NUMERO 51 GENNAIO-DICEMBRE 2013

VII Redazionale

1 Fr. Josip B. Percan, Padre Barnaba Hekić, OFM (1924-2013) in memoriam

5 P. Barnaba Hekić, Spunti e riflessioni basilari suggerite dal libro III della Lectura e dell’Ordinatio del B. Giovanni Duns Scoto edite negli anni 2003-2007 dalla Commissione Scotista

15 Omero ProIettI, Fonti ebraico-medievali della grammatica spinoziana

31 Carlos Fraenkel, Divine Law in the Platonic Tradition: One or Many?

41 Terence J. kleVen, Al-Fārābī’s Commentary on Porphyry’s Isagoge (Kitāb Īsāġūjī)

53 María-Jesús Soto-Bruna, Manifestación y causalidad en Ibn Gabirol. Su recepción en Dominicus Gundissalinus

63 Elisabeth reInhardt, Hermann de Carinthia, traductor y pensador intercultural

75 Roberto lamBertInI, Geraldo Oddone contro Francesco d’Ascoli

83 Edith dudley Sylla, The Academic Context of Walter Burley’s «Tractatus Primus»

93 Carlos Arthur rIBeIro do naScImento, L’universalité de la raison comme soubassement de la technique des “autorités” et de la technique des divisions dans la pensée médiévale

99 Matteo ScozIa, Le origini medievali di una teoria modale non aristotelica

SCHEDE MEDIEVALIsommario

VI Sommario

147 Pamela Breda, L’iconografia tristaniana a Castel Roncolo ed il Tristan di Gottfried von Strassburg

177 Lucio coco, Giusto Lipsio, Saggio sulle biblioteche [De Bibliothecis Syntagma]

237 Pietro de leo, L’antica biblioteca del convento dei frati minori osservanti di S. Maria delle Grazie di Rende (CS) (sec. XVI)

277 Salvatore longo mInnolo, La militarizzazione degli Ospitalieri nel Primo libro dei privilegi di Santa Maria Latina di Gerusalemme

315 Pietro colletta, Osservazioni sull’inedita cronaca De acquisicione insule Sicilie

331 Concetto martello, Deux vies une vocation. Abélard philosophe et maître

355 Recensioni

383 Abstracts, Curricula e Parole Chiave

«Schede Medievali» senza Sandro Musco

Questo n. 51 di «Schede Medievali» esce senza che Sandro Musco sia più con noi e – devo dirlo in tutta franchezza – a me riesce invero molto difficile parlarne in questa sede. I ricordi delle persone che ci sono state vicine – siano essi colleghi, studiosi, parenti o amici – spesso, in occasioni come questa, non vanno al di là di una memoria generica e, talvolta, anche un po’ fredda e accademica. Ma, in questo caso, non è certo così e, per tale motivo, la mia riluttanza a ricordare brevemente Sandro Musco è ancor più forte, così come altrettanto forte e doloroso è il rimpianto che mi pervade e – ne sono sicuro – pervade tutti coloro che, qui all’Officina di Studi Medievali e anche altrove, lo conobbero e lo apprezzarono per le sue innegabili doti umane e professionali.

Sandro Musco ci ha lasciati la mattina del 5 marzo 2014, quando aveva an-cora soltanto 63 anni (nato a Siracusa nel 1950, ne avrebbe compiuti 64 nell’agosto successivo). La sua dipartita ha creato un vuoto enorme, un vuoto forse incolmabile in tutti noi, e ciò non solo e non tanto per gli evidenti problemi di tipo gestionale e organizzativo che tale scomparsa avrebbe creato – e che, in effetti, ha creato – ma anche e soprattutto per quella componente sentimentale, amicale, umana che legava tutti noi (chi più, chi meno, a seconda del tipo di rapporto e del numero di anni o di decenni di reciproca conoscenza) a lui.

Ho conosciuto Sandro Musco nell’ormai lontano 1979 (egli aveva 29 anni e io 22), quando, insieme a Cataldo Roccaro e a Diego Ciccarelli, cominciava a progettare l’idea di un centro di studi medievali da realizzarsi a Palermo, quel cen-tro che, fondato in quello stesso anno e poi legalizzato con regolare statuto l’anno successivo, sarebbe divenuto l’Officina di Studi Medievali (anche la felicissima de-nominazione di “officina” si deve a lui, nel senso di un’operosità fatta di umiltà, di disponibilità, di senso del lavoro individuale e/o in équipe nell’approccio allo studio e alla ricerca). Sono passati, quindi, ben 35 anni da allora e, in tutti questi anni (e soprattutto a partire dal 1999, negli ultimi 15 anni circa, da quando egli prese le redini dell’Officina) sono stato onorato della sua frequentazione e della sua ami-cizia. Una frequentazione e un’amicizia che andavano ben al di là della semplice appartenenza e comunanza di studio e di interessi, una frequentazione e un’amici-zia – posso dirlo senza tèma di smentita – che andavano ben oltre le insormontabili differenze di visione del mondo, di ideologia politica, di approccio agli studi che vi erano fra di noi. Spesso non ci sentivamo e non ci vedevamo per lunghi periodi – un mese, talvolta anche di più – e ciò soprattutto negli ultimi tempi, quando il lavoro presso l’Officina lo assorbiva quasi completamente, mentre io ero – allora come ora – sovente perso appresso alle beghe burocratiche che contristano e affaticano senza speranza l’Università italiana. Ma bastava una semplice telefonata perché quel filo

VIII Armando Bisanti

che sembrava essersi interrotto si riallacciasse come per incanto, come se ci fossimo sentiti non un mese prima, ma un giorno prima, un’ora, un minuto prima.

Non starò qui a ripercorrere la carriera universitaria di Sandro Musco, né a indugiare sulla sua attività di studioso e di docente (fra l’altro, sia per evidenti differenze nelle tematiche di studio, sia per contiguità generazionale, io non sono stato suo allievo). Altri, di me più degni e qualificati, lo faranno – e alcuni lo hanno già fatto, come Giuseppe Allegro nel redazionale del n. 14 di «Mediaeval Sophia», recentemente apparso on line, al quale rimando. Dirò soltanto poche cose ancora, augurandomi di non farmi trascinare dall’onda dei ricordi e dei rimpianti e, soprat-tutto, di non cadere nella retorica che, in casi come questo, sta sempre pericolosa-mente in agguato. Sandro – lo sappiamo tutti e anche i suoi più fieri avversari lo riconoscevano, pur se un po’ “obtorto collo” – era un magnifico organizzatore di eventi culturali, di congressi, di seminari, di incontri di studio, di master, un meravi-glioso promotore di iniziative culturali ed editoriali ma, soprattutto, – se così posso esprimermi, mutuando un’espressione tipica dei media, della televisione o del cine-ma – era uno scopritore di talenti. In molti degli allievi che egli ha avuto negli ultimi 30 anni (alcuni già un po’ attempati, altri ancora abbastanza giovani o addirittura giovanissimi) egli sapeva cogliere, con acume e intelligenza infallibili, i germi di un futuro di ricerca e di studio particolare e individuale, e raramente si sbagliava (anzi, se qualcosa poi andava diversamente da come egli aveva progettato, in realtà non era stato lui a sbagliarsi, ma l’allievo a non riuscire a rispondere alle sollecitazioni e alle suggestioni che gli venivano proposte). Sandro ha incanalato, coordinato e seguito la formazione e gli studi di decine e decine di giovani, ampliando notevol-mente il raggio dei loro interessi che, dalla filosofia medievale (oggetto del suo in-segnamento universitario per circa 40 anni), si sono spostati di volta in volta verso orizzonti diversificati e, in gran parte, impensabili, dallo studio dell’armenistica all’ebraico, dall’arabo alle altre lingue e culture orientali, dalla cabbalah medie-vale e rinascimentale alla mistica femminile, dalla biblioteconomia all’archeologia medievale, dalla storia “tout court” (basti ricordare il suo interesse per le figure di Federico II e Federico III) a determinati aspetti e figure del pensiero medievale (uno per tutti, Raimondo Lullo), dalla bizantinistica al francescanesimo, e così via. Uno che sapeva leggere, inoltre, nel cuore degli uomini, che ti sapeva ascoltare ed era capace di darti consigli sempre utili e ponderati.

Mi sia permesso, a proposito di questo aspetto di Musco, un piccolo ricordo personale. Verso la fine del 2006 egli, con l’entusiasmo e la capacità di coinvolgi-mento che gli erano propri, mi consigliò – ma in maniera molto “soft”, come d’al-tronde erano sempre stati improntati i nostri rapporti – di occuparmi di Adelardo di Bath e, in particolare, del dialogo De eodem et diverso, del quale egli si augurava io realizzassi un’edizione con introduzione, traduzione italiana e commento. Come ho scritto di recente, devo onestamente confessare che, in un primo tempo, fui a lungo riluttante (per non dire del tutto refrattario) a occuparmi di un autore come Ade-

IXSchede Medievali» senza Sandro Musco

lardo di Bath, in quanto la mia formazione prettamente e pressoché esclusivamente letteraria e gli ormai quasi 30 anni di studi e di pubblicazioni in tal direzione mi fa-cevano inizialmente diffidare da uno scrittore che mi si presentava con preoccupanti caratteristiche “filosofiche”. Poi, però, cominciai a convincermi, se non altro come esperimento. La lettura e lo studio di Adelardo, delle sue opere e, in particolare, del De eodem et diverso e della bibliografia critica pertinente mi fecero pian piano cambiare parere, fin quasi ad appassionarmi per questo scrittore e per la sua opera (e il vol. in questione è poi uscito nel febbraio di quest’anno 2014, a cura di Pietro Palmeri e mia e con un presentazione dello stesso Musco che, se non vado errato, fu l’ultimo scritto da lui completato prima di morire). Devo quindi riconoscere che, ancora una volta e anche nel mio caso (e io non ero certo un suo allievo né, tanto meno, uno studioso giovane o alle prime armi), Musco aveva pienamente ragione a segnalarmi questo scrittore mediolatino e a spingermi a occuparmi di lui.

Ecco ora il n. 51 di «Schede Medievali», ricco, come sempre, di contributi che spaziano nei vari ambiti di ricerca della medievistica, secondo quell’indirizzo che Musco, nella sua qualità di direttore editoriale della rivista, aveva ormai da anni proposto, delineato e portato avanti con coerenza e determinazione. Fra l’altro, pri-ma di lasciare questo mondo terreno, egli aveva, insieme a me, letto, giudicato e ap-provato gran parte dei contributi che qui vengono pubblicati. Per cui, anche se egli non è più con noi, il suo spirito continua ancora ad aleggiare nelle pagine di questa rivista, con la sua sicurezza di giudizio e la sua quasi infallibile lungimiranza, con quella capacità di cogliere il senso delle cose che lo contraddistingueva, con quel suo sorriso beffardo e ironico – anche se spesso ammantato di un velo di malinconia – con cui affrontava gli studi, la vita, il mondo.

Il direttoreArmando Bisanti

Redazionale

Da molti anni l’Officina di Studi Medievali porta avanti attive forme di col-laborazione culturale e scientifica con la Pontificia Università Antonianum (PUA) e con molti dei suoi prestigiosi docenti dell’Ordine dei Frati Minori.

Particolarmente intensa è stata la stima e la devozione nei confronti dei Padri studiosi della Commissio Scotistica voluta da Ètienne Gilson e riorganizzata dal Pa-dre Balić nel 1938; in particolare siamo stati molto legati, per i nostri studi france-scani e scotisiti, al Padre Barnaba Hekić che la presiede, con grandissimo prestigio, dal 1958 fino al 2012 quando, motivi di salute, lo costringono a ritirarsi dall’impegno attivo pur continuando sempre a seguire il lavoro di edizione.

Abbiamo chiesto al Padre Josip B. Percan, confratello di P. Barnaba ed anch’e-gli autorevolissimo componente della Commissio, di tracciare un devoto e meritato ri-cordo di P. Barnaba, cosa che ha accettato di buon grado. Lo ringraziamo di vero cuore.

Da parte nostra non possiamo non ricordare il grande regalo che ci fece nel set-tembre del 2007 quando, pur alla sua veneranda età, fu con noi a Palermo a seguire, sin dalla seduta inaugurale, l’intero XII Congresso Internazionale di Filosofia Medievale, tenutosi dal 16 al 22 settembre sul tema generale Universalità della Ragione. Pluralità delle Filosofie nel Medioevo, i cui Atti in quattro tomi, con lo stesso titolo, sono stati pubblicati per i tipi dell’Officina di Studi Medievali, nel 2012, per la cura di Alessandro Musco et alii con Indici di Giuliana Musotto, Pietro Palmeri e Patrizia Spallino.

D’intesa con il P. Stephane Hoppes, anch’egli della PUA, abbiamo organizzato una speciale sessione di studi francescani (Franciscana) che registrò la partecipazio-ne di ben quindici studiosi, provenienti dalla più varie parti del mondo, le cui relazioni hanno trovato collocazione editoriale nel tomo II.2 degli Atti, alle pp. 897-1045.

In ricordo del P. Barnaba e del suo prezioso magistero, ci piace riproporre agli studiosi il testo della sua lezione, Spunti e riflessioni basilari suggerite dal libro III della Lectura e dell’Ordinatio del B. Giovanni Duns Scoto edite negli anni 2003-2007 dalla Commissione Scotista, esattamente come è apparso alle pp. 901-909 del citato tomo degli Atti.

Carlos Fraenkel

Divine Law in the Platonic Tradition: One or Many?

Can a Platonist recognize more than one divine Law? At first view it seems that Plato’s commitment to universal moral standards would rule this out: there can be only one divine Law, namely that which prescribes actions conforming to the uni-versal moral standards in question. A fortiori one would expect a Jewish, Christian, or Muslim Platonist to claim the divine Law of his religious tradition to be the only one that adequately embodies these universal moral standards. When it comes to the divine Law, Platonism, one might conclude, is inherently averse to any form of plu-ralism. In this paper I will attempt to show that this conclusion is incorrect. I will first argue that Plato’s political philosophy provides a conceptual framework for multiple divine Laws. Then I will show how philosophers in Antiquity and in the Middle Ages used this framework to explain either the existence or the possibility of multi-ple divine Laws. I will take the Platonist Numenius of Apamea (fl. 2nd c. CE) as an example of the approach advocating the existence of multiple divine Laws and the Muslim philosopher al-Fârâbî (d. 950) as an example of the approach advocating the possibility of multiple divine Laws. Finally, I will examine the position of the Jewish Aristotelian Maimonides (d. 1204). Although Maimonides shares the Platonic com-mitments of Numenius and al-Fârâbî, he claims–surprisingly at first view–that there is only one divine Law: the Law of Moses. I will argue that this exclusivity claim is driven by apologetic considerations and is not meant as a philosophical challenge to the religious pluralism advocated by Numenius and al-Fârâbî. There is, in fact, evidence that Maimonides advocated a pluralistic stance more radical than theirs.

The fact that laws, customs, and religious traditions differ from one politi-cal community to another and change even within one political community over the course of time was generally acknowledged by the time of Plato. Let me only mention Herodotus and Thucydides who both document this de facto pluralism, and in part explain it on the background of varying cultural, political, and social condi-tions.1 One conclusion that can be drawn from this is that of the sophists: all nomoi are merely conventions whose validity is relative to a specific context. The anony-mous Dissoi Logoi, for instance, written ca. 400 BCE, presents a long list of things considered good, proper etc. in one context, but bad, shameful etc. in another.2 This

1 See herodotus, Histories, 3.38; thucydides, Peloponnesian War, 2.52-53 and 3.81-84.2 For the discussion of the authority of moral norms in 5th century Greece, see the classical study

by f. heiniMann, Nomos und Physis – Herkunft und Bedeutung einer Antithese im griechischen Denken

32 Carlos Fraenkel

conclusion was, of course, not shared by Plato. At least from the middle dialogues onwards he is confident that philosophical examination can determine what is truly pious, courageous, just and so forth. As I suggested above: this position seems to be incompatible with multiple divine nomoi. At the beginning of the Laws, however, Plato implicitly suggests that multiple divine nomoi are possible.3 The Athenian, Plato’s spokesman in the Laws, asks his two interlocutors – Clinias from Crete and Megillus from Sparta – whether they attribute the nomoi of their respective polis to «a god or a man». Both respond that the source of their nomoi is a god – in Crete the nomoi of Zeus were established by Minos and in Sparta the nomoi of Apollo were established by Lycurgos (see 624a-625b).

In his Summary of Plato’s Laws, [Jawâmi‘ kitâb al-nawâmîs li-Aflâtûn] al-Fârâbî suggests that Plato mentions the nomoi of both Crete and Sparta «in order to explain that there are many nomoi [nawâmîs] and that their multiplicity does not invalidate them [kathratuha lâ tubtiluha]».4 Let me note that the question whether al-Fârâbî read the Laws or only a synopsis by Galen is the object of considerable scholarly dispute.5 While space constraints do not allow me to discuss this question, I will argue that al-Fârâbî’s suggestion concerning Plato’s purpose at the beginning of the Laws is plausible. It is important to stress, however, that the Athenian does not recognize the laws of Crete and Sparta as valid divine nomoi without qualifica-tion. When Clinias and Megillus explain that the nomoi of their cities are excel-lent because they make the citizens courageous and thus ensure victory in war, the Athenian subjects this account of excellent nomoi to an elenchos and refutes it. The argument shows that excellent nomoi do not aim at victory in war by instilling cour-age, but rather at peace and hê megistê aretê – the highest virtue which consists in the four cardinal aretai that Plato had defined in the Republic: justice, self-control, wisdom, and courage (see 630b-c). These in turn aim at intellectual perfection which Plato takes to be the highest good (see 630d). But why are nomoi capable of turn-ing citizens into excellent citizens divine? Because in Plato’s late theology God is conceived as Reason (Nous) whose role consists in ordering things in view to what is best – both in the cosmological context of the Timaeus and – mediated through the philosopher-legislator – in the political context of the Laws.6 Nomoi that order the

des 5. Jahrhunderts, Basel 1945.3 Note that by nomoi Plato means not only legal statutes, but all political, legal, and educational

institutions in the polis that shape the life of the citizens. In this broad sense I will be using the term throughout the paper.

4 Edited by t.-a. druart, in «Bulletin d’Etudes Orientales» 50 (1998), 1.2.5 See s. harvey, «Can a tenth-century Islamic Aristotelian help us understand Plato’s Laws?», in

s. scoLnicov-L. Brisson (eds.), Plato’s Laws: From Theory to Practice, Sankt Augustin 2003, pp. 320-330.6 For the cosmological context, see s. Menn, Plato on God as Nous, Carbondale and Edwards-

ville 1995. For the political context, see Republic, 590c-d; 607a; Laws, 713a; 713e-714a.

33Divine Law in the Platonic Tradition: One or Many?

life of the citizens in view to what is best thus are rational because for Plato an excel-lent order is a rational order, and they are divine because their rationality expresses God conceived as Reason. For my purpose, the crucial point in the Athenian’s dis-cussion with Clinias and Megillus is that the result of the elenchos is not taken to be a refutation of the divine character of the nomoi of Crete and Sparta. It is taken to be a refutation of the interpretation of these nomoi set forth by Clinias and Megillus. In order to prove the divinity of their nomoi they must show how the practices and beliefs that these prescribe are conducive to the end at which divine nomoi truly aim, i.e. «hê megistê aretê» according to the outcome of the elenchos. The project of the Laws, therefore, is not the construction of philosophically sound divine nomoi as an alternative to the existing law-codes of Sparta and Crete. Instead, the project is the philosophical reconstruction of the nomoi established by Minos and Lycurgos in order to bring out their rational character which alone justifies describing them as di-vine. This, moreover, is not only the challenge that the Athenian poses to Clinias and Megillus, but this is also what he himself does in the ensuing discussion of the nomoi of Magnesia, the fictional polis established in the Laws. If, as Glenn Morrow noted, «outright invention plays almost no part at all in [the Laws]», this is, I contend, be-cause Plato’s aim is a philosophical reconstruction of Greek legislation that shows what it would look like if it had been established by a philosopher-legislator in view to the true excellence of the citizens determined through philosophical examination.7 This represents an important shift in strategy in comparison to Plato’s approach in the Republic. While in the Republic Plato explicitly criticizes the timocratic politeia of Sparta and Crete and presents the best politeia as an alternative to it, in the Laws he presents the best politeia as the correct interpretation of the politeia of Sparta and Crete.8 It has, the Athenian claims, been misunderstood by Clinias and Megillus as being timocratic whereas in truth it aims at «hê megistê aretê». Corrective critique is replaced through corrective reinterpretation. This strategy allows Plato to co-opt the politeia of Crete and Sparta which is «praised by most people» as he already noted in the Republic (544b) while at the same time tacitly redirecting it from timê as the highest good to intellectual perfection. Glenn Morrow compared Plato’s lawgiver to the demiurge of the Timaeus: neither creates out of nothing, both order preexist-ing materials – historical materials the former and physical materials the latter.9 But if the divine nomoi are «material» instantiations of the four cardinal aretai aim-ing at intellectual perfection, i.e. ways to attain these aretai reflecting the specific geographic and cultural circumstances of Plato’s Greece, then a plurality of divine nomoi is compatible with Plato’s commitment to the universal forms of the aretai in

7 g. MorroW, Plato’s Cretan City, Princeton 1960, p. 591.8 Cf. s. Menn, On Plato’s Politeia, in «Proceedings of the Boston Area Colloquium in Ancient

Philosophy» 21 (2005), pp. 1-55.9 g. MorroW, Plato’s Cretan City, cit., p. 10, p. 591.

34 Carlos Fraenkel

the same way as a plurality of physical trees is compatible with his commitment to the universal form of the tree.

From the outset of the Laws Plato points out that specific Cretan nomoi relat-ing to «physical training» and «military equipment» are determined by the proper-ties of the Cretan territory which differs, for example, from the territory of Thessaly (see 625c-626b). Plato can, therefore, say – not unlike the author of the Dissoi Lo-goi – that what is good military training in Crete would be bad military training in Thessaly without having to accept the relativism of the sophistic position. In other areas Plato seems to take pluralism to be entirely contingent. This is the case with the sacred laws, i.e. nomoi relating to the establishment of shrines, temples, religious festivals, and, in general, forms of communal worship, discussed, among others, in Book 5. These nomoi should be accepted on the authority of tradition alone and not be changed by «the legislator […] in the slightest degree» (738b-c). For despite their diversity, the religious festivals and forms of communal worship in question all fit equally well with an important aim of the polis, namely to promote mutual acquaint-ance and friendship between the citizens which in turn secure the right distribution of honor, political offices and justice (see 738d-e). Later in Book 5, Plato suggests a two-step procedure for establishing the best possible politeia: in a first step the best, second-best, third-best etc. politeia must be described; in a second step, the person charged with founding a «political community [synoikêsis]» must choose the best politeia that can be implemented under the specific circumstances of his time and place. It is clear, moreover, that Plato allows for multiple instantiations of the same model (that, for example, the military training in Crete differs from the military training in Thessaly due to differences of territory, does not entail that soldiers in Crete will be more or less courageous than soldiers in Thessaly). In the Laws, the choice belongs to Clinias who is portrayed by Plato as one of the commissioners entrusted with establishing the laws of Magnesia. But Plato explicitly says that «we should not forget anyone else who at some time may be faced with such a choice and wish to adopt, according to his own way of life [kata ton heautou tropon], what is dear [to philon] to him from his own native country» (739a-b). In other words: the philosophical reconstruction of existing materials in the Laws provides just one example of how such a program can be carried out.

The analogy between the lawgiver and the medical doctor, an analogy fre-quently drawn by medieval Muslim and Jewish philosophers that can be traced back to Plato and Aristotle, will help to clarify how this form of pluralism works.10 A good lawgiver’s expertise concerning what is best for human beings must be as well founded as the doctor’s expertise concerning health. As the patient follows the in-

10 See PLato, Laws, 719e-720e; aristotLe, Nicomachean Ethics, 1.13; aL-fârâBî, Fusûl munta-za‘a [Selected Aphorisms], 1-5; MaiMonides, Eight Chapters, chapter 1.

35Divine Law in the Platonic Tradition: One or Many?

structions of the doctor for the sake of health, the members of the politico-religious community follow the instructions of the lawgiver for the sake of their wellbeing. While the goal of the doctor is always the same: restoring health, the regime he pre-scribes varies according to the specific conditions of the patient. In the same way the goal of different lawgivers may be the same: turning citizens into excellent human beings, but the way they order the lives of the citizens towards this goal will vary according to specific geographic and cultural circumstances. In conclusion: Plato’s conception of divine nomoi combines contextual relativism with respect to the kinds of beliefs and practices required for attaining the goal with universalism with respect to the goal itself.

A wide range of Pagan, Jewish, Christian, and Muslim philosophers in Antiq-uity and the Middle Ages, whose political thought was influenced by Plato, adopted the program of philosophical reconstruction laid out in the Laws. A good illustration of this approach is Philo of Alexandria who enthusiastically applies it to the nomoi of the Jews. The claim that the nomoi of the Jews are divine nomoi according to the criterion established by Plato in the Laws is, in fact, a topos in Hellenistic-Jewish literature.11 According to Philo, Moses was not only an accomplished philosopher, but an accomplished lawgiver too. He thus embodies the union of political science and political power that according to Plato is the condition for establishing an excel-lent politeia.12 How Philo’s program is modeled on Plato’s is most in evidence in De decalogo and De specialibus legibus. Here Philo explains in detail how the nomoi of Moses contribute to what he takes to be their general purpose: «To prepare and exhort us to wisdom and justice and piety and the rest of the chorus of the aretai».13 Plato’s philosophical reconstruction of Greek political, legal, and educational tradi-tions thus may be said to have its counterpart in Philo’s philosophical reconstruction of Jewish political, legal, and educational traditions.

But not only the nomoi of the Jews became the object of philosophical recon-struction in Antiquity. What Philo does for the Jewish tradition can be compared to Cicero’s account of the political, legal, and educational traditions of Rome in De re publica and De legibus, the interpretation of the ancient religion of the Egyptians set forth by Chaeremon, Plutarch, and Iamblichus, and the efforts made by Greek philosophers – from the Stoics to the Neoplatonists – to recover ancient wisdom from Homer and Hesiod. For the Platonists, Plato’s authority, in fact, is often based on the claim that he had recovered a tradition of ancient wisdom – not only that of Homer, mediated through Pythagoras, but also that of a wide range of «Oriental» na-tions. A recent survey of Platonica orientalia presents portraits of Plato as studying

11 See e.g. JosePhus, Contra Apionem, 2.170–171; Sapientia, 8:7; 4 Maccabees, 1:2-4 and 1:17-18. 12 See De vita Mosis, 2.2 paraphrasing Republic, 473c-d.13 De Specialibus Legibus, 4.134.

36 Carlos Fraenkel

Egyptian, Persian, Babylonian, Assyrian, Chaldaic, Phoenician, Sidonian, Hebrew, and Indian sources!14 Space constraints prevent me from examining the reasons that in Antiquity gave rise to these attempts to establish the existence of ancient wisdom traditions.15 Given the stance which I suggested Plato adopts in the Laws it should be clear, however, that a Platonist would have no problem accepting the existence of multiple and equally valid wisdom traditions which instantiate the same core content and purpose in form of beliefs and practices that were shaped by different geograph-ic and cultural contexts.

The assumption of the existence of multiple ancient wisdom traditions and the project to substantiate this assumption through the philosophical reconstruction of the traditions’ beliefs and practices is well illustrated in the extant fragments of Nu-menius of Apamea.16 Numenius, who had a formative influence on the later Platonic tradition, both builds on and contributes to this project of philosophical reconstruc-tion. A central concern for him was to clarify Plato’s true doctrines, in particular against what he considered to be the «apostasy [diastasis]» of the later Academy from Plato.17 Numenius’ motivation for studying Plato was not that he considered Plato an original thinker, but that in his view Plato provided the best access to the philosophy of Pythagoras which in turn he took to have its source in the ancient wisdom tradition of the Greeks – from Homer to the Eleusinian mysteries.18 At the same time the wisdom contained in these Greek sources coincides for Numenius with the wisdom contained in the traditions of «the nations held in high esteem [ta ethnê ta eudokimounta]». They include, for example, «the Brahmans, the Jews, the Persians, and the Egyptians» (fr. 1a); elsewhere he also refers to the «Romans» (fr. 31) and to Jesus, although without explicitly naming him (see fr. 10a). In Numenius’ view, therefore, Plato’s work is the key to the universal wisdom that had previously been restated by Pythagoras and that he takes to be instantiated in Greek, Roman, and several «Oriental» wisdom traditions, as well as in the teachings of Jesus. A good example of his approach can be found in a passage preserved by Porphyry that belonged to his allegorical commentary on Homer’s «cave of the nymphs» (fr. 30). According to Numenius this episode of the Odyssey represents Plato’s account of the descent of the soul into the material world. In the commentary he first refers to the doctrine of the Pythagoreans that «the souls settled upon the water which was god-inspired.» This doctrine he finds confirmed in Genesis 1:2, according to which the

14 See u. Jeck, Platonica Orientalia, Frankfurt a.M. 2004.15 See g. Boys-stones’ attempt at an explanation in Post-Hellenistic Philosophy, Oxford 2001.16 For a good account of Numenius, see M. frede, «Numenius», in Aufstieg und Niedergang der

Römischen Welt 2.36, Berlin-New York 1987, pp. 1034-1075.17 The Apostasy of the Academics from Plato was the title of one of Numenius’ works.18 nuMenius, Numénius Fragments, ed. É. des Places, Paris 1974. See fragments 31, 33, 34,

36, 55, 58.

37Divine Law in the Platonic Tradition: One or Many?

«spirit of God moved over the waters», but equally in Egyptian mythology and in a doctrine that he attributes to Heraclitus. All these sources thus represent in different ways the same Platonic doctrine about the soul’s relationship to the world of matter. It is important to note that the agreement that Numenius seeks to establish between Plato and other traditions is not limited to «doctrines [dogmata]» expressed in tradi-tional stories, but includes practices as well, for example «initiations [teletai]» and «cults [hidryseis] performed in agreement with Plato». It is clear, moreover, that Numenius’ project either philosophically reconstructs the traditions in question or presupposes their philosophical reconstruction: for instance the allegorical interpre-tation of Homer or the allegorical interpretation of the Hebrew prophets and of Jesus which are mentioned by Origen (see fragments 1b, 1c, 10a). His claim that the Jews are among the nations who take «God to be incorporeal» presupposes an allegorical understanding of the Bible as does his well-known dictum that Plato is nothing but «a Moses speaking Greek». Such a dictum only makes sense if Numenius has a Pla-tonic reconstruction of Moses in mind like the one set forth by Philo.

Let us now turn to the school of Arabic Aristotelianism in the medieval Is-lamic world, whose representatives called themselves falâsifa [philosophers] and saw themselves as continuing the philosophical project of Plato and Aristotle. For reasons on which I cannot elaborate here, the standard position of the falâsifa is that the doctrines of Plato and Aristotle are in agreement, but that Aristotle is the defini-tive philosophical authority. The framework of their political philosophy, however, is derived from the Platonic tradition, although a wide range of Aristotelian concepts are integrated into it.19 Important as these changes are, they do not affect my present argument, for the falâsifa’s stance on the divine Law remains at its core Platonic. In what follows I will examine the positions of al-Fârâbî, the Muslim founder of the school, and Maimonides, the school’s most important Jewish representative. Con-cerning the question whether the divine Law is one or many, al-Fârâbî and Maimon-ides adopt opposite positions and in this way illustrate the two ends of the spectrum.

As we saw, al-Fârâbî takes Plato in the Laws to be a pluralist with respect to the divine Law. It is, moreover, likely that his interpretation of Plato was influenced by the kind of pluralism advocated by later Platonists like Numenius.20 Already the general definition of religion which al-Fârâbî proposes at the beginning of his Book of Religion [Kitâb al-milla] reflects the Platonic position:

Religion consists of opinions and actions, determined and limited by [certain] conditions [muqadarra muqayyada bi-sharâ’it], which are prescribed to the

19 For a more detailed treatment, see my Philosophy and Exegesis in al-Fârâbî, Averroes, and Maimonides, in «Laval Théologique et Philosophique» 64 (2008), pp. 105-125.

20 On the Neoplatonic influence on al-Fârâbî’s political thought, see d. o’Meara, Platonopo-lis–Platonic Political Philosophy in Late Antiquity, Oxford 2003.

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community by their first ruler who strives to attain a specific goal either with respect to the [members of the community] or by means of them through their practice of [the prescribed opinions and actions].21

Thus the opinions and actions that constitute a religion, according to al-Fârâbî, are shaped, firstly, by the conditions – geographic and cultural – under which the re-ligion is established, and secondly, by the goal pursued by its establishment. We saw that for Plato the divinity of nomoi depends on the goal towards which they order the life of the citizens. The same holds for al-Fârâbî who uses the notion of a «virtuous [fâdila] religion» for what Plato describes as «divine nomoi». Such a religion orders the life of the members of the religious community in view to what is best: «The ul-timate felicity [al-sa‘âda al-quswa] that is truly felicity».22 The question of the goal thus permits to distinguish between virtuous and non-virtuous religions. A virtuous religion in turn allows for multiple instantiations according to the varying conditions that «determine» and «limit» it. All these instantiations are equally valid in their spe-cific contexts. The true core which they have in common, is, according to al-Fârâbî,

reproduced by imitation for each nation and for the people of each city through those parables [mathalât] which are best known to them. But what is best known often varies among nations, either most of it or part of it. Hence these things are expressed for each nation in parables other than those used for an-other nation. Therefore it is possible that virtuous nations and virtuous cities exist whose religions [milaluhum] differ, although they all have as their goal one and the same felicity and the very same aims.23

Like Plato, al-Fârâbî combines contextual relativism with respect to the beliefs and practices required for attaining the goal – i.e. the «opinions and actions, deter-mined and limited by [certain] conditions» – with universalism with respect to the goal itself. Note, however, that unlike Numenius, al-Fârâbî does not speak about the actual existence, but only about the possibility of multiple virtuous religions. His aim, I suggest, was to provide a conceptual framework within which the religious traditions, existing side by side in the Islamic world, could be philosophically reconstructed.

I finally come to Maimonides. Like Plato and al-Fârâbî, he makes the divinity of nomoi conditional on the goal in view to which they were established. A «divine Law» orders the life of the members of the religious community in view to the high-est virtue which Maimonides too identifies with intellectual perfection (see Guide

21 aL-fârâBî, Kitâb al-milla, ed. M. Mahdi, Beirut 1968, p. 1.22 Ibid.23 Mabâdi’ ârâ’ ahl al-madîna al-fâdila [The Principles of the Opinions of the Citizens of the

Virtuous City], ed. r. WaLzer, Oxford 1985, 17.2.

39Divine Law in the Platonic Tradition: One or Many?

of the Perplexed [Dalâlat al-hâ’irîn] 2.40). However, unlike Plato, Numenius and al-Fârâbî, Maimonides rejects the possibility, let alone the existence, of a plurality of divine Laws. This is at first surprising, for in one sense Maimonides’ work can be understood as implementing the program of al-Fârâbî: the philosophical reconstruc-tion of the beliefs and practices of the Jews in order to substantiate the claim that the Mosaic Law fulfills the criteria of a divine Law. His project, like Philo’s, can be described as a Jewish counterpart to Plato’s philosophical reconstruction of Greek political, legal, and educational traditions. Given al-Fârâbî’s conceptual framework, this does not require claiming exclusive validity for the Mosaic Law. Maimonides could have argued that, like virtuous religions established in other contexts, it con-tains «opinions and actions, determined and limited» by specific geographic and cultural conditions. Instead he asserts in Guide 2.39 that the Mosaic Law is the only possible divine Law: «Hence, according to our opinion, there never has been a Law and there never will be a Law except the one that is the Law of Moses our Mas-ter».24 Even if for the sake of argument we concede that Moses attained the highest level of perfection, it remains at least in principle possible for another lawgiver to attain the same level and hence to establish a Law equal in excellence to the Law of Moses. Differences between the two Laws would then be merely contextual. As far as I can see, the only alternative open to Maimonides is to explain Moses’ absolute superiority through God’s miraculous intervention in the natural order on his behalf. This, of course, is philosophically unsatisfactory. If we rule out the argument ex miraculo, I do not see how Maimonides can justify moving from the excellence of the Mosaic Law (a claim that his project of philosophical reconstruction may be said to substantiate) to its uniqueness. Instead of resorting to an argument ex miraculo, I suggest solving the puzzle by looking at Maimonides’ move as driven by strategic considerations rather than philosophical commitments. He is, after all, not just argu-ing for the excellence of one religion among others in the Islamic world, but for the excellence of the religion that both Christians and Muslims considered superseded. As an apologetic assertion in a polemical context, the claim to the uniqueness of the Mosaic Law is readily understood.

This interpretation is supported by the evidence suggesting that Maimonides is aware of al-Fârâbî’s model of religious pluralism and, in fact, applies it in two ways to Judaism: firstly, he allows for pluralism within the Jewish tradition. Basing himself on the rabbinic view, according to which Ezekiel’s and Isaiah’s apprehension of the divine chariot had the same content, Maimonides asserts in Guide 3.6 that they expressed the same philosophical doctrines in different ways because of the different audiences they were addressing: Ezekiel spoke to uncultivated desert nomads, Isaiah to educated city dwellers. The different representations thus reflect different cultural

24 Edited by s. Munk-y.yoeL, Jerusalem, 1930-31, p. 268.

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contexts. Secondly, Maimonides also finds this kind of contingency in the Mosaic Law itself. To use al-Fârâbî’s definition of religion: both the «opinions and actions» of the Mosaic Law were, according to Maimonides, «determined and limited» by specific conditions. With respect to opinions the most prominent example are the corporeal attributes of God. With respect to actions, the most prominent example are the laws of sacrifice. Neither the corporeal representation of God nor the laws of sac-rifice are required by the universal human condition, but by the particular condition of the Jews at the time of Moses, namely the corrupt religious beliefs and practic-es to which they were habituated (see Guide, 3.29-30). These beliefs and practices Moses could only reform, but not entirely abolish. Maimonides thinks, moreover, that the condition of the Jews with respect to the beliefs and practices in question has so considerably improved since the time of Moses that both corporeal attributes and sacrifices have become obsolete.25 Maimonides’ contextual relativism, therefore, turns out to be more radical than that of Plato, Numenius, and al-Fârâbî! Not only does he concede that the literal content of the Mosaic Law is in part contingent upon context-specific circumstances which means that different, but equally valid divine Laws are possible. In addition, he seems to subscribe to the more radical view that if Moses had returned in his own time, he would have replaced the old Law through a new Law, adjusted to the improved condition of the Jews. This new Law would neither contain corporeal representations of God nor require sacrifices. Although Maimonides, for apologetic reasons, claims that the Law of Moses is unique, this claim thus does not pose a philosophical challenge to the pluralism advocated by Plato, Numenius, and al-Fârâbî.

25 Ivi, 3.32 for sacrifices and 1.35 for God’s incorporeality.