Studies in Judaism 9

Studies in Judaism 9

The second source of danger arose from the Chassidim holding it to be

their sacred duty to provide for the Zaddik a life of comfort and ease.

The Zaddik must pursue his divine avocations undisturbed by grosser cares.

But what were the consequences? The Chassidim believed they could win the

grace and blessing of the Zaddik by the richness and variety of their

gifts. A Zaddik's career became a very profitable concern. The result of

both defects was that not only was the opportunity given for every

scheming charlatan to become a Zaddik, but inducements were offered to

make the deception lucrative. Hence the anxiety of the false Zaddikim,

already noticed, to found separate communities.

 

Among the Chassidim of to-day there is not one in ten thousand who has the

faintest conception of those sublime ideas which inspired Baalshem and his

immediate disciples. It is still the interest of the wretched ringleaders

of a widely spread delusion to crush and keep down every trace of

reflection and thought so that they may play at will with the conscience

and purses of their adherents. The new scientific movement, inaugurated by

such men as Krochmal, Zunz, and others who came under the influence of the

German critical spirit, found in them its hottest and most fanatical

opponents. That the cult of the Zaddikim has not led to still more

disastrous consequences is solely due to the fact that the Chassidim in

general have remained faithful to the Law. It is the Law, against the

excessive study of which the original Chassidim protested, that has put

limits to the license of its modern false prophets.

 

Amid much that is bad, the Chassidim have preserved through the whole

movement a warm heart, and an ardent, sincere faith. There is a certain

openness of character and a ready friendliness about even the modern

Chassidim which are very attractive. Religion is still to them a matter of

life and death. Their faith is still real enough to satisfy the demands of

a Luther, but it is diverted and wasted upon unworthy objects. If

Chassidism is to be reformed, its worship must no longer be of man; it

must be brought back again to the source of all Beauty, all Wisdom, and

all Goodness; it must be restored to God.

 

 

 

 

 

II. NACHMAN KROCHMAL AND THE "PERPLEXITIES OF THE TIME"

 

 

In her good-natured panegyric of mediocrity which is known under the title

of _Scenes of Clerical Life_, George Eliot remarked: "Let us hope that

there is a saving ignorance."

 

Strange as this demand may sound, the wish of the great novelist to see

her favoured mediocrities "saved," has been shared by the great majority

of mankind. I know that I, at least, echo that desire with all my heart.

And I am afraid that I am prompted by some rather selfish reasons. It

would be somewhat hard, when one is born with small abilities, but a great

desire for being saved, to be deprived of the hope held out by the author

of _Adam Bede_.

 

But there are some, I am afraid, who are not satisfied with this dictum of

George Eliot. They show a strong tendency to make salvation a monopoly of

ignorance. This is a little too selfish. With all due respect to every

form of ignorance, sacred as well as profane, we ought, I think, to

believe that there is also such a thing as a saving knowledge. Nay, we

might go even farther. There may be certain epochs in history when there

is hardly any other path to salvation than knowledge, and the deep search

after truth.

 

We all know the words of the Psalmist, "The Lord preserveth the simple."

But as there are periods in the life of the individual when naďveté has to

give way to sagacity and reflection, so there are times in history at

which Providence does not choose to leave men in simplicity. At such times

doubts arise, as though of themselves; questions suddenly become open when

they had been supposed solved for centuries; and the human mind is stirred

by a sceptical breeze of which no man can tell whence it came. One may

under those circumstances be indifferent, but one can be simple no more.

 

Even in such cases, however, man has no cause to despair. When our dearest

beliefs are shaken by all kinds of doubts, Providence sends us also great

thinkers, earnest lovers of truth, who devote their lives to enlightening

our puzzled minds. Not that these men try to answer all the questions by

which we feel perplexed. They endeavour to satisfy us, partly by showing

that many of our difficulties are not difficulties at all, but merely

arise from superficiality, and partly by proving that the great cause

about which we feel so much anxiety does not exactly depend on the

solution of the questions that are troubling us. They give to the things

which are dearer to us than our life a fresh aspect, which enables us to

remain attached to them with the same devotion and love as before. To

speak again in the words of the Psalmist: "Thou sendest forth Thy Spirit,

and they are created, and Thou renewest the face of the earth."

 

This spirit that renews the face of things is what I understand by "saving

knowledge." As men of that saving knowledge we may regard Rabban Johanan

ben Zaccai(19) and his disciples, who made it possible for Judaism to

survive the destruction of the Temple, which some believed to involve the

end of the religion. As such men we may look upon R. Saadiah Gaon and his

followers, who worked at a time when Judaism was menaced in its inner

life, namely in the tradition, by the attempts of the narrow-minded

Caraites to convert it into a bookish religion.(20) Such men were

Maimonides and his successors, who came to the aid of religion when it had

got into dogmatic troubles by reason of its coming into contact with

various philosophical systems. And in order to approach the subject of the

present essay, I venture to say that a man of such saving knowledge was

also Nachman Krochmal, who lived and laboured in the first half of the

present century, when Judaism had been terribly shaken by the scepticism

of Voltaire, and the platitudes of the so-called Mendelssohnian school.

 

Nachman Krochmal was born on the 17th of February in the year 1785. His

father, Solomon Krochmal, was a merchant of Brody, a commercial frontier

town in the north-east of Galicia in Austria. In his early years Solomon

often used to visit Berlin for business purposes. He is said to have seen

Mendelssohn there on one occasion, and to have learned greatly to revere

the Jewish sage. And it is not unlikely that Nachman's subsequent

admiration for Mendelssohn was partly due to his father's influence.

 

Solomon was a man of considerable wealth, and he, therefore, endeavoured

to give his son the best possible education. But as a respectable member

of a Polish community a hundred years ago, Solomon had to follow the

fashion adopted by his neighbours, and the best possible education

consisted in affording the child an opportunity to study the Talmud and

other Rabbinical works. All other languages and their literatures were

sealed books to the child--a very absurd and regrettable fashion indeed.

But let us not be too hard on Polish Jews. I have been told that there are

countries on our globe where people have been driven by the force of

fashion into the opposite extreme; where, with few exceptions, they think

that the Talmud, as well as the whole Hebrew literature, must needs be

excluded from the programme of a gentleman's education.

 

Happily, or the reverse, Krochmal's childhood did not last long, for in

the year 1798 we find that Nachman, a boy of fourteen, was already married

to a Miss Haberman in Zolkiew. As a result of this foolish custom of

marrying at so very early an age, Nachman was hardly ever a boy; we have

at once to deal with him as a man.

 

It was then customary in Poland, and perhaps is so still, for the father

of the bride to provide for the support of the young couple for some years

after their marriage. In order to reduce the expense of this arrangement,

the bridegroom had to reside in the same house as his father-in-law. Thus

we see Krochmal removing from Brody to Zolkiew, the native town of his

wife. Here Krochmal lived in the house of her father for many years,

entirely devoted to his studies; and he certainly needed all his time for

them. For he now began to expand the sphere of his education, to embrace

subjects quite new to him. By his marriage Nachman seems to have gained a

certain amount of independence, and the first use he made of it was to

study the _Guide of the Perplexed_(21) of Maimonides, the _Commentaries_

of Ibn Ezra on the Bible,(22) and other more or less philosophical works

written in the Hebrew language. His next step was to learn German; but, as

his biographers inform us, he was not able to follow this course without

undergoing many struggles, and overcoming many obstacles.

 

It would lead us too far to give a full account of the difficulties which

the young scholar had to conquer while pursuing his new studies. They will

be sufficiently characterised by the following extract from a Hebrew

letter of his disciple, Solomon Leb Rapoport, who, writing in 1841

concerning his master and friend, remarks: "Consider this, ye inhabitants

of Germany"--and, I may add, ye inhabitants of England--"and you will be

astounded. It is easy for you to avoid being one-sided, and to study

different sciences, for you possess many schools and teachers from every

branch of learning. It is not so in Poland and Russia even at present,

much less was it so forty years ago. There is no teacher, no guide, no

supporter, for the Jew who desires any sort of improvement. The Jew who

wishes to enter on a new path of learning has to prepare the road for

himself. And when he has entered on it, his friend will come to him and

ask, 'Is it true that you have got scientific books in your house? Mind

you do not mention it to any one. There are enough bigots in the town to

persecute you and all your family if they get scent of it.' " It was under

these conditions that Krochmal pursued his studies, which were by no means

few or easy, for he was not content with a knowledge of only the lighter

portions of German literature. He soon began to read the works of Lessing,

Mendelssohn, and more especially of Kant, who always remained his

favourite philosopher. In his later years he also became acquainted with

the writings of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel. But to the last he could not

console himself for having missed the advantages of a systematic

university education.

 

After having learned German, Krochmal proceeded to acquire a knowledge of

Latin and French, and to read the best books written in those languages.

To deepen his knowledge of Hebrew, he studied Arabic and Syraic, but we

are unable to say how far he succeeded in mastering these languages. With

these studies, which appear to have occupied our philosopher for an

interval of ten years after his marriage, the first period of his life

seems also to end. But the hard work of ten years did not pass over the

delicate youth without undermining his health for ever. At the age of

twenty-four, Krochmal fell sick of an illness which compelled him to

interrupt his work. He was forced to go to Lemberg to consult the doctors

of that town, and he had to remain there for a long time. And now began

Krochmal's career as a teacher. For during his stay at Lemberg there

gathered round him a band of young scholars whom Krochmal's fame had

already reached. It is useless to enumerate the names of all these

students. Among them figured Isaac Erter, Samson Bloch, A. Bodek, and many

others. The most gifted of them was undoubtedly Rapoport, who afterwards

became even more famous than his master Krochmal. It is not easy to define

accurately the relation that subsisted between these two men. Graetz, in

his history, calls Rapoport a disciple of Krochmal. Rapoport himself, in

his memoir of Krochmal, describes the latter as a dear friend with whom he

was wont to discuss literary topics. Zunz does not mention Rapoport at all

in his account of our author. It seems to me that this relation may be

most aptly defined by the Talmudic term "Talmid-Chaber,"(23) "disciple-

colleague."

 

Indeed, Krochmal's whole method of teaching was rather that of a companion

than of a professor. He gave no set lectures on particular subjects, but

conveyed his instruction rather by means of suggestive conversations with

his younger friends. His usual habit was to walk with his pupils in the

neighbourhood of the town, and to try to influence their minds each in

accordance with its bent. If any of his disciples showed an inclination

for poetry, Krochmal sought to refine his taste by directing his attention

to the best works in Hebrew and German literature. To another, whose fancy

strayed into mysticism, he recommended the writings of Philo and Ibn Ezra,

at the same time suggesting how the works of the latter should be interpreted. A third who, like Rapoport, was interested in historical researches, Krochmal instructed in the methods of critical inquiry.