_Guide_, I., chap. lxxi.
Footnote 137:
As to the state of mind of the forced converts at that time see what
Maimonides says in the _Treatise of the Sanctification of the Name_
and the _Iggereth Teman_.
Footnote 138:
See Section II. above. Note especially what Maimonides says about
prophecy in the Introduction to his _Commentary on the Mishnah_
(written at the time when he lived among the forced converts). Some of
this is quoted in Section II. He writes there with such incisive force
as to make it clear that he has left the realm of pure speculation and
theory, and has a practical object connected with actual circumstances
which had stirred him deeply at the time.
Footnote 139:
All this is clearly hinted in Maimonides’ _Treatise of the
Sanctification of the Name_.
Footnote 140:
_Guide_, III., chap. xxvii.
Footnote 141:
We find all the principles of his system in the Introduction to his
first book (the _Commentary on the Mishnah_), and again at the end of
his last book (_Guide_, III., chap. li.).
Footnote 142:
See Introduction to _Commentary on the Mishnah_.
Footnote 143:
“This is not the place to treat of this matter; but it is my
intention, wherever a matter of belief is mentioned, to explain it
briefly. For I love to teach nothing so much as one of the principles
of religion” (end of _Berachoth_).
Footnote 144:
Especially important in this connection are the Introductions to
_Zera’im_, to chapter _Chelek_ (where he brings in all the principles
of religion), and to _Aboth_ (_Eight Chapters_).
Footnote 145:
His Preface makes it clear that he regarded his book as a sort of
Mishnah in a new form; and it seems (though he does not say it in so
many words) that he intended to hint at this idea by the title of the
book—_Mishneh Torah_.
Footnote 146:
There were many writers who suspected that Maimonides’ idea was to do
away altogether with the study of the Talmud. But this suspicion could
arise only from failure to understand clearly the real purpose of the
book. Even theories are presented here in dogmatic form; but could it
possibly be imagined that Maimonides wanted to do away with the study
of philosophy by the long method of argument and proof—that study
which he regarded as the purpose of the human race? The truth is that
he had in view the social function of religion, and for this reason he
set forth both theories and practical commands in brief and in a
manner suited to the comprehension of ordinary men. He left it to the
chosen few to study the principles of both the theoretical and the
practical law, and to obtain from the original sources a knowledge of
the reasons for both.
Footnote 147:
_Guide_, Introduction.
Footnote 148:
After the publication of the _Guide_ many people discovered that its
opinions were already contained in the innocent-looking dicta of the
_Mishneh Torah_, especially in its first part (_The Book of Science_),
and from that time onward they regarded that book also as heretical,
and waged war on it as well as on the _Guide_.
Footnote 149:
See the letter of R. Jehudah Alfachar to Kimchi: _Collected Responses
of Maimonides_ (ed. Leipsic), Part III., p. 1, _et seq._
Footnote 150:
See Dr. Joel’s monograph, _Spinoza’s Theologisch-Politischer Traktat
auf seine Quellen geprüft_, Breslau, 1870.
Footnote 151:
See _Kerem Chemed_, III., pp. 67-70.
Footnote 152:
I may remark in passing that Luzzatto (_ibid._) accuses Maimonides of
yet another disservice to Judaism. By making opinions the essential
element of perfection Maimonides, according to him, abolished the
difference between the righteous man and the wicked. “The
philosopher,” he says, “may commit theft, murder, and adultery, and
yet attain eternal life: salvation does not depend on merit.” This
charge was already brought against Maimonides by his medieval
opponents, but it is quite mistaken. Maimonides insists, over and over
again, that until a man has moral perfection it is impossible for him
to reach intellectual perfection to the degree necessary for the
attainment of acquired intellect. See, for instance, the passage from
the introduction to _Zera’im_ quoted above (p. 174).
Footnote 153:
Though the conception of “nationalism” in its current sense is modern,
the national sentiment itself has existed in our people at all times;
and its existence and value have been realised in our literature in
every period, from the Bible and the Talmud to the literature of
Chassidism, though it used to be called by other names (“the love of
Israel,” etc.). But the sentiment and its expression do not appear to
the same extent or in the same form in all ages and in all
individuals, and it is therefore legitimate to ask what was the
attitude of any particular age or any particular thinker to the
national sentiment. An interesting book might be written on the
history of the national sentiment and consciousness in Israel, dealing
with their different manifestations in different ages, their growth
and decline, and their expression in the life of the nation and the
thought of its great men in each period.
Footnote 154:
_Guide_, III., chap. xliii. Similarly in chap. xlviii.
Footnote 155:
End of _Mishneh Torah_.
Footnote 156:
See the _Iggereth Teman_ and the _Treatise of the Sanctification of
the Name_.
Footnote 157:
A German Jewish scholar, Dr. D. Rosin, in his monograph on the ethics
of Maimonides (_Die Ethik des Maimonides_, Breslau, 1876), finds under
the heading of “Nationalism” (p. 148) only two laws in the whole
_Mishneh Torah_ which allude to the duties of the Jew to his people.
But in fact the two laws which he quotes (_Hilchoth T’shubah_, chap.
iii. 11, and _Hilchoth Matnath ’Aniim_, chap. x. 2) emphasise rather
the unity of the members of one faith.
Footnote 158:
Introduction to chapter _Chelek_.
Footnote 159:
See Albo, _Ikkarim_, Part I, chap. 1.
Footnote 160:
See his Introduction to the _Sepher Hammitzvoth_.
Footnote 161:
I remarked on this point years ago in “Past and Future.” [See
_Selected Essays by Ahad Ha’am_, p. 87.]
Footnote 162:
Cf. _supra_, p. 10.
Footnote 163:
See the _Treatise on Resurrection_.
Footnote 164:
Luzzatto (_ubi supra_) seems to suspect that Maimonides’ whole
treatment of resurrection was insincere, and that he was deliberately
throwing dust in the reader’s eyes, in order to conceal his heresy.
But this suspicion is absurd: Maimonides was a man who was not afraid
openly to reject even the immortality of the soul, and to recast all
the fundamental beliefs of Judaism. Any unbiassed reader of the
treatise must realise that Maimonides defends resurrection with
perfect sincerity, but that he is unable to find the real grounds of
his own conviction, because he looks for them in his reason and not in
his feelings.
Footnote 165:
_Commentary on the Mishnah, Aboth_, chap. i. 17.
Footnote 166:
See his letters to Joseph ben Gabar, to the community of Lunel, and to
R. Samuel Ibn Tibbon (_Collected Responses of Maimonides_ (Leipsic),
Part II., pp. 16, 27, 44).
JUDAISM AND THE GOSPELS
(1910)
English Jewry is at ease. There are no doubt traces here and there of
anti-Semitism, nor are there wanting in the inner life of the community
indications of what may be called “servitude in freedom.” But when all
allowances are made, the Jews enjoy a firmer and a more secure position
here than in other countries, and anxiety for the future, with all that
it involves, plays a smaller part in their mental life. Hence their
internal development is more “normal” than elsewhere; it is less at the
mercy of external and accidental influences; it is rather determined by
the spiritual and cultural resources of the community itself, and
corresponds at any given time to the extent of those resources. To this
circumstance is due the comparatively late appearance of the Reform
movement in Anglo-Jewry. True, in the heyday of the German Reform
movement a few people in England attempted to follow the German example;
but their small experiment never grew to considerable dimensions, or
showed any capacity for development. The reason is that whereas in
Germany there was an external, political impulse towards Reform—the
desire to combat anti-Jewish feeling, and thus to facilitate the
attainment of civil and political rights—in England this motive was less
felt. For though certain political restrictions were still in force, the
position of the Jews was much better, and their relations with non-Jews
were much more satisfactory, than in Germany.
But in more recent years education and the circumstances of life have
brought about a change in the internal, spiritual condition of the
Anglo-Jewish community: a new generation has arisen, which is very far
removed from the _spirit_ of Judaism. It is this internal change in the
Jews which has called into being the Reform movement which we now see
developing before our eyes. To the difference in origin corresponds a
difference in character. In Germany the Reform movement, practical in
its motives, took a practical shape. Geiger and other Reformers
endeavoured, on the one side, to alter the religious practices, and to
bring them into conformity with what they conceived to be the needs of
the time; but on the other side they laid stress on the grandeur of the
religious and moral principles on which Judaism peculiarly was based,
and tried to emphasise the _difference_ between Judaism and
Christianity. But in England the Reform movement springs from a
spiritual cause—from a conviction on the part of many Jews that they are
spiritually _akin_ to their Christian environment. It is not merely the
external observances of traditional Judaism that fail any longer to
appeal to them; its innermost spirit, the fundamental ideas by which it
is distinguished from Christianity, have lost their hold. Hence the
movement here aims right at the heart; it wants to change the _spirit_
of Judaism, and to overthrow its historical foundations, so as to reduce
its distinctive features to a small compass, and to bring it as closely
as possible into accord with the Christian ideas of the non-Jewish
community. Thirteen years ago this movement was begun in England by a
body of young men, who thus straightforwardly and clearly expressed
their aim:
“... Our triumphant emancipation is now working out its natural result
upon us. Constant intercourse with non-Jews and extensive secular
education must materially affect our opinions. We, who are young and
earnest lovers of our religion, are struggling with new ideas which we
hardly dare to formulate, because they are contrary to all accepted
traditions. Such are the notions that our separateness seems now merely
external and artificial, our racial distinctiveness often scarcely
perceptible, and our religious ideas almost identical with those of
Theists and true Unitarians.”[167]
But as it was difficult for them, in spite of everything, to abandon
Judaism altogether, and to join the “Theists and true Unitarians,” they
conceived the idea of attaining their object in the reverse way. They
would transform Judaism itself, until it should contain nothing but the
fundamental ideas of the “Theists and true Unitarians,” and then—so they
fondly imagined—these latter would come and find shelter in Judaism, and
so the “external and artificial” distinction would be comfortably and
pleasantly removed! This movement did not take definite shape at the
time, and after a while it disappeared and was no longer heard of. But
the causes which had given it birth did not cease to work silently
beneath the surface; and quite recently it has come forth again into the
light of day, to play its part in the visible life of Anglo-Jewry. This
time it appears in a more concrete form and with a clearer consciousness
of the goal for which it is making. Its promoters have come to see,
after all, that even if their Judaism is to teach the very doctrine of
the “liberal” Christian sects, there will still be an “external and
artificial” distinction between themselves and the non-Jew, so long as
they do not accept the _source_ of that doctrine—so long as they do not
admit, with the “liberal” Christians, that the New Testament is the last
word in religious and moral development, and Jesus the most perfect
embodiment of the religious and moral ideal. For in matters of religion
men value not alone the abstract beliefs in themselves, but also—and
perhaps more highly—the historical and psychological roots from which
those beliefs have grown up in their hearts. It was well said many years
ago by Steinthal that if ever a new religion, a philosophical religion,
suited to modern times, should unite Jews and Christians, they would
still be divided on the question whether the Old Testament or the
Gospels had contributed in greater measure to the birth of the new
religion.
Our English Reformers, therefore, have decided to remove even this
stumbling-block from the path which leads to unity, and have decreed
that the New Testament (or at least the Gospels) must be considered a
part—and the most important part—of Judaism, and that Jesus must be
regarded as a prophet—and the greatest of the prophets—in Israel. This
pronouncement is certainly a step forward along a certain line of
development, of which we are not yet at the end. We need not therefore
be surprised if these Reformers do not realise the strangeness of their
attitude, with its combination of contradictory and mutually destructive
postulates. Whereas revolution overthrows the old at a single stroke,
and puts the new in its place, evolution destroys and builds in
sections, so that, until its work is complete, it is full of
contradictions and inconsistencies—the old and the new jostling one
another in confusion, and creating by their unnatural juxtaposition the
impression of a caricature, which is obvious to the onlooker, but not to
those who are engaged in the work. So this Reformed Judaism, which wants
to be two opposites—Jewish and Evangelist—at once, has its place as a
rung in the middle of the ladder, a step on the road of evolution to its
final goal. At this stage of the journey our Reformers still think that
it is possible to put the Gospels _beside_ the Old Testament and the
Talmud. But when they reach the next stage they will recognise that the
two cannot exist side by side, but only one above the other, and that
when one stands the other falls. The early Christians went through the
same process: they regarded their “message” at first simply as a part of
Judaism; but when they had travelled the full length of their
development, they saw that the Gospels meant the overthrow of the very
foundations of Judaism, and then they left it altogether.
If anybody is doubtful about the true character and tendency of this
movement, let him read the commentary on the Synoptic Gospels recently
published by the leader of the movement, Mr. C. G. Montefiore. The
author makes no secret of the fact that the book has been written for
Jewish readers, with the object of convincing them that the New
Testament ought to occupy an important position in Judaism at the
present time, albeit from a Jewish point of view. The claims of the
“Jewish point of view” he thinks to satisfy by his frequent efforts to
show that the Law of the Rabbis was not so bad as it is painted by the
authors of the New Testament and its commentators, and that in many
respects the old Judaism rose to the level of the Gospels, nay, had in
certain details actually more of truth.[168] But the general atmosphere
of the book is so utterly alien from the essential character of Judaism
as to make one fact clear beyond a shadow of doubt to any Jew in whom
Judaism is still alive—that the Gospels can be received only into a
Judaism which has lost its own true spirit, and remains a mere corpse.
The author is doubtless correct in saying that a Jewish commentary on
the New Testament is needed at the present time.[169] Living in a
Christian environment, we imbibe a culture in which many Christian ideas
and sentiments are inwoven, and it is therefore necessary for us to know
their source, so as to be able to distinguish between them and the
universal elements of culture. But this Jewish commentary must be far
removed from any polemical propagandist intention on one side or the
other. Its sole object must be to _understand_ thoroughly the teaching
of the Gospels, to define with _scientific_ accuracy its character, the
foundations on which it rests, and the differences which distinguish it
from Judaism. What is needed is not the “scientific accuracy” of the
Christian commentators (that spring from which Mr. Montefiore drinks
with such avidity), who set out with the preconceived idea that the
teaching of the Gospels is superior to that of Judaism, and use their
“science” merely to find details in support of this general belief. When
a writer claims to be “scientific,” he must recognise above all that in
the field of religion and morality it is impossible to set up a
universal scientific criterion, by which to measure the different
teachings, and to pronounce one superior to another. In this sphere
everything is relative, and the judge brings to his task a subjective
standard of his own, determined by his temperament, his education and
his environment. We Jews, being everywhere a minority, are always
subject to various influences, which counteract and weaken each other;
and we, therefore, are possibly better able than others to understand
objectively ideas which are not our own. Hence it was indeed right that
there should be a Jewish commentary (not a Jewish panegyric) on the New
Testament. Such a commentary might perhaps have enabled Jews of our
author’s stamp to recognise that it is possible to treat with
seriousness and justice a religion which is strange to us, without
shutting our eyes to the gulf which separates it from ourselves.
I should like to dwell for a brief space on the nature of this “gulf.”
So large a subject needs a whole book for its full treatment; but
something, it seems to me, ought to be said just at this moment—and
perhaps the need is not confined to England.
If the heathen of the old story, who wished to learn the whole _Torah_
standing on one leg,[170] had come to me, I should have told him: “‘Thou
shalt not make unto thee any graven image or any likeness’—that is the
whole _Torah_, and the rest is commentary.” The essential characteristic
of Judaism, which distinguishes it from other religions, is its absolute
determination to make the religious and moral consciousness independent
of any definite human form, and to attach it _immediately_ to an
_abstract_ ideal which has “no likeness.” We cannot conceive
Christianity without Jesus, or even Islam without Mohammed. Christianity
made a god of Jesus, but that is not the important fact. Even if Jesus
had remained the “son of man,” had been only a prophet, as Mohammed is
to the Mussulmans, that would not have affected the thing that really
matters—the attachment of the religious and moral consciousness to the
figure of a particular man, who is regarded as the ideal of absolute
perfection, and the goal of men’s vision; to believe in whom is an
essential part of a religion inconceivable without him. Judaism, and
Judaism alone, depends on no such human “likeness.” God is the only idea
of absolute perfection, and He only must be kept always before the eye
of man’s inner consciousness, in order that many may “cleave to his
attributes.” The best of men is not free from shortcomings and sins, and
cannot serve as an ideal for the religious sentiment, which strives
after union with the source of perfection. Moses died in his sin, like
any other man. He was simply God’s messenger, charged with the giving of
His Law; his image was not worked into the very fabric of the religion,
as an essential part of it. Thus the Jewish teachers of a later period
found nothing to shock them in the words of one who said in all
simplicity: “Ezra was worthy to be the bearer of the Law to Israel, had
not Moses come before him” (_Sanhedrin_, 21_a_). Could it enter a
Christian mind, let us say, to conceive the idea that Paul was worthy to
be the bearer of the “message,” had not Jesus come before him? And it
need scarcely be said that the individual figures of the other Prophets
are not an essential part of the fabric of Judaism. Of the greatest of
them—Hosea, Amos, Isaiah, and others—we do not even know who or what
they were; their personalities have vanished like a shadow, and only
their words have been preserved and handed down from generation to
generation, because they were not _their_ words, but “the word of the
Lord that came unto them.”
This applies equally to the Messiah, who is awaited in the future. His
importance lies not in himself, but in his being _the messenger of God_
for the bringing of redemption to Israel and the world. Jewish teachers
pay much more attention to “the days of the Messiah” than to the Messiah
himself. One of them even disbelieved altogether in a personal Messiah,
and looked forward to a redemption effected by God Himself without an
intermediary; and he was not therefore regarded as a heretic.
This characteristic of Judaism was perhaps the principal obstacle to its
wider acceptance. It is difficult for men in general to find
satisfaction in an abstract ideal which offers no hold to the senses; a
human figure much more readily inspires enthusiasm. Before the triumph
of Christianity the Greeks and the Romans used to accuse the Jews of
having no God, because a divinity without “any likeness” had for them no
meaning; and when the time came for the God of Israel to become also the
God of the nations, they still could not accept His sway without
associating with Him a divine ideal in human form, so as to satisfy
their need for a more concrete and nearer ideal.
This is not the place to discuss the origin of this distinctive
preference on the part of Israel for an _abstract_ religious and moral
ideal. Be the reason what it may, the fact remains true, and has been
true these thousands of years; and so long as Israel undergoes no
fundamental change, and does not become something different, it cannot
be influenced on the religious side by a book like the Gospels, which
finds the object of religious devotion and moral emulation not in the
abstract Godhead alone, but first and foremost in a man born of woman.
It matters not whether he be called “Son of God,” “Messiah,” or
“Prophet”: Israel cannot accept with religious enthusiasm, as the word
of God, the utterances of a man who speaks in his own name—not “thus
saith the Lord,” but “_I_ say unto you.” This “I” is in itself
sufficient to drive Judaism away from the Gospels for ever. And when our
author speaks in glowing terms of the religious and moral exaltation
which spring from attachment to Jesus as the ideal of holiness and
perfection, meaning, as is evident from his tone, to introduce this
attachment into Judaism (pp. cvii, 210, 527), he is simply proving that
he and those who think with him are already estranged from the essential
nature of Judaism, which does not recognise ideal holiness and
perfection in man. “Ye shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am
holy”—that is Judaism. “Ye shall be holy, because the Messiah (or the
Prophet) is holy”—that is an ideal better calculated, no doubt, to
inspire enthusiasm and exaltation among the peoples; but it will never
kindle the religious fire in Israel unless the very last drop of true
Judaism be dried up. It was not for nothing that our ancient teachers
called God “_the holy one_, blessed be He”: for Judaism absolute
holiness exists only in the one God. We have had no doubt, at various
periods, our mystic sects, which, influenced consciously or
unconsciously by foreign ideas, have here turned aside more or less from
the Jewish road. But the sect is only a temporary and partial
phenomenon, pointing to some internal disease which affects the national
life in a given period. Our history shows that the end of these sects is
to die out, or to leave Judaism. Sects come and sects go, but Judaism
remains for ever.