line of Maimonides’ reply, he was quick to see that it would provide only temporary relief from perplexity unless backed up by an explanation as to why it was necessary to use figurative language in the first place. This he began to do by explaining that even in natural science, some topics are not fully explained, that most difficult problems cannot be thoroughly understood by any one of us, and that, because people differ in degree of intelligence, truth is withheld from most ordinary people, and, therefore, their objections can be ignored. The necessity for metaphor, it seems, cannot be explained until people are convinced that reason allows only a few to reach great heights, and that even here they must all accept final limitations.

If such is the case, we are forced back to metaphor as the most adequate means available for expressing what we do know. If all obscurity could be removed from the subject, then literal terms could be used without reservation. Because literal description is completely successful only where all tinges of mystery can be removed, the acceptance of metaphorical expression depends upon the existence of some sense of mystery where God is concerned. The purely philosophical mind might have difficulty accepting mystery, even in the case of God, but Maimonides wrote for an overtly religious person, for whom the sense of mystery in the divine nature did not seem at all abnormal.

Maimonides was not fooled into thinking that an allegorical interpretation of religious literature is a full explanation to a philosophical mind. Instead, the intent of this method was to show the philosophical-religious mind that to ask for a complete exposition in these matters is an exorbitant demand. The difficulty of understanding a literal impossibility arises only for the intelligent because the ill-informed do not recognize an impossibility when it appears. Yet intelligent observers who can admit the plausibility of a secret meaning need not reject the difficult religious doctrine at once, because they can treat it allegorically, as well as literally, to see if it may be accepted in this second mode. For Maimonides, the literal meaning was never to be rejected but was always to be retained along with the more subtle metaphorical treatment.

All of this can serve to relieve philosophical perplexity, but, interestingly enough, it can do so only for one made sensitive to the limitations of human reason through a religious tradition. Without the religious sensitivity, no solution can be found. The religiously untrained person simply cannot see the need for metaphorical expression. It takes some acquaintance with God, which only a religious discipline is likely to provide, to convince one of how difficult a matter it is to deal with the divine.

When the mind comprehends one thing, it tends to think that it can comprehend everything, but it is just this view of knowledge that must be guarded against if the metaphorical method is to be successful in dealing with human perplexity. If there are no limitations set for the mind, everything would theoretically be open to literal interpretation. Metaphor can become meaningful when the mind finds that it cannot go everywhere directly. Metaphor is the shortest distance between two points only when the direct path is not open to the human mind.

Here is the paradox: The religious spirit, which feeds on the sense of the final mystery within the divine nature, leads to perplexity when brought into contact with philosophical optimism and its literal, one-level mode of statement. Yet the only hope for the reconciliation without surrender is that a sense of divine mystery might force one to see that a frontal attack is not possible in the case of God. Thus, allegorical interpretation provides a genuine basis of latitude that alone is generous enough to retain both the religious sense of a divine mystery never fully disclosed, together with a philosophical directness whenever possible.

Such an interpretation of mystery and literalness together, which requires metaphorical expression, opens the way for a genuine meaning for faith. “By faith’ we do not understand merely that which is uttered with the lips, but also that which is apprehended by the soul, the conviction that the object of belief is exactly as it is apprehended.” If God is not directly approachable by literal means, faith always concerns something seen only incompletely through the figure of a symbol. Such belief cannot be compelled; however, if the necessity for indirect approach is admitted in the case of objects exceeding the limits of direct grasp, metaphor becomes meaningful and faith an appropriate and possible way of relating oneself to such a Being. If all things were open to direct knowledge, a relation of faith could only seem unnecessary and inappropriate.

Metaphor is not a completely successful or controllable means of communication. People can employ only inadequate language where God is concerned, and metaphor is the best method at their disposal, because it allows the mind to get around barriers by subtle and indirect means. “We therefore make the subject clearer, and show to the understanding the way of truth by saying He is one but does not possess the attribute of unity.” This seems to contradict ordinary expression, but by negating part of the phrase in the figurative statement, the sensitive mind passes on to a grasp of God’s nature, which could not be given by direct statement. What we learn from this example is that “we cannot describe the Creator by any means except by negative attributes.” Metaphor and negative theology, then, are natural companions.

Positive assertions about God allow the imagination to mislead one, whereas proof by negation leads one gradually to more perfect knowledge of God. The mystery involved in the divine nature turns the ordinary situation around, so that one can be convinced that certain qualities must be negated, whereas one cannot be as sure of positive attributes as one might be in an ordinary instance. The method of negative attributes is necessary “to direct the mind to the truth that we must believe concerning God,” but it could be adopted only by one who felt the presence of mystery in the divine nature and realized the inappropriateness of frontal attack.

One’s only complete knowledge concerning God, it turns out, “consists in knowing that we are unable truly to comprehend Him.” God alone comprehends himself, and one not made aware of these matters too quickly jumps to the conclusion that people can know nothing about God at all. The truth lies somewhere in between, and it requires the energy of religious interest to keep from slipping into either extreme. God may be approached, but only by indirection. The negative method provides the mind with positive apprehensions of the divine nature but not such that all mystery is removed because God remains never fully comprehended by any being other than himself.

Thus, Maimonides has provided a context in which perplexity may be stabilized, but it is not a simple solution. He speaks to people whose sense of religious tradition is basic to them, and thus he is able to call on their religious discipline to hold a flexible position that does not go all the way in either direction. The use of metaphor allows the literal meaning of the ordinary religious language to remain, while making room for the more subtle and refined meaning of terms in philosophical usage. A willingness to grant metaphor as legitimate and applicable depends upon an agreement that knowledge reaches its limits at least in the case of God, and it is almost inconceivable that one should allow this limit to be placed on knowledge philosophically unless one had experienced some feeling of the mystery present at the center of the divine nature. Recognizing the difficulty, people employ the negative method to protect them while they look directly into the light, and the knowledge they achieve will not seem contradictory as long as it is regarded as at least partly metaphor and symbol. If people’s religious sense is strong enough to feel this, they can accept metaphor and control the anxiety that philosophical sophistication has brought to them. This is the guide for the perplexed, but only for one whose perplexity stems from a strong religious tradition and its accompanying sense of the mystery encountered whenever the mind is turned toward God.

Turning to Maimonides’ doctrine of nonliteral or metaphorical interpretation, we have to ask what it is that allows such duality of meaning without simple equivocation of terms. Maimonides’ answer is that this is possible only when people deal with a kind of existence not capable of reduction to a single level, and they are not likely to grant this if they have lost all sense of mystery in the divine nature. Philosophy can be counted on to take the mystery out of the natural order, as well it should; but it cannot be asked to provide feeling for the irreducible mystery in the divine nature. The cultivation of the religious life provides the datum on which philosophy applies itself to develop theology—that is, the rational statement of the divine insofar as this is possible. However, if theology is not to become pure philosophy, the devotional life must have provided it with some sensitivity regarding the difficulty of handling God on one’s own terms.

In spite of this rather clear framework and simple objective, the casual modern reader is likely to be struck by the elaborate scholarly nature of much of The Guide of the Perplexed. The opening pages are entirely given over to an exegesis or analysis of the use of certain Hebrew terms, all of which are central to Jewish religious thought. Interspersed is a discussion of the limits of human intellect as well as an appraisal of the value of studying metaphysics. Such a diversity gives a correct picture of the blend of religious thought, scholarly study of concepts, and traditional philosophy that makes up The Guide of the Perplexed. Then follows a consideration of the nature of God and of God’s attributes.

The scope of The Guide of the Perplexed is as wide as all traditional theology and religious thought. It is by no means simply a piece of philosophical apologetic, as might be thought from its title. Maimonides correctly sees that the only adequate way to provide a guide out of any perplexity is to discuss all the major theological issues. To do so successfully is to provide the best, most substantial guide that can be produced. After considering the traditional attributes of God (such as unity and incorporeality), the second Moses begins part 2 with a discussion of twenty-six propositions employed by philosophers to prove God’s existence.

Next comes the question of creation versus the eternality of the universe, and Maimonides sets forth as best he can the way in which a doctrine of creation ex nihilo can be justified philosophically. Prophecy and the prophets then occupy him, as one might almost guess, for the Jewish tradition demands that prophecy be made acceptable. Visions are discussed, but evil and divine providence are the two central problems in this section. A religious belief in God runs into its greatest philosophical difficulty in trying to reconcile its conception of divinity with the evils and difficulties of the world.

What Maimonides has provided is a comprehensive summa of religious belief and philosophical tradition. Out of this meeting, a theology is born, although its material setting within the literature of Judaism makes it appear less abstract than most modern questions. The Guide of the Perplexed is a vast compendium of philosophical and religious material, which is then given shape through Maimonides’ attempt to draw answers out of this combination. The towering position of influence that he occupies within the Jewish tradition gives some measure of his success.

Philosophy and religion in certain areas treat the same questions, but they do so in different ways and in different settings. When they are kept apart, as they can be in some ages, no conflict arises. Whenever an age becomes generally sophisticated philosophically, perplexity is bound to come. To those who can drop neither perspective, some reconciliation of the two bodies of material must be made. Out of the attempt to reconcile philosophy and religion, each age arrives at a new theological perspective, which has implications for both technical philosophy and the religious life.