Studies in Judaism 3

Studies in Judaism 3

However, it would be unfair to argue any further against a theological

system which, as already said, was never avowed distinctly by the

historical school--a school, moreover, with which speculation is a matter

of minor importance. The main strength of this school lies in its

scientific work, for which Judaism will always be under a sense of deep

gratitude. And living as we do in an age in which history reigns supreme

in all departments of human thought, we may hope that even its theology,

as far as it goes, will "do" for us, though I neither hope nor believe

that it will do for those who come after us. I may, however, humbly

confess that the sixth essay in this volume was written in a spirit of

rebellion against this all-absorbing Catholic Israel, with its decently

veiled scepticism on the one hand, and its unfortunate tendency with many

people to degenerate into a soulless conformity on the other hand. There

is, I am afraid, not much to be said in favour of this essay. It is

deficient both in matter and in style. It proved to be a futile attempt to

bring within the compass of an essay what a whole book could hardly do

justice to. The Hebrew documents bearing upon the question of dogma which

I have collected from various manuscripts and rare printed books, would

alone make a fair-sized volume. I only venture to offer it to the public

in the absence of anything better; since, so far as I know, no other

attempt has ever been made to treat the subject even in its meagrest

outlines. I even venture to hope that, with all its shortcomings, it will

contribute something towards destroying the illusion, in which so many

theologians indulge, that Judaism is a religion without dogmas. To declare

that a religion has no dogmas is tantamount to saying that it was wise

enough not to commit itself to any vital principles. But prudence, useful

as it may be in worldly affairs, is quite unworthy of a great spiritual

power.

 

Jewish mysticism in the Middle Ages and in modern times is represented in

this volume by two essays ("The Chassidim" and "Nachmanides"). But in

order to avoid mistakes which might be implied by my silence, I think it

desirable to state that there are also to be found many mystical elements

in the old Rabbinic literature. Mysticism, not as a theosophic system or

as an occult science, but as a manifestation of the spiritual and as an

__EXPRESSION__ of man's agonies in his struggle after communion with God, as

well as of his ineffable joy when he receives the assurance that he has

found it, is not, as some maintain, foreign to the spirit of old Rabbinic

Judaism. There was no need for the medićval Rabbi to borrow the elements

of such a mysticism from non-Jewish sources. The perusal of the old

Homilies on the Song of Songs, and on the Lessons from the Prophets, or

even a fair acquaintance with the Jewish liturgy would, in itself, suffice

to refute such baseless assertions. Those who are at all familiar with old

Rabbinic literature hardly need to be told that "the sea of the Talmud"

has also its gulf stream of mysticism which, taking its origin in the

moralising portions of the Bible, runs through the wide ocean of Jewish

thought, constantly commingling with the icy waters of legalism, and

unceasingly washing the desolate shores of an apparently meaningless

ceremonialism, communicating to it life, warmth, and spirituality. To draw

attention to this fact a humble attempt has been made in the ninth essay,

"The Law and Recent Criticism," a subject which I have essayed to expound

in a series of essays on "Some Aspects of Rabbinic Theology," now

appearing in _The Jewish Quarterly Review_.

 

The last five essays touch rather on certain social and familiar aspects

of Judaism, and need no further comment. They are mere _causeries_ and

hardly deserve the name of studies. Perhaps it may be useful for those who

judge of the heaviness of a work by its bulk to know that there is also a

lighter side of Rabbinic literature.

 

But I shall be better pleased if the more serious side of this

volume--Jewish mysticism and Rabbinic theology--should attract the attention

of students, and so draw some fellow-workers into a field which is utterly

neglected. Notwithstanding the numerous Manuals and Introductions which

all more or less touch on the subject of Rabbinic theology, there is,

after nearly 250 years, not a single work among them which, either in

knowledge of facts or in their interpretation, is a single step in advance

of the Cambridge Platonist, John Smith, in his _Select Discourses_. But

those who try so hard to determine the miraculous distance of Christianity

by the eclipses in Rabbinism, should, if they wish to be just or prove

themselves worthy scholars, also endeavour to make themselves acquainted

with the numberless bright stars that move in the wide universe of Jewish

thought. We are often told that no creed or theological system which has

come down to us from antiquity can afford to be judged by any other

standard than by its spiritual and poetic _possibilities_: this indulgence

Judaism is as justly entitled to claim as any other religion. The great

and saintly Franz Delitzsch who, born with an intellect of admirable

temper, was also endowed by Heaven with a soul--and a beautiful soul it

was--was one of the few theologians who, partly at least, admitted this

claim, and sought earnestly and diligently after these spiritual and

poetic possibilities, and was amply rewarded for his labours.

 

 

 

 

 

I. THE CHASSIDIM(1)

 

 

Throughout the whole of that interesting field of Theological Literature

which deals with the genesis and course of religious movements, there is

probably none whose history, even whose name, is so little known to

English students, as that of the Chassidim. And yet it would be difficult

to point, in comparatively recent times, to a Dissenting movement more

strikingly complete in its development, more suggestive of analogy, more

full of interest in its original purpose, more pregnant of warning in its

decay.

 

The Hebrew word "Chassidim"(2) merely means "the Pious," and appears to

have been complacently adopted by the early apostles of the sect. But the

thing--Chassidism--was, in its inception at all events, a revolt among the

Jews of Eastern Europe against the excessive casuistry of the contemporary

Rabbis. It was in fact one more manifestation of the yearning of the human

heart towards the Divine idea, and of its ceaseless craving for direct

communion with God. It was the protest of an emotional but uneducated

people against a one-sided __EXPRESSION__ of Judaism, presented to them in

cold and over-subtle disquisitions which not only did they not understand,

but which shut out the play of the feelings and the affections, so that

religion was made almost impossible to them.

 

Some account of the sect is the more necessary because, although the

Chassidim have not been wholly ignored by historians or novelists, the

references to them have generally, for perfectly intelligible reasons,

been either biassed or inaccurate. The historians who have treated of them

have been almost exclusively men saturated with Western culture and

rationalism. To them the rude and uncouth manifestations of an

undisciplined religious spirit could not be other than repellent; to them

Chassidism was a movement to be dismissed as unćsthetic and irrational.

 

To the purposes of fiction the romantic side of Chassidism lends itself

readily, but the novelists who have used this material have confined

themselves to its externals. Indeed, to have done more would have involved

a tedious and unremunerative study of difficult Hebrew texts, an

undertaking not to be expected from the most conscientious writers of this

class. Thus Franzos in his references to the Jews of Barnow describes

faithfully the outer signs of the man, his long coat and tangled curls,

but the inner life, the world in which the Chassid moved and had his

being, was unknown to him and is therefore unrecorded.

 

As to my treatment of the subject, I confess that there was a time when I

loved the Chassidim as there was a time when I hated them. And even now I

am not able to suppress these feelings. I have rather tried to guide my

feelings in such a way as to love in Chassidism what is ideal and noble,

and to hate in it what turned out bad and pernicious for Judaism. How far

I have been successful is another question. At least I have endeavoured to

write this paper in such a spirit. But of one thing I must warn the

reader--the desire to give some clear notion of the leading ideas of

Chassidism has compelled me to quote some passages in which the Chassidim

have spoken in very offensive terms of their opponents. In justice to

these I must remark that unfortunately religious struggles are usually

conducted on the most irreligious principles. Thus the Chassidim imputed

to their antagonists, the contemporary Rabbis, many vices from which they

were free. Certainly, there was, as one can read in every history of

Jewish religion, something wrong in the state of Judaism. But I know

people who maintain that there is something very wrong in the present

state of Judaism, and who despair of a regeneration. But surely this is a

silly exaggeration. The Chassidim also exaggerated. It would be better to

take but little notice of their accusations and dwell more on that which

was spoken in a kind and loving spirit.

 

As to the literature of the subject, I can only say here that I have made

use of every book I could consult, both in English and in foreign

libraries. But I cannot pledge myself to be what early Jewish writers

called "a donkey which carries books." I exercise my own choice and my own

judgment on many points.

 

As an active force for good, Chassidism was short-lived. For, as I propose

to show, there lurked among its central tenets the germs of the degeneracy

which so speedily came upon it. But its early purposes were high, its

doctrines fairly pure, its aspirations ideal and sublime.

 

The founder of the sect was one Israel Baalshem,(3) and the story of his

parentage, birth, and childhood, and the current anecdotes of his

subsequent career play a considerable part in Chassidic literature. But

the authentic materials for his biography are everywhere interwoven with

much that is pure legend and with much more that is miraculous. This was,

perhaps, inevitable, and is certainly not an unfamiliar feature in the

personal histories of religious reformers as presented by their followers

and devotees.

 

The sayings and doings of Baalshem are an essential--perhaps the most

essential--portion of any account of the sect. For Baalshem is the centre

of the Chassidic world, and Chassidism is so intimately bound up with the

personality of its founder that any separation between them is well nigh

impossible. To the Chassidim Baalshem is not a man who established a

theory or set forth a system; he himself was the incarnation of a theory

and his whole life the revelation of a system.

 

Even those portions of his history which are plainly legendary have their

uses in indicating the ideals and in illustrating the aspirations of the

early Chassidim; while their circulation and the ready credence they

received are valuable evidence of the real power and influence of

Baalshem's personality.

 

In the tale as told by the sect little is omitted of those biographical

accessories which are proper to an Avatar. There is all the conventional

heralding of a pre-ordained advent; all the usual signs and portents of a

new dispensation may be recognised in the almost preternatural virtues of

Baalshem's parents, in the miraculous annunciation and exceptional

circumstances of his nativity, and in the early indication of a strong and

fearless individuality. Everywhere it seems to be suggested that Baalshem

from his infancy was conscious of a lofty mission. It is already in tender

years that he is made to give evidence of an indifference to conventional

restraints and accepted ideals.

 

Rabbi Eliezer and his wife, the parents of Baalshem, dwelt, as the story

goes, in Moldavia. They are described as a pious and God-fearing couple,

who, when they had already reached old age, were still childless. They are

accredited with a spotless rectitude, which was unimpaired by a long

series of strange vicissitudes and misfortunes.

 

Ultimately, an angel of God appeared to Eliezer and announced that, as he

had successfully withstood all the temptations and sufferings by which he

had been tried, God was about to reward him with a son, who was destined

to enlighten the eyes of all Israel. Therefore his name should be Israel,

for in him the words of scripture were to be fulfilled, "Thou art my

servant, Israel, in whom I will be glorified." In due course the promise

was fulfilled, and to the aged couple a son was born, who was named Israel

according to the angel's word. The date of Baalshem's birth is about 1700;

his birthplace, in Bukowina, in a hitherto unidentified village which the

authorities call Ukop, then still belonging to Roumania. The child's

mother died soon after he was weaned, and his father did not long survive her. But before Eliezer died he took his child in his arms, and blessing him, bade him fear naught, for God would always be with him.