Such passages, therefore, as would imply that children have to suffer for the sins of their parents are explained by the Rabbis as referring to cases in which the children perpetuate the crimes of their fathers.[166] The view of R. José, which I have already quoted, had, therefore, to be dropped, and another version in the name of the same Rabbi is accepted. According to this theory the sufferer is a person either “entirely wicked” or “not perfectly righteous,” whilst the prosperous man is a person either “perfectly righteous,” or “not entirely wicked.”
It is hardly necessary to say that there is still something wanting to supplement this view, for the given classification would place the not entirely wicked on the same level with the perfectly righteous, and on a much higher level than the imperfectly righteous, who are undoubtedly far superior. The following passage may be regarded as supplying this missing something:—“The wicked who have done some good work are as amply rewarded for it in this world as if they were men who have fulfilled the whole of the Torah, so that they may be punished for their sins in the next world (without interruption); whilst the righteous who have committed some sin have to suffer for it (in this world) as if "they were men who burned the Law,” so that they may enjoy their reward in the world to come (without interruption).[167] Thus the real retribution takes place in the next world, the fleeting existence on earth not being the fit time either to compensate righteousness [pg 220] or to punish sin. But as, on the one hand, God never allows “that the merit of any creature should be cut short,” whilst, on the other hand, He deals very severely with the righteous, punishing them for the slightest transgression; since, too, this reward and punishment are only of short duration, they must take place in this short terrestrial existence. There is thus established a sort of divine economy, lest the harmony of the next world should be disturbed.
Yet another objection to the doctrine under discussion remains to be noticed. It is that it justifies God by accusing man, declaring every sufferer as more or less of a sinner. But such a notion, if carried to its last consequences, must result in tempting us to withhold our sympathies from him. And, indeed, it would seem that there were some non-Jewish philosophers who argued in this way. Thus a certain Roman official is reported to have said to R. Akiba, “How can you be so eager in helping the poor? Suppose only a king, who, in his wrath against his slave, were to set him in the gaol, and give orders to withhold from him food and drink; if, then, one dared to act to the contrary, would not the king be angry with him?”[168] There is some appearance of logic in this notion put into the mouth of a heathen. The Rabbis, however, were inconsistent people, and responded to the appeal which suffering makes to every human heart without asking too many questions. Without entering here into the topic of charity in the Rabbinic literature, which would form a very interesting chapter, I shall only allude now to the following incident, which would show that the Rabbis did not abandon even those afflicted with leprosy, which, according to their own [pg 221] notion, given above, followed only as a punishment for the worst crimes. One Friday, we are told, when the day was about to darken, the Chassid Abba Tachnah was returning home, bearing on his shoulders the baggage that contained all his fortune; he saw a leprous man lying on the road, who addressed him: “Rabbi, do me a deed of charity and take me into the town.” The Rabbi now thought, “If I leave my baggage, where shall I find the means of obtaining subsistence for myself and my family? But if I forsake this leprous man I shall commit a mortal sin.” In the end, he allowed the good inclination to prevail over the evil one, and first carried the sufferer to the town.[169] The only practical conclusion that the Rabbis drew from such theories as identify suffering with sin were for the sufferer himself, who otherwise might be inclined to blame Providence, or even to blaspheme, but would now look upon his affliction as a reminder from heaven that there is something wrong in his moral state. Thus we read in tractate Berachoth:[170] “If a man sees that affliction comes upon him, he ought to inquire into his actions, as it is said, Let us search and try our ways, and turn again to the Lord (Lam. iii. 40).” This means to say that the sufferer will find that he has been guilty of some offence. As an illustration of this statement we may perhaps consider the story about R. Huna, occurring in the same tractate.[171] Of this Rabbi it is said that he once experienced heavy pecuniary losses, whereupon his friends came to his house and said to him, “Let the master but examine his conduct a little closer.” On this R. Huna answered, “Do you suspect me of having committed some misdeed?” His friends rejoined, “And do you think that God would pass judgment without [pg 222] justice?” R. Huna then followed their hint, and found that he did not treat his tenant farmer so generously as he ought. He offered redress, and all turned out well in the end. Something similar is to be found in the story of the martyrdom of R. Simeon ben Gamaliel and R. Ishmael ben Elisha. Of these Rabbis we are told that on their way to be executed the one said to the other, “My heart leaves me, for I am not aware of a sin deserving such a death”; on which the other answered, “It might have happened that in your function as judge you sometimes—for your own convenience—were slow in administering justice.”[172]
But even if the personal actions of the righteous were blameless, there might still be sufficient ground for his being afflicted and miserable. This may be found in his relations to his kind and surroundings, or, to use the term now more popular, by reason of human solidarity. Now, after the above remarks on the objections entertained by the Rabbis against a man's being punished for the sins of others, it is hardly necessary to say that their idea of solidarity has little in common with the crude notions of it current in very ancient times. Still, it can hardly be doubted that the relation of the individual to the community was more keenly felt by the Rabbis than by the leaders in any other society, modern or ancient. According to the view given by an ancient Rabbi whose name is unknown, it would, indeed, seem that to them the individual was not simply a member of the Jewish commonwealth, or a co-religionist, but a limb of the great and single body “Israel,” and that as such he communicated both for good and evil the sensations of the one part to the whole. In the Midrash, where a parallel is to be found to this idea, the responsibility [pg 223] of the individual towards the community is further illustrated by R. Simeon ben Yochai, in the following way: “It is,” we read there, “to be compared to people sitting on board a ship, one of the passengers of which took an awl and began to bore holes in the bottom of the vessel. Asked to desist from his dangerous occupation, he answered, ‘Why, I am only making holes on my own seat,’ forgetting that when the water came in it would sink the whole ship.” Thus the sin of a single man might endanger the whole of humanity. It was in conformity with the view of his father that R. Eliezer, the son of R. Simeon (ben Yochai) said, “The world is judged after the merits or demerits of the majority, so that a single individual by his good or bad actions can decide the fate of his fellow-creatures, as it may happen that he is just the one who constitutes this majority.”[173] Nor does this responsibility cease with the man's own actions. According to the Rabbis man is responsible even for the conduct of others—and as such liable to punishment—if he is indifferent to the wrong that is being perpetrated about him, whilst an energetic protest from his side could have prevented it. And the greater the man the greater is his responsibility. He may suffer for the sins of his family which is first reached by his influence; he may suffer for the sins of the whole community if he could hope to find a willing ear among them, and he may even suffer for the sins of the whole world if his influence extend so far, and he forbear from exerting it for good.[174] Thus the possibility is given that the righteous man may suffer with justice, though he himself has never committed any transgression.
As a much higher aspect of this solidarity—and as may have already suggested itself to the reader from the passage [pg 224] cited above from the anonymous Rabbi—we may regard the suffering of the righteous as an atonement for the sins of their contemporaries. “When there will be neither Tabernacle nor the Holy Temple,” Moses is said to have asked God, “what will become of Israel?” Whereupon God answers, “I will take from among them the righteous man whom I shall consider as pledged for them, and will forgive all their sins;” the death of the perfect man, or even his suffering being looked upon as an expiation for the shortcoming of his generation.[175]
It is hardly necessary to remind the reader of the affinity of this idea with that of sacrifices in general, as in both cases it is the innocent being which has to suffer for the sins of another creature. But there is one vital point which makes all the difference. It is that in our case the suffering is not enforced, but is a voluntary act on the part of the sacrifice, and is even desired by him. Without entering here on the often-discussed theme of the suffering of the Messiah, I need only mention the words of R. Ishmael who, on a very slight provocation, exclaimed, “I am the atonement for the Jews,” which means that he took upon him all their sins to suffer for them.[176] This desire seems to have its origin in nothing else than a deep sympathy and compassion with Israel. To suffer for, or, at least with Israel was, according to the Rabbis, already the ideal of Moses. He is said, indeed, to have broken the Two Tables with the purpose of committing some sin, so that he would have either to be condemned together with Israel (for the sin of the golden calf), or to be pardoned together with them.[177] And this conduct was expected not only from the leaders of Israel, but almost from every Jew. “When Israel is in a state of affliction (as, for instance, famine) one [pg 225] must not say, I will rather live by myself, and eat and drink, and peace be unto thee, my soul. To those who do so the words of the Scriptures are to be applied: And in that day did the Lord God of Hosts call to weeping and to mourning, ... and behold joy and gladness.... Surely this iniquity shall not be purged out from you till ye die” (Is. xxii. 12-14). Another passage is to the effect that, when a man shows himself indifferent to the suffering of the community, there come the two angels (who accompany every Jew), put their hands on his head, and say, “This man who has separated himself shall be excluded from their consolations.”[178]
We might now characterise this sort of suffering as the chastisement of love (of the righteous) to mankind, or rather to Israel. But we must not confuse it with the Chastisement of Love often mentioned in the Talmud, though this idea also seems calculated to account for the suffering of the righteous. Here the love is not on the side of the sufferer, but proceeds from him who inflicts this suffering. “Him,” says R. Huna, “in whom God delights he crushes with suffering.” As a proof of this theory the words of Is. liii. 10 are given, which are interpreted to mean: him whom the Lord delights in He puts to grief. Another passage, by the same authority, is to the effect that where there is no sufficient cause for punishment (the man being entirely free from sin), we have to regard his suffering as a chastisement of love, for it is said: “Whom the Lord loveth He correcteth” (Proverbs iii. 11).[179] To what purpose He corrects him may, perhaps, be seen from the following passage: “R. Eleazar ben Jacob says: If a man is visited by affliction he has to be thankful to God for it: for suffering draws man to, and [pg 226] reconciles him with God, as it is said: For whom God loveth he correcteth.”[180]
It is in conformity with such a high conception that affliction, far from being dreaded, becomes almost a desirable end, and we hear many Rabbis exclaim, “Beloved is suffering,” for by it fatherly love is shown to man by God; by it man obtains purification and atonement, by it Israel came in possession of the best gifts, such as the Torah, the Holy Land, and eternal life.[181] And so also the sufferer, far from being considered as a man with a suspected past, becomes an object of veneration, on whom the glory of God rests, and he brings salvation to the world if he bears his affliction with joyful submission to the will of God.[182] Continuous prosperity is by no means to be longed after, for, as R. Ishmael taught, “He who has passed forty days without meeting adversity has already received his (share of the) world (to come) in this life.”[183] Nay, the standing rule is that the really righteous suffer, whilst the wicked are supposed to be in a prosperous state. Thus, R. Jannai said, “We (average people) enjoy neither the prosperity of the wicked nor the afflictions of the righteous,”[184] whilst his contemporary, Rab, declared that he who experiences no affliction and persecution does not belong to them (the Jews).[185]
2. The second main view on Retribution is that recorded by the Rabbis as in direct opposition to that of R. Ammi. It is that there is suffering as well as death without sin and transgression. We may now just as well infer that there is prosperity and happiness without preceding merits. And this is, indeed, the view held by R. Meir. For in contradiction to the view cited above, R. Meir declares that the request of Moses to have [pg 227] explained to him the mysterious ways of Providence was not granted, and the answer he received was, “And I will shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy” (Exod. xxxiii. 19), which means to say, even though he to whom the mercy is shown be unworthy of it. The old question arises how such a procedure is to be reconciled with the justice and omnipotence of God. The commentaries try to evade the difficulty by suggesting some of the views given above, as that the real reward and punishment are only in the world to come, or that the affliction of the righteous is only chastisement of love, and so on. From the passages I am about to quote, however, one gains the impression that some Rabbis rather thought that this great problem will indeed not bear discussion or solution at all. Thus we have the legend: “The angels said to God, why have you punished Adam with death? He answered, On account of his having transgressed my commandment (with regard to the eating of the tree of knowledge). But why had Moses and Aaron to die? The reply given to them is the words, Eccl. ix. 2: ‘All things come alike to all; there is one event to the righteous and to the wicked, to the good and to the clean and to the unclean.’ ”[186] Another legend records, “When Moses ascended to heaven, God showed him also the great men of futurity. R. Akiba was sitting and interpreting the law in a most wonderful way. Moses said to God: Thou hast shown me his worth, show me also his reward; on which he is bidden to look back. There he perceives him dying the most cruel of deaths, and his flesh being sold by weight. Moses now asks: Is this the reward of such a life? whereupon God answers him: Be silent; this I have determined.”[187]
It is impossible not to think of the fine lines of the German poet:—