophy to avoid being unduly influenced (I looked at Russell not too long ago but figured that was safe since, like, I'm obviously not going to be taking an approach like his). So I would assume that Copleston must be quite outdated, but can't really give you confirmation. Obviously he wrote so long ago that a vast amount of research came after him, so only for that reason he would be quite out of date but it might still be worth consulting.

In reply to by Peter Adamson

Xavier on 11 February 2023

Many thanks and an apology to Copleston

Thanks for taking the time to reply and thank you for your entire project.

 

I really don't know enough to make a good case for seeing Al Ghazali and Ockham as having parallel effects on the philosophy of each of their religions other than they both were voluntarists and both set about critiquing the milestone Aristotelians before them like Avicenna and Aquinas.

I wonder if it would be true to say that, generally in the centuries that followed, in Islam the voluntarist critique was taken and Al Ghazali carries the day over Avicenna and in Catholicism the voluntarist critique was rejected in favour of Aquinas.

 

However, I am a blockhead who needs reprimanding. I just went and found my Copleston volume 2 to see what he had to say about Islamic philosophy and it isn't at all how I was recalling. I wonder who else I've listened to that I think of Al Ghazali as someone who weakened Islamic philosophy and concreted divine voluntarism. Anyway, Copleston devotes some 15 pages to the Islamic philosophers. He starts by explaining that Islamic philosophy has lots to it that is intrinsically interesting but that his intention is only write about philosophy in Medieval Christendom and so he only intends to give a brief sketch so that he can talk about its influence on Medieval Christendom. He then goes on to give a brief account of Alfarabi, Avicenna, and 'Algazel' as representing the Eastern Islamic thought and Averroes as representing the Western Islamic thought. He makes no mention whatever of any decline or end of philosophy in Islam! He only stops where he stops because that's far enough for him to start talking about Aquinas etc.

Furthermore, he makes no mention of voluntarism in Al Ghazali at all. He doesn't critique Al Ghazali at all, if anything the description is sympathetic.

So I would say that Copleston, happily, does not perpetuate the myth of the demise of Islamic philosophy in that book :)

 

By the way, I listened this morning to episode 177 about the Essence/Existence debates with Al Tusi and others. I was amazed at the parellels to Aquinas and Scotus. Al Tusi and Aquinas are nearly exact contemporaries. Could they have known of each other's works or are their sorts of talking points on existence/essence sort of inevitable in debates that are downstream from Avicenna in history?

In reply to by Xavier

Peter Adamson on 11 February 2023

Copleston and existence

Thanks, that's interesting about Copleston. As a Thomist he would have been more alive to the value of Avicenna etc than Russell was (Russell being famous for his dismissive remarks about philosophy in the Islamic world).

 

And yes, the similarities between Aquinas/Ghent/Scotus and Razi/Tusi are really striking, but I do think it is because both traditions are working out potential implications of Avicenna's philosophy. So what explains the parallel is the same starting point - this happens on other topics too and is one reason I always say that Avicenna is the most important medieval philosopher.  

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Note: this transcription was produced by automatic voice recognition software. It has been corrected by hand, but may still contain errors. We are very grateful to Tim Wittenborg for his production of the automated transcripts and for the efforts of a team of volunteer listeners who corrected the texts.

Peter Adamson: First, could you just provide the listeners with a quick reminder of who Gersonides and Crescas were? So their death dates are: Gersonides died in 1344, Crescas in 1410. So that means they weren't contemporaries, they didn't know each other, but they're often discussed together. So can you just sort of say who they are and maybe give us an idea of why people tend to group them together in that way?

Tamar Rudavsky: Well, I think we can start with why they are grouped together. That's a pretty straightforward answer. We can think of Jewish philosophy as being pre-Maimonides and post-Maimonides, and both Gersonides and Crescas are responding to Maimonides' Guide for the Perplexed. They respond in different ways, but they're both seen as taking on issues in Maimonides' Guide. Gersonides was born in France, 1288. He was extremely influential as a mathematician, astronomer, and philosopher. His major work, the Milhamoth Hashem, or Milhamoth Adonai, The Wars of the Lord, was written in response to Maimonides' Guide for the Perplexed. Crescas wrote somewhat later, 1413-1440, in Barcelona. His major work, Sefer or Adonai, the Book of the Light of the Lord, was finished several months before his death, and it was written as a polemic against both Maimonides and Gersonides. So if we see the trajectory from Maimonides' onward, we see Gersonides taking on some of Maimonides' positions, but not all, and Gersonides taking on both.

Peter Adamson: Not only do these two philosophers get associated with each other as different reactions to Maimonides, but I think they're often seen - at least by people who don't know their works very well - as conveniently opposed figures. So Gersonides is a rationalist, he's a commentator on Averroes, and Crescas is an anti-rationalist because he's famous for this attack on Aristotelian natural philosophy. And to be honest, this is pretty much what I thought before I started looking into them more to write about them for the podcasts. But actually reading them more carefully, I was struck by the fact that - as I mentioned at the end of the last episode - their works are very similar to each other. So they both have this habit of presenting other philosophers' arguments in great detail, and they'll go through all the premises and so on, and then they'll refute the arguments or say what's wrong with the arguments. So do you think that the two of them actually have more in common than people often are aware of?

Tamar Rudavsky: Well, that's an interesting question - yes and no. So they do share certain similarities, but yet I think their objectives are very different. In terms of similarities, both are writing under the shadow of Christian scholasticism. Both are aware of scholastic method. Scholasticism is becoming more and more popular in the Jewish idiom, and so we find Jewish philosophers really writing in a much more rigorous, what we would call, analytic style. They're aping Aristotle, they're aping the scholastics. I mean, not aping, but they're really copying methodologically and pedagogically the sort of rigor that we don't find, for example, if we read Maimonides' Guide for the Perplexed. I think students are often really surprised to find almost a lack of rigorous philosophical argument in Maimonides' Guide. Gersonides says at the outset that he wants to render philosophy scientific. He's very concerned with the rational aspect of philosophy, and we find Crescas in that same camp. So yes, they do share certain methodological similarities, but I would then go on to argue that they're really very different in terms of what they see their role to be. Crescas is much more global than Gersonides, and he really takes on a global attack upon the very doing of philosophy. He's directing his work against all Aristotelians, Maimonides, Gersonides, anyone who uses Aristotle's arguments to undermine Judaism. And so he really sees Aristotle's physics and metaphysics as threatening the fabric of Judaism, and he is determined to marshal whatever he needs to dismantle Aristotle.

Peter Adamson: And that's clearly not Gersonides' point of view.

Tamar Rudavsky: No, absolutely not. I would say that Gersonides is quite comfortable with philosophy. He's a philosopher's philosopher, and perhaps that's why I've always been attracted to him. He's much more concerned to render Jewish beliefs even more rational than anyone else had done. I mean, he's very much within the rationalist camp. He really takes on philosophical arguments in support of Judaism. He doesn't see the philosophical arguments as threatening Judaism in any way.

Peter Adamson: Could I just follow up on something you said there, which is that both of them are writing in the shadow of Latin scholasticism, which of course is something I haven't covered in the podcast yet. But nonetheless, I think it might be worth saying something about how much they knew about Latin scholastic philosophers. So we're talking about Gersonides living in the first half of the 14th century, Crescas in the second half of the 14th century. I mean, he died in 1410, so already into the 15th century. So that means in theory, they could have been aware of authors like Aquinas or even Scotus. How plausible is it to think that they were actually reading the works of the famous scholastic philosophers? I know there is a controversy about whether Gersonides read anything in Latin, for example.

Tamar Rudavsky: I wish I could give a definitive answer. There is quite a lot of disagreement over the extent to which Gersonides was aware of Latin writers and whether or not he used Latin or was aware of Latin texts. I personally feel that he did make use of works written in Latin. I think there's good evidence for that. I think it's also worth noting that he himself worked in Avignon at the papal court, the very two years that Ockham was there. And if you look at Ockham's theory, for example, of future contingents, and you compare it to Gersonides' theory of future contingents, both of them are espousing a minority view which had not been developed before in either Jewish or scholastic philosophy. So to me, it's remarkably naive to claim that Gersonides is writing in a vacuum. He's at the court. He's doing astronomy. He's the papal astronomer. He's having works commissioned. In Crescas's case also, he's writing during the height of the scholastic world. There are a lot of similarities between him and Nicole Oresme, between him and Peter Auriol. Zev Harvey has written extensively on the similarities. Again, we don't have definitive proof, but the writings suggest that Crescas was very much aware of what was happening in the 14th century among scholastics.

Peter Adamson: That's really interesting. I guess when they invent a time machine, the first thing we should do is go back and listen to Gersonides arguing with Ockham about future contingents.

Tamar Rudavsky: Oh, absolutely. And I'm convinced that they probably spoke in ProvenÁal, because we know that Gersonides knew ProvenÁal, Ockham knew ProvenÁal. What are they talking as they're circling around the court on a Tuesday afternoon?

Peter Adamson: Okay, note to self, before they invent time travel, learn ProvenÁal so that I can listen to them. Right. Okay, so I wanted to focus in particular on one philosophical topic, because obviously both Crescas and Gersonides talk about many philosophical topics, and we can't cover all that. So I thought maybe we could focus on one that you've written about a lot, which is time and eternity. And beginning with Gersonides, he seems to have a very unusual view on this, because he denies the eternity of the universe, as I understand it. But on the other hand, he thinks that time is eternal. So time has been, as it were, there the whole time that God has been there. Maybe that would be one way of thinking about it. But the physical universe has come into existence at some particular moment, so a finite number of years ago. So first of all, I guess, is that right? And second of all, how does he defend that view?

Tamar Rudavsky: He actually has a fairly, as you suggest, he has a fairly complex view. And his longest book in Wars of the Lord is devoted to the problem of creation. Book six is actually longer than the other five books together. Well, I'm not counting book five, which is his book on astronomy, but books one through four. And he's responding in part to Maimonides. Now, it's interesting, because I imagine that when you presented Maimonides, you talked to great length about how ambiguous Maimonides himself is with respect to the doctrine of creation. Maimonides can be read as postulating creation ex nihilo. He can be read as an eternal creation theorist. He can be read as an epistemological skeptic. I mean, there are many ways of unpacking what Maimonides has in mind. And so Maimonides' own theory is ambiguous. Gersonides takes on Maimonides, positions Maimonides as an ex nihilo theorist. So he reads Maimonides' Guide very straightforwardly and takes on Maimonides' theories of time and creation. And so what he will want to argue is that, as you suggested, the world itself is eternal in the sense that it's engendered out of what he calls a pre-existent matter. He distinguishes two types of matter, Geshem and Homer, taken from the book of Genesis, he's not being particularly creative on this score. But he does argue that the world was created out of an eternally pre-existent matter. And yet, at the same time, he wants to argue time is finite. And so the world itself, the temporal sphere, is not eternal but was actually generated. And he makes a very interesting point, arguing that with respect to potentiality, the past itself is finite and contains no potency. Only the future contains potency. So he's really distinguishing himself from the Aristotelian model of time. And I find that very interesting because it then allows him, in his material having to do with future contingents, to claim that the future is open once he's allowed for the potency embedded in the future rather than the past.

Peter Adamson: So let me get clear on something there. So there's pre-existing matter before the universe as we know and love it exists. And you said that the past is finite and that the temporal sphere came into existence at a certain moment, a finite number of years ago. Does he actually think that time itself came into existence when the physical universe came into existence? Or does he think that time extends backwards into the period when there was only pre-existing matter?

Tamar Rudavsky: I read him in the latter way that time and motion are finite but ungenerated. So it's an odd combination. So Homer itself has an underlying temporal thread to it.

Peter Adamson: So it's sort of like maybe he thinks something like organized time or time that's measured comes into existence when the cosmos starts to move.

Tamar Rudavsky: Right. So he doesn't make the sort of arguments that Plato, for example, makes in the Timaeus.

Peter Adamson: Actually, you just mentioned Plato, and Plato is always mentioned in the context of these eternity debates in the Arabic speaking world as someone who did in fact believe that there was pre-existing matter and then the cosmos came to be because the demiurge comes along and organizes the matter. But I know that also in the rabbinical tradition, there was this tradition of rabbis talking on the basis of Genesis about a pre-existing material substrate. So do you think that Gersonides would have seen himself as a follower of Plato or the rabbinical literature or both? I mean, did he think there was a kind of nice confluence between, say, the Mishnah and Plato on this issue?

Tamar Rudavsky: Oh, he definitely uses both. I mean, he sees himself in book six as bringing together both the rabbinic strand and the philosophical strand. He uses both, as you rightly point out, that there's a long rabbinical tradition of reading the first verses in Genesis as supporting, well, not so much an eternity model, but an eternal matter, a pre-existing matter. And God still plays a role in that Genesis model. And so I think this is the sort of model that Gersonides has in mind.

Peter Adamson: Another question, I guess, that arises here is, does he have a convincing argument for this? So I mean, it's one thing to say, 'oh, look, I agree with Plato. I agree with the rabbis, the ancient rabbis, so I must be right.' But presumably he has more to offer here than kind of appeal to authority. So is his main idea going to be actually, in a way, an Aristotelian one, which is that if you don't have some kind of potential, in other words, matter, that can be actualized when God creates the universe, then there's nothing for God to work with. And so there's no way he could actually create?

Tamar Rudavsky: No, he actually, it's very interesting. In book six, he provides us with about a dozen very carefully worked out arguments having to do with the finite divisibility of time. So he really takes on the whole theory of the continuum, infinite divisibility, and why it is that an infinite sequence can't be infinitely divided. He's very much aware of the Aristotelian arguments as they come in through the physics. I mean, we've got the super commentaries as well. And so no, no, he's not at all working on the basis. In fact, in book six, I mean, I should point out he doesn't quote rabbinic authorities at all - very much unlike Maimonides. If you read the Guide, Maimonides is quoting right and left, but Gersonides rarely quotes scripture in support of a philosophical position. And so what we have is sustained analytic argument. That probably, I think I would say the first example of sustained analytic argument in Jewish philosophy.

Peter Adamson: So that's interesting because that, in a way, reinforces this contrast we were talking about before between Gersonides, who's this kind of hard-nosed philosopher who really wants to argue within the philosophical tradition, and Crescas, who, of course, is much more like a critic of the philosophical tradition, even though they both write text full of arguments. And Crescas actually is also quite well known for having interesting things to say about time. So in this case, what he does is much more of a wholesale criticism of the Aristotelian conception of time. So what does he not like about Aristotle's conception of time? And what conception of time does he want to replace it with?

Tamar Rudavsky: Well, Crescas, as I said earlier, is trying to weaken Aristotle's hold on Jewish philosophy. And he sees that hold as really cemented in the 26 propositions that Maimonides lays out in the Guide for the Perplexed. These propositions form the basis of Maimonides' metaphysics. They're primarily Aristotelian. They're written in part in response to Islamic Kalam ontology. And Maimonides is replacing the Kalam with these 26 propositions. But Crescas turns to those propositions and dismantles them one by one. The ones that are obviously most germane today have to do with time and space. And so what Crescas will want to do is claim that it's these propositions that lead philosophers to reject creation. And so what he tries to do is reject, well, he starts first by rejecting Aristotle's theory of time, replacing it with what some scholars have called a subjective conception of time, suggesting that time is defined in terms of what he calls the duration of the life of the thinking soul. So this is quite different from anything that you'll find in Jewish philosophy. It actually reminds me of Augustine's subjective conception of time.

Peter Adamson: I was just going to say that.

Tamar Rudavsky: Yeah. Oh, very, very much. Very, very much. Now, obviously, Crescas hasn't read Augustine, but thinking about theories of time, there are only so many ways one can characterize time. And you're rejecting wholesale the Aristotelian conception. There are just only so many moves you can make. And so what he wants to claim is that the existence of time is only in the human soul. It's only because we have a mental conception of measurement that time even exists. Time becomes definite only by being measured by motion. And so here he's certainly adhering to certain Aristotelian pieces, but replacing the objective measure with a subjective awareness of time.

Peter Adamson: Actually, I'm always fascinated by this kind of subjective theory of time. And it always makes me wonder the same thing, both in Augustine and in Crescas, and whoever else says it. Because it seems clear that they're saying, 'well, there's no time out in the world.' So it's going on, as it were, in our minds. But then it seems to me like that could be understood in two different ways. One way would be to say, 'well, look, our own mental life is conditioned by time, really.' And so when we experience our thoughts or our memories kind of going on from moment to moment, that experience is conditioned by this phenomenon, which is time. So I would almost say it's real, but it's a mental phenomenon rather than objective phenomenon. So that's one way to understand it. And another way to understand it would be that time is basically an illusion. So we project our experience of things as being temporal onto the world, but actually it's kind of an artifact of just the way we think. And there isn't anything either inside the mind or outside the mind that's genuinely temporal. I'm not sure that that distinction makes sense. But if it does, which side of that do you think that Crescas would be on?

Tamar Rudavsky: I think it does make sense. Now, I'll lay my cards on the table. I think Augustine adopts the second, and I also think that Crescas adopts the second. So I'm reading the subjectivity of time in a fairly radical way. I mean, I think they really - well, let's stick with Crescas. I mean, I think Crescas really wants to say that time is nothing but duration. Milhamoth Hashem is the Hebrew term that he uses. Time is not identified with anything outside the soul, with physical motion, with bodies, with temporal flux, et cetera, et cetera. So I think this is fairly radical.

Peter Adamson: And it's also not identified with the objective fact that our thoughts are somehow elapsing. It's really like a mentally produced phenomenon. That's amazing, right? I mean, it almost inevitably bears comparison with Kant as well. So actually, this is another thing we should do if we get a time machine. We should collect Kant, Crescas, and Augustine and make them all talk to each other about time. So speaking of the future and what happened after Crescas, let's not go as far as Kant, but let's go a little bit into the legacy of both Gersonides and Crescas. So I guess with Gersonides, when I think about his later influence, I think about him mostly in terms of his super commentaries on Averroes rather than in terms of the Wars of the Lord. And so I would think of him as a kind of forerunner of Jewish Averroism in the Renaissance, which is something I guess I'll cover eventually. With Crescas, the thing that leaps to mind is that he has some role to play in maybe helping to kickstart the rise of modern science because of his criticisms of Aristotelian natural philosophy. But these are kind of vague ideas. So could you say something a little bit more about what kind of influence both of them exerted in the later tradition?

Tamar Rudavsky: Sure. Certainly, certainly Gersonides' super-commentaries on Averroes were tremendously influential. But I want to suggest that the Wars of the Lord was as well. Interestingly, the book was reviled by his immediate successors. The title, Milhamoth Hashem, was transposed to be Milhamoth Neget Hashem, Wars Against the Lord. And so most of his successors really found Gersonides just quite difficult. I mean, he was just far to the, what, I don't know if you say to the right or to the left, but he was far more extreme in his ultra-rationalism than most philosophers. Interestingly, he was rediscovered in the 19th century by modern Jewish philosophers looking for rationalist models in the medieval period. And so you look at the early 19th century German Jewish reformers, Maimonides wasn't even rationalist enough for them, and so Gersonides becomes their role model. And so he really enjoys a renaissance in the 19th and 20th century. And I think that's one reason perhaps why he's been so popular in the latter half of the 20th century. Because of his rigor - he's a logician as well. We didn't even talk about his logical work, but he writes a work in logic. In his astronomy, I must take the opportunity to say that he's one of two Jewish philosophers who have lunar craters named after them.

Peter Adamson: Who is the other one. Is it you?

Tamar Rudavsky: Abraham Ibn Ezra, writing a hundred years earlier from Jewish philosopher and astrologer. And I'm guessing the reason they have craters is because both of them were so interested in astronomy and astrology. So we have the legacy in astronomy, the legacy in astrology, and of course we haven't had time to say anything about his astrology. And his proto and extreme rationalism, and he says in, and I want to just read a sentence from the Wars, "if the literal sense of the Torah, of scripture, differs from reason, it is necessary to interpret those passages in accordance with the demands of reason." This is really a remarkable statement for a Jewish philosopher to be making in the early 14th century. Maimonides danced around that issue, but Gersonides says very, very clearly that reason is not incompatible with the true understanding of Torah.

Peter Adamson: Yeah, he clearly learned a lot from reading Averroes, right?

Tamar Rudavsky: That is exactly right. And so I really see him as a champion for religious rationalism.

Peter Adamson: And so is Crescas basically a hero of the other side, so the people who thought that even Maimonides was already going too far in the rationalist direction would presumably have quite welcomed Crescas' attack.

Tamar Rudavsky: Exactly. So Crescas becomes more a spokesperson for - I don't want to say for apologetics, because that's really not taking him fully seriously. I mean, he's a very serious philosopher, but he does reinstate the balance, and he really does see himself as a protector of the faith. And he has been seen that way, of course, by his successors. But I think Zev Harvey made a wonderful point. I mean, he suggested that it's the critique of Aristotelian science undertaken by Crescas that really opens the possibility for the dismantling of Aristotelian science. And so one might argue that Crescas' critique of Aristotle helped lay the groundwork for the abandonment of Aristotelian science in subsequent centuries. So we have already, you know, in the 15th, 16th, 17th century - even in Spinoza we see reference back to Crescas. Crescas allows for alternative scientific worldviews. So in a way he's a forerunner. I mean, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but a forerunner of the scientific revolution.

Peter Adamson: Right, because sometimes the most scientific thing you can do is point out the mistakes of earlier scientists. I think another, just maybe a last thought that I would have about this is that Maimonides himself, of course, in some of his moods, he's very keen to emphasize the limits of reason, the things that we can't know, say about the heavenly spheres. And so you could think of Gersonides and Crescas not as a kind of fan and critic of Maimonides, but as people who are latching onto different moments in this very complicated philosophical profile of Maimonides. So Gersonides running with the rationalist elements and Crescas running with more skeptical elements.

Tamar Rudavsky: Right. Although Gersonides is very clear there are very few limits to human intellect. And I'm guessing, if you think about the difference between Maimonides and Gersonides, Maimonides says very clearly in the Guide: I've done my best to learn astronomy. I've studied al-Bitruji. I've studied the eccentric and the epicycle - maybe someone more intelligent than I can figure out these details. Then Gersonides comes along, one of the most brilliant astronomers of the period. And so therein lies the difference.