How the Karaites were defeated.

[muman613]

The heretical sect of Karaites still exists today, although they remain in small number. Their heretical sect is not considered Jewish by any stretch of the imagination. They believe they are keeping the law of Moses but they reject the oral tradition and law. By every definition they are heretics to Jewish faith. Although they strictly interpret passages and take things literally which we know to not to have to be taken literally.

The great Saadia Gaon, in the 2nd century, confronted the sect and effectively demonstrated the truth of the Rabbinic tradition.



http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/112319/jewish/Rabbi-Saadia-Gaon.htm

Rabbi Saadia ben Joseph, one of the last and most famous Gaonim, a great Talmudic scholar, Jewish philosopher and inspiring leader, was born in a small village near Fayyum, in Egypt (the site of the ancient city Pithom which together with Raamses was built by Jewish slaves under the Pharaohs). His family traced its origin from Judah, the son of Jacob.

His father, Rabbi Joseph, was a learned man and he was Saadia's first teacher. Saadia had excellent qualities and was a brilliant student. Before he reached the age of twenty years, he already wrote his first work, the Agron, the first Hebrew dictionary and grammar. It was a great help to Hebrew poets and writers of sacred poems. The famous poet and commentator on the Torah, Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra, who lived about two hundred years later, praised this work highly, and considered its author as the earliest authority on the Hebrew language.

Rabbi Saadia became even more famous when he began his writings against the Karaites. The Karaites,were a sect of Jews which came into being many years before Saadia. Which denied the authority of the Talmud, believing only in the T'NaCh, had become very strong and influential in Saadia's time, especially in Egypt.

The founder of the sect was Anan ben David, a member of the princely family of the Resh Galuta ("Head of the Exile," or "Exilarch"). Who lived in Babylon about 130 years before Saadia was born. When Anan's uncle, the Resh Galuta, died childless, Anan was next in line to inherit the high position. But because he was not as pious and G-d-fearing as the position demanded, the Gaonim (heads of the great Yeshivoth of Sura and Pumbaditha) and most of the Jews in Babylon, refused to recognize him as their leader, and elected a younger heir, Rabbi Shlomo ben Hasdai, in his place. Anan then rebelled against the authority of the Gaonim and of the Jewish tradition as taught and transmitted by the Sages of the Mishnah and Talmud. He then founded a sect of Jews who accepted only the Written Law, that of the Holy Scriptures (Mikra). In many respects they were followers of the sect of Saducees who lived in the period before the destruction of the Second Beth Hamikdosh. Anan ben David began to interpret the Torah in his own way and completely broke with Jewish tradition, thus placing himself and his followers outside the Jewish fold. Moreover, he carried on a bitter fight against the Sages and Rabbis, trying to undermine their authority.

With the spread of the new religion founded by Muhammad, and the rise of various sects among the Muslims, the Karaite sect gained strength. Many rich Jews, influenced by the new Arab culture, became more and more influenced by the Karaites. As the true and faithful Jews would have nothing to do with them, the Karaites organized their own communities and established a "tradition" of their own. During the time of Saadia they had become quite numerous and influential. Young Saadia took up the cudgels against them. His scholarly and logical arguments against the beliefs and customs of the Karaites, dealt a serious blow to their prestige. It required a great deal of courage on the part of young Rav Saadia - he was barely twenty three years old when he declared "war", against the powerful Karaites. Indeed, Saadia's writings which proved the falsity of the whole Karaite doctrine, had a tremendous impact, and many Karaites or would-be Karaites, began to see the light. The leaders of the Karaites, seeing that they could not defeat the young scholar in a battle of wit and scholarship, began to persecute him by open hostility. Fanatical Karaites broke into his home, and ransacked and destroyed his writings and books. Rabbi Saadia's very life was in peril, and he could no longer remain in his native land. Soabbi Saadia left Egypt and went to the Holy Land, from there he continued his relentless fight against the Karaite.

Saadia set out to translate and interpret the Torah into Arabic, which was the spoken language of most Jews in the Arab lands. In all his books and writings he endeavored to strengthen the foundations of the Jewish religion and tradition.

2.

While Rabbi Saadia lived in the Holy Land, there arose another crisis which threatened to split the Jewish community. This time it was not a case of an outside attack, but something that came from within.

It came about when Rabbi Aaron ben Meir, the leading Talmud scholar and Rosh Yeshivah in the Holy Land, and a descendant of the princely family which headed the Jewish people in the Holy Land for many generations, decided to reclaim the leadership which had passed on to the Jewish community of Babylon. It happened to be a time when the Jewish community in Babylon, especially that of Sura, had suffered a serious relapse. A dispute raged there between the Resh Galuta David ben Zakkai, and the leading Talmud scholars, as to the appointment of the Rosh Yeshivah- in Pumbaditha. The great Yeshivah at Sura had dwindled down, and the rest were about to be transferred to Pumbaditha, which had become the center of Jewish life and learning.

Ben Meir took advantage of the trouble in Babylon, and decided to declare himself the leading authority. The issue was the fixing of the Jewish calendar, which was determined by the Babylonian Sages and accepted by all Jews everywhere. Ben Meir made his own calculations and wished to have it accepted by the Jews There was the danger of some Jews following one calendar and others another, of some Jews observing the festival on certain dates, and others a day later. It is easy to imagine the confusion that that would have caused.

Rav Saadia was on a visit to Aleppo at that time. He was a great authority on the question of the Jewish calendar having debated the question with the Karaites, and being also well versed in astronomy. Rav Saadia communicated with Rabbi Aaron ben Meir and pointed out to him his error in calculation, upholding the calculations of the Babylonian Rabbis. At the same time, Rabbi Saadia began to receive inquiries from various Jewish communities who had been confused by the dispute. He replied to each inquiry so clearly and convincingly, that the authority of the Babylonian Rabbis was completely restored. When Ben Meir refused to give in, he was left without a following and the dispute was thus resolved, thanks to Rabbi Saadia's intervention.

3.

The dispute with Ben Meir had one good effect. It united the Babylonian Rabbinical authorities in their effort to maintain the central authority of the Babylonian Rabbinate. Rabbi Saadia was now more famous than ever, and he was considered as a candidate to become the Head (Gaon) of the great Yeshivah of Sura. This was a very distinct honor to be bestowed upon one who was not himself a disciple of that Yeshivah. But the Resh Galuta, David ben Zakkai, was very much in favor of it. To be sure, the Resh Galuta first offered the post to Rabbi Nissim Nehorai, one of the older Sages of Babylon, who was greatly respected for his learning, piety and fine character. But Rabbi Nissim was blind, and he declined the honor. "The Rosh Yeshivah has to be the light of the Jewish world, and it is not right that the position should be held by one who had lost the light of his eyes," he said.

Then the Resh Galuta asked his opinion about the candidacy of Rabbi Saadia. Rabbi Nissim knew the Resh Galuta well, as a man of strong character, strong-willed and unyielding, being very conscious of his position and princely descent. On the other hand, the old Rabbi also knew that Rav Saadia was a person of equally strong will, who jealously guarded the honor of the Torah, and would not yield to the Resh Galuta. Therefore, he offered his advice frankly and sincerely. He told the Resh Galuta that, as far as scholarship and piety was concerned, there was none greater than Rabbi Saadia. However, he warned him that he could not impose his will and influence upon him.

Nevertheless, the Resh Galuta decided that it would suit him best to see Rabbi Saadia occupy the chair of the Gaon of Sura. He thought that Rabbi Saadia would yield to him, since he would be a newcomer to the country, without influential friends and connections in local circles. Surely the young Gaon would be grateful to him for the appointment!

Thus, Rabbi Saadia, who had returned to Egypt in the meantime, received an invitation to become the Gaon of Sura, which he accepted. This was in the year 4687, when Rabbi Saadia was only 45 years old.

The Yeshivah of Sura began to grow and flourish anew under the leadership of Rav Saadia Gaon. Many were the young scholars who were attracted to this famous Yeshivah headed by so famous a man.

Before long, however, Rav Nissim's prediction came true. Only two years after Saadia's election to the Gaonate of Sura, a serious conflict arose between him and the Resh Galutha. The circumstances were as follows:

A dispute had developed among heirs to a large fortune concerning the will of their father. That will happened to provide a substantial benefit also for the exilarch. The parties to the dispute came before the Resh Galutha for arbitration. Being himself a beneficiary, the Resh Galutha should have disqualified himself, but he did not.

It was the custom that such verdicts by the exilarch required the signatures of the two Gaonim to make it final. The exilarch sent his son to Saadia to obtain his signature. Saadia sent him to the Gaon of Pumbaditha, Rav Kohen Tzedek. The latter signed it, but when the young prince returned to Saadia and pressed him for his signature, the Gaon of Sura told him, "Tell your father that the Torah commands, "You shall not respect persons in judgment.'" The young prince angrily raised his hand against the Gaon, and the Gaon's servants threw the prince out of the house.

Stung by Rav Saadia's action, the exilarch declared him no longer Gaon of Sura, and in his stead appointed a young scholar, Joseph ben Jacob. The exilarch did everything to make life difficult for Saadia. In his turn, Rav Saadia declared the exilarch no longer fit for his post, and appointed a young brother of David ben Zakkai, Josiah Hasan, as the rightful Resh Galutha. In this bitter struggle Rav Saadia had the support of most of the scholars and of the community at large. But the exilarch could influence the court of the Caliph in his favor. As a result, Rav Saadia was compelled to leave Sura.

Rav Saadia settled in Baghdad. For the next four or five years his personal life was difficult, though he was supported by his many friends. However, being free from his manifold duties as Gaon of Sura, he was able to devote more time to his literary work, in defense of the Jewish faith against attacks and dangers from various quarters. During this time Rav Saadia wrote his famous philosophical work Emunoth v'Deoth ("Beliefs and Opinions"). He wrote it in Arabic, so that it would reach the "cultured" Jews, and perhaps also the non-Jewish world. He was particularly anxious to help those Jews, who, under the influence of Arabic culture, had fallen into confusion, doubt and error about their own faith.

"It pains my heart," Rav Saadia writes in the preface to his work, "to see many Jews engulfed in oceans of doubt and struggling in the raging waters of error; and there is no diver to help them out of their depths, nor a swimmer to lend them a hand. And as the Almighty had taught me the way to help them, I consider it my duty to extend a helping hand to them...

The book itself is divided into ten sections, each subdivided into chapters. In his book, the author discusses the fundamental principles of our faith, and emphasizes the close bonds between the Jewish people and G-d by means of the Torah and its commandments, both of the Written Law and of the Oral Law (the Mishnah and Talmud), which form the very basis of existence of the Jewish people as a whole, and of Jews as individuals.

The Emunoth v'Deoth of Saadia has had a tremendous influence on Jewish thought to this very day. In its own day this work was even of greater importance in refuting the false beliefs and opinions which threatened to undermine the pure Jewish faith under the influence of Muslim and Christian writers.

Rav Saadia Gaon wrote numerous other important works, including a translation of the T'NaCh into Arabic, with a very valuable commentary. This great masterpiece is called Tafsir. Many other works in almost every branch of knowledge and wisdom, earned him the title (bestowed upon him by the great Rabbi Abraham ibn Ezra), "the chief authority in every field" (rosh ha-medabrim b'chol mokom). Unfortunately, many of his works were lost.

During his stay in Baghdad, and as a result of his important writings, Saadia's name became even more famous than before. During all this time his friends tried to bring about a reconciliation between Rav Saadia and the Resh Galutha. Mutual friends finally succeeded in bringing Rav Saadia and David ben Zakkai together, and Saadia once again could take up his post as the Gaon of Sura. Soon David ben Zakkai died, and Rav Saadia supported David's son Judah, the very prince who had once raised his hand against him, to succeed his father. But Judah, too, died soon afterwards, leaving behind him a very young son. Rav Saadia took the young orphan into his house, and raised him as if he were his own son. He taught him personally and prepared him for the distinguished position of Resh Galutha.

Saadia lived for 60 years. He died on the 26th of Iyar, in the year 4702 (942). His sons, especially Rav Dosa Gaon, were great Torah scholars.

Rav Saadia lived and worked in a very critical time in Jewish history, when the unity and pure faith of the Jewish people were threatened from within and without. His personality and leadership, coupled with his brilliant scholarship and endless love for his people, reunited the Jewish people in the spirit of the Torah and tradition. The great Maimonides, who lived some 200 years later, and who was greatly influenced by Rav Saadia, said of him: "Were it not for Rav Saadia Gaon, the Torah would have almost disappeared from Jewish people. For it was he who shed light on that which was obscure strengthened that which had been weakened, and spread the Torah far and wide, by word of mouth and in writing.

[edu]

When the author in the quote below mentions Rihal he means Rabbi Yehuda Halevi author of Kuzari
http://vbm-torah.org/archive/kuzari/22kuzari.htm

The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash
The Kuzari
Yeshivat Har Etzion

Shiur #22: The Karaites and the Oral Law (I)
 
Rav Itamar Eldar
 
 
THE KARAITE SECT
 
            The problems associated with the Karaite sect and the status of the Oral Law did not begin in the time of R. Yehuda Halevi. Already in the period following the destruction of the second Temple, movements arose that tried to restrict the authority of the "Rabbanites" and the Oral Law.[1] The phenomenon greatly expanded, however, during the Middle Ages. During the eighth century, sects arose (headed by Anan the Karaite) that wanted to eradicate the Oral Law entirely. At the beginning of the tenth century, Rabbenu Sa'adya Ga'on responded to their arguments in his book Sefer Teshuvot Neged Anan (Book of Answers to the Arguments of Anan), which was a novel philosophical confrontation with the Karaites. Rabbenu Sa'adya's arguments in this and other books landed a decisive blow upon the sect.
 
            After Anan came Binyamin ben Moshe from Persia, who wrote the book Mas'at Binyamin. He was not a Karaite in the full sense of the word, but he shared the Karaitic inclination of abandoning the Oral Law in favor of the Written Law. In the tenth century, we hear of the classical Karaites, who rejected the Oral Law and tried to confront Scripture in unmediated fashion, relying on it alone.
 
            The phenomenon reached its climax in Jerusalem among a circle of ascetic Karaites, who engaged in constant mourning over the destruction of the Temple; they are referred to as the "Evlei Tzion" or the "Shoshanim." They called upon each individual to approach Scripture with nothing but reason and intellect, and not to rely on his teachers or forefathers. They argued that when a person will be called to give a reckoning in heaven, he will not be able to say, "I did such-and-such because that is what I received from my forefathers," just like Adam could not say, "The woman that you gave me, etc."[2]
 
            One of the most radical Karaites was Daniel Alkamsi, who wrote several books, including Pitaron Sheneim Asar, the first complete commentary to the Prophets written in the Middle Ages. He was also of the opinion that a person must rely only upon his reason and intellect in approaching the Torah. It was precisely in the Diaspora that the Torah reached the entire people, and thus it fell upon each and every individual to strive to reach the proper understanding of the text and to ignore what had been said before him.
 
            In practice, and despite these tendencies, Karaism did not take hold during this period, and the majority of the Jewish people followed the rationalistic stream, especially in light of the stubborn and successful struggle of Rabbenu Sa'adya Gaon.
 
            For this reason, R. Yehuda Halevi, who authored his book two hundred years after Rabbenu Sa'adya (at the beginning of the twelfth century), relates to the phenomenon, but does not devote as much attention to it as he does to philosophy.
 
            The Karaites' arguments are based on two important assumptions:
 
1)         A person with his intellect alone is capable of contemplating the plain meaning of Scripture and arriving at its proper understanding. He is therefore capable of facing Scripture without any intermediaries or tradition and interpreting it in accordance with his own understanding. This argument is supported by the assertion that "The Lord's Torah is perfect," and its recipients therefore do not require intermediaries to fill in what is missing. As Rihal puts it: "This is exactly what the Karaites say. As they have the complete Torah, they consider the tradition superfluous" (III, 34).
2)         The Karaites tried to diminish the value of Chazal and to undermine the people's trust in them. They argued that the knowledge of the "Rabbanites" is not necessarily any greater than that of the average person, and that the argument that they rely on ancient tradition is not necessarily correct or precise.
 
These two arguments are summarized by the Rabbi:
 
This is one of the secrets known only to God, his prophets, and the pious. One must not rely [as did the Karaites] on lack of knowledge of the traditionalists [undermining the standing of Chazal] or on discussion based on [rational] proof [strengthening the standing of the intellect]. (III, 49)
 
CHALLENGING THE ARGUMENTS OF THE KARAITES
 
            Rihal attacks the Karaites on these two fronts.
 
            He first addresses the assumption that man is capable of reaching a true understanding of the Torah with his reason and intellect.
 
Rihal demonstrates that the Karaites' assertion that the Torah does not require outside intermediaries or an exegetical tradition because it is "perfect" is not even true with respect to reading the text:
 
The Rabbi: Far from it. If the cononantic text of the Mosaic Book requires so many traditional classes of vowel signs, accents, divisions of sentences and masoretic signs for the correct pronunciation of words, how much more is this the case for the comprehension of the same? The meaning of a word is more comprehensive than its pronunciation. When God revealed the verse: "This month shall be unto you the beginning of months" (Shemot 12:2), there was no doubt whether He meant the calendar of the Copts - or rather the Egyptians - among whom they lived, or that of the Chaldeans who were Abraham's people in Ur-Kasdim; or solar [or lunar months], or lunar years, which are made to agree with solar years, as is done in embolismic years. I wish the Karaites could give me a satisfactory answer to questions of this kind. I would not hesitate to adopt their view, as it pleases me to be enlightened. I further wish to be instructed on the question as to what makes an animal lawful for food; whether "slaughtering" means cutting its throat or any other mode of killing; why killing by gentiles makes the flesh unlawful; what the difference is between slaughtering, skinning, and the rest of it. I should desire an explanation of the forbidden fat, seeing that it lies in the stomach and entrails close to the lawful fat, as well as of the rules of cleansing the meat. Let them draw me the line between the fat which is lawful and that which is not, inasmuch as there is no difference visible. Let them explain to me where the tail of the sheep, which they declare unlawful, ends. One of them may possibly forbid the end of the tail alone, another the whole hind part. I desire an explanation of the lawful and unlawful birds, excepting the common ones, such as the pigeon and turtle dove. How do they know that the hen, goose, duck, and partridge are not unclean birds? I further desire an explanation of the words: "Let no man go out of his place [on the seventh day]" (Shemot 16:29). Does this refer to the house or precincts, estate - where he can have many houses - territory, district, or country? For the word "place" can refer to all of these. I should, further, like to know where the prohibition of work on the Sabbath commences? Why are pens and writing material are not admissible in the correction of a scroll of the Law (on this day), but lifting a heavy book, or a table, or eatables, entertaining guests and all cares of hospitality should be permitted, although the guests would be resting, and the host be kept employed? This applies even more to women and servants, as it is written: "That your manservant and your maidservant rest as well as your" (Devarim 5:14). Wherefore it is forbidden to ride [on the Sabbath] horses belonging to gentiles, or to trade. Then, again, I wish to see a Karaite give judgment between two parties according to the chapters Shemot 21 and Devarim 21:10 sqq. For that which appears plain in the Torah is yet obscure, and much more so are the obscure passages, because the oral supplement was relied upon. I should wish to hear the deductions he draws from the case of the daughters of Zelophehad to questions of inheritance in general. I want to know the details of circumcision, fringes and tabernacle; why it is incumbent on him to say prayers; whence he derives his belief in reward and punishment in the world after death; how to deal with laws which interfere with each other, as circumcision or Paschal lamb with Sabbath, which must yield to which, and many other matters which cannot be enumerated in general, much less in detail. Have your ever heard, O King of the Khazars, that the Karaites possess a book which contains a fixed tradition on one of the subjects just mentioned, and which allows no differences on readings, vowel signs, accents, or lawful or unlawful matters, or decisions?[3] (III, 35)
 
            Rihal asserts that a tradition is necessary even with respect to vowels and accents, for the Torah was given without them, and the pronunciation of the words and division of the sentences are given to alternate explanations, and thus to different meanings. The very fact that the priests studied the Torah and passed it down without dispute teaches that they had read it in uniform fashion both with respect to vowels and with respect to accents, and all the more so with respect to the meaning of the words, which is also given to alternative interpretations (III, 31).[4]
 
            A Karaite who wishes to explain the Torah on his own and without an interpretive tradition will explain it in accordance with one of the many possible interpretations, but there is no reason to assume that his fellow Karaite will explain it in the same fashion, for the unmediated Torah allows for a wide variety of explanations. Furthermore, even one person will not remain faithful to his own interpretations, for since the possibilities are varied, it stands to reason that over time his own interpretation will change as well:
 
The Rabbi: The Law enjoins that there shall be "one Torah and one statute." Should Karaite methods prevail, there would be as many different codes as opinions. Not one individual would remain constant to one code. For every day he forms new opinions, increases his knowledge, or meets with someone who refutes him with some argument and converts him to his views. (III, 39)
 
            The way to avoid this branching out of the Torah to innumerable lifestyles that are unconnected one to the other except for the fact that they all follow from the same text and from the same authority is by adopting a certain interpretation and following it. Here, argues Rihal, we come to the foundation of the Oral Law: tradition and acceptance of authority:
 
But whenever we find them agreeing, we know that they follow the tradition of one or many of their ancestors. In such a case, we should not believe their views, and say: "How is it that you agree concerning this regulation, while reason allows the word of God to be interpreted in various ways?" If the answer be that this was the opinion of Anan, or Benjamin, Saul, or others, then they admit the authority of tradition received from people who lived before them, and of the best tradition, viz. that of the Sages. (III, 39)
 
            Once we have come to this point, argues Rihal, it is preferable to accept Chazal as the source of authority over Anan, Benjamin or Saul, for the reasons that he brings in the continuation:
 
1)         "For they were many, while those Karaite teachers were but single individuals."
2)         "The view of the Rabbis is based on the tradition of the Prophets; the other, however, on speculation alone."
3)         "The Sages are in concord, the Karaites in discord."
4)         "The sayings of the Sages originate with 'the place which God shall choose,' and we must therefore accept even their individual opinions. The Karaites have nothing of the kind."
 
The superiority of the traditional Sages over the Karaites is focused on two things:
 
1)         Their closeness to God (tradition from the prophets, the place chosen by God).
2)         Their greater numbers and their collective agreement.[5]
 
These two arguments appear many times in Rihal's book. According to Rihal, collective agreement is indicative of truth, as we saw with respect to the revelation at Mount Sinai (IV, 11), the manna (I, 86), Shabbat (I, 87) and history and prophecy (I, 48).
 
We see, then, that Rihal attacks the arguments of the Karaites, claiming that it is impossible to understand the Written Law or to apply it, without the Oral Law that is passed down together with it from one generation to the next.
 
THE ORAL LAW SERVES AS A CONNECTION BETWEEN GOD AND HIS PEOPLE
 
            Attention should be paid to the fact that Rihal adopts the same method with respect to the Karaites as he had adopted with respect to philosophy:
 
Philosophers justify their recourse to speculation by the absence of prophecy and divine light. They established the demonstrative sciences on a broad and unlimited basis, and on that account separated without either agreeing or disagreeing with each other concerning that on which they held such widely diverging views later on in metaphysics, and occasionally in physics. If there exists a class representing one and the same view, this is not the result of research and investigation, but because they belong to the same philosophic school in which this was taught, as the schools of Pythagoras, Empedocles, Aristotle, Plato, or others, as the Academy and Peripatetics, who belong to the school of Aristotle. (V, 14)
 
            The similarity is not coincidental. Rihal identifies the phenomenon of Karaism as a direct result of the philosophical view that the only way to examine the natural world and the Divine world is through the intellect. The intellect establishes our spiritual world, and therefore it is the only criterion by which we can analyze, infer, and adopt ideas and concepts. The difference between the philosophers and the Karaites, Rihal argues, lies in the fact that the philosophers are more consistent in their views, and on the face of things they are unprepared to assume anything that does not follow from reason. "On the face of things" because Rihal demonstrated that the created world allows for a wide variety of possible understandings. Rihal showed this with respect to the question of the eternity of the world as well as with respect to other questions.
 
            The Karaites adopt the Torah as a source of authority given by God, but as for its interpretation, they wish to follow the philosophical view that views human reason as the sole arbiter of the truth. Rihal argues that just as this is impossible with respect to the world, it is also impossible with respect to the Torah. In other words, God created His world and gave Israel His Torah in such a way that they are not fully comprehensible without a traditional interpretation.
 
            The Karaites' assumption that the world was created in perfect manner so that an accompanying interpretation is unnecessary, or the assumption that the Torah was given in a perfect manner so that there is no need for a tradition or for Chazal, has an important ramification regarding God's relationship with the universal world and the religious world.
 
            I will use a wonderful analogy brought by the Maharal to explain this ramification:
 
For example, when you see a builder, namely, a carpenter, and he is the cause of a house, and he dies and the house remains, or if you see a father, who is the cause of his son, and the father dies and the son remains – you should not say that the builder is the full cause of the house, or that the father is the full cause of the son. Do not say this, for the cause must remain together with that which it causes, for if it is the cause of its existence, it is also necessary for its continued existence. When the house remains after the builder dies, it is because the builder did not cause the house to come into being or to remain in existence. The builder was merely the cause of bringing the pieces of wood together, and putting the one on top of the other, and in the absence of the cause, the pieces of wood would not have come together. But the standing of the house is in itself, because the earth bears it. What causes the house to stand, then, is the earth, and certainly this cause remains with that which it causes. And it is impossible for this cause to be removed and that which it causes to remain. And similarly, the father is not the cause of the son, but rather the father is the cause for planting the seed, and this cause remains, for if there is no father, there is no planting of seed. But the cause of the son's continued existence is the nature that God implants within him. For how is it possible for the cause to provide more than that what it has? Were the father the cause of the son's existence, it would turn out that the father gave the son more that what he himself has, for he would give his son existence even after the father himself dies, and the son would have life after the father's death. And it is impossible for one to give something that one does not have. Rather, the cause of [the son's] existence is different, namely, God, who is the cause of everything, and there is no cause other than Him. (Netzach Yisrael, introduction)
 
            The Maharal speaks of the connection between one who performs an action and an object. He makes a clear distinction between a craftsman and God; the craftsman creates an object, but the connection between them comes to an end with the completion of the object, while God created the world and is the cause of its continued existence.
 
            The world can only be explained and understood through the constant guidance of God. God provides the "operating instructions," but these instructions are not handed over with the completion or purchase of the object. The "manufacturer" allows an "open line" between him and the purchaser, without which the purchaser will never reach full use of the object. This "open line" exists at various levels. The highest level is in the giving and fulfillment of the Torah. After that, there is prophecy and the holy spirit, and last is the tradition.
 
            The common denominator between the philosopher, who wishes to know the world without the Torah and without tradition, and the Karaite, who wishes to understand the Torah without the tradition, is that both fail to make use of the continuous connection to God that accompanies the world and the Torah.
 
            When Rihal speaks of the source of the authority of Chazal, he emphasizes the connection of this source to God:
 
Our law is linked to the "ordination given to Moses on Sinai," or sprung "from the place which the Lord shall choose," "for from Zion goes forth the Law, and the word of God from Jerusalem' (Yeshayahu 2:3). Its mediators were the Judges, Overseers, Priests, and the members of the Sanhedrin… This refers to the time when the order of the Temple service and the Sanhedrin, and the sections [of the Levites], who completed the organization, were still intact, and the Divine influence was undeniably among them either in the form of prophecy or inspiration, as was the case during the time of the second Temple. Among these persons no agreement or convention was possible. In a similar manner arose the duty of reading the Book of Esther on Purim, and the ordination of Chanuka, and we can say: "He who has commanded us to read the Megila" and "to kindle the light of Chanuka," or "to complete" or "to read" the Hallel, "to wash the hands," "the ordination of the eruv," and the like. Had our traditional customs arisen after the exile, they could not have been called by this name, nor would they require a blessing, but there would be a regulation or rather a custom. (III, 39)
 
            The Oral Law, that is, that body of literature composed at the end of the second Temple period and shortly thereafter, gives expression to the continuous connection between God and His people and to His continued guidance and instruction. This connection is seen first through explicit prophecy or inspiration - "the Divine influence was undeniably among them either in the form of prophecy or inspiration" – and afterwards through tradition - "The view of the Rabbis is based on the tradition of the Prophets" (ibid.).[6]
 
            From then on, Rihal asserts, with the cessation of prophecy and the holy spirit, the authority of the Sages narrowed and the practices that they instituted fell into the category of "regulation and custom."
 
            It should be noted that the distinction between the Oral Law prior to the cessation of prophecy and the holy spirit and the Oral law following it, which bases the authority of the Oral Law on Divine revelation of one kind or another, creates a serious problem and leads to a blurring between two realms: wisdom and prophecy. This concern led the Rambam to emphasize the superiority of the Sage over the Prophet in everything related to halakhic decision-making:
 
If a prophet testifies that the Holy One, blessed be He, said to him that the law regarding such-and-such mitzva is as follows, or that the argument of so-and-so is true, that prophet shall be put to death, for he is a false prophet, as we have laid the foundations, for no Torah was given after the first prophet, and nothing may be added, and nothing may be detracted, as it is stated: "It is not in heaven" (Devarim 30). And the Holy One, blessed be He, did not permit us to learn from the prophets, but only from the Sages, the men of arguments and opinions. He did not say, "And you shall come before the prophet who will be in those days," but rather, "And you shall come before the priests, the Levites, and the judge who will be in those days" (ibid. 17). The Sages have already greatly expanded on this idea, and it is the truth. (Introduction to the Rambam's Commentary to the Mishna)
 
            A sentence such as, "there is no road to the knowledge of the commands of God except by way of prophecy, but not by means of speculation and reasoning" (III, 53) would have disturbed the Rambam, and it would seem that on this issue the Rambam would totally disagree with Rihal. From the Rambam's perspective, there is no difference between the authority of a Sage who lived during the second Temple period and the Sage of our day, for both of them derive their authority from the power that God gave Chazal to use His seal, and not from His revelation to them – "And you shall come before the judge who will be in those days." This authority is so great that it is even preferable to prophetic revelation with respect to halakhic decision-making.[7]
 
            In contrast to Rihal, the Rambam would say that God maintains a connection to the world through the Oral Law by way of the authority and legitimacy that He gave Chazal to rule in accordance with their own understanding, even if their opinions contradicts Divine truth. Every halakhic ruling issued by an authorized Sage, whether or not it corresponds to absolute Divine truth, receives God's approval by way of the declaration that is sounded through the universe, "My sons have defeated Me."[8]
 
(Translated by David Strauss)

[1] In his historical survey stretching from the second Temple period to the closing of the Mishna (III, 65), Rihal dates the origins of the Karaites to the second Temple period, the days of Shimon ben Shetach.
[2] Some wish to see the spread of this tendency as part of the strengthening of rationalism during the Middle Ages (Ben-Sasson, Toledot Yisrael Bi-Yemei Ha-Benayim).
[3] Here, Rihal follows many midrashim that deal with the phenomenon, e.g., Eliyahu Zuta, parasha 2, and others.
[4] For this reason, Rihal rejects textual emendations based on logical reason (for example, those found in the Septuagint): "Common sense would in these and other cases alter in all volumes, first the letters, then the words, then the construction, then the vowels and accents, and consequently also the sense" (III, 29). As for disagreements about the text, Rihal asserts that we must follow the majority: "[One must study several copies,] the majority of which cannot be faulty" (III, 27). This is consistent with his fundamental position that great numbers are an indication of truth.
It should be noted that according to modern textual criticism, preference is given to the less frequent reading over the more common one, as reflecting the authentic version.
[5] And similarly: "We can only accomplish this through the medium of their traditional teachings, by the support of their deeds, and by endeavoring to find one who is regarded as an authority by one generation and capable of handing down the history of another. The latter generation, however, cannot, on account of the multitude of its individuals, be suspected of having made a general agreement to carry the Law with its branches and interpretations unaltered from Moses downward either in their memories or in a volume" (III, 24).
And similarly: "For they have divine assistance, and would never, on account of their large number, concur in anything which contradicts the Law" (III, 41).
And similarly: "Those who have handed down these laws to us were not a few sporadic individuals, but a multitude of learned and lofty men nearly approaching the prophets" (III, 53).
[6] Here, Rihal is referring to the Anshei Keneset ha-Gedola, who "received from the Prophets," as stated in tractate Avot, as is evident from what is stated later: "The words: 'You shall not add,' etc., refer to 'that which I commanded you through Moses' and any 'prophet from among thy brethren' who fulfils the conditions of a prophet. They further refer to regulations laid down in common by priests and judges 'from the place which thy Lord shall choose.' For they have divine assistance, and would never, on account of their large number, concur in anything which contradicts the Law. Much less likelihood was there of erroneous views, because they had inherited vast learning, for the reception of which they were naturally endowed. The members of the Sanhedrin, as is known by tradition, had to possess a thorough acquaintance with all branches of science. Prophecy had scarcely ceased, or rather the heavenly voice, which took its place" (III, 41).
The Anshei Keneset Ha-Gedola were the transitional generation. On the one hand, some of them still merited prophecy and a heavenly voice, and they received assistance from the Shekhina since they sat in the place chosen by God (at least during those forty years of the second Temple period when prophecy had not yet ceased). On the other hand, their great wisdom was a combination of inheritance, natural proclivity and toil. All of these provide them with ability that is closely connected to the Divine influence.
[7] It should be noted that in the continuation Rihal presents the generation after the cessation of prophecy in a slightly different manner: "Those who have handed down these laws to us were not a few sporadic individuals, but a multitude of learned and lofty men nearly approaching the prophets. And if the bearers of the Law had only been the priests, Levites and the Seventy Elders, the chain beginning with Moses himself would never have been interrupted" (III, 53).
Here, Rihal speaks of the generation following the cessation of prophecy as "bearers of the Law," that is to say, as preservers of the Law who bear the Torah and pass it down to the next generation. It is not by chance that from this perspective, Rihal ignores the difference between the generation following the cessation of prophecy and the generation of prophecy, mentioned in section 39, and emphasizes the continuity from the days of Moshe on. For from the perspective of bearing the Torah and preserving the tradition, there is no difference between a generation that merited prophecy and one that did not. From this perspective, Rihal's position is closer to that of the Rambam, who does not relate to prophecy with respect to the tradition of the Oral Law, and therefore does not distinguish between a generation that merited prophecy and the later generations, but rather focuses on "the judge who will be in those days."
It should be noted that even the Rambam relates to a difference in levels between "Shmuel in his generation" and "Yiftach in his generation." This distinction, however, is not necessarily connected to the prophecy or its absence, or to the chronological proximity to the source of the tradition, but exclusively to the spiritual level of the particular person.
[8] From the story of the oven of Akhnai (Bava Metzia 59b).

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Here is the 2nd part of the article against the Karaites that we can derive from the Kuzari
http://vbm-torah.org/archive/kuzari/23kuzari.htm

The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash
The Kuzari
Yeshivat Har Etzion

 
Shiur #23: The Karaites and the Oral Law (II)
 
Rav Itamar Eldar
 
 
RATIONAL ARGUMENTAION IN THE SERVICE OF GOD
 
            In the previous lecture, I noted the common denominator between Karaism and philosophy, the shared desire on the part of both movements to use the intellect in order to circumvent tradition and directly face the phenomenon in question – the world, in the case of the philosophers, and the Torah, in the case of the Karaites.
 
            The conflict between the intellect and rational argumentation, on the one hand, and tradition, on the other, as it follows from the Karaitic understanding, leads R.  Yehuda Halevi to present his fundamental argument regarding the relationship between the intellect and the service of God.  Until this point, this argument had been directed against the philosophers, who, in their search for God, tried to use the intellect in order to circumvent the Torah and prophecy.  Now, the argument is invoked against the Karaites, who, in their attempt to understand the Torah, wish to use the intellect in order to circumvent the Oral Law.
 
This will show you that the approach to God is only possible through the medium of God's command, and there is no road to the knowledge of the commands of God except by way of prophecy, but not by means of speculation and reasoning.  There is, however, no other connection between us and these commands except truthful tradition.  Those who have handed down these laws to us were not a few sporadic individuals, but a multitude of learned and lofty men nearly approaching the prophets.  And if the bearers of the Law had only been the priests, Levites, and the Seventy Elders, the chain beginning with Moses himself would never have been interrupted.  (III, 53)
 
            In his polemic against the Karaites, Rihal returns to his fundamental position regarding the mitzvot –we cannot understand how they work and how they prepare the world for the resting of the Divine influence (see the three lectures on the mitzvot).
 
            He lists the various groups who had unsuccessfully attempted to draw close to God or to make use of such intimacy by way of the intellect (the alchemists, the necromancers, and the like).
 
            The attempt, then, to analyze the Torah's mitzvot and to understand them solely through the intellect will not achieve the desired result; this is not only because the Torah intentionally concealed certain matters in order to preserve the relationship between God and man, as was suggested in the previous lecture, but also because our intellectual faculties do not suffice to understand God's intentions without a tradition to define and explain them.  Just as the mitzvot themselves (at least the received mitzvot) are not subject to rational understanding, and rational understanding could not have brought us to them, their analysis and assessment cannot be achieved through rational argumentation either, and we therefore need "outside help" – namely, the tradition.
 
            Rihal voices a qualification, and it is not by chance that this qualification is expressed with respect to the study of the Oral Law:
 
Follow not, therefore, your own taste and opinion in religious questions, lest they throw you into doubts, which lead to heresy.  Nor will you be in harmony with one of your friends on any point.  Every individual has his own taste and opinion.  It is only necessary to examine the roots of the traditional and written laws with the inferences codified for practice, in order to trace the branches back to the roots.  Where they lead you, put your faith there, though your mind and feeling shrink from it.  (III, 49)
 
            The Rabbi allows for rational argument to be used in everything related to the branches of the mitzvot, but only after two conditions have been met:
 
1)         We are dealing exclusively with "tracing the branches back to the roots." That is to say, we are not dealing with stimulating the growth of new branches based on logic, but rather with an attempt to provide a logical explanation that will connect the roots to the conclusions.  For this, however, it is necessary to accept both the roots and the conclusions.  This is accomplished by way of the tradition, which is the exclusive authority on these matters.  For example, it is legitimate to seek a logical explanation of how the rabbinic fences serve the basic law, or even how Chazal arrived from the basic laws to the fences.  But no attempt must be made to establish fences based on logic alone (as was done by the Karaites).
 
2)         Even the logic permitted by the Rabbi is not the logic of each individual; rather, it also is derived from tradition.  There is a traditional manner and traditional tools even in the realm of rational argumentation.  The reference here may be to the "thirteen rules of interpretation" and the rules for halakhic analysis and decision-making that have been passed down from one generation to the next.
 
It seems to me that this opportunity that the Rabbi provides the Torah student is connected to two points:
 
1)         Rihal's general tendency, according to which use of rational argumentation is meant solely to calm to heart – "in order to trace the branches back to the roots."[1]
2)         The study of the Oral Law makes greater use of the intellect than any other branch of Jewish knowledge.  The Gemara is replete with logical arguments and logical objections to such arguments.  Inasmuch as human intellect seems to be an important criterion in Talmud study, rational argumentation cannot be banished in a sweeping manner, as can be done, according to Rihal, in the theological-philosophical realm.  Rihal therefore asserts that use of the intellect in this context is possible when the above-mentioned conditions are met.  These conditions restrict the use of the intellect by negating the possibility that it will serve as a source of authority and condition for observance and by designating the traditional tools that must be adopted in order to use it.[2]
 
SOME ISOLATED POINTS
 
            Regarding the Oral Law, Rihal raises a number of isolated points that I wish to cite here and comment upon:
 
1)         "Bal tosif:"
 
Rihal asserts that the prohibition of bal tosif, adding to the Torah's mitzvot, is not a prohibition relating to the number of mitzvot, but rather a prohibition connected to the authority of the legislator.  It is directed at "the masses, that they should not conjecture and theorize, and contrive laws according to their own conception" (III, 41).
 
2)         Halakhic midrashim and their relationship to the plain meaning of the biblical text:
 
Rihal makes an effort to show that even Chazal's halakhic interpretation of Scripture, which at times appears to contradict the plain sense of the biblical text, is not utterly detached from the simple understanding of the verses.  He does this with respect to "on the morrow of the Sabbath" (III, 41), as well as "an eye for an eye" (III, 47).
 
Elsewhere, however, the Khazar king raises the argument that it sometimes appears as if Chazal's halakhic interpretations are not in consonance with the plain meaning of the text:
 
The Khazar king: Indeed, several details in their sayings appear to me inferior to their general principles.  They employ verses of the Torah in a manner without regard to common sense.  One can only say that the application of such verses once for legal deductions, another time for homiletic purposes, does not tally with their real meaning.  Their Aggadas and tales are often against reason.  (III, 68)
 
            After the Rabbi demonstrates to the Khazar king that the rabbinic interpretations are precise and faithful to logic and wisdom, he suggests that the fact that they do not correspond to the plain meaning of the text can be understood as follows:
 
The Rabbi: Let us rather assume two other possibilities.  Either they employ secret methods of interpretation which we are unable to discern, and which were handed down to them together with the method of the "Thirteen Rules of Interpretation,' or they use biblical verses as a kind of fulcrum of interpretation in a method called asmakhta, and make them a sort of hall mark of tradition.  An instance is given in the following verse: "And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, 'Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat'" (Bereishit 2:16).  It forms the basis of the seven Noahide laws in the following manner: ["He] commanded" refers to jurisdiction.  "The Lord" refers to the prohibition of blasphemy.  "God" refers to the prohibition of idolatry.  "The man" refers to the prohibition of murder.    "Of every tree of the garden," the prohibition of rape.  "You may surely eat," the prohibition of consuming flesh from the living animal.  There is a wide difference between these injunctions and the verse.  The people, however, accepted these seven laws as tradition, connecting them with the verse as an aid to memory.  It is also possible that they applied both methods of interpreting verses, or others which are now lost to us.  (III, 73)
 
            Rihal proposes two ways to deal with this problem:
 
1)         Chazal employed rules for analyzing and interpreting Scripture that had been handed down to them through the tradition and which were subsequently lost.
 
2)         Chazal had received halakhic rulings, and used the verses merely as asmakhta, "a support," or even less than that, "as an aid to memory."
 
It should be noted that the second suggestion is very far-reaching; it turns most halakhic rulings into "halakha given to Moshe at Sinai," the source of the laws lying in tradition and not in exegesis.  This fits in well with what we saw in the previous lecture regarding Rihal's understanding of the inspired source of the Oral Law.  From this perspective, exegesis is of marginal significance, and merely a memory aid or a "support" or "sign." The spring from which the Oral law flows is that of the tradition that comes from the prophets, prophecy, and the holy spirit.
 
It seems to be, as I had noted in the previous lecture, that the Rambam would have reservations about this suggestion as well, for he maintains that the primary instruments of halakhic decision-making are halakhic interpretation and analysis; the results are not necessarily known from the outset.
 
Rihal's first suggestion does not absolutely deny the value of exegesis, but it also removes it from the realm of rational human analysis.  It insists that we are dealing with rational analysis that uses interpretative tools that can only be acquired by way of the tradition.
 
This is expressed in the experiential ramification towards which Rihal leads his reader in all that is connected to study of the Oral Law:
 
It is also possible that they applied both methods of interpreting verses, or others which are now lost to us.  Considering the well-known wisdom, piety, zeal, and number of the Sages which excludes a common plan, it is our duty to follow them.  If we feel any doubt, it is not due to their words, but to our own intelligence.  This also applies to the Torah and its contents.  We must ascribe the defective understanding of it to ourselves.  (III, 73)
 
            The assumption that the human intellect cannot approach the Divine Torah, and that Chazal had the appropriate tools to reach it, leads to humility and submission - first and foremost before the Torah and secondarily before Chazal.
 
            Rihal lived at a time when the intellect reigned supreme and with it the dizzying arrogance that man is not obligated to any truth other than that dictated by his own reason.  During such a period, the humble assertion that "we must ascribe the defective understanding to ourselves" and to the limitations of our understanding was daring and novel.
 
            The understanding that does not bestow exclusive authority upon Chazal to determine Divine truth on the basis of prophecy, inspiration, and tradition, but rather attributes their authority almost entirely to the license granted to them by God (the position of the Rambam) leaves considerable room for disagreeing with Chazal and their understanding.  If the only reason not to rebel against their rulings is the authorization that had been granted to them, and not to us, to issue rulings and decide, there is greater opportunity for argument.[3]
 
1)         "Fences:"
 
Rihal emphasizes that the fences established by Chazal do not undermine the Written Law, but rather strengthen it, and they were instituted for that very purpose (III, 40-41).
 
2)         Discovery of a Torah scroll during the second Temple period:
 
Rihal is not prepared to accept in the literal sense that the people who lived during the second Temple period had forgotten the Torah.  He argues that this does not fit in with their knowledge concerning the construction of the Temple and the altar and the offering of the sacrifices, which presumably were brought.  He therefore proposes that the verse, "And they found written in the Torah" (Nechemia 8:14) refers to an awakening and reinforcement, rather than a discovery (III, 54-63).[4] 
 
3)         Religious striving:
 
Alongside the great advantages of clinging to tradition that Rihal discusses, he mentions also one disadvantage:
 
The Khazar king: I have neither seen anything of the kind, nor heard about it.  I see, nevertheless, that they are very zealous.
The Rabbi: This, as I have already told you, belongs in the province of speculative theory.  Those who speculate on the ways of glorifying God for the purpose of His worship, are much more zealous than those who practice the service of God exactly as it is commanded.  The latter are at ease with their tradition, and their soul is calm like one who lives in a town, and they fear not any hostile opposition.  The former, however, is like a straggler in the desert, who does not know what may happen.  He must provide himself with arms and prepare for battle like one expert in warfare.  Be not, therefore, astonished to see them so energetic, and do not lose courage if you see the followers of tradition, I mean the Rabbanites, falter.  The former look for a fortress where they can entrench themselves, while the latter lie down on their couches in a place well fortified of old.  (III, 36-37)
 
            Rihal extends the advantage enjoyed by the Karaites to all those who wish to draw near to God by way of their intellect and reason.  The main disadvantage of this approach, as Rihal demonstrated over the course of the book, is the absolute and exclusive reliance on human reason.  Such a person has nothing to hold on to beyond his intellect.  He sits as judge, and the entire world, even God and His hosts, pass before him.
 
            A person who lacks external support to rest upon is absolutely dependent upon himself, his understanding, and his achievements.  Alongside the limitations that such a lifestyle imposes, extraordinary responsibility rests on his shoulders.  He cannot divert his attention for even a moment from intellectual analysis.  Everything that he does must follow from rational investigation, or, as the Rabbi refers to it, "zealotry."
 
            A person who relies only on his own intellect is very active.  He demonstrates initiative and leadership in everything related to his contemplative and religious world.
 
This is not true of the traditionalist.  The traditionalist who accepts the authority of the tradition and its sages does not have to worry about his religious observance.  Consciousness and insight are not essential, for his actions are not dictated by reason and understanding, but by the authority upon which he relies.
 
Rihal does not condemn this passivity.  He analyzes and explains its source and in that way he understands it.  But does he demonstrate understanding in this regard? Is it easy for him to see his opponents within and without, the Karaites and the philosophers, striving day after day, hour after hour, with their Divine service, while those who belong to his own camp demonstrate carelessness and at times even indifference? I have my doubts!
 
(Translated by David Strauss)
 

[1] See lecture no. 8, note 8.
[2] Rihal says something similar about the Sages of the second Temple period: "The view of the Rabbis is based on the tradition of the Prophets" (III, 39).
[3] Rihal makes an important comment on the interpretation of the midrashim and aggadot when he says that there are three types of aggadot:
1)             Aggadot that come to strengthen and confirm an idea or a belief.
2)             Aggadot that offer a "historical" description of the visions of the leading Tannaim and Amoraim.
3)             Aggadot that serve as parables for mysteries that must not be revealed.  (In this context, Rihal offers an interesting interpretation of two well-known midrashim that deal with the things that were created before Creation (III, 73).
 
Rihal concludes the third part of his book by mentioning statements and midrashim that do not fall into any one of the above-mentioned categories.  He argues that these were arbitrarily added by disciples who did not understand them only because they had been stated by their masters, and these statements presumably have concealed meanings.  But he introduces a note of apology into his words, saying that these statements have no halakhic significance, and as such the absence of any convincing explanation is not especially problematic.
[4] In this context, let me add two comments:
1)             With these words, Rihal presents his understanding of Scripture's historiosophy: "The compiler of the Holy Writ did not pay so much attention to hidden matters as to those generally known" (III, 63).  That is to say, Scripture means to record the main events that have significance and lasting importance, but not necessarily all the details of the events under discussion.
2)             Rihal's interpretation of the finding of the Torah scroll is especially significant in light of the fact that this event is the foundation of the critical method propounded by the school of Wellhausen.

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I have not really studied the following article by Rabbi Dr. Meir Triebitz on the attitude of Maimonides (Rambam) about how to refute the Karaite challenge to the Oral Law.
But since Rabbi Dr. Meir Triebitz has authored some other articles on Torah thought that are worthwhile to study, I figured he would probably bring up valuable points to consider and research on our subject.
Here's a link I found to his long article
http://www.hashkafacircle.com/journal/R1_RT_evolve.pdf