Many Jews in our day, like many of our brethren of other tribes, are seeking
	to mend the fractures that divide us from ourselves and from others, and to
	find ways to heal the wounds that afflict us only six decades after the
	Holocaust and the rebirth of Israel. Amid these efforts, an idealistic,
	scholarly nineteenth-century rabbi from 
	to some, to provide a beacon of hope and humanity.
Elijah ben Abraham Benamozegh (1822-1900) was highly respected in his day as
	one of 
	most eminent Jewish scholars. (See Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v.
	"Benamozegh"; Elijah Benamozegh,
	
	Humanity, trans. and ed. Maxwell 
	
	31-38, 378-402. I have drawn in several instances from material in the
	Translator's Introduction to this volume.) He served for half a century as
	rabbi of the important Jewish community of 
	(
	Benamozegh now commemorates his name and distinction. R. Benamozegh was (and
	remains) celebrated as
	
	articulate proponent of Kabbalah, at a time when Jewish mysticism was widely
	disdained. In Gershom Scholem's opinion, he and Franz Molitor were "the
	only two scholars of the age to approach the Kabbalah out of a fundamental
	sympathy and even affinity for its teachings."
	(Gershom Scholem, Kabbalah , 
	1974, 202. Cited by Moshe Idel
	in his Appendix to 
	and Humanity, 397.) Later, owing
	significantly to the effective advocacy of his student
	and posthumous editor Aime Palliere, it was Benamozegh's persistent
	support of the Noahide idea and its implications for the
	spiritual life of all people that brought him most attention, and has
	encouraged the translation and republication of his works. (See 
	and Humanity, 18-21 et passim.) Most recently, however, it is the scope of his human
	sympathy and religious tolerance --- the
	seemingly effortless way in which Kabbalah's cosmic universality and Noahism's religious universality are
	somehow linked up in him alongside a scrupulous Orthodox rabbinism --- that have attracted
	particular attention, and identified him not only as a rare
	Orthodox rabbi --- "the Plato of Italian Judaism," as he was sometimes called
	(see Palliere in Israel and Humanity, 31), and "incontestably in the
	great line of the Sages of Israel" (Emile Touati, quoted by Luria in
	Israel and Humanity, 8) --- but as a timely and useful thinker as well.
A brief glance at the Internet reveals how widely R. Benamozegh's ideas are
	being discussed, in Noahide and Christian as well as in Jewish circles, and how
	much research is currently being devoted to him. In recent decades, the book of
	his that has received most attention, Israel et l'Humanite (Israel and
	Humanity), has been published in Hebrew (1967), Italian (1990), and English
	(1995) translations (see Luria in Israel and Humanity, xii), and has made a
	deep impression on the contemporary Noahide movement. His other major work in
	French, La Morale Juive et la Morale Chretienne (Jewish and Christian Ethics),
	whose English translation had been
	had long since gone out of print, was reissued in
	
	on R. Benamozegh are appearing, especially in
	
	
	of the most important recent essays in English is Moshe Idel's "Kabbalah
	in Elijah Benamozegh's Thought," which appears as an Appendix in
	
	Humanity, 378-402.) Alessandro Guetta's study Philosophie et Cabale dans la
	Pensee d'Elie Benamozegh (Padua, 1993), has recently been translated by Helena
	Kahan as Philosophy and Kabbalah: Elijah Benamozegh and the Reconciliation of
	Western Thought and Jewish Esotericism, and is scheduled for publication in
	October 2008 by the State University of New York Press in Albany.
Some current rabbinical literature, too, discloses
	an awareness of R. Benamozegh. One must note in this
	connection Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz's remarkable paper, "Peace Without Conciliation: The
	Irrelevance of 'Toleration' in Judaism" (Common Knowledge , 2005: 11:41-47).
	Steinsaltz here affirms his opinion, perhaps without parallel in Orthodox
	rabbinical writings, that the Noahide criterion of monotheism -- the first
	of the seven universal mitzvot -- is satisfied not only by Islam (an embarras
	de richesses) but by modern Christianity as well: "By the standards
	of the Noahide laws, the doctrine of the Trinity is not an idolatrous belief
	to which Judaism can express an objection." And even, mirabile dictu,
	by contemporary Buddhism and Hinduism. To be sure, Steinsaltz hedges
	his revolutionary assertion with a discouraging title and subtitle, and
	with significant qualifications, especially with respect to what he sees
	as the difference between "Noahide monotheism" and "Jewish
	monotheism". But no matter -- the Noahide cat is out of the bag, and this article has ---
	properly and expectably --- attracted a good deal of attention.
Steinsaltz's reference to R.
	Benamozegh comes in his last paragraph: ¿Even
	Elijah Benamozegh, who was perhaps the rabbinic figure most open toward, most appreciative of, Christianity and Islam, viewed the relation between Judaism and those other religions in hierarchical terms.¿ His acknowledgement here of R. Benamozegh's exceptional appreciation of other religions, even while his Torah
	perspective unsurprisingly obliges him to perceive these religions as
	imperfect, is, I think, symptomatic of the current perception
	of him.
More debatable, perhaps, is Rabbi Steinsaltz's attempt to invoke R. Benamozegh to support his contention that even an authentically realized Noahism must remain "hierarchically" inferior to Judaism. His discussion of the relation between the two is not altogether clear,
	but he seems to diminish what he calls "the Noahide model" in
	a way that would be alien to R. Benamozegh --- I shall discuss this
	matter presently -- though perhaps congenial to a more conventional rabbinical
	perspective.
He concludes his article with that most familiar of
	rabbinical strategies for explaining or excusing Jewish concessions, the "shalom
	bayit" formula: "Basically, [Noahism] does not
	require most religions to give up, or modify the meaning of,
	such words as 'true' and 'truth'. It provides
	a basis for conversation among religions without the expectation of
	compromise. . . . The Noahide approach, in other words,
	is a formula for no more than peace."
The decisive difference between Rabbis Benamozegh and Steinsaltz on this
	matter evoked a paper by Alick Isaacs, "Benamozegh's Tone: A Response to
	Rabbi Steinsaltz" (Common Knowledge, 2005: 11:48-55). Isaacs expresses
	gratitude for the distinguished
	
	"extraordinary if not absolutely exceptional" assessment of
	contemporary religions as "adequately monotheist, adequately
	non-idolatrous, and at least adequately ethical to qualify as compliant with
	the Noahide laws." But he points out that Rabbi "Benamozegh went well
	beyond the uninterested recognition that Rabbi Steinsaltz recommends. What is
	most exceptional, and, for us today exemplary, is Benamozegh's tone."
II
In point of fact, even Benamozegh's undoubtedly "hierarchical"
	conception of the relation between Judaism and the other nineteenth-century
	religions is informed by the "tone" to which Isaacs refers: its
	expressions are affection, respect, regard, even embrace, at least when he
	speaks of those gentile religions which he believes to be nearest to the
	fulfillment of Noahism, and to which he therefore feels most akin: Islam and
	(especially) Christianity. "And now we turn to the followers of the two
	great messian- isms, Christian and Moslem. It is to Christians in particular
	that we wish to address a frank and respectful word, and God knows that it is
	with fear in our heart lest our advances be taken for hypocrisy. No! No
	impartial and reasonable man can fail to recognize and appreciate, as is
	appropriate, the exalted worth of these two great religions, more especially of
	Christianity. There is no Jew worthy of the name who does not rejoice in the
	great transformation wrought by them in a world formerly defiled. . . .As for
	ourself, we have never had the experience of hearing the Psalms of David on the
	lips of a priest without feeling such sensations. The reading of certain
	passages of the Gospels has never left us unresponsive. The simplicity,
	grandeur, infinite tenderness, which these pages breathe out overwhelms us to
	the depths of our soul. . . ."
	(
	Humanity, 50-51.)
In the same astonishing spirit is a remark by Aime Palliere, who knew Benamozegh well:
"In the last days of his life, Rabbi Benamozegh enjoyed a reclusive
	retirement in a verdant quarter of
	
	dawn, bound in tefillin and wrapped in his ample tallit, he said his prayers,
	the sound of the bells in a nearby church reached him with a melodious
	sweetness which gave all of nature a religious voice, and it seemed that as he
	heard this call of Catholic bells, the great thinker prayed with a more intense
	fervor. . . . [Benamozegh] felt in spiritual communion not only with all his
	Jewish brethren in all countries, worshiping at the same hour, but also with
	all believers, spread all over the surface of the earth, who, in choosing the
	first hours of the day for prayer, showed themselves without knowing it to be
	faithful disciples of the ancient masters of Israel."
	(
	Humanity, 36.)
III
R. Benamozegh's impressive, indeed startling, tolerance and his altogether
	universal perspective seem in a sense to reflect the ancient Jewish culture of
	Italy into which he was born and in which he lived his long life. The famous
	Latin motto "Nihil humanum me alienum puto" --- "Nothing human
	is unimportant to me" --- could have been his own. (The saying is
	ascribed to Terence.) His family were from
	
	included distinguished rabbis as well as prosperous merchants.
	
	major centers of Jewish life in
	
	as one of the most creative, dating only from the sixteenth century. (By
	contrast, the Jewish settlement in
	
	antedating the Christian presence there.)
	Benamozegh's time was one of the most tolerant places in this relatively
	tolerant country. It never had a closed ghetto, and by 1800 its population of
	5,000 Jews constituted an eighth of its population. Its magnificent synagogue
	was admired for its beauty throughout 
	its destruction by the Germans, was thought to rival the great synagogue of
	
	Humanity, 2; David Ruderman, "At the Intersection of Cultures: The
	Historical Legacy of Italian Jewry," in Gardens and Ghettos, ed. Vivian B.
	Mann, 
	is where R. Benamozegh lived and ministered. One may suppose that the
	comparatively liberal spirit of the place, together with the millennial
	acculturation of the Italian Jews, helped him avoid the hostilities as well as
	the vulnerabilities that afflicted men of comparable rabbinical culture in less
	favored lands. But, of course, we must not imagine that the genial Italian
	environment could by itself account for R. Benamozegh's liberal spirit. That
	was undoubtedly his own.
	
	
	grow and flourish.
As a boy, we are told, R. Benamozegh was an exceptionally brilliant student
	of Torah. He was instructed by his uncle, Rabbi Yehudah Coriat, who initiated
	him into Kabbalah. But he had also a keen interest in secular studies, which he
	seems to have nourished by self-study -- there is no record of his having
	attended a university. "His exceptional intelligence," suggests
	Palliere, "compensated for the lack of any precise method in his
	self-instruction." (Palliere in
	
	Humanity, 31.) His precocity is attested by his having, at the age of sixteen
	or seventeen, contributed a preface in Hebrew to Rabbi Coriat's Ma'or
	Va-Shemesh (Livorno, 1839), a collection of kabbalistic treatises (Palliere in
	Israel and Humanity, 31-32).
He was eventually to compose his own works in
	three languages, chiefly in Italian but also in Hebrew and French. Moshe Idel
	has described him as "a very erudite and prolific writer, whose domains of
	creativity were broad and multifaceted. . . .He was well acquainted with many
	of the available texts of antiquity, in their Greek or Latin originals and also
	in translation, and his writings constitute a sui generis type of erudition in
	Judaism, not only in the nineteenth century." (Idel in
	
	Humanity, 379.)
His bibliography is extensive, but according to Palliere,
	writing in 1914, there remained at that time even more works still in
	manuscript than had been published. (Palliere in
	
	Humanity, 32.) His principal publications include biblical commentaries (most
	importantly 'Em La-Mikra, 1862, a five-volume commentary on the Torah);
	polemical works on the authenticity and importance of Kabbalah ('Eimat Mafgi
	'a, 1855, and Ta'am Le-Shad, 1863); comparative ethics (La Morale Juive et La
	Morale Chretienne, 1867); and historiography (Storia degli Esseni, 1865), among
	many others. Of a projected work in theology (Teologia Dogmatica e Apologetica)
	one volume only was published (Dio, 1877) as well as excerpts from other
	portions of his manuscript, in 1904. Among his unpublished works is a study on
	the origins of Christian dogma, which the French scholar Josue Jehouda regarded
	as "of exceptional importance." (Luria in
	
	Humanity, 8-9, and 333, n. 10.)
This partial survey of his writings reveals
	abundantly both R.Benamozegh's very wide range of scholarly interest, and his
	willingness to treat what might seem improbable subjects for a rabbi of
	Livorno, despite the special features of Italian-Jewish culture to which I have
	already referred. Indeed, his importance in the Italian rabbinate
	notwithstanding, his writings were not always welcomed by less unconventional
	colleagues. Rabbi Benamozegh's Torah commentary 'Em La-Mikra was in fact
	condemned for heterodoxy by the Orthodox rabbinical establishment of Jerusalem
	and Damascus, though defended by the author at once in a public letter
	addressed to these rabbis. (Palliere in
	
	Humanity, 334-335, n. 5.) His situation recalls that of a comparably
	unconventional, mystically oriented successor two generations later, Rabbi
	Abraham Isaac Kook. Such exceptionally independent rabbis and thinkers seem all
	too likely sooner or later to agitate their less daring contemporaries.
IV
Israel et l'Humanite (1914), R. Benamozegh's posthumous
	summa of Jewish thought, is undoubtedly his book
	which speaks most directly to our own time, and is the principal source of his
	current, and apparently growing, reputation. It has a curious history. Its editor
	Palliere, who was in a position to know, tells us that R. Benamozegh worked on it for
	many years and left, when he died, some 1900 "large pages of compact
	writing, without paragraphing, editing, or division of any kind."
	(Palliere in 
	and Humanity, 37.) Yet a very important part of the work,
	its Introduction, had been published as early as 1885, well before the author's death in
	1900, and sets out concisely the plan as well as the theme of the entire
	work as it ultimately appeared: " We propose, then, to seek out
	the universal character of Judaism, in both the speculative and practical domains. Our scheme calls
	for three principal divisions: God, Man, and Law." (
	and Humanity, 59.)
The title of this 1885 Introduction is equally revealing of R. Benamozegh's perspective: "
	and Humanity; Proof of the Cosmopolitanism in Judaism's Principles, Laws, Worship,
	Vocation, History, and Ideals." (Israel et l'Humanite;
	Demonstration du Cosmopolitanisme dans les Dogmes, les Lois, le Culte, la
	Vocation, l'Histoire, et l'Ideal de l'Hebraisme. Introduction, 
	1885.) In his epithets
	"universal" and "cosmopolitan," R. Benamozegh adumbrates the central theme of the book.
	Judaism (or Hebraism, as he usually prefers to call it) often seems
	parochial and self-absorbed, and has been so perceived by others, but this is altogether misleading: "[Its particularism] has always deceived, and still
	deceives, so many persons of good faith, to the point that they are
	able to see in the religion of Israel only a purely national cult.
	But they can easily turn from their error if they will accept our invitation to inquire, with us, whether Judaism does not possess the elements of a universal religion. They will then
	recognize that it indeed contains at its heart, as the flower conceals the fruit, the religion intended for the entire human race, of which the
	Mosaic law, which seems on the surface so incompatible with that high destiny, is but the husk or outer cover. It is for the
	preservation and establishment of this universal religion that Judaism has endured, that it has struggled and suffered. It is with and through this
	universal religion that Judaism is destined to triumph." (
	and Humanity, 44.)
The same
	idea appears near the end of the book, embodying a corollary metaphor: 
	serves a "priestly" function for "lay" Humanity: "Judaism is really two doctrines in one. There
	are two laws, two codes of discipline -- in a word, two forms of
	religion: the lay law, summarized in the seven precepts of the sons of Noah,
	and the Mosaic or priestly law, whose code is the Torah.
	The first was destined for all the human race, the second for 
	alone. . . . It is one Eternal Law, apprehended from
	two perspectives." "Priestly" Israel
	is regarded as fulfilling its mission, as justifying its very existence, by serving the spiritual needs of "lay"
	Humanity, even as its prototypes, the Kohanim, were essentially exalted
	functionaries, but functionaries nevertheless, who existed to serve their people. "Such is the Jewish conception of the world.
	In heaven a single God, father of all men alike;
	on earth a family of peoples, among whom Israel is the
	"first-born", charged with teaching and administering the true religion
	of mankind, of which he is priest. This "true
	religion" is the Law of Noah: It is the one which the human race will embrace in
	the days of the Messiah, and which 
	mission is to preserve and propagate meanwhile." (
	and Humanity, 53-54.)
This "priestly" function explains the elaborate cultic
	obligations of Mosaism: "But as the priestly people,
	dedicated to the purely religious life, Israel has special
	duties, peculiar obligations, which are like a kind of monastic
	law, an ecclesiastical constitution which is Israel's alone by
	reason of its high duties." (
	and Humanity, 54.)". " We shall show
	that in Judaism, universality as ends and particularism as means
	have always coexisted, and that particularist Judaism has the very special
	function of serving as trustee and voice for the universal
	Judaism." (
	and Humanity, 58.) This service is, perhaps, 
	raison d'etre: "Far from feeling obliged to convert non-Jews to his practices, [
	confines himself to preaching to them that universal religion whose
	establishment on earth was, in a sense, the purpose of his own existence."
	(
	and Humanity, 327.) Rabbi Benamozegh rejects
	categorically the notion that 
	"The image of divinity on earth, the partner of the Creative Spirit, is not the Jew:
	it is man." (
	and Humanity, 325.)
V
This passionate
	perception of the unity (which implies the essential equality) of all mankind, including Israel, is
	at the heart of R. Benamozegh's vision. To articulate this vision in traditional Jewish terms, he
	moved the Noahide doctrine of 
	relation with Humanity from the margin of Jewish thought to the center. What had been a self-flattering
	and, in practice, largely conceptual obligation for Jews became, in his powerful conception, the
	reason for Jewish existence. What had been a God-given but, in practice, largely
	theoretical obligation for ancient "heathens" became an urgent
	desideratum for modern "Gentiles".
Rabbi Benamozegh
	was certainly cognizant that his grand vision was far from universally understood (let alone embraced) by the
	Jews of his day, or perhaps of any other. He puts the matter with delicacy: "No doubt, the entire multitude of 
	were not able to grasp with equal understanding these truths which,
	even in our own day, remain inaccessible to so many.
	In the comprehension of every religion, there is a natural gradation, corresponding
	to the intellectual and spiritual development of the
	believers. This must be particularly true with respect to Judaism, whose
	doctrines rise infinitely above the plane of mere intellect. . .
	.It is enough for the eternal honor of Judaism that this ideal, incomparably
	superior to all that surrounded it, had been preserved
	at its heart, and that the voice of its Prophets and sages
	did not stop proclaiming it, despite all hostile
	circumstances." (
	and Humanity, 325.)
Plato, too, acknowledged that
	his vision of the just city was an ideal that never was and might well never be. If Rabbi Elijah
	Benamozegh, the "Plato of Italian Judaism", affirmed his ideal
	of the way that Israel and Humanity should relate to one another on an equally
	visionary level, the ideal is not less valuable for that reason. His influence
	today upon persons of both kinds would seem to justify the vision.