Abraham ibn Daud tells us in the introduction to his book that it was written in response to the question of a friend concerning the problem of free will. The dilemma is this. If human action is determined by God, why does he punish, why does he admonish, and why does he send prophets? If man is free, then there is something in the world over which God has no control. The problem is made more difficult by the fact that Biblical statements are inconsistent, and passages may be cited in favor of either of the theories in question. This inconsistency is to be explained, however, by the circumstance that not all Biblical phrases are to be taken literally—their very contradiction is a proof of this. Now the passages which require exegetic manipulation are in general those which seem opposed to reason. Many statements in the Bible are in fact intended for the common people, and are expressed with a view to their comprehension, and without reference to philosophic truth. In the present instance the objections to determinism are much greater and more serious than those to freedom. In order to realize this, however, it is necessary to investigate the principles of the Jewish religion and seek to harmonize them with true philosophy. This in turn cannot be done without a preliminary study of science. A question like that of determinism and freedom cannot be decided without a knowledge of the divine attributes and the consequences flowing from them. But to understand these we must have a knowledge of the principles of physics and metaphysics.[228] Accordingly Abraham Ibn Daud devotes the entire first part of the "Emunah Ramah" to general physics and metaphysics in the Aristotelian conception of these terms.
Concerning the kind of persons for whom he wrote his book, he says, I advise everyone who is perfectly innocent, who is not interested in philosophical and ethical questions like that of determinism and freedom on the ground that man cannot grasp them; and is entirely unconcerned about his ignorance—I advise such a person to refrain from opening this book or any other of a similar nature. His ignorance is his bliss, for after all the purpose of philosophy is conduct. On the other hand, those who are learned in the principles of religion and are also familiar with philosophy need not my book, for they know more than I can teach them here. It is the beginner in speculation who can benefit from this work, the man who has not yet been able to see the rational necessity of beliefs and practices which he knows from tradition.
That the principles of the Jewish religion are based upon philosophic foundations is shown in Deuteronomy 4, 6: "Keep therefore and do them; for this is your wisdom and your understanding in the sight of the peoples, which shall hear all these statutes, and say, surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people." This cannot refer to the ceremonial precepts, the so-called "traditional" commandments; for there is nothing in them to excite the admiration of a non-Jew. Nor can it refer to the political and moral regulations, for one need not profess the Jewish or any other religion in order to practice them; they are a matter of reason pure and simple. The verse quoted can only mean that the other nations will be seized with admiration and wonder when they find that the fundamental principles of the Jewish religion, which we received by tradition and without effort, are identical with those philosophical principles at which they arrived after a great deal of labor extending over thousands of years.[229]
Ibn Daud is not consistent in his idea of the highest aim of man. We have just heard him say that the purpose of philosophy is conduct. This is true to the spirit of Judaism which, despite all the efforts of the Jewish philosophers to the contrary, is not a speculative theology but a practical religion, in which works stand above faith. But as an Aristotelian, Ibn Daud could not consistently stand by the above standpoint as the last word in this question. Accordingly we find him elsewhere in true Aristotelian fashion give priority to theoretical knowledge.
Judging from the position of man among the other creatures of the sublunar world, we come to the conclusion, he tells us, that that which distinguishes him above his surroundings, namely, his rational soul, is the aim of all the rest; and they are means and preparations for it. The rational soul has two forms of activity. It may face upward and receive wisdom from the angels (theoretical knowledge). Or it may direct its attention downwards and judge the other corporeal powers (practical reason). But it must not devote itself unduly or without system to any one occupation. The aim of man is wisdom, science. Of the sciences the highest and the aim of all the rest is the knowledge of God. The body of man is his animal, which leads him to God. Some spend all their time in feeding the animal, some in clothing it, and some in curing it of its ills. The latter is not a bad occupation, as it saves the body from disease and death, and so helps it to attain the higher life. But to think of the study of medicine as the aim of life and devote all one's time to it is doing injury to one's soul. Some spend their time in matters even less significant than this, viz., in studying grammar and language; others again in mathematics and in solving curious problems which are never likely to happen. The only valuable part here is that which has relation to astronomy. Some are exclusively occupied in "twisting threads." This is an expression used by an Arabian philosopher,[230] who compares man's condition in the world to that of a slave who was promised freedom and royalty besides if he made the pilgrimage to Mecca and celebrated there. If he made the journey and was prevented from reaching the holy city, he would get freedom only; but if he did not undertake the trip he would get nothing. The three steps in the realization of the purpose are thus: making the preparations for the journey, getting on the road and passing from station to station, and finally wandering about in the place of destination. One small element in the preparation for the journey is twisting the threads for the water bottle. Medicine and law as means of gaining a livelihood and a reputation represent the stage of preparing for the journey. They are both intended to improve the ills of life, whether in the relations of man to man as in law; or in the treatment of the internal humors as in medicine. Medicine seems more important, for on the assumption of mankind being just, there would be no need of law, whereas the need for medicine would remain. To spend one's whole life in legal casuistry and the working out of hypothetical cases on the pretext of sharpening one's wits, is like being engaged in twisting threads continually—a little is necessary, but a great deal is a waste of time. It would be best if the religious man would first learn how to prove the existence of God, the meaning of prophecy, the nature of reward and punishment and the future world, and how to defend these matters before an unbeliever. Then if he has time left, he may devote it to legalistic discussions, and there would be no harm.
Self-examination, in order to purify oneself from vices great and small, represents the second stage of getting on the road and travelling from station to station. The final stage, arriving in the holy city and celebrating there, is to have a perfect knowledge of God. He who attains this is the best of wise men, having the best of knowledge, which deals with the noblest subject. The reader must not expect to find it all in this book. If he reads this and does not study the subject for himself, he is like a man who spent his time in reading about medicine and cannot cure the simplest ailment. The knowledge of God is a form that is bestowed from on high upon the rational soul when she is prepared by means of moral perfection and scientific study. The prophet puts all three functions of the soul on the same level, and gives preference to knowledge of God. "Thus saith the Lord," says Jeremiah (9, 22), "Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom [rational soul], neither let the mighty man glory in his might [spirited soul], let not the rich man glory in his riches [nutritive soul]: but let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth, and knoweth me...." Jeremiah also recommends (ib.) knowing God through his deeds—"That I am the Lord which exercise loving-kindness"—in order that man may imitate him.[231]
We have now a general idea of Ibn Daud's attitude and point of view; and in passing to the details of his system it will not be necessary to rehearse all the particulars of his thought, much of it being common to all mediæval writers on Jewish philosophy. We shall confine ourselves to those matters in which Ibn Daud contributed something new, not contained in the writings of his predecessors.
Following the Aristotelian system, he begins by describing substance and accident and gives a list and characterization of the ten categories. This he follows up by showing that the classification of the ten categories lies at the basis of the 139th Psalm. It needs not our saying that it must be an extraordinary mode of exegesis that can find such things in such unusual places. But the very strangeness of the phenomenon bears witness to the remarkable influence exerted by the Aristotelian philosophy upon the thinking of the Spanish Jews at that time.[232]
From the categories he passes to a discussion of the most fundamental concepts in the Aristotelian philosophy, matter and form. And here his method of proving the existence of matter is Aristotelian and new. It is based upon the discussion in Aristotle's Physics, though not necessarily derived from there directly. Primary matter, he says, is free from all form. There must be such, for in the change of one thing to another, of water to air for example, it cannot be the form of water that receives the form of air; for the form of water disappears, whereas that which receives the new form must be there. Reason therefore leads us to assume a common substrate of all things that are subject to change. This is primary matter, free from all form. This matter being at the basis of all change and becoming, could not itself have come to be through a similar process, or we should require another matter prior to it, and it would not be the prime matter we supposed it to be. This last argument led Aristotle to the concept of an eternal matter, the basis of becoming for all else besides, itself not subject to any such process. It is an ultimate, to ask for the origin of which would signify to misunderstand the meaning of origin. All things of the sublunar world originate in matter, hence matter itself is the unoriginated, the eternal.
Ibn Daud as a Jew could not accept this solution, and so he cut the knot by saying that while it is true that matter cannot originate in the way in which the composite objects of the sublunar world come to be, it does not yet follow that it is absolutely ultimate and eternal. God alone is the ultimate and eternal; nothing else is. Matter is a relative ultimate; relative, that is, to the composite and changeable objects of our world; but it is itself an effect of God as the universal cause. God created it outright.