History of the Jews, Vol. 5 (of 6)

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.

Events in the Christian world at about this time demonstrated more effectually than this laboriously constructed protest, that Judaism with its ancient confession had not yet become superfluous. The exhibition of the pretended holy coat of Jesus in Treves, to which more than a million Catholics from all countries made a pilgrimage and bent the knee (August-October, 1844), showed that the "spirit of the age" was a deceptive standard. In consequence of this excess of mediæval superstition and credulity, there arose in Germany what promised to be an influential anti-Catholic movement. A German Catholic Church was established (January, 1845), and next to it, in the bosom of Protestantism, "Communities of the Friends of Light" were formed, who threatened Christianity, its belief in the Trinity, and the Divine Incarnation, with imminent dissolution. Every period has its delusions, and Jews can always be found ready to imitate strange customs. Here and there voices were raised in favor of founding a German Jewish Church after the pattern of the German Catholic. In Breslau the agitation for this new scheme was only artificially kept alive, but this movement was somewhat more energetic in Berlin. In this city a popular preacher, Stern, had been delivering lectures upon Judaism and Jewish history, and had characterized Jewish doctrines as a capricious system. At his suggestion, some twenty men, whose opinions upon these topics were in accord with his own, assembled for the purpose of establishing a sort of Church system of a peculiar type, called the Reform Association (April 2, 1845). They believed that the majority of German Jews had disowned all attachment to ancient Judaism in their hearts, and would gladly adopt a new creed. The founders of the Berlin Reform Association therefore issued a summons to all Israel to attend a synod, in order to establish a new Jewish religion. In their programme they naturally tabulated only negative principles, such as the rejection of the Talmud and of the Messianic doctrine, because they belonged with body and soul to their Berlin home; they advocated a return to Holy Writ, not to its literal sense, but to its spirit. The affirmative principles were: "We desire faith, positive religion, Judaism." The confusion of ideas at this time was as great as when the Christian communities of old were first originated from semi-Jewish elements, and even clear heads became affected.

The matter did not, however, result in a synod for the discussion of reform, which would indeed have marked the Jews as slavish imitators of the Church and of the "Friends of Light." The speeches in favor of the movement made in various quarters proved full of hollow phrases. The Berlin Society adhered to its programme, and as this found no favor in the eyes of the masses, it was to be ratified by the second Rabbinical Convention held in Frankfort (July, 1845), as being in consonance with Judaism.

This Assembly aroused greater excitement and fiercer passion than the first, because, on the one hand, the Berlin Reform Union participated in it, in order to infuse their own spirit or to effect its downfall, whilst, on the other hand, a skillful leader of the orthodox party temporarily joined it, in order to show how Judaism should be purified, or to throw obstacles in the way, if the Reformers should seem to rush to reckless extremes. The orthodox leader was Zachariah Frankel (born 1801, died 1875). He somewhat resembled Holdheim. Both were profoundly learned in the Talmud, and both acquired their secular education when advanced in years, but their points of dissimilarity were yet more striking. In Holdheim's character the prominent features were his innate or acquired love of scoffing at, and his utter contempt for, the past. In Frankel one is struck by the moral earnestness which, together with his warm-heartedness, rendered him worthy of respect by his true regard for inherited forms, his conscientiousness in every matter, and his firm but somewhat peculiar character. Holdheim loved the present and the practical, Frankel the future and the ideal: the former strove to erase from men's memories all traces of the Talmud and Rabbinical Judaism, if not of Judaism altogether; whilst the latter justified and glorified the Talmud. The main aim of Frankel's scientific activity was to demonstrate that Talmudical tradition was correct, and that another Talmud had been known even before ours. He sought traces of this original tradition in the ancient Greek translation of the Pentateuch, in the compositions of the two Judæo-Greek authors, Philo and Josephus, and especially in non-Talmudical sources. Such comprehensive studies were possible only in a man of his marvelous intellectual power and wonderful constitution.

Although Frankel labored to maintain the glory of the Talmud and to prove that reverence was due to Jewish antiquity, he was not averse to religious reforms, nor was he blind to the necessities of modern times. However, although he would not recognize the claim of an individual to institute reforms, he was ready to appeal to a scientific tribunal and the voice of the people, the whole Jewish world. He did not desire to revive obsolete forms into a semblance of life, even though they had formerly been of importance, and was willing to abolish such existing customs as scientific inquiry pronounced to be unjustified or hurtful. Frankel wished to see a conference of rabbis, or, more correctly, of notables in the foremost rank of Jewish learning, so that the chasm between the old and the new systems might be bridged over. He therefore joined the assembly of rabbis at Frankfort, hoping to counteract the eager desire for reform by the weight of his name, which, owing to his distinguished position as a writer, was already famous, and to aid in guarding against imprudent measures, or at least in modifying them. Like Holdheim and Geiger, who brought their programmes of reform with them, he brought his, and in it he endeavored to reconcile antiquity with progress.

Harassed by the contending influences of Frankel and the reformers, the conference grew vacillating. The first motion brought forward, which was not wholly unexpected, that the Hebrew language should, if possible, be eradicated from the minds and memories of the whole Jewish race, obliged Frankel to sever his connection with the assembly publicly, and the applause that his conduct called forth revealed the fact that the Rabbinical Convention did not represent the entire body of the German Jews, but only a small, active party. Unconsciously the Frankfort Assembly had lost its balance. Its members were obliged to dissemble before the Reform Society. They had to praise its actions, or they would have lost its support. On the other hand, they did not dare openly to espouse its hollow views, or they would have lost favor with the congregations. A subterfuge helped them out of this perplexity; they promised to support the efforts of the Reform Association to the utmost, if the latter would "agree with the principles by which they thought reform in Judaism ought to be guided," which sounded like a hidden reproach.

The Reform Society was not repelled by this partial condemnation; they knew that the leaders of the conference, especially Holdheim, sided with them, and they deceived themselves with the delusion that they were creating an essentially new form of Judaism. They formed themselves into a congregation of about two hundred members, and celebrated a consecration (April 2, 1846), when Holdheim as high priest offered up clouds of incense. The congregation and their pastor were well fitted for each other, and however much they resisted at first, in the end they had to embrace in friendship. Thus a "German Jewish Church" was established with a temple, a preacher, and a ritual of its own. It seemed as if time had gone back some seventeen centuries, and that they were in some town of Syria, or Asia Minor, or in Rome, when, out of the conflict of ancient Judaism with semi-Christian and semi-pagan elements, new congregations had arisen, retaining only faint traces of Judaism. The new customs prevailed in the Reform Temple in Berlin. Praying with uncovered heads especially marked it as of foreign growth, and repulsed even some who otherwise approved of reform. Hebrew was retained only in a few prayers and in the readings from the Pentateuch. The Reform Temple, in fact, assumed a Germanic tinge, and threw off its Jewish cosmopolitan character. The trace of its Jewish origin was visible only in the divine service; in their mode of living the members could not be recognized as the descendants of Jews. Perhaps Holdheim was even more fanatically desirous of seeing every Jewish custom abolished than his free-thinking congregants. He disregarded not alone Rabbinical Judaism and the Talmud, but also duties ordained by the Holy Scripture. But even in the reform community it was evident that Jewish self-reliance had progressed greatly since the time of Friedländer. The reform party had completely overcome its inclination towards Christianity. Of its constituents, who number one thousand souls, not one member nor any of their children joined the Christian Church. They do not desire to be considered a separate sect, but as an integral element of the Jewish race.

The Berlin reformers, however, remained isolated, and found no following in Europe. In their own midst, a lukewarm spirit crept in, sooner even than their opponents had anticipated. From want of visitors to the house of prayer, the Sabbath worship had to be transferred to Sunday, the same change that had been made by the Jewish Christians in the first century. The question of Sunday worship cannot be discussed here; it belongs to the immediate present. Such lukewarmness and lack of interest should have convinced the founders, who lived to witness them, that they had committed some mistake. To give an account of this blunder in its entirety cannot be attempted in this history; it would be overstepping the bounds of a record of events. One circumstance, however, must not be forgotten, that the Berlin Society of Reform had an antagonist in its vicinity. This enemy, of whom it had taken no account, was the more dangerous, as he used his incisive eloquence and every fiber of his being to protest against the new sect founded by the Berlin Committee. This opponent was Michael Sachs, who was born at Glogau, 1808, and died at Berlin at the beginning of 1864.

If bountiful nature had determined to create a thorough contrast to Holdheim, she succeeded in Sachs. Externally, mentally, in appearance, speech, attitude, and tendency of mind, in his learning and character, even in habits and fancies – in everything the two men were so totally opposed, that at first sight they could hardly be recognized as members of the same race, devotees of the same calling. If Holdheim represented the Jewish Polish spirit, strung to the highest pitch by Talmudical dialectics, Michael Sachs called to mind the Jewish emigrants from the Pyrenean peninsula, ennobled by classic forms and æsthetic teachings. He resembled the noble Isaac Cardoso, or Isaac de Pinedo, or any one of the numerous poets and scholars of Marrano lineage in Holland and Italy, who combined deep devotion to Judaism with taste for poetical or philological studies.

Owing to his peculiar nature, and the twofold influence exercised upon his mind by Hebrew and Greek literature, Sachs became an ideal personality, like Gebirol and Jehuda Halevi, who could flourish only upon the clear heights of existence, and felt physical disgust at everything of a mean character. There was no equivocation in him; feeling, thought, and action all flowed from one source. He was, therefore, mercilessly bitter against falsehood, ambiguity, and hypocrisy, against all ostentation and pomposity, against noisy hollowness and vanity; he scourged them with the lash of his words and with his striking, brilliant wit. Noble-minded and self-sacrificing to a fault, humble before God and before man as bearing the impress of the Divine, Sachs was proudly repellent to all who in religion, art, science, or public life use counterfeit coin, and conceal their own self-seeking petty interests under the veil of a general, large purpose. If Sachs in respect to convictions, character, moral elevation, capacity for self-denial, and devotion to duty and his faith, was thoroughly Jewish, in his deep love of beauty he was Hellenic, and in his person contradicted the alleged impossibility of this dual nature, which had been asserted by Heine. Whatever was ugly, inharmonious, or ungainly, was as repugnant to him as the immoral and the untrue.

Judaism was dearest to his heart, for he considered it a revelation from the God who directs mankind, and the embodiment of all that is exalted and sacred; and he would not allow it to be subtly explained away by the philosophy of the times. Sachs did not fail to observe the objectionable excrescences which had arisen on its surface, but he knew their origin, and believed that time, which had produced, would destroy them. He hesitated, however, to lay hands upon them, for fear of injuring the sound, whilst removing the unsound and decayed parts. He would not trust himself, nor any one, with the task of making innovations. This suspicion of decisive reforms originated partly in his aversion to active measures, which was one of his failings. As he was only human he could not be without faults. Another error, which avenged itself upon him and the party he represented, was his unconquerable dislike to uniting for common action even with those who shared his opinions. Sachs would have joyfully subordinated himself to leaders whose loftiness of mind could have inspired him with respect. But as he found no such characters among his contemporaries, he would not attach himself to men in no way superior to himself, or who did not even attain to his own height. Thus he was equally unfit to be a party-leader and a partisan.

Sachs' great qualities and small failings forced his vocation upon him: he was destined for the pulpit. The easy stream of his eloquence, his depth of feeling, warmth of conviction, grace of gesture, the charm that he exercised when interpreting the prophets and Agadists, the brilliant wit at his command, the beauty of his voice and his smooth diction – all combined to make him unsurpassed by the best preachers of his time, and his only equal was Mannheimer. When standing in the pulpit, Sachs appeared to be transfigured and oblivious of himself; it seemed as if one of the prophets of God were exhorting the people, or encouraging the despondent by his tidings of an ideal future. Even those of his hearers who did not share his convictions were carried away by his eloquence, and were compelled to yield him a tribute of praise. Sachs, however, was a persuasive speaker not only in the pulpit, but also in ordinary conversation. His speech overflowed with the warmth of the sentiments which filled his heart. His impressive words, which issued from the depths of his being, attracted many faithful adherents to Judaism. Whosoever came into contact with him was drawn into a magic circle, and absorbed somewhat of his convictions. His influence was the greater because he never made an effort to persuade; he simply spoke out what was in him. Nothing was more hateful to him than the display of official dignity, sham devotional fervor, and the pastoral airs copied from Christian clergymen.

In Prague, where he roused the German-speaking inhabitants, both Christians and Jews, to a high pitch of enthusiasm, a happy chance brought him into contact with Rapoport (1840–44), one of the founders of Jewish science. An intimate friendship sprang up between these two men, whose education had been conducted on such different lines, and Sachs was introduced by his friend into the rich domain of Jewish literature, which had hitherto been only in part accessible to him, as his attention had been concentrated on the study of the Holy Scriptures and on classical literature. His talent of vividly perceiving the essential and excellent elements of a subject and storing them in his brain, soon made him master of this new material, and enabled him to impart it to a wide circle in a refined form. But Sachs never became fully acquainted with the dialectics of the Talmud, which was Holdheim's strong point, and this territory remained foreign to him. Though he deeply lamented this deficiency in his knowledge, it was no real defect, for such studies did not accord with the Hellenic side of his nature, and would have blighted the blossoms of his genius. As though destined to counteract the influence of the Jewish German Church, which was to assume form in Berlin, and to become the opposite pole to Holdheim's endless negations, he was elected by the congregation of Berlin as preacher and rabbi. Here, by instilling into the minds of his congregants the same Jewish confidence with which he was inspired, and a feeling of righteous pride in belonging to so ancient, noble, and cultured a race, he succeeded to some extent in curing them of their inclination to Christianity, and the evil habit of imitation to which they had so long been subject. This change in thought, which affected the most remote circles, weakened the antipathy towards the Jews of Berlin, which since the time of Friedländer had prevailed in other communities. Sachs was included among the most distinguished personages of the Prussian capital; the cultured Christian world lavished attentions on him, although he did not seek them. Had he given vigorous and energetic effect to his words, and created permanent institutions – for which plenty of opportunity would have been given him by the liberal Berlin community – perhaps the reform congregation might not have arisen.

He combated the reform tendency with all his strength. In Holdheim and his allies he beheld only perverters of Judaism and false leaders of the people, and he openly expressed this opinion, for, as he often remarked, "Against insult and harsh words I am hardened and indifferent." From the pulpit he wielded the scourge of his annihilating scorn against the Jewish German Church, which had so limited the development of Judaism, that it could be contained in a nutshell. But even his opponents admitted that he employed only honorable weapons, the use of others being at variance with his noble nature. He did great harm to the Reform Temple. Persons who had heard Sachs' sermons were wearied by those in the reform synagogue. A comparison between Sachs and his opposite, Holdheim, who was a contrast to him in every way, always resulted in favor of the former. Whilst the Temple where Holdheim preached became more and more deserted, the synagogue in which Sachs officiated became more crowded week after week.

As Sachs performed great services in elevating and strengthening Jewish self-respect, so also he promoted Jewish knowledge. His contributions to the latter touch the form rather than the essence. In fact, he merely popularized Jewish subjects, and rendered them accessible to educated Christians. Sachs did not indeed promulgate novel, epoch-making truths, or discover new facts. Nor was he a poetical artist who could create brilliant pictures of ideal worlds. There was more poetry in his life and teachings than in his verses. His refined perceptions enabled him to recognize and reproduce the slightest shades in the beauties which other artists had created, and he idealized what other inquirers had discovered. The most decided bent of his intellect was towards the exegetical interpretation of Holy Writ. His fervent love of Judaism and its ancient scriptures, his profound knowledge of Hebrew, which was the language of his heart, and finally his delicate æsthetic feeling for philology, were all displayed in his exegetical work. Early in life Sachs conceived the idea, to which he ever remained true, of restoring to the Hebrew Scriptures their pure and original sense, and freeing them from all accretions and blemishes. Inspired by the example of Rückert, "the poet of the East and West, the learned master in translation and exposition," he commenced with the Psalms, which might have been the outpourings of his own pious heart. Afterwards, assisted by various fellow-workers, Sachs translated several books of Holy Scripture in an admirable style to form a "Bible for Israelites." But as he worked more with his heart than his brain, his biblical exegesis was wanting in a firm basis. The task of opening up new paths in this direction fell to the lot of Christian scholars.

Sachs took an active part in excavating the buried figures of the Jewish past, cleansing them from disfiguring incrustations, and placing them in their proper light. Three periodicals were particularly devoted to this purpose – the "Kerem Chemed" and the "Zion" in Hebrew, and the "Orient" in German. Young and old assisted in erecting a Jewish temple of fame, and contributions flowed in from all parts of Europe. The "forties" were especially prolific in the cultivation of Jewish science. It was not pedantic scholarship, but their heart that urged Jewish authors to bring forward clear proof that Judaism, in all its ramifications, went hand in hand with civilization. The Judæo-Spanish epoch exercised special attraction upon Jewish inquirers. It showed what the Jews had accomplished, and could accomplish in wealth of thought and beauty of form. Jewish science at the same time was to serve as an apology to the detractors of Jews and Judaism, and as an ideal for arousing emulation. The brilliant Spanish epoch was known to Jewish scholars alone, and to them only in rough fragments. Sachs undertook to reconstruct from these fragments an organic, beautiful whole, and by his eloquent language to attract those who had no religious interest in the subject. His "Religious Poetry of the Jews in Spain" (1845) offers more than the title indicates. Sachs attractively describes the series of the products of Jewish genius, from the time "when in terrible agony the limbs were torn from the living body," after the destruction of the Jewish center by the Romans, until the flourishing period of neo-Hebraic poetry in Spain. The attention of the cultured world was directed by Sachs' work to the wealth and beauty of Jewish literature in the Middle Ages, of which hitherto it had had no suspicion; even Heine was seized with admiration, and employed his golden pen in its cause.

At the same time the literature of the mediæval Jews in France and Germany, and of the Jewish poets of Provence was treated with copious detail, but in a style fitted for a learned audience. Zunz, the author of this work, justly rebuked his contemporaries for their contemptuous neglect of this branch of literature, to which Christian students of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries had devoted so much attention.

Continuous devotion to the literature of the Middle Ages threatened to become too one-sided. That epoch, with its productions, was after all only the offspring of the national activity of bygone days, and the grandchild or great-grandchild of a still more important period. This obscure question, the dual origin of Judaism, from the Bible and the Talmud, was clearly illumined by the light of investigation through Jewish science in the "forties." The Talmud lay under a ban, and was treated with most offensive contempt. It was the scapegoat upon which all the guilt and misery of the Jews were laid. Like a leper it was shunned by respectable investigators. But this did not last; the question was raised whether the very writings which had served as the basis for Christianity had not been inter-penetrated with Talmudic elements. The proof of the affirmative answer to this question was boldly undertaken by Frankel. Yet more important was the fact that it was made apparent that the strong side of the Talmud lies in its ideas of justice and their development. The superiority of the Talmudic penal code over the legislation of ancient times was established. The result of a scientific treatment of the Talmud was that Judaism had no cause to be ashamed of it.