My favorite saying about my fellow Jews emphasizes not our tenacity or our piety but something much more important: our passion for disagreement. “Two Jews, three opinions,” a rabbi once told me during one of my periodic bouts of religiosity. The rabbi’s maxim often wafted into my mind in a slightly revised form while I was in graduate school, pursuing a PhD in the most querulous discipline in the academy. “Two philosophers, 10 opinions,” I thought when I witnessed my peers exchanging spirited arguments in seminars, or when my adviser returned my papers with a Talmudic barrage of comments in the margins. I was flattered by his strenuous opposition, of course. To a philosopher, as to a Jew, there is no insult as grave as placating assent, no tribute as great as a detailed rebuttal.