The altered liturgy of the Temple was published and announced as a general "Prayer-Book for Israelites," but was so objectionable to the orthodox party as to be utterly rejected. The circumstance that the new prayer-book claimed to be used by all Jews gave rise to great annoyance. Chacham Bernays therefore renewed on a Sabbath, in the three synagogues (Marcheshvan 1, October 16, 1841), the proclamation against heretics which the three rabbis had issued on the foundation of the Temple, forbidding any Israelite to use this prayer-book. In the reasons assigned, harsh expressions were employed charging that this prayer-book, even more than the former, gave wanton and frivolous treatment to the religious convictions contained in the Hebrew prayers. This denunciation naturally excited the Temple congregants, and transported even the cautious Riesser to inordinate lengths. Whilst the preachers regarded the insulting expression of opinion from a religious standpoint, Riesser saw in it an encroachment upon their rights, "because the Chacham had no authority over the Temple." The Temple committee then published a counter-declaration (October 24), in which Bernays was charged not alone with "arrogance, impotent partiality, and malicious ignoring of the contents of the book," but with "ignorance of all theological and liturgical literature." There now arose a violent dispute, conducted with such passion, that the senate was compelled to reprove both parties. The Chacham and the leaders of his congregation, who sided with him, circulated thousands of copies of the sentence of condemnation upon the prayer-book in many communities; whilst the authorities of the Temple (November) requested rabbis and preachers holding the same religious views to give their opinions as to the value or worthlessness of the innovations, expecting that the decisions would be in their favor. On this occasion, the changes which had taken place in the German communities during two decades became evident. Whereas formerly only three rabbis had ambiguously given their assent to the ritual of the Temple, and many others had condemned it, at this second discussion only the rabbi of Altona supported Bernays, whilst twelve or thirteen others pronounced judgment adverse to him; this was at the close of 1841, or the beginning of 1842. Then began the aggressive stage of the reform movement. Young rabbis or clergymen, pastors (as they preferred to be called), who had mostly drawn their wisdom from academies, and were enthusiastic for the reform which had become the fashion, now were at the head. The old rabbis, on the other hand, no longer ventured to oppose them. Thus it seemed as if all the Jews of Germany were in favor of innovations in the synagogue, and only a few wanting in spirit struggled against this tendency.
The contest concerning the Hamburg Temple bore no results in the city itself, as a terrible conflagration (May, 1842) transformed a great part of the town into a mass of ruins, and distracted attention from party interests. The flame of reform blazed up from another point, and threatened to spread far and wide. In Frankfort-on-the-Main, for some time past, there had been discontented persons who had broken away from the Judaism of the day. These disturbing elements partly originated in a school called the Philanthropin (which from small beginnings had grown into an important institution), partly in the first Jewish Freemasons' lodge. The managers and teachers of the school and the members of the lodge favored a radicalism repugnant to Judaism. For a long time Michael Creizenach (born 1789, died 1842), a teacher at the Philanthropin, formed the center of an invisible society. Creizenach, who was honest, judicious, but uninteresting, had published many pamphlets combating Rabbinical Talmudical Judaism, but owing to their temperate tone and want of depth, these writings made little impression. By his personal influence, however, he filled the circle of his friends and admirers with a passion for innovation and a deep aversion to antiquity.
After his death several of his adherents endeavored to form a congregation, and to establish a sect, even at the risk of separating from Judaism. Their aim was in a measure to remove the pretext of anti-Jewish politicians, who withheld equal rights from the Jews on the score of attachment to their nationality, to the Talmud, and to old forms, and they also desired to secure freedom of action for themselves. They were educated laymen, who, owing to the prevailing confusion, had lost mental balance, or they may have been misled by false leaders. They constituted themselves a Society of the Friends of Reform (October, 1842), and drew up a confession of faith, which clearly proved the perplexity of the times. They refused to recognize the Talmud as an authority. But the Bible? "They considered the Mosaic religion capable of continual development." First of all they wished to throw off the fetters of the dietary laws, because they "had originated in the ancient constitution of the state," and at the present day had lost their significance as a religious act or symbol. They definitely gave up all hope in the Messiah, or a return to Palestine, "because they regarded their native land as their sole fatherland."
The Creizenach Friends of Reform did not find many supporters. They therefore sought to interest Gabriel Riesser, whose importance was already acknowledged, and who might attract others. He was at first inclined to join them. He appears not to have overcome the excitement into which he had been thrown by Bernays' intervention in the affairs of the Hamburg Temple. He did not even shrink from total secession, although he had hitherto constantly desired to have "the shell of Judaism respected on account of its soul." The idea of freedom, which completely filled his mind, destroyed his emotional attachment to existing Judaism. He was therefore eminently in favor of the paragraph in the Creizenach or Frankfort programme which declared that it was optional with every Jewish father to have his sons circumcised, and that in case of the omission of this rite civil disabilities should not be entailed. Riesser wished to combat any presumptive right of forcing conscience. However, others who had been asked to join, took umbrage at this very question of circumcision. The founders of the Society of the Friends of Reform, therefore, saw themselves obliged to relinquish this point as well as the declaration against the dietary laws, and to adhere to only three out of the five resolutions of their original programme: that against the Talmud, that against the Messiah, and that enunciating the possibility of the development of the "Mosaic religion." This abridgment and enfeebling of the original confession, Riesser considered illogical and cowardly, and he withdrew his support. The power of attraction was lacking in the society, and as only a few joined, it perished at its birth. The question of circumcision was shortly afterwards brought forward from another quarter. Several unfortunate accidents at the circumcision of Jewish boys had induced the health officers in Frankfort-on-the-Main to issue an order (February 8, 1843) with the ambiguous wording, "Israelite citizens and inhabitants, if they desire to have their children circumcised, must employ the services of competent persons." From this it appeared that the Frankfort Senate made it optional with Jewish parents to perform the rite or neglect it, and did not regard it as a necessary mark of the Jewish religion. The Senate at the same time explained that they did not mean thereby to give untrammeled liberty to the innovators. But the reformers seized upon the words in order to have a pretext for abolishing the rite of circumcision. In consequence, Rabbi Solomon Trier invited the opinions of his brother rabbis upon the subject (1843–44) in order to dispose of the question forever. However, it caused but a slight sensation, seeing that even young rabbis favorably disposed to reform had decisively asserted the obligation and necessity of circumcision. Therefore, no seceding sect was formed among the Jews of Germany, although the elements existed, and an uneasy state of feeling was the result.
This feeling was especially noticeable among the younger rabbis, who were not very clear about the purpose and extent of the reforms to be instituted, or met with continual opposition on one side or the other in their congregations, and in their isolation were without support. At this time the fashion of assemblies and societies had come into vogue; railways had already been built between the great cities, and had facilitated personal intercourse. Thus the invitation calling a conference of rabbis met with approval. This meeting of rabbis and preachers who were, to some extent, at one upon the subjects under discussion, at first awakened a certain expectancy; it was a novelty, and this always possesses a certain amount of charm. However, at the first session only twenty-two rabbis assembled in Brunswick, the majority coming from southern and western Germany. The remainder waited until the resolutions of the assembly should be made known, and according as they agreed or disagreed with them, they would decide whether to join or to hold aloof. Few rabbis attended who adhered to the Judaism rooted in the Talmud; most of the members had partially, or wholly, severed themselves from the Talmud, although they did not practically manifest this severance in their religious practices.
The first Rabbinical Assembly was dominated by a man possessing all the qualities calculated to widen the breach and bring about a complete separation. This was Samuel Holdheim (born at Kempen, 1806; died at Berlin, 1860). It is a curious yet natural fact that Talmudism, which had acquired its power and extensive range through Polish students, should be attacked by a Pole with unsparing severity. On emerging from boyhood Holdheim displayed not only extraordinary acquaintance with the Talmud and Rabbinical literature, but also such remarkable versatility in dialectics and the art of discussion that he won the admiration of grey-bearded rabbis, and was considered a highly-skilled Talmudist.
Like Solomon Maimon, Holdheim when he already had a son began his secular education in the academy at Prague, skipping the lower grades. All that he heard in the philosophical lecture-rooms in this not very distinguished university was new to him, astounded and dazzled him, and resulted in great perturbation of mind. He quickly assimilated such elements of knowledge as were connected with his previous acquirements, such as Christian theology and the commonplace philosophy tolerated in Austria under Metternich. But he had no appreciation of solid, disciplining branches of learning, and even the subjects which attracted him he had first to reproduce in a Talmudical form. Holdheim's knowledge therefore was only of a fragmentary nature, and contained numerous gaps. He was, however, sufficiently careful and practical to devote himself to useful work, to acquire a good style, which had been neglected in his education, and cultivate pulpit eloquence. Owing to his poverty, he was compelled to devote himself to professional studies, and was thus unable to spend time upon his favorite subjects. The Bible which had hitherto been a closed book to Holdheim, or had only been examined by him through Talmudical glasses, he studied solely to obtain verses for his sermons. It is not granted to everyone to possess ideals and regulate his conduct by them. There must also exist dry, calm, doubting natures, occupied only with the world of real things, who build themselves huts here below, and look with contempt on all sublime and ideal sentiments as being froth and folly. Such Mephistophelian temperaments, the incarnation of the spirit of doubt, are as necessary in the sphere of moral life as opposition in nature. Holdheim had this tendency, and his Talmudical culture nourished and developed it. He knew of no enthusiasm, neither for the calm light of pale memories, nor for the dim, cloudy dreams of the future. The firm ground of the present was more to his taste. Since Judaism consists of memories and hopes, Holdheim was not heart and soul devoted to it, but sought to remodel and alter it, so that he might not be inconvenienced.
Mecklenburg-Schwerin, where the typical brutality of the Middle Ages had been preserved, and where mere caprice wielded the scepter, was at this time ruled by a prince, who, instead of making his Jews free in action, wished them to be Freethinkers. They were to cast off all old memories and forms and remodel themselves. A superintendent was appointed for the disciplining of the congregations, and Holdheim was made chief rabbi (1840) to assist in reforms, and stamp innovations with the rabbinical seal. Here he felt untrammeled, and could abolish whatever was distasteful to him. He who formerly had had no conception that divine service must possess dignity, now discovered that disorder in the synagogue was unseemly, and determined to remove everything not countenanced by the spirit of the times. As, however, a desire for changes in the synagogue did not originate from any impulse of his own, he looked around for patterns, and introduced the Würtemberg ritual, undisturbed by any consideration as to whether he was forcing the consciences of the mostly old-fashioned orthodox congregations.
But Holdheim was not to win laurels by introducing innovations into the synagogue. He marked out a wider field for himself. He wished to alter the whole of Judaism in its threefold form, with its Biblical, Talmudical, and Rabbinical components, to confuse all ideas and stultify the consciences. Since Paul of Tarsus, Judaism had not known such an enemy in its midst, who shook the whole edifice to its very foundations. But Holdheim possessed no original ideas to use as a lever for overthrowing Judaism: he had only a certain ingenuity which he had gained from the Talmud. He was therefore obliged to make use of such thoughts of others as had become public property. His acute intellect, however, enabled him to piece together these disjointed, half true premises, and give them a coloring of truth. Judaism, he said, consists of a close combination of religious and moral ideas with national and political elements. Holdheim accepted this definition in order to separate the religious from the national ordinances, the latter having lost all significance since the downfall of the Jewish state. Which laws are national and therefore temporary? Holdheim gave a wide application to the term, calling all observances national and political which are inconvenient, and require a certain amount of self-denial, such as keeping the Sabbath, the Jewish laws of marriage, and even the acquisition of the Hebrew language, which he desired to banish from the midst of the Jewish race, because it is a national bond of union; and still more national is a hope in the Messiah. To this sophistry Holdheim added other quibbles. He considered every state, however constituted, even Russian despotism, an all-devouring Moloch which continually demands victims, and whose lust for sacrifices can be satisfied only by the abnegation of independence, freedom, and every religious sentiment. The culminating point of Holdheim's theory was that Talmudical Judaism itself, in the expression "the law of the state is law for the Jews" (in civil relations), obliges every Jew to subordinate his religious affairs to those of the state; Judaism, in other words, prescribes its own suicide, if the state provides it with a silken halter. Had he lived in the time of the Maccabees, Holdheim would have joined the renegade Menelaus in urging the Jews to worship the Greek Zeus, because the state, which was then called Antiochus Epiphanes, had so commanded. In the time of Hadrian, like a second Acher, he would have lauded the cult of Jupiter of the Capitol, and in the days of Philip of Spain and Emanuel of Portugal he would have advocated the worship of the cross. The millions of Jewish martyrs, according to his theory, were malefactors against the state, inasmuch as they had opposed the laws given to them. Holdheim, the son of the Talmud, struck down Talmudical Judaism with the weapons which it had bestowed upon him. The authority and power which the legislative Synhedrion had formerly possessed, or is said to have possessed, Holdheim wished to see transferred to the Christian state, even the right of interfering with matters of conscience. These ideas he propounded with sophistic casuistry, unmistakably according to the method of the Polish Rabbinical school. It was difficult for Holdheim to decide what Judaism actually was, and what would be left of it, after everything in any way connected with national political life had been excluded, and when supreme authority was besides vested in each state, to change, command, or prohibit religious practices.
The majority of the members of the first assemblage of rabbis in Brunswick looked upon Holdheim with awe as a Talmudical scholar and a reckless reformer, and he obtained distinct influence over the discussions and resolutions of the meeting. Less attention was paid to the letter and spirit of Judaism "than to the state, the exalted German governments," and the intangible, whimsical "spirit of the age." The Talmud was sacrificed by most of the delegates as a scapegoat. Yet the debates and conclusions of the Brunswick conference of rabbis (June, 1844) produced but little effect. The congregations troubled themselves as little about it as they did about the protest from seventy-seven rabbis of Germany, Bohemia, Moravia, and Hungary, which, set on foot by an upright, self-sacrificing, disinterested, but bigoted zealot, Hirsch Lehren of Amsterdam, utterly condemned the assembly of Brunswick.