Abstract
I must admit to having felt a certain sense of trepidation on being asked to review Abraham Heschel and the Phenomenon of Piety. I am not a Heschel scholar and, up until very recently, I knew very little about his work. However, I am most pleased to report that my trepidation was quite unnecessary, for Joseph Harp Britton has produced an insightful text that is supported by rigorous scholarship and original analyses. Perhaps best of all, the wide range of themes and theologians addressed are cogently brought to bear on the complex phenomenon of piety which, as the book’s title clearly suggests, is the crux of Britton’s reading of Heschel.
As Britton correctly points out, piety has taken quite the metaphorical thrashing in recent years, regularly being relegated to either the dubious sphere of ‘blind faith’ or, worse still, the realm of Pharisaism. Certainly, it is not a concept that receives regular and serious theological attention. Surely the ordinary experiences of ardent religious believers have nothing to offer to the dizzying heights of academic theology? Not so, says Britton who, in a patient and deliberative manner, presents compelling evidence to the contrary via his reading of Heschel. As early as the opening paragraph of the ‘Preface,’ Britton makes this point very clear: Over and over again, pastors find themselves renewed and refreshed by having laid aside the outward forms of religion, to be in the presence of those who live their religious faith in a quiet, unspectacular way, but whose deep personal piety reveals a great wisdom and insight into the meaning of God. Yet theologically, we seldom pay much attention to these moments…. (p. xi)
Admittedly, a book that purports to be concerned with the ‘quiet’ and the ‘unspectacular’ does not immediately recommend itself to one’s ‘must-read’ list; yet this book does a very good job of doing just that. Piety, or at least the manner in which Britton presents Heschel’s conception of it, becomes exciting, important and, not to put too fine a point on it, rather spectacular indeed.
Heschel tells us that ‘piety is a life compatible with God’s presence’ (Man Is Not Alone) and this is the case that Britton is anxious to uphold. He does so by journeying through an analysis of the peculiar nature of piety, Heschel’s intellectual and religious formation, careful critical consideration of Heschel’s major works and poetry, and an innovative attempt to bring Heschel’s (a Jewish thinker) insights to Christian theology. Alongside this, Britton is adamant that Heschel’s approach can justifiably be deemed to be a phenomenological one. Given that Britton demonstrates a very clear understanding of the phenomenological method, it seems to me that this is a tenable position to hold.
A particular strength of the book is that, alongside of its clear theological seriousness, a philosophical approach is taken which allows Britton to discuss the effect of Heschel’s work on both disciplines with relative ease. A case in point is Chapter nine, ‘Responding to the “Other”,’ where Britton engages in an impressive assessment of the Heschelian undertones in the work of Emmanuel Levinas. Although Britton’s contention that Levinas locates the encounter with the Other solely in the human face seems to me to be something of a mis-reading (p. 241), he presents an otherwise measured critique of this profoundly challenging thinker.
While Britton does an excellent job of highlighting the points of convergence between the two thinkers, he also takes great care to explicate their differences. For example, he argues that: ‘While Lévinas describes at some length how this encounter awakes a sense of moral responsibility, he is less able to describe either why I ought to heed that sense or how I am to know what it bids me to do’ (p. 243). Without wishing to turn this piece into a review of Levinas’s philosophy, I must admit that I am very sympathetic to Britton’s reading here. As an alternative, Britton proposes Heschel’s account of piety noting its appeal to ‘the [reciprocal] nature of moral responsibility’ (p. 243). Of course, this is not a position that Levinas would be happy to adopt but, as Britton argues—correctly, I think—Heschel’s articulation of responsibility is much more palatable. As Britton points out, Heschel’s view is that piety (and this includes ethics) is very much a partnership between God and humanity whereas in Levinas’s system such a partnership does not appear to be a possibility. As Britton puts it: ‘What we are made aware of in our encounter with the Other is a concern which seeks to be in partnership with us, not an alterity which is simply a resistance or challenge to our autonomy’ (p. 239). In other words, Heschel provides the framework for an ethical relationship (via piety) and not simply an ethical relation.
To bring this review to a reluctant close, I suggest that Abraham Heschel and the Phenomenon of Piety is a little too dense for even the most committed of undergraduates but that is not, I think, a failing because it is extremely well suited to serious postgraduate students and academics. The book would certainly provide much food for thought as a core text for a postgraduate seminar on theology, ethics, philosophy, or Jewish studies. For these reasons, I cannot but recommend this excellent book. It has prompted me to reevaluate my own view of piety and I am confident that, should you make the wise decision to take up this book, you will find yourself doing likewise.