The Twilight of Hebraic Culture
The Transition from Hebraism to Judaism
By Max L. Margolis
MAX L. MARGOLIS (born in Merecz, Russia, in 1866), one of the leading Biblical scholars of America, received his education in Russia, Germany, and the United States (Columbia Ph.D. 1891). He has held important professorships of Semitics and Biblical Exegesis at the Hebrew Union College and the University of California,—and since 1909 has filled the chair of Biblical Philology in The Dropsie College for Hebrew and Cognate learning. He has been engaged also, as Editor-in-Chief, in the monumental task of the new English translation of the Bible by American Jewish scholars. He is the author of numerous learned papers and books on Biblical lore and theology.
SO long as Jewish psalms are sung in the cathedrals of Christendom and Jewish visions are rehearsed by Christian catechumens, the Synagogue will continue to hold in veneration the chest where reposes its chiefest glory. Surely a book which thrills the religious emotions of civilized mankind cannot but be an object of pride to the people that produced it. Stupendous as the literary output of the Jewish people has been in post-biblical times, the Scriptures stand on a footing of their own. Throughout the era of the dispersion they have held their unique position and have exercised a most potent influence on the Jewish soul. And the modern man taught by Lowth and Herder, and the modern Jew under the spell of Mendelssohn and the Haskalah, have their minds open to the æsthetic side of the "Bible as literature."
To the Jew, however, the Scriptures are possessed of an interest beyond the religious and literary. They are the record of his achievements in the past when his foot rested firm and steady on native soil, of a long history full of vicissitudes from the time when the invaders battled against the kings of Canaan to the days when the last visionary steeled the nation's endurance in its struggle with the heathen. They are the charter of Jewish nobility, linking those of the present to the wanderer from Ur of the Chaldees.
As a finished product the Hebrew Scriptures came after the period of national independence. When canon-making was in its last stage, Jerusalem was a heap of ruins. The canon was the supreme effort of Judæa—throttled by the legions of Rome—withdrawing to its inner defences. The sword was sheathed and deliverance was looked for from the clouds. The Scriptures were to teach the Jew conduct and prayer, and the chidings of the prophets were listened to in a penitential mood, but also joyfully because of the consolations to which they led. The canon-makers had an eye to the steadying of a vanquished people against the enemy without and the foe within. For there arose teachers who proclaimed that the mission of the Jew was fulfilled: free from the fetters of a narrow nationalism, of a religion bound up with the soil, he was now ready to merge his individuality with the large world when once it accepted that measure of his teaching suited to a wider humanity. The temple that was made with hands was destroyed, and another made without hands was building where men might worship in spirit and truth. The dream was fascinating, the danger of absorption was acute, because it was dressed up with the trappings of an ideal to which many believed the Scriptures themselves pointed.
There was a much larger range of writings in Palestine and a still larger in Egypt. The list included historical works carrying on the story of the people's fortunes beyond Alexander the Great; novelistic tales like that of the heroic Judith luring the enemy of her people to destruction, or that exquisite tale of Jewish family life as exemplified by the pious Israelite captive Tobit; books like the wise sayings of Jesus, son of Sirach, the Wisdom of Solomon, or the Psalms of Solomon, all modelled after patterns in the canon; midrashic expositions of the law, like the Little Genesis; apocalyptic visions going by the name of Enoch and the Twelve Patriarchs and Moses and Isaiah and Esdras, whose prototype may be sought in the canonical Daniel. Over and above the three parts which the Synagogue accepted there were a fourth and fifth; but by an act of exclusion the canon was concentrated upon the three and the others were cast overboard. The canon was the creation of the Pharisaic doctors, who drew a line at a point of their own choosing, and decreed that writings "from that time onward" did not defile the hands.
The Making of the Canon by the Pharisees
THE Pharisee held the ground when the nation had politically abdicated. The war with Rome had been brought on by the intransigent hotspurs of Galilee and the commune of Jerusalem. John, son of Zakkai, parleyed with the enemy that Jamnia with its House of Study might go unscathed. There the process began which culminated in the gigantic storehouse of legal lore which was to dominate Jewish life and Jewish literature for centuries, commentary being piled upon commentary and code upon code. For in the sum total of Scriptures the Torah was admittedly to be the chief corner-stone, albeit prophecy and wisdom had not lost their appeal; and in moments of relaxation or when addressing their congregations worn out with the strife of the present, the scholars of the wise brought out of the ancient stock many a legend and quaint saying and even apocalyptic vision, transporting the mourners for Zion into the ecstasies of the future redemption. While official Judaism was committed to the dialectics of the Halakah, in the unofficial Haggadah mysticism exercised a potent influence by underground channels, as it were, issuing in later days in Kabbalah and offsetting the rational philosophies borrowed from Hellas. For the time being, however, the dominant note was legistic, Pharisean.
The Pharisees had been lifted by the national catastrophe into the leading position. They had previously been a party among many parties, and their Judaism one of the many varieties. The Sadducees, their chief opponents, had a literature of their own: the day upon which their "Book of Decrees" was consigned to destruction was made a legal holiday upon which fasting was prohibited. But even writings which were lightly touched by the Sadduccee spirit were frowned upon: the Siracide was barely tolerated on the outside because he made light of individual immortality, and believed in the eternity of Israel and the Zadokite priesthood. The Pharisees had been on the opposition during the latter period of the Maccabeans: so with partisan ruthlessness they excluded from the canon the writings commemorative of the valorous deeds of those priest-warriors who freed the people from foreign overlordship and restored the Davidic boundaries of the realm. Because the apocalyptic visions inclined to teachings not acceptable to the dominant opinion, they were declared not only heterodox, heretical, but worthy of destruction. Had the stricter view prevailed, the sceptical Preacher—now, to quote Renan, lost in the canon like a volume of Voltaire among the folios of a theological library—would have shared the fate of Sirach and Wisdom and the other writings which Egypt cherished after Palestine had discarded them. And there were mutterings heard even against the Song, that beautiful remnant of the Anacreontic muse of Judæa. It was then that Akiba stepped into the breach and by bold allegory saved that precious piece of what may be called the secular literature of the ancient Hebrews.
The process concluded by the Pharisees had begun long before. The Pharisee consummated what the scribe before him had commenced, and the scribe in turn had carried to fruition the work inaugurated by the prophet. Just as the Pharisee decreed what limits were to be imposed upon the third part of the Scriptures, the scribe in his day gave sanction to the second, and at a still earlier period the prophet to the wide range of literature current in his days. Sobered by national disaster, the scribe addressed himself to the task of safeguarding the remnant of Judæa in the land of the fathers. There were schisms in the ranks, and all kinds of heresies, chief among which stood the Samaritan. The nation's history was recast in a spirit showing how through the entire past faithful adherence to Mosaism brought in its wake national stability, and conversely a swaying from legitimacy and law was responsible for disaster. With the Torah as a guide, prophecy was forced into the channels of orthodoxy. Heterodox prophets, the "false prophets," were consigned to oblivion. Their opponents alone were given a hearing. Secular history there was to be none; there was room only for the sacred. We may take it for granted that the "prophets of Baal," as their adversaries triumphantly nicknamed them, had their disciples who collected their writings and recorded the deeds of their spirit. But they were one and all suppressed. The political achievements of mighty dynasts had been recorded by annalists; the pious narrators in the so-called historical books of the canon brush them aside, gloss over them with a scant hint or reference; what is of absorbing interest to them is the activity of an Elijah or an Elisha, or the particular pattern of the altar in the Jerusalem sanctuary. In their iconoclastic warfare upon the abomination of Samaria, the prophets gave a partisanly distorted view of conditions in the North which for a long time had been the scene of Hebrew tradition and Hebrew life.
The Death-blow to the Old Hebraic Culture
WHAT these upheavals meant in the history of Hebrew literature and culture can only approximately be gauged. One thing is certain: they all and one dealt the death-blow to the old Hebraic culture. When the excavator sinks his spade beneath the ground of a sleepy Palestinian village, he lays bare to view from under the overlaid strata, Roman and Greek and Jewish and Israelitish, the Canaanite foundation with its mighty walls and marvellous tunnels, its stelæ and statuettes, its entombed infants sacrificed to the abominable Moloch. Similarly if we dig below the surface of the Scriptures, we uncover glimpses of the civilization of the Amorite strong and mighty, which generations of prophets and lawmakers succeeded in destroying root and branch. On the ruins of the Canaanite-Amorite culture rose in the latter days Judaism triumphant; the struggle—prolonged and of varying success—marked the ascendancy of the Hebraic culture which was a midway station between the indigenous Canaanite civilization on the one hand and that mighty spiritual leaven, Mosaism in its beginnings and Judaism in its consummation, on the other. The Hebraic culture was a compromise. It began by absorbing the native civilization. The danger of succumbing to it was there, but it was averted by those whom their adversaries called the disturbers of Israel. And even to the last, when the sway of Judaism was undisputed, the Hebraic culture could not be severed from the soil in which it was rooted. It was part of a world-culture just as it contributed itself thereto.
Whether living in amity or in warfare, nations influence each other to a marked degree. They exchange the products of their soils and their industry—they also give and take spiritual possessions. Culture is a compound product. The factors that are contributory to its make-up are the soil and the racial endowment recoiling against the domination from without which, though not wholly overcome, is resisted with might and main. Cultures are national amidst an international culture. They express themselves in a variety of ways, chiefly in language and literature. For while blood is thicker than water, the pen is mightier than the sword. Out of a mass of myth and legend and worldly wisdom the Hebrews constructed, in accordance with their own bent of mind, their cosmogonies and ballads and collections of proverbs. At every shrine the priests narrated to the throngs of worshippers the marvelous stories of local or national interest.
The Difference Between Hebraic Culture and Judaism
THE chief feature of the Hebraic culture was that it was joyous. The somber seriousness of latter-day Judaism had not yet penetrated it. Israel rejoiced like the nations. The young men and maidens danced and wooed in the precincts of the sanctuaries which dotted the country from Dan to Beersheba. The festivals were seasons of joy, the festivals of the harvest and of the vintage. The prophets called them carousals and dubbed the gentlemen of Samaria drunkards. Probably there were excesses. But life was enjoyed so long as the heavens withdrew not the moisture which the husbandman was in need of. The wars which the Kings waged were the wars of the Lord, and the exploits of the warriors were rehearsed throughout the land—they were spoken of as the Lord's righteous acts. National victories strengthened the national consciousness. Taunt songs were scattered on broadsides. The enemy was lampooned. At the height of national prosperity, when Israel dwelt in safety in a land of corn and wine moistened with the dew of the heavens, the pride of the nation expressed itself in the pæan, "Happy art thou, O Israel: who is like unto thee, a people victorious through the Lord, the shield of thy help, and that is the Sword of thy excellency!" Excellency then meant national independence and welfare. It was the period of the Omrides whose exploits are merely hinted at in our sources, whose sway marked the nascent struggle between Hebraism and Judaism. For the time being, Hebraic culture was on the ascendant, successor to the indigenous Canaanite civilization which it had absorbed, remodelled, developed.
The chief difference between the Hebraic culture and Judaism which supplanted it consists in the fact that, whereas the latter was bookish, transforming its votaries into the "people of the book," the former was the sum total of all that goes to make up the concern of a nation living upon its own soil. Bookishness, literature, has a place in the affairs of a nation, but it contributes only a side in its manifold activities. The spoken word precedes the written. The writer has an eye to aftertimes. He lives in the future. The speaking voice addresses itself to the present and its varied needs. Saints are canonized after death. The act of canonization means the verdict of the survivors who from a distance are able to gauge the merits of past deeds. When a literature is pronounced canonical or classical, it is no more. In its dying moments it is reduced to rule, and its range becomes norm. But normalization is an act of choosing, of accepting and excising. A living literature is far from being normalized. Much that is written serves a temporary purpose, but is none the less effective while it has vogue. However, it is only a part of the national activities, mirroring them and commenting upon them. So is religion another part of the national life. Government policy and legal procedure and the arts and the crafts occupy a nation's living interests. The Hebraic culture meant all that. It is now a thing of the distant past. It speaks to us from beneath the Hebrew Scriptures by which it is overlaid, themselves the remnant of what in times gone by stirred the nation's spirit. A revival of that culture may come, but when it comes it will be tempered by Judaism. And the Hebrew Scriptures which constitute the bridge between them both will act as the peacemaker.
JEWISH knowledge to me is valuable in the sense in which the word "knowledge" is employed in Hebrew. For "to know" in Hebrew (yada) does not merely mean to conceive intellectually, but expresses at the same time the deepest emotions of the human soul; it also means to care, to cherish, to love. It is remarkable indeed that the only Hebrew expression which in any way approaches what in modern languages we call religion is daath elohim, the knowledge of God. It is no less remarkable that the fundamental concept formulated by one of the greatest thinkers who proceeded from Jewish loins, by Baruch Spinoza, is amor Dei intellectualis, "the intellectual love of God," that is, the mental and yet emotional conception of the Supreme Power that rules the universe. If I were to wish for anything, it would be for an amor Judaismus intellectualis, "an intellectual love of Judaism," not shallow love and hollow self-complacency that cover every sin. We want to be frank about our Judaism, we want to be clear about our faults, we want to remedy our faults whenever we can, but at the same time we want to have the sympathy that goes with knowledge.—From a Menorah Address by Professor Israel Friedlaender.