and even now thrills us--Miriam, the inspired prophetess, pouring forth
her people's joy and sorrow, and Deborah, _Esheth Lapidoth_, the Bible
calls her, "the woman of the flaming heart," an old writer ingeniously
interprets the Scriptural name. They are the chosen exemplars of all
women who, stepping across the narrow confines of home, have lifted up a
voice, or wielded a pen, for Israel. The time is not yet when woman in
literature can be discussed without an introductory justification. The
prejudice is still deep-rooted which insists that domestic activity is
woman's only legitimate career, that to enter the literary arena is
unwomanly, that inspired songs may drop only from male lips. Woman's
heart should, indeed, be the abode of the angels of gentleness, modesty,
kindness, and patience. But no contradiction is involved in the belief
that her mind is endowed with force and ability on occasion to grasp the
spokes of fortune's wheel, or produce works which need not shrink from
public criticism. Deborah herself felt that it would have better become
a man to fulfil the mission with which she was charged--that a cozy home
had been a more seemly place for her than the camp upon Mount Tabor. She
says: "Desolate were the open towns in Israel, they were desolate....
Was there a shield seen or a spear among forty thousand in Israel?...
I--unto the Lord will I sing." Not until the fields of Israel were
desert, forsaken of able-bodied men, did the woman Deborah arise for the
glory of God. She refused to pose as a heroine, rejected the crown of
victory, nor coveted the poet's laurel, meet recognition of her
triumphal song. Modestly she chose the simplest yet most beautiful of
names. She summoned the warriors to battle; the word of God was
proclaimed by her lips; she pronounced judgment, and right prevailed;
her courage sustained her on the battlefield, and victory followed in
her footsteps--yet neither judge, nor poetess, nor singer, nor
prophetess will she call herself, but only _Em beyisrael_, "a mother in
Israel."
This heroine, this "mother in Israel," in all the wanderings and
vicissitudes of the Jewish people, was the exemplar of its women and
maidens, the especial model of Israelitish poetesses and writers.
The student of Jewish literature is like an astronomer. While the casual
observer faintly discerns single stars dotted in the expanse of blue
overhead, he takes in the whole sweep of the heavens, readily following
the movements of the stars of every magnitude. The history of the Jewish
race, its mere preservation during the long drawn out period of
suffering--sad days of national dissolution and sombre middle age
centuries--is a perplexing puzzle, unless regarded with the eye of
faith. But that this race, cuffed, crushed, pursued, hounded from spot
to spot, should have given birth to men, yea, even women ranking high in
the realm of letters, is wholly inexplicable, unless the explanation of
the unique phenomenon is sought in the wondrous gift of inspiration
operative in Israel even after the last seer ceased to speak.
Judaism has preserved the Jews! Judaism, that is, the Law with its
development and ramifications of a great religious thought, was the
sustaining power of the Jewish people under its burden of misery,
suffering, torture, and oppression, enabling it to survive its
tormentors. The Jews were the nation of hope. Like hope this people is
eternal. The storms of fanaticism and race hatred may rage and roar, the
race cannot be destroyed. Precisely in the days of its abject
degradation, when its suffering was dire, how marvellous the conduct of
this people! The conquered were greater than their conquerors. From
their spiritual height they looked down compassionately on their
victorious but ignorant adversaries, who, feeling the condescension of
the victims, drove their irons deeper. The little nation grew only the
stronger, and its religion, the flower of hope and trust, developed the
more sturdily for its icy covering. Jews were mowed down by fire and
sword, but Judaism continued to live. From the ashes of every pyre
sprang the Jewish Law in unfading youth--that indestructible,
ineradicable mentality and hope, which opponents are wont to call
unconquerable Jewish defiance.
The men of this great little race were preserved by the Law, the spirit,
and the influences and effects of this same Law transformed weak women
into God-inspired martyrs, dowered the daughters of Israel with courage
to sacrifice life for the glory of the God-idea confessed by their
ancestors during thousands of years. Purity of morals, confiding
domesticity, were the safeguards against storm and stress. The outside
world presented a hostile front to the Jew of the middle ages. Every
step beyond Ghetto precincts was beset with peril. So his home became
his world, his sanctuary, in whose intimate seclusion the blossom of
pure family love unfolded. While spiritual darkness brooded over the
nations, the great Messianic God-idea took refuge from the icy chill of
the middle ages in his humble rooms, where it was cherished against the
coming of a glorious future.
"Every Jew has the making of a Messiah in him," says a clever modern
author,[25] "and every Jewess of a _mater dolorosa_," of which the first
part is only an epigram, the second, a truth, an historic fact.
Mediaeval Judaism knew many "sorrowful mothers," whose heroism passes
our latter-day conception. Greece and Rome tell tales upon tales of
womanly bravery under suffering and pain--Jewish history buries in
silence the names of its thousands of woman and maiden martyrs, joyously
giving up life in the vindication of their faith. Perhaps, had one woman
been too weak to resist, too cowardly to court and embrace death, her
name might have been preserved. Such, too, fail to appear in the Jewish
annals, which contain but few women's names of any kind. Inspired
devotion of strength and life to Judaism was as natural with a Jewess as
quiet, unostentatious activity in her home. No need, therefore, to make
mention of act or name.
Jewish woman, then, has neither found, nor sought, and does not need, a
Frauenlob, historian or poet, to proclaim her praise in the gates, to
touch the strings of his lyre in her honor. Her life, in its simplicity
and gentleness, its patience and exalted devotion, is itself a Song of
Songs, more beautiful than poet ever composed, a hymn more joyous than
any ever sung, on the prophetess's sublime and touching text, _Em
beyisrael_, "a mother in Israel."
As Miriam and Deborah are representative of womanhood during Israel's
national life, so later times, the Talmudic periods, produced women with
great and admirable qualities. Prominent among them was Beruriah, the
gentle wife of Rabbi Meir, the Beruriah whose heart is laid bare in the
following touching story from the Talmud:[26]
One Sabbath her husband had been in the academy all day teaching the
crowds that eagerly flocked to his lectures. During his absence from
home, his two sons, distinguished for beauty and learning, died suddenly
of a malignant disease. Beruriah bore the dear bodies into her sleeping
chamber, and spread a white cloth over them. When the rabbi returned in
the evening, and asked for his boys that, according to wont, he might
bless them, his wife said, "They have gone to the house of God."
She brought the wine-cup, and he recited the concluding prayer of the
Sabbath, drinking from the cup, and, in obedience to a hallowed custom,
passing it to his wife. Again he asked, "Why are my sons not here to
drink from the blessed cup?" "They cannot be far off," answered the
patient sufferer, and suspecting naught, Rabbi Meir was happy and
cheerful. When he had finished his meal, Beruriah said: "Rabbi, allow me
to ask you a question." With his permission, she continued: "Some time
ago a treasure was entrusted to me, and now the owner demands it. Shall
I give it up?" "Surely, my wife should not find it necessary to ask this
question," said the rabbi. "Can you hesitate about returning property to
its rightful owner?" "True," she replied, "but I thought best not to
return it until I had advised you thereof." And she led him into the
chamber to the bed, and withdrew the cloth from the bodies. "O, my sons,
my sons," lamented the father with a loud voice, "light of my eyes, lamp
of my soul. I was your father, but you taught me the Law." Her eyes
suffused with tears, Beruriah seized her grief-stricken husband's hand,
and spoke: "Rabbi, did you not teach me to return without reluctance
that which has been entrusted to our safekeeping? See, 'the Lord gave,
and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.'"
"'Blessed be the name of the Lord,'" repeated the rabbi, accepting her
consolation, "and blessed, too, be His name for your sake; for, it is
written: 'Who can find a virtuous woman? for far above pearls is her
value.... She openeth her mouth with wisdom, and the law of kindness is
upon her tongue.'"
Surrounded by the halo of motherhood, richly dowered with intellectual
gifts, distinguished for learning, gentleness, and refinement, Beruriah
is a truly poetic figure. Incensed at the evil-doing of the unrighteous,
her husband prayed for their destruction. "How can you ask that, Rabbi?"
Beruriah interrupted him; "do not the Scriptures say: 'May _sins_ cease
from off the earth, and the wicked will be no more'? When _sin_ ceases,
there will be no more _sinners_. Pray rather, my rabbi, that they
repent, and amend their ways."[27]
That a woman could attain to Beruriah's mental poise, and make her voice
heard and heeded in the councils of the teachers of the Law, and that
the rabbis considered her sayings and doings worthy of record, would of
itself, without the evidence of numerous other learned women of Talmud
fame, prove, were proof necessary, the honorable position occupied by
Jewish women in those days. Long before Schiller, the Talmud said:[28]
"Honor women, because they bring blessing." Of Abraham it is said: "It
was well with him, because of his wife Sarah." Again: "More glorious is
the promise made to women, than that to men: In Isaiah (xxxii. 9) we
read: 'Ye women that are at ease, hear my voice!' for, with women it
lies to inspire their husbands and sons with zeal for the study of the
Law, the most meritorious of deeds." Everywhere the Talmud sounds the
praise of the virtuous woman of Proverbs and of the blessings of a happy
family life.
A single Talmudic sentence, namely, "He who teaches his daughter the
Law, teaches her what is unworthy," torn from its context, and falsely
interpreted, has given rise to most absurd theories with regard to the
views of Talmudic times on the matter of woman's education. It should be
taken into consideration that its author, who is responsible also for
the sentiment that "woman's place is at the distaff," was the husband of
Ima Shalom, a clever, highly cultured, but irascible woman, who was on
intimate terms with Jewish Christians, and was wont to interfere in the
disputations carried on by men--in short, a representative Talmudic
blue-stocking, with all the attributes with which fancy would be prone
to invest such a one.[29]
Elsewhere the Talmud tells about Rabbi Nachman's wife Yaltha, the proud
and learned daughter of a princely line. Her guest, the poor itinerant
preacher Rabbi Ulla, expressed the opinion that according to the Law it
was not necessary to pass the wine-cup over which the blessing has been
said to women. The opinion, surely not the withheld wine, so angered his
hostess, that she shivered four hundred wine-pitchers, letting their
contents flow over the ground.[30] If the rabbis had such incidents in
mind, crabbed utterances were not unjustifiable. Perhaps every
rabbinical antagonist to woman's higher education was himself the victim
of a learned wife, who regaled him, after his toilsome research at the
academy, with unpalatable soup, or, worse still, with Talmudic
discussions. Instances are abundant of erudite rabbis tormented by their
wives. One, we are told, refused to cook for her husband, and another,
day after day, prepared a certain dish, knowing that he would not touch
it.
But this is pleasantry. It would betray total ignorance of the Talmud
and the rabbis to impute to them the scorn of woman prevalent at that
time. The Talmud and its sages never weary of singing the praise of
women, and at every occasion inculcate respect for them, and devotion to
their service. The compiler of the Jerusalem Talmud, Rabbi Jochanan,
whose life is crowned with the aureole of romance, pays a delicate
tribute to woman by the question: "Who directed the first prayer of
thanksgiving to God? A woman, Leah, when she cried out in the fulness of
her joy: 'Now again will I praise the Lord.'"
Under the influence of such ideal views, and in obedience to such
standards, Jewish woman led a modest, retired life of domestic activity,
the help-meet and solace of her husband, the joy of his age, the
treasure of his liberty, his comforter in sorrow. For, when the
portentous catastrophe overwhelmed the Jewish nation, when Jerusalem and
the Temple lay in ruins, when the noblest of the people were slain, and
the remnant of Israel was made to wander forth out of his land into a
hostile world, to fulfil his mission as a witness to the truth of
monotheism, then Jewish woman, too, was found ready to assume the
burdens imposed by distressful days.
Israel, broken up into unresisting fragments, began his two thousand
years' journey through the desert of time, despoiled of all possessions
except his Law and his family. Of these treasures Titus and his legions
could not rob him. From the ruins of the Jewish state blossomed forth
the spirit of Jewish life and law in vigorous renewal. Judaism rose
rejuvenated on the crumbling temples of Jupiter, immaculate in doctrine,
incorruptible in practice. Israel's spiritual guides realized that
adherence to the Law is the only safeguard against annihilation and
oblivion. From that time forth, the men became the guardians of the
_Law_, the women the guardians of the purity of _life_, both working
harmoniously for the preservation of Judaism.
The muse of history recorded no names of Jewish women from the
destruction of the Temple to the eleventh century. Yet the student
cannot fail to assign the remarkable preservation of the race to
woman's gentle, quiet, though paramount influence by the side of the
earnest tenacity of men. Among Jews leisure, among non-Jews knowledge,
was lacking to preserve names for the instruction of posterity. Before
Jews could record their suffering, the oppressor's hand again fell, its
grasp more relentless than ever. For many centuries blood and tears
constitute the chronicle of Jewish life, and at the sources of these
streams of blood and rivers of tears, the genius of Jewish history sits
lamenting.
Whenever the sun of tolerance broke through the clouds of oppression,
and for even a brief period shone upon the martyr race, its marvellous
development under persecution and in despite of unspeakable suffering at
once stood revealed. During these occasional breaks in the darkness,
women appeared whose erudition was so profound as to earn special
mention. As was said above, the first names of women distinguished for
beauty and intellect come down to us from the eleventh century, and even
then only Italy, Provence, Andalusia, and the Orient, were favored, Jews
in these countries living unmolested and in comparative freedom, and
zealously devoting their leisure to the study of the Talmud and secular
branches of learning. In praise of Italy it was said: "Out of Bari goes
forth the Law, and the word of the Lord from Otranto." It is, therefore,
not surprising to read in Jewish sources of the maiden Paula, of the
family Dei Mansi (Anawim), the daughter of Abraham, and later the wife
of Yechiel dei Mansi, who, in 1288, copied her father's abstruse
Talmudic commentary, adding ingenious explanations, the result of
independent research. But one grows somewhat sceptical over the account,
by a Jewish tourist, Rabbi Petachya of Ratisbon, of Bath Halevi,
daughter of Rabbi Samuel ben Ali in Bagdad, equally well-read in the
Bible and the Talmud, and famous for her beauty. She lectured on the
Talmud to a large number of students, and, to prevent their falling in
love with her, she sat behind lattice-work or in a glass cabinet, that
she might be heard but not seen. The dry tourist-chronicler fails to
report whether her disciples approved of the preventive measure, and
whether in the end it turned out to have been effectual. At all events,
the example of the learned maiden found an imitator. Almost a century
later we meet with Miriam Shapiro, of Constance, a beautiful Jewish
girl, who likewise delivered public lectures on the Talmud sitting
behind a curtain, that the attention of her inquisitive pupils might not
be distracted by sight of her from their studies.
Of the learned El Muallima we are told that she transplanted Karaite
doctrines from the Orient to Castile, where she propagated them. The
daughter of the prince of poets, Yehuda Halevi, is accredited with a
soulful religious poem hitherto attributed to her father, and Rabbi
Joseph ibn Nagdela's wife was esteemed the most learned and
representative woman in Granada. Even in the choir of Arabic-Andalusian
poets we hear the voice of a Jewish songstress, Kasmune, the daughter
of the poet Ishmael. Only a few blossoms of her delicate poetry have
been preserved.[31] Catching sight of her young face in the mirror, she
called out:
"A vine I see, and though 'tis time to glean,
No hand is yet stretched forth to cull the fruit.
Alas! my youth doth pass in sorrow keen,
A nameless 'him' my eyes in vain salute."
Her pet gazelle, raised by herself, she addresses thus:
"In only thee, my timid, fleet gazelle,
Dark-eyed like thee, I see my counterpart;
We both live lone, without companion dwell,
Accepting fate's decree with patient heart."
Of other women we are told whose learning and piety inspired respect,
not only in Talmudic authorities, but, more than that, in their sisters
in faith. Especially in the family of Rashi (Rabbi Solomon ben Isaac),
immortal through his commentaries on the Bible and the Talmud, a number
of women distinguished themselves. His daughter Rachel (Bellejeune), on
one occasion when her father was sick, wrote out for Rabbi Abraham Cohen
of Mayence an opinion on religious questions in dispute. Rashi's two
granddaughters, Anna and Miriam, were equally famous. In questions
relating to the dietary laws, they were cited as authorities, and their
decisions accepted as final.
Zunz calls the wife of Rabbi Joseph ben Jochanan of Paris "almost a
rabbi"; and Dolce, wife of the learned Rabbi Eleazar of Worms, supported
her family with the work of her hands, was a thorough student of the
dietary laws, taught women on Jewish subjects, and on Sabbath delivered
public lectures. She wore the twofold crown of learning and martyrdom.
On December 6, 1213, fanatic crusaders rushed into the rabbi's house,
and most cruelly killed her and her two daughters, Bella and Anna.
Israel having again fallen on evil times, the rarity of women writers
during the next two centuries needs no explanation. In the sixteenth
century their names reappear on the records, not only as Talmudic
scholars, but also as writers of history in the German language. Litte
of Ratisbon composed a history of King David in the celebrated "Book of
Samuel," a poem in the _Nibelungen_ stanza, and we are told that Rachel
Ackermann of Vienna was banished for having written a piquant novel,
"Court Secrets."
These tentative efforts led the way to busy and widespread activity by
Jewish women in various branches of literature at a somewhat later
period, when the so-called _Judendeutsch_, also known as
_Altweiberdeutsch_ (old women's German), came into general use. Rebekah
Tiktiner, daughter of Rabbi Meir Tiktiner, attained to a reputation
considerable enough to suggest her scholarly work to J. G. Zeltner, a
Rostock professor, as the subject of an essay published in 1719. Her
book, _Meneketh Ribka_, deals with the duties of woman. Edel Mendels of
Cracow epitomized "Yosippon" (History of the Jews after Josephus); Bella
Chasan, who died a martyr's death, composed two instructive works on
Jewish history, in their time widely read; Glikel Hamel of Hamburg wrote
her memoirs, describing her contemporaries and the remarkable events of
her life; Hannah Ashkenasi was the author of addresses on moral
subjects; and Ella Goetz translated the Hebrew prayers into
Jewish-German.
Litte of Ratisbon found imitators. Rosa Fischels of Cracow was the first
to put the psalms into Jewish-German rhymes (1586). She turned the whole
psalter "into simple German very prettily, modestly, and withal
pleasantly for women and maidens to read." The authoress acknowledges
that it was her aim to imitate the rhyme and melody of the "Book of
Samuel" by her famed predecessor. Occasionally her paraphrase rises to
the height of true poetry, as in the first and last verses of Psalm
xcvi:
"Sing to God a new song, sing to God all the land, sing to God, praise
His name, show forth His ready help from day to day.... The field and
all thereon shall show great joy; they will sing with all their leaves,
the trees of the wood and the grove, before the Lord God who will come
to judge the earth far and near. He judgeth the earth with righteousness
and the nations with truth."
Rosa Fischels was followed by a succession of women writers: Taube Pan
in Prague, a poetess; Bella Hurwitz, who wrote a history of the House
of David, and, in association with Rachel Rausnitz, an account of the
settlement of Jews in Prague; and a number of scholarly women famous
among their co-religionists for knowledge of the Talmud, piety, and
broad, secular culture.
In a rapid review like this of woman's achievements on the field of
Jewish scholarship, the results recorded must appear meagre, owing
partly to the paucity of available data, partly to the nature of the
inquiry. Abstruse learning, pure science, original research, are by no
means woman's portion. Such occupations demand complete surrender on the
part of the student, uninterrupted attention to the subject pursued, and
delicately organized woman is not capable of such absorption. Woman's
perceptions are subtle, and she rests satisfied with her intuitions;
while man strives to transmute his feelings, deeper than hers, into
action. The external appeals to woman who comprehends easily and
quickly, and, therefore, does not penetrate beneath the surface. Man, on
the other hand, strives to pierce to the essence of things, apprehends
more slowly, but thinks more profoundly, and tests carefully before he
accepts. Hence we so rarely meet woman in the field of science, while
her work in the domain of poetry and the humanities is abundant and
attractive. Jewish women form no exception to the rule: a survey of
Jewish poetry will show woman's share in its productions to have been
considerable and of high quality. While there was little or no
possibility to prosecute historic or scientific inquiry during the
harrowing days of persecution, the well-spring of Jewish poetry never
ran dry. Poetry followed the race into exile, and clave to it through
all vicissitudes, its solacement in suffering, the holy mediatrix
between its past and future. "The Orient dwells an exile in the
Occident, and its tears of longing for home are the fountain-head of
Jewish poetry," says a Christian scholar. And at the altar of this
poetry, whose sweetness and purity sanctified home life, and spread a
sense of morality in a time when brutality and corruptness were general,
the women singers of Israel offered the gifts of their muse. While the
culture of that time culminated in the service of love (_Minnedienst_),
in woman worship, so offensive to modern taste, Jewish poetry was
pervaded by a pure, ideal conception of love and womanhood, testifying
to the high ethical principles of its devotees.