The Contemplative Life

Closing his great ethics, Aristotle asks what life best fulfills our humanity, and answers: the life of contemplation. Because the intellect is the most divine part of us, the steady activity of understanding eternal truths is the most complete and self-sufficient happiness, prized for its own sake and needing little beyond itself. He ranks this above the practical and political life, which remains noble but bound to externals; centuries later Plotinus deepened the ideal into a mystical ascent toward the One.

A note on meditating on the Torah "day and night" (Joshua 1:8, "v'hagita bo yomam va-laylah," echoed in Psalm 1:2): readers schooled in Greek philosophy sometimes take this as an early Israelite version of the contemplative life — the mind dwelling on truth as its highest calling. The resemblance is real enough to invite the comparison, but the two ideals are aimed at different ends.

In its own setting, Joshua's charge is practical to its core. The verse does not end with meditation; it continues "that you may observe to do according to all that is written in it, for then you shall make your way prosperous, and then you shall have good success." The Torah meditated upon is revealed instruction — commandment, narrative, covenant — and the meditating is a means of keeping it close so that one will live by it. Psalm 1 frames the same posture as the mark of the righteous person who delights in God's teaching; the fruit is a tree planted by streams of water, a life rightly ordered before God. This is sustained, loving reflection, but it is reflection ordered toward obedience and faithfulness.

Aristotle's theoria is a different thing. The bios theoretikos is the contemplation of eternal, necessary truths — the unchanging realities the intellect can grasp — undertaken not for the sake of any action that follows but for its own sake, as the highest and most god-like activity available to a human being. Its object is timeless truth rather than revealed command; its end is the activity of contemplation itself, not the doing of deeds. Where Joshua meditates in order to do, the philosopher contemplates because contemplation is itself the goal. Contemplation of what cannot be otherwise, pursued for its own sake, is precisely not the same as treasuring up a law in order to walk in it.

The two ideas are genuinely distinct: keeping God's revealed instruction always before the mind so as to live by it is not the Aristotelian contemplation of eternal truth pursued for its own sake. The contemplative life entered Jewish thought later — in the Hellenistic period and, decisively, through the medieval falasifa who read Aristotle's intellectual ideal into Torah — which is why Joshua 1:8 is kept separate from this concept.