I ‘ve often been told that Jews don’t “do theology.” A quick glance at The Guide for the Perplexed by the great medieval Jewish thinker Maimonides puts paid to that sweeping claim. But my Jewish interlocutors are engaging in hyperbole to make a larger point, one about the primacy of Torah observance. They are distinguishing Judaism, and its ideal of keeping God’s commandments, from Christianity, which emphasizes confessing one’s faith. If you will permit me my own exaggeration, the point is this: Judaism is concerned with doing the truth, while Christianity emphasizes proclaiming the truth.
In his 2024 book God-Talk, David Novak does not dispute the evident fact that Judaism and Christianity have fostered distinct intellectual traditions. But he wishes to challenge his fellow Jews to entertain theo-logos, “God-talk,” not the least because God has something to say about himself. Consider the first of the Ten Commandments: “I am the Lord thy God, who brought thee out of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.” It’s a statement, not an imperative. And this statement is rich with theological content. “I am who I am,” God says, “and I have done what I have done.” As Novak notes, the first element invites philosophical speculation, which, however secondary in the rabbinic tradition, has not been absent. The second element encourages reflective Jews to discern the inner coherence and larger purpose of the mighty acts of God.
Who is God? What has he done, and what does he require of us? Secularism discourages us from asking these questions. In a university setting, they have been largely banished. The scholar can talk about “ancient Israelite religion.” He can write a scholarly monograph on the answers given by prominent historical figures, or detail how those answers have shaped communities and influenced social norms. God—who he is, what he has done, and what he commands—is kept at a remove, treated at second or third hand. Novak is no enemy of modern scholarship, but in this book (and his many other books), he insists that we should take up God-talk directly, not least because God himself has said things about himself and to us.
Consider the speech of God that is most important to Jews—his commandments. Novak recounts a meeting at Cambridge University some years ago, at which a prominent rabbi spoke to a group of traditionally minded students. He emphasized the central importance of Torah observance, while warning against the distractions of “theology.” As Novak recounts, “During the question-and-answer period that followed the talk, a young woman (herself a student of philosophy) asked the speaker why he himself was so engaged in learning Jewish law and so obedient to its specific norms and why he thought all Jews should do likewise.” The eminent scholar responded by stating that God commands Jews to learn and obey his law. The young woman, having no doubt learned from Socrates, asked another question: “Is that [statement] a legal proposition or is that a theological proposition?” The answer is evident. To say “God commands Jews to learn and obey his commandments” answers the questions of who God is and what he does and requires of us—the central questions of theology.
Novak is charitable to the rabbinic eminence whose sweeping dismissal of theology made him an easy target for a clever undergraduate. In all likelihood, he was concerned about the speculative traditions of western philosophy, which treat “God” as an abstract concept or an out-of-reach mystery. Such an approach may not be fitting for those who already know that God is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. But rejecting speculation begs the question concerning the right kind of theology, one that supports, encourages, and deepens Torah observance.
As Novak explains in God-Talk, traditional rabbinic teaching adumbrates theological principles. Midrash provides many examples. The word simply means “interpretation,” but in Judaism it denotes extended interpolation of additional material into biblical passages. For example, in the book of Exodus, God gives detailed instructions for the construction of the tabernacle to house his presence. A midrash describes Moses objecting to the whole design, stating that it is absurd to think that the Almighty could shrink down to so small a size. God replies by chastising Moses for being so presumptuous as to tell him what he can and cannot do! The midrash is challenging the complacent philosophical conception of divine transcendence that prohibits God from being present in the concrete and finite affairs of men. The indirection of this midrash does theology in a way different from Christianity’s usual approach, but it is theology nonetheless.
The Jewish tradition has other ways of theologizing without recourse to philosophical concepts. Rashi was an eleventh-century rabbi who wrote extraordinarily influential commentaries on the Torah. Years ago, I studied Rashi’s works with Michael Signer, an eminent scholar of early medieval Jewish and Christian biblical interpretation. We focused on Rashi’s commentary on Genesis, which is written in an extremely concise fashion. Signer alerted me to the fact that Rashi often “theologizes” by choosing citations from other parts of the Bible or the rabbinic tradition. (Signer helped me see that St. Bonaventure often operated in the same way.)
“Look at the very first verse,” Signer instructed me. In just a few words, Rashi recounts the earlier rabbinic opinion that the Torah should have begun with Exodus 12:2 and not Genesis 1:1. To interpret the interpretation, one needs to know that a traditional view holds that Exodus 12:2 (“This month shall mark for you the beginning of months”) is the first commandment God gives to the Israelites. By citing the opinion that the scriptures are “mistaken” and begin in the wrong place, Rashi is conveying a theological judgment: God creates for the sake of his covenant. Or, as Karl Barth puts it, covenant is the inner basis of creation.
One of the most luminous discussions in God-Talk concerns our desire to see God. As Novak observes, Judaism emphasizes hearing God: Shema, Israel—Hear, O Israel. He recounts aspects of the tradition that tells us that God cannot be seen. Yet, in Psalm 63 we read of the soul thirsting for God. “I have looked for you in the sanctuary, to see your power and glory.” Novak resolves the apparent contradiction with careful distinctions that would make St. Thomas proud.
In my estimation, the most important lesson Jews can teach Christians concerns the central importance of covenant and commandment. God’s love is particular and pedagogical. Commandments are not unfortunate constraints. They “supernaturalize” ordinary life. Christianity, in turn, can encourage Jews to engage in the work of theology, which at its best focuses the mind and engages the heart. God commands, to be sure, but the Almighty is also the truth our intellect desires. David Novak gives a rigorous account of how Jews, drawing on their tradition, can engage in God-talk. Let us seek to outdo each other, with Christians more obedient and Jews bolder in proclamation.
