Dr. Edersheim's _Life of Jesus_ contains some interesting appendices on
Jewish beliefs and ceremonies. One of these deals with the Sabbath
laws of the chosen people, and we propose to cull from it a few curious
illustrations of Jewish superstitions.
The Mishnic tractate _Sabbath_ stands at the head of twelve tractates on
festivals. Another tractate treats of "commixtures," which are intended
to make the Sabbath laws more bearable. The Jerusalem Talmud devotes
64 folio columns, and the Babylon Talmud 156 double folio pages, to
the serious discussion of the most minute and senseless regulations. It
would be difficult to understand how any persons but maniacs or idiots
could have concocted such elaborate imbecilities, if we did not remember
that the priests of every religion have always bestowed their ability
and leisure on matters of no earthly interest to anyone but themselves.
Travelling on the Sabbath was strictly forbidden, except for a distance
of two thousand cubits (1,000 yards) from one's residence. Yet if a
man deposited food for two meals on the Friday at the boundary of that
"journey," the spot became his dwelling-place, and he might do another
two thousand cubits, without incurring 'God's wrath. If a Jewish
traveller arrived at a place just as the Sabbath commenced, he could
only remove from his beasts of burden such objects as it was lawful to
handle on the Lord's Day. He might also loosen their gear and let them
tumble down of themselves, but stabling them was out of all question.
The Rabbis exercised their ingenuity on what was the smallest weight
that constituted "a burden." This was fixed at "a dried fig," but it was
a moot point whether the law was violated if half a fig were carried
at two different times on the same Sabbath. The standard measure for
forbidden food was the size of an olive. If a man swallowed forbidden
food of the size of half an olive, and vomited it, and then ate another
piece of the same size, he would be guilty because his palate had tasted
food to the prohibited degree.
Throwing up an object, and catching it with the same hand was an
undoubted sin; but it was a nice question whether he was guilty if he
caught it with, the other hand. Rain water might be caught and carried
away, but if the rain had run down from a wall the act was sinful.
Overtaken by the Sabbath with fruit in his hand, stretched out from
one "place" to another, the orthodox Jew would have to drop it, since
shifting his full hand from one locality to another was carrying a
burden.
Nothing could be killed on the Sabbath, not even insects. Speaking
of the Christian monks, Jortin says that "Some of them, out of
mortification, would not catch or kill the vermin which devoured them;
in which they far surpassed the Jews, who only spared them upon the
Sabbath day." This interesting fact is supported by the authority of
a Kabbi, who is quoted in Latin to the effect that cracking a flea and
killing a camel are equally guilty. Dr. Edersheim evidently refers to
the same authority in a footnote. On the whole this regulation against
the killing of vermin must have been very irksome, and if the fleas
were aware of it, they and the Jews must have had a lively time on
the Sabbath. We cannot ascertain whether the prohibition extended to
_scratching_. If it did, curses not loud but deep must have ascended
to the throne of the Eternal; and if, as Jesus says, every idle word is
written down in the great book of heaven, the recording angel must have
had anything but a holiday on the day of rest.
No work was allowed on the Sabbath. Even roasting and baking had to
be stopped directly the holy period began, unless a crust was already
formed, in which case the cooking might be finished. Nothing was to be
sent, even by a heathen, unless it would reach its destination before
the Sabbath. Kabbi Gamaliel was careful to send his linen to the wash
three days before the Sabbath, so as to avoid anything that might lead
to Sabbath labor.
The Sabbath lamp was supposed to have been ordained on Mount Sinai. To
extinguish it was a breach of the Sabbath law, but it might be put out
from fear of Gentiles, robbers, or evil spirits, or in order that
a person dangerously ill might go to sleep. Such concessions were
obviously made by the Rabbis, as a means of accommodating their
religious laws to the absolute necessities of secular life. They
compensated themselves, however, by hinting that twofold guilt was
incurred if, in blowing out one candle, its flame lit another.
According to the Mosaic law, there was to be no fire on the Sabbath.
Food might be kept warm, however, said the Rabbis, by wrapping it in
non-conductors. The sin to be avoided was _increasing_ the heat. Eggs
might not be cooked, even in sand heated by the sun, nor might hot water
be poured on cold. It was unlawful to put a vessel to catch the drops of
oil that might fall from the lamp, but one might be put there to catch
the sparks. Another concession to secular necessity! A father might also
take his child in his arms, even if the child held a stone, although it
was carrying things on the Sabbath; but this privilege was not yielded
without a great deal of discussion.
Care should be taken that no article of apparel was taken off and
carried. Fortunately Palestine is not a land of showers and sudden
changes of temperature, or the Rabbis would have had to discuss the
umbrella and overcoat question. Women were forbidden to wear necklaces,
rings, or pins, on the Sabbath. Nose-rings are mentioned in the
regulations, and the fact throws light on the social condition of the
times. Women were also forbidden to look in the glass on the Sabbath,
lest they should spy a white hair, and perform the sinful labor of
pulling it out. Shoes might not be scraped with a knife, except perhaps
with the back, but they might be touched up with oil or water. If a
sandal tie broke on the Sabbath, the question of what should be done was
so serious and profound that the Rabbis were never able to settle it.
A plaster might be worn to keep a wound from getting worse, but not to
make it better. False teeth were absolutely prohibited, for they might
fall out, and replacing them involved labor. Elderly persons with a full
artificial set must have cut a sorry figure on the Sabbath, plump-faced
Mrs. Isaacs resolving herself periodically into a toothless hag.
Plucking a blade of grass was sinful. Spitting in a handkerchief was
allowed by one Rabbi, but the whole tribe were at loggerheads about
spitting on the ground. Cutting one's hair or nails was a mortal sin.
In case of fire on the Sabbath, the utensils needed on that day might
be saved, and as much clothes as was absolutely necessary. This severe
regulation was modified by a fiction. A man might put on a dress, save
it, go back and put on another, and so on _ad infinitum_. Watering the
cattle might be done by the Gentile, like lighting a lamp, the fiction
being that he did it for himself and not for the Jew.
Assistance might be given to an animal about to have young, or to a
woman in childbirth--which are further concessions to property
and humanity. All might be done on the Sabbath, too, needful for
circumcision. On the other hand, bones might not be set, nor emetics
given, nor any medical or surgical operation performed. Wine, oil, and
bread might be borrowed, however, and one's upper garment left in pledge
for it. No doubt it was found impossible to keep the Jews absolutely
from pawnbroking even on the Sabbath, Another concession was made for
the dead. Their bodies might be laid out, washed, and anointed. Priests
of every creed are obliged to give way on such points, or life would
become intolerable, and their victims would revolt in sheer despair.
Nature knew nothing of the Jewish laws, and hens had the perversity to
lay eggs on the Sabbath. Such eggs were unlawful eating; yet if the hen
had been kept, not for laying but for fattening, the egg might be eaten
as a part of her economy that had accidentally fallen off!
Such were the puerilities of the Sabbath Law among the Jews. The Old
Testament is directly responsible for all of them. It laid down the
basic principle, and the Rabbis simply developed it, with as much
natural logic as a tree grows up from its roots. Our Sabbatarians of
to-day are slaves to the ignorance and follies of the semi-barbarous
inhabitants of ancient Palestine; men who believed that God had
posteriors, and exhibited them; men who kept slaves and harems; men
who were notorious for their superstition, their bigotry, and their
fanaticism; men who believed that the infinite God rested after six
days' work, and ordered all his creatures to regard the day on which he
recruited his strength as holy. Surely it is time to fling aside their
antiquated rubbish, and arrange our periods of rest and recreation
according to the dictates of science and common sense.
The origin of a periodical day of rest from labor is simple and natural.
It has everywhere been placed under the sanction of religion, but it
arose from secular necessity. In the nomadic state, when men had little
to do at ordinary times except watching their flocks and herds, the days
passed in monotonous succession. Life was never laborious, and as human
energies were not taxed there was no need for a period of recuperation,
We may therefore rest assured that no Sabbatarian law was ever given
by Moses to the Jews in the wilderness. Such a law first appears in
a higher stage of civilisation. When nomadic tribes settle down to
agriculture and are welded into nations, chiefly by defensive war
against predatory barbarians; above all, when slavery is introduced and
masses of men are compelled to build and manufacture; the ruling and
propertied classes soon perceive that a day of rest is absolutely
requisite. Without it the laborer wears out too rapidly--like the
horse, the ox, or any other beast of burden. The day is therefore
decreed for economic reasons. It is only placed under the sanction of
religion because, in a certain stage of human development, there is no
other sanction available. Every change in social organisation has then
to be enforced as an edict of the gods. This is carried out by the
priests, who have unquestioned authority over the multitude, and who,
so long as their own privileges and emoluments are secured, are always
ready to guard the interest of the temporal powers.
Such was the origin of the day of rest in Egypt, Assyria, and elsewhere.
But it was lost sight of in the course of time, even by the ruling
classes themselves; and the theological fiction of a divine ordinance
became the universally accepted explanation. This fiction is still
current in Christendom. We are gravely asked to believe that men would
work themselves to death, and civilised nations commit economical
suicide, if they were not taught that a day of rest was commanded by
Jehovah amidst the lightnings and thunders of Sinai. In the same way,
we are asked to believe that theft and murder would be popular pastimes
without the restraints of the supernatural decalogue fabled to have
been received by Moses. As a matter of fact, the law against theft arose
because men object to be robbed, and the law against murder because they
object to be assassinated. Superstition does not invent social laws; it
merely throws around them the glamor of a supernatural authority.
Priests have a manifest interest in maintaining this glamor. Accordingly
we find that Nonconformists as well as Churchmen claim the day of rest
as the Lord's Day--although its very name of Sunday betrays its Pagan
origin. It is not merely a day of rest, they tell us; it is also a day
of devotion. Labor is to be laid aside in order that the people may
worship God. The physical benefit of the institution is not denied; on
the contrary, now that Democracy is decisively triumphing, the people
are assured that Sunday can only be maintained under a religious
sanction. In other words, religion and priests are as indispensable as
ever to the welfare of mankind.
This theological fiction should be peremptorily dismissed. Whatever
service it once rendered has been counterbalanced by its mischiefs. The
rude laborer of former times--the slave or the serf--only wanted rest
from toil. He had no conception of anything higher. But circumstances
have changed. The laborer of to-day aspires to share in the highest
blessings of civilisation. His hours of daily work are shortened. The
rest he requires he can obtain in bed. What he needs on Sunday is not
_rest_, but _change_; true re-creation of his nature; and this is denied
him by the laws that are based upon the very theological fiction which
is pretended to be his most faithful friend.
The working classes at present are simply humbugged by the Churches. The
day of rest is secure enough without lies or fictions. What the masses
want is an opportunity to make use of it. Now this cannot be done if
all rest on the same day. A minority must work on Sunday, and take their
rest on some other day of the week. And really, when the nonsensical
solemnity of Sunday is gone, any other day would be equally eligible.
Parsons work on Sunday; so do their servants, and all who are engaged
about their gospel-shops. Why should it be so hard then for a railway
servant, a museum attendant, an art-gallery curator, or a librarian to
work on Sunday? Let them rest some other day of the week as the parson
does. They would be happy if they could have his "off days" even at the
price of "Sunday labor."
Churches and chapels do not attract so many people as they did. There is
every reason why priestly Protective laws should be broken down. It is a
poor alternative to offer a working man--the church or the public-house;
and they are now trying to shut the public-house and make it church or
nothing. Other people should be consulted as well as mystery-men and
their followers. Let us have freedom. Let the dwellers in crowded city
streets, who work all day in close factories, be taken at cheap rates to
the country or the seaside. Let them see the grand sweep of the sky.
Let them feel the spring of the turf under their feet. Let them look out
over the sea--the highway between continents---and take something of its
power and poetry into their blood and brain. During the winter, or
in summer if they feel inclined, let them visit the institutions of
culture, behold the beautiful works of dead artists, study the relics of
dead generations, feel the links that bind the past to the present, and
imagine the links that will bind the present to the future. Let their
pulses be stirred with noble music. Let the Sunday be their great day
of freedom, culture, and humanity. As "God's Day" it is wasted. We must
rescue it from the priests and make it "Man's Day."