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.