But they did not go to the other extreme_Rashi

Traditional religion was to them the entire truth. They never

dreamed that antagonism might arise between faith and reason.

From a theological point of view-if the modern term may be

employed-Rashi shared the ideas of his time. In knowledge or

character one may raise oneself above one's contemporaries; but

it is rare not to share their beliefs and superstitions. Now, it

must be admitted, the Jews of Northern France did not cherish

religion in all its ideal purity. The effect of their faith,

their piety, upon these simple souls was to make them somewhat

childish, and give their practices a somewhat superstitious

tinge. Thus, Rashi says in the name of his teacher Jacob ben

Yakar, that one should smell spices Saturday evening, because

hell, after having its work interrupted by the Sabbath, begins to

exhale a bad odor again in the evening. This naive faith at

least preserved Rashi from pursuing the paths not always avoided

by his co-religionists of Spain and the Provence, who dabbled in

philosophy. Rashi never was conscious of the need to justify

certain narratives or certain beliefs which shocked some readers

of the Bible. Not until he came upon a passage in the Talmud

which awakened his doubts did he feel called upon to explain why

God created humanity, though He knew it would become corrupt, and

why He asks for information concerning things which cannot escape

His omniscience. But Rashi was not bewildered by certain

anthropomorphic passages in the Bible, the meaning of which so

early a work as the Targum had veiled. Nor was he shocked by the

fact that God let other peoples adore the stars, and that altars

had been consecrated to Him elsewhere than at Jerusalem. Thus his

plain common sense kept him from wandering along by-paths and

losing himself in the subtleties in which the Ibn Ezras and the

Nahmanides were entangled. His common sense rendered him the

same service in the interpretation of many a Talmudic passage

that Saadia and Nissim had thought incapable of explanation

unless wrested from its literal meaning. Since justice requires

the admission, I shall presently dwell upon the points in which

Rashi's lack of philosophic training was injurious to him. Here

it is necessary merely to note wherein it was useful to him. It

was not he, for instance, who held Abraham and Moses to have been

the precursors-no, the disciples-of Aristotle. Ought we to

complain of that?

In discussing the fundamental goodness of Rashi's nature, no

reserves nor qualifications need be made. Historians have vied

with one another in praising his humanity, his kindliness, his

indulgent, charitable spirit, his sweetness, and his benevolence.

He appealed to the spirit of concord, and exhorted the

communities to live in peace with one another. His goodness

appears in the following Responsum to a question, which the

interrogator did not sign: "I recognized the author of the

letter by the writing. He feared to sign his name, because he

suspects me of being hostile to him. But I assure him I am not;

I have quite the contrary feeling for him." A still quainter

characteristic is illustrated by the following decision which he

rendered: "If, during the prayer after a meal, one interrupts

oneself to feed an animal, one does not commit a reprehensible

act, for one should feed one's beasts before taking nourishment,

as it is written: 'And I will send grass in thy fields for thy

cattle, that thou mayest eat and be full.'" But the quality Rashi

possessed in the highest degree was simplicity, modesty, one may

almost say, humility; and what contributed not a little to the

even tenor of his existence was his capacity for self-effacement.

Such was his nature even when a youth in the academies of

Lorraine. He himself tells how once, when he was in the house of

his teacher, he noticed that a ritual prescription was being

violated in dressing the meat of a sheep. His teacher, occupied

with other matters, did not notice the infringement of the law,

and the pupil was in a quandary. To keep quiet was to cover up

the wrong and make it irreparable; to speak and pronounce a

decision before his master was to be lacking in respect for him.

So, to escape from the embarrassing situation, Rashi put a

question to his master bearing upon the dressing of the meat.

Toward all his teachers Rashi professed the greatest respect. On

a certain question they held wrong opinions, and Rashi wrote: "I

am sure they did not cause irremediable harm, but they will do

well in the future to abstain from such action." This shows at

the same time that Rashi did not hesitate to be independent, did

not blindly accept all their teachings. When he believed an

opinion wrong, he combated it; when he believed an opinion right,

he upheld it, even against his masters. On one occasion, Isaac

ha-Levi delivered a sentence which to his pupil seemed too

strict. "I plied him with questions," says Rashi, "to which he

would not pay attention, although he could not give any proof in

support of his opinion." To the pupils of Isaac, he wrote: "I do

not pretend to abolish the usages that you follow, but as soon

as I can be with you, I shall ask you to come over to my opinion.

I do not wish to discuss the stricter practices adopted in the

school of Jacob ben Yakar (Isaac's predecessor), until I shall

have established that my idea is the correct one. He will then

acknowledge that I am right, as he did once before."

This is the circumstance referred to. While still a pupil of

Isaac ha-Levi, Rashi had accepted a decision of his without

having thoroughly studied it. Later he became convinced that his

teacher was mistaken, but he bore it in mind until he went to

Worms and persuaded his teacher to his own belief.

Rashi displayed the same reserve in the exercise of his

rabbinical functions, especially when the community appealing to

him was not that of Troyes. That of Chalons-sur-Saone once

consulted him concerning an interdiction imposed by R. Gershom,

and asked him to repeal it; but Rashi modestly declined to give

an opinion.[29]

Rashi's modesty is also illustrated by the tone of his

correspondence. Deferential or indulgent, he never adopted a

superior manner, was never positive or dogmatic. When his

correspondents were wrong, he sought to justify their mistakes;

when he combated the explanation of another, he never used a

cutting expression, or a spiteful allusion, as Ibn Ezra did, and

so many others.

Finally, it seems, he did not hesitate to recognize his own

mistakes, even when a pupil pointed them out to him, and it is

possible to select from his commentaries a number of avowals of

error. In his Responsa he wrote: "The same question has already

been put to me, and I gave a faulty answer. But now I am

convinced of my mistake, and I am prepared to give a decision

better based on reason. I am grateful to you for having drawn my

attention to the question; thanks to you, I now see the truth."

This question concerned a point in Talmudic law; but he was

willing to make a similar admission in regard to the explanation

of a Biblical verse. "In commenting on Ezekiel I made a mistake

in the explanation of this passage, and as, at the end of the

chapter, I gave the true sense, I contradicted myself. But in

taking up the question again with my friend Shemaiah,[30] I

hastened to correct this mistake."

An old scholar named R. Dorbal, or Durbal, addressed a question

to Rashi, and Rashi in his reply expressed his astonishment that

an old man should consult so young a man as he. Assuredly, said

Rashi, it was because he wanted to give a proof of his

benevolence and take the occasion for congratulating Rashi on his

response, if it were correct.

It would take too long to enumerate all the passages in which

Rashi avows his ignorance, and declares he cannot give a

satisfactory explanation.

We have seen that Rashi did not hesitate to acknowledge that he

owed certain information to his friends and pupils, and that his

debates with them had sometimes led him to change his opinion.

The confession he made one day to his grandson Samuel about the

inadequacy of his Biblical Commentary[31] has become celebrated,

and justly so. There is something touching in the way he listened

to the opinions of his grandson, and accepted them because

they appeared correct to him-the man who loved truth and science

above everything else. Like many noble spirits, he considered

his work imperfect, and would have liked to do it all over again.

This modesty and this realization of the truth are the ruling

qualities of his nature.

The ideal Jew combines virtue with knowledge, and tradition

ascribes to Rashi universal knowledge. In the first place he was

a polyglot. Popular admiration of him, based upon the myth

concerning his travels and upon a superficial reading of this

works, assigned to him the old miracle of the Apostles. The

languages he was supposed to know were Latin, Greek, Arabic, and

Persian. He was also said to be acquainted with astronomy, and

even with the Kabbalah, of which, according to the Kabbalists, he

was an ardent adept. After his death, they say, he appeared to

his grandson Samuel to teach him the true pronunciation of the

Ineffable Name. Medical knowledge was also attributed to Rashi,

and a medical work ascribed to his authorship. One scholar went

so far as to call him a calligrapher.[32] From his infancy, it

was declared, he astonished the world by his learning and by his

memory; and when, toward the end of his life, he went to Barcelona,

he awakened every one's admiration by his varied yet profound

knowledge.

These errors, invented, or merely repeated, but, at all events,

given credence by the Jewish chroniclers and the Christian

bibliographers, cannot hold out against the assaults of

criticism. To give only one example of Rashi's geographical

knowledge, it will suffice to recall how he represented the

configuration of Palestine and Babylonia, or rather how he tried

to guess it from the texts.[33] His ignorance of geography is

apparent in his commentaries, which contain a rather large number

of mistakes. In addition, Rashi was not always familiar with

natural products, or with the creations of art, or with the

customs and usages of distant countries. Still less was a rabbi

of the eleventh century likely to have an idea of what even

Maimonides was unacquainted with, the local color and the spirit

of dead civilizations. Rashi-to exemplify this ignoranceexplained

Biblical expressions by customs obtaining in his own day: "to

put into possession," the Hebrew of which is "to fill the hand,"

he thinks he explains by comparing it with a feudal ceremony and

discovering in it something analagous [analogous sic] to the act

of putting on gauntlets. In general, the authors of Rashi's

time, paying little regard to historic setting, explained

ancient texts by popular legends, or by Christian or feudal

customs. Therefore, one need not scruple to point out this

defect in Rashi's knowledge. Like his compatriots he did not

know the profane branches of learning. He was subject to the

same limitations as nearly the entire body of clergy of his day.

While the Arabs so eagerly and successfully cultivated

philosophy, medicine, astronomy, and physics, Christian Europe

was practically ignorant of these sciences. Finally, one will

judge still less severely of Rashi's knowledge-or lack of

knowledge-if one remembers what science was in the Christian

world of the middle ages-it was childish, tinged with

superstition, extravagantly absurd, and fantastically naive.

Rashi believed that the Nile flooded its banks once every forty

years; but Joinville, who lived two centuries later, and who was

in Egypt, tells even more astonishing things than this about the

marvellous [marvelous sic] river, which has its source in the

terrestrial Paradise.

Besides French, the only profane language Rashi knew was German.

The explanations he gives according to the Greek, the Arabic, and

the Persian, he obtains from secondary sources. Indeed, they are

sometimes faulty, and they reveal the ignorance of the man who

reproduced without comprehending them. No great interest

attaches to the mention of his chronological mistakes and his

confusion of historical facts. His astronomic knowledge is very

slight, and resolves itself into what he borrowed from the

Italian Sabbatai Donnolo, of Oria (about 950).

But limited as his knowledge was to Biblical, Talmudic, and

Rabbinical literature, it was for that reason all the greater in

the province he had explored in its inmost recesses. This is

shown by his numerous citations, the sureness of his touch, and

his mastery of all the subjects of which he treats.

Thanks to the citations, we can definitely ascertain what we

might call his library.

Needless to say, the first place was held by the Bible, which, as

will be seen, he knew perfectly. He wrote commentaries upon the

Bible almost in its entirety, besides frequently referring to it

in his Talmudic commentaries. His favorite guide for the

explanation of the Pentateuch is the Aramaic version by Onkelos.

For the Prophets he used the Targum of Jonathan ben Uzziel.[34]

He was entirely ignorant of the Apocryphal books. The Wisdom of

Ben Sira, for instance, like the Megillat Taanit, or Roll

of Fasts,[35] were known to him only through the citations of the

Talmud.

On the other hand Rashi was thoroughly conversant with the whole

field of Talmudic literature-first of all the treatises on

religious jurisprudence, the Mishnah,[36]

Tosefta,[37] the Babylonian and, in part, the Palestinian

Gemara;[36] then, the Halakic Midrashim, such as the

Mekilta, the Sifra, the Sifre,[38] and

Haggadic compilations, such as the Rabbot,[39] the Midrash

on the Song of Songs, on Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, the Psalms,

and Samuel, the Pesikta,[40] the Tanhuma,[41] and

the Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer.[42]

According to tradition, Rashi has set the Talmudic period as the

date of composition of two works which modern criticism has

placed in the period of the Geonim. These works are the historic

chronicle Seder Olam[43] and the gnostic or mystic treatise

on the Creation, the Sefer Yezirah; the forerunner of

the Kabbalah. Besides these anonymous works, Rashi knew the

Responsa of the Geonim, which he frequently cites, notably those

of Sherira[44] and his son Hai,[45] the Sheeltot of R.

Aha,[46] and the Halakot Gedolot, attributed by the French

school to Yehudai Gaon.[47] In the same period must be placed two

other writers concerning whom we are not wholly enlightened,

Eleazar ha-Kalir and the author of the Jewish chronicle entitled

Yosippon. Eleazar, who lived in the eighth or ninth

century, was one of the first liturgical poets both as to time

and as to merit. The author of the Yosippon undoubtedly

lived in Italy in the tenth century. Rashi, like all his

contemporaries, confounded the two respectively with the Tanna R.

Eleazar and the celebrated Josephus. They were considered

authorities by all the rabbis of the middle ages, the first for

his language and his Midrashic traditions, the second for his

historical knowledge.[48]

So far as the literature contemporary, or nearly contemporary,

with Rashi is concerned, it must be stated that Rashi had read

all the works written in Hebrew, while the whole of Arabic

literature was inaccessible to him. Without doubt he knew the

grammarian Judah Ibn Koreish[49] only by the citations from him.

On the other hand he made much use of the works of the two

Spanish grammarians, Menahem ben Saruk and Dunash ben

Labrat,[50] likewise the works of Moses haDarshan, of Narbonne.

Naturally, he was still better versed in all the rabbinical

literature of Northern France and of Germany. He frequently cites

R. Gershom, whom he once called "Father and Light of the

Captivity," as well as his contemporaries Joseph Tob Elem,

Eliezer the Great, and Meshullam ben Kalonymos, of Mayence. I

have already mentioned-and will repeat further on how much he

owed his teachers.

For the sake of completeness, it is necessary to add to this list

all the contemporaries from whom Rashi learned either directly or

indirectly. For information concerning the Talmud, Isaac ben

Menahem the Great, of Orleans, may be mentioned among these; and

for information concerning the Bible, Menahem ben Helbo, whom

Rashi probably cited through the medium of one of his pupils or

his writings, for he himself was not known to Rashi, his younger

contemporary.

If one also takes into consideration the less important and the

anonymous persons whose books or oral teachings Rashi cited, one

will be convinced that he had what is called a well-stocked

brain, and that his knowledge in his special domain was as vast

as it was profound, since it embraced the entire field of

knowledge which the Jews of Northern France of that time could

possibly cultivate. His learning was not universal; far from it;

but he was master of all the knowledge his countrymen possessed.

Thanks to this erudition, he could fill, at least in part, the

gaps in his scientific education. In fact, an understanding of

Talmudic law presupposes a certain amount of information-geometry

and botany for questions concerning land, astronomy for the

fixation of the calendar, zoology for dietary laws, and so on.

Rashi's knowledge, then, was less frequently defective than one

is led to suppose, although sometimes he lagged behind the Talmud

itself. It has been noted that of 127 or 128 French glosses

bearing upon the names of plants, 62 are absolutely correct. In

history Rashi preserved some traditions which we can no longer

verify, but which seem to be derived from sources worthy of

confidence; and if it had not been for Rashi, we would not have

become acquainted with them.

What he knew, therefore, he knew chiefly through reading and

through the instruction of his teachers, to whom he often

appealed; for he possessed that most precious quality in a

scholar, conscience, scientific probity. One example will

suffice to give an idea of his method. Once, when he was

searching for a text in his copy of the Talmud, he found it

corrected. But he did not remember if he himself or his teacher

had made the correction. So he consulted a manuscript in which

he had noted down the variants of his teacher Isaac of Mayence.

Not being able to determine from this, he begged his

correspondent to look up the manuscript of Isaac and to let him

know the reading.

This characteristic leads us back to a consideration of Rashi's

nature, upon which one likes to dwell, because it makes him a

sage in the most beautiful and the largest meaning of the word,

because it makes him one of the most sympathetic personalities in

all Jewish history. If Rashi had left nothing but the remembrance

of an exemplary life and of spotless virtue, his name would have

merited immortality.

But Rashi bequeathed more than this to posterity; he left one,

nay, two monuments to awaken admiration and call forth gratitude.

They assure him fame based on a solid foundation. What matter if

we Jews fail to honor our great men with statues of marble and

bronze, if they themselves establish their glory on pedestals

that defy the ravages of time? Statues raised by the hand of man

are perishable as man himself; the works constructed by a genius

are immortal as the genius himself.

BOOK II

THE WORK OF RASHI

CHAPTER V

THE COMMENTARIES-GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS

Rashi stands before us a teacher distinguished and original, a

religious leader full of tact and delicate feeling, a scholar

clear-headed and at the same time loving-hearted. In which

capacity, as teacher, religious leader, scholar, does he evoke

our deepest admiration? Shall we accord it to the one who made a

home for Talmudic studies on the banks of the Seine, and so gave

a definite impetus to French Jewish civilization? Or shall we

accord it to the one who for nearly forty years presided over the

spiritual destinies of an active and studious population and

fulfilled the duties of a rabbi; with all the more devotion,

without doubt, because he did not have the title of rabbi? Or

should we not rather pay our highest tribute to Rashi the man, so

upright and modest, so simple and amiable, who has won for

himself the veneration of posterity as much by the qualities of

his heart as by those of his intellect, as much by his goodness

and kindliness as by the subtlety and acumen of his mind, in a

word, as much by his character as by his knowledge? Nevertheless

his knowledge was extraordinary and productive of great works,

which we shall consider in the following chapters.

As spiritual chief of the French Jews, it was natural that Rashi

should occupy himself with the source of their intellectual and

religious activity, with the Bible. But in his capacity of

Talmudist and teacher, it was equally natural that he should

devote himself to the explanation of the Talmud, which formed the

basis of instruction in the schools, besides serving to regulate

the acts of everyday life and the practices of religion. And as

a rabbinical authority he was called upon to resolve the problems

that arose out of individual difficulties or out of communal

questions. We need no other guide than this to lead us to an

understanding of his works. But not to omit anything essential,

it would be well to mention some collections which were the

result of his instruction, and some liturgical poems attributed

to him.

* * * * *

Rashi owes his great reputation to his commentaries on the two

great works that comprehend Jewish life in its entirety, and lie

at the very root of the intellectual development of Judaism, the

Bible and the Talmud. His commentaries involving an enormous

amount of labor are all but complete; they fail to cover only a

few books of the Bible and a few treatises of the Talmud. The

conjecture has been made that at first he set himself to

commenting on the Talmud, and then on the Bible, because at the

end of his life he expressed the wish that he might begin the

Biblical commentary all over again. But this hypothesis is not

justified. The unfinished state of both commentaries, especially

the one on the Talmud, shows that he worked on them at the same

time. But they were not written without interruption, not "in one

spurt," as the college athlete might say. Rashi worked at them

intermittently, going back to them again and again. It is certain

that so far as the Talmudic treatises are concerned, he did not

exert himself to follow the order in which they occur. He may

have taken them up when he explained them in his school. But in

commenting on the Bible, it seems, he adhered to the sequence of

the books, for it was on the later books that he did not have the

time to write commentaries. Moreover, he sometimes went back to

his commentary on a Biblical book or a Talmudic treatise, not

because he worked to order, like Ibn Ezra, and as circumstances

dictated, but because he was not satisfied with his former

attempt, and because, in the course of his study, the same

subject came up for his consideration. Though the commentaries,

then, were not the result of long, steady application, they

demanded long-continued efforts, and they were, one may say, the

business of his whole life. The rabbi Isaac of Vienna, who

possessed an autograph commentary of Rashi, speaks of the

numerous erasures and various marks with which it was

embroidered.

The commentaries of Rashi, which do not bear special titles, are

not an uninterrupted exposition of the entire work under

consideration, and could not be read from cover to cover without

recourse to the text explained; they are rather detached glosses,

postils, to borrow an expression from ecclesiastical literature,

upon terms or phrases presenting some difficulties. They are

always preceded by the word or words to be explained.

It is evident, then, that Rashi's works do not bear witness to

great originality, or, better, to great creative force. Rashi

lacks elevation in his point of view, breadth of outlook, and

largeness of conception. He possessed neither literary taste nor

esthetic sense. He was satisfied to throw light upon an

obscurity, to fill up a lacuna, to justify an apparent

imperfection, to explain a peculiarity of style, or to reconcile

contradictions. He never tried to call attention to the beauties

of the text or to give a higher idea of the original; he never

succeeded in bringing into relief the humanity of a law, or the

universal bearing of an event.

Rashi failed also to regard a thing in its entirety. He did not

write prefaces to his works setting forth the contents of the

book and the method to be pursued.[51] In the body of the

commentaries, he hardly ever dwells on a subject at length, but

contents himself with a brief explanation. In short, his horizon

was limited and he lacked perspective. It is to be regretted that

he did not know the philosophic works of Saadia, who would have

opened up new worlds to him, and would have enlarged the circle

of his ideas. If he had read only the Biblical commentaries of

the great Gaon, he would have learned from him how to grasp a

text in its entirety and give a general idea of a work.

Even if he had limited himself to the Talmud, Rashi, without

doubt, would have been incapable of raising a vast and harmonious

edifice, like the Mishneh Torah of Maimonides. He did not

possess the art of developing the various sides of a subject so

as to produce a well-ordered whole. He lacked not only literary

ambition, but also that genius for organizing and systematizing

which classifies and co-ordinates all the laws. Though

methodical, he lacked the power to generalize.

This defect, common to his contemporaries, arose, possibly, from

a certain timidity. He believed that he ought to efface himself

behind his text, and not let his own idea take the place of the

author's, especially when the text was a religious law and the

author the Divine legislator. But it seems that his power of

creative thought was not strong, and could exercise itself only

upon the more original works of others. We find analogous

features in scholastic literature, which developed wholly in the

shadow of the Scriptures, the Fathers of the Church, and

Aristotle.

This narrow criticism, this eye for detail, this lack of general

ideas and of guiding principles at least guarded Rashi against a

danger more original spirits failed to escape, namely, of reading

preconceived notions into the text, of interpreting it by an

individual method, and, thus, of gathering more meaning, or

another meaning, than was intended by the author. Unlike the

Jewish and Christian theologians, Rashi felt no need to do

violence to the text in order to reconcile it with his scientific

and philosophic beliefs.

Though Rashi, as I said, had not a creative intellect, he yet had

all the qualities of a commentator. First of all, he possessed

clearness, the chief requisite for a commentary, which undertakes

to explain a work unintelligible to its readers. "To write like

Rashi" has become a proverbial expression for "to write clearly

and intelligibly." Rashi always or nearly always uses the

expression one expects. He finds the explanation that obtrudes

itself because it is simple and easy; he excels in unravelling

[unraveling sic] difficulties and illuminating obscurities. To

facilitate comprehension by the reader Rashi resorted to the use

of pictures and diagrams, some of which still appear in his

Talmudic commentary, though a number have been suppressed by the

editors. Once, when asked for the explanation of a difficult

passage in Ezekiel, he replied that he had nothing to add to what

he had said in his commentary, but he would send a diagram which

would render the text more intelligible. It is remarkable with

what ease, even without the aid of illustrations, he unravelled

[unraveled sic] the chapters of Ezekiel in which the Prophet

describes the Temple of his fancy; or the equally complicated

chapters of Exodus which set forth the plan of the Tabernacle.

Essentially this power of exposition is the attribute of

intelligent insight. Rashi's was the clearest, the most

transparent mind-no clouds nor shadows, no ambiguities, no

evasions. He leaves nothing to be taken for granted, he makes no

mental reservations. He is clearness and transparency itself.

But Rashi's language is not merely clear; it is extremely

precise. It says with accuracy exactly what it sets out to say.

Rashi did not hesitate sometimes to coin new words for the sake

of conveying his thought. He always heeded the connotation of a

word, and took the context into account. Once, in citing a

Talmudic explanation of a verse in Jeremiah, he rejected it,

because it did not square with the development of the thought;

and often he would not accept an interpretation, because a word

in the text was given a meaning which it did not have in any

other passage. He grasped, and rendered in turn with perfect

accuracy, shades of meaning and subtleties of language; and the

fine expression of relations difficult to solve surprises and

charms the reader by its precision.

Commentators in the effort to be clear are often wordy, and those

who aim at brevity often lack perspicuity. The latter applies to

Abraham Ibn Ezra, who might have said with the poet, "I avoid

long-windedness, and I become obscure." Samuel ben Meir, on the

other hand, grandson and pupil of Rashi, is, at least in his

Talmudic commentaries, so long-winded and prolix that at first

glance one can detect the additions made by him to the

commentaries of his grandfather. It is related, that once, when

Rashi was ill, Samuel finished the commentary Rashi had begun,

and when Rashi got well he weighed the leaves on which his pupil

had written and said: "If thou hadst commented on the whole

Talmud after this fashion, thy commentary would have been as

heavy as a chariot." The story, which attributes somewhat

uncharitable words to Rashi, yet contains an element of truth,

and emphasizes the eminent quality of his own commentaries.

He rarely goes into very long explanations. Often he solves a

difficulty by one word, by shooting one flash of light into the

darkness. The scholar and bibliographer Azulai scarcely

exaggerated when he said that Rashi could express in one letter

that for which others needed whole pages. A close study of the

Talmudic commentaries shows that he replied in advance and very

briefly to the questions of many a Talmudist.

It is only in considering the difficult passages that he goes to

greater length to note and discuss explanation previously

propounded. Take for example what he says on the words '<H>al

mut Laben</H>', the superscription of Psalm ix, which are a

crux interpretum. At the same time the reader will observe

how ancient are certain interpretations of modern exegetes.

Rashi begins by refuting those who allege that David wrote this

Psalm on the death of his son Absalom; for in that case

<H>Haben</H> and not <H>Laben<\H> would have been necessary, and

nothing in the text bears out this explanation. Others

transposed the letters of <H>Laben</H> to read <H>Nabal,</H> but

there is no reference to Nabal in this Psalm. Others again, like

the Great Massorah, make a single word of <H>almut<\H>. Menahem

and Dunash,[52] each proposes an explanation which seems to be

incorrect. The Pesikta, in view of verse 6, thinks the

Psalm refers to Amalek and Esau; and this, too, is not

satisfying. Finally, Rashi gives his own explanation, scarcely

better than the others,- that the Psalm deals with the

rejuvenation and purity of Israel when it will have been redeemed

from the Roman captivity.

When difficult questions are propounded by the Talmud, or arise

out of a consideration of the Talmud, Rashi cites previous

explanations or parallel texts. But this is exceptional. As a

rule he finds with marvellous [marvelous sic] nicety and without

circumlocution the exact word, the fitting expression, the necessary

turn. One or two words suffice for him to sum up an observation,

to anticipate a question, to forestall an unexpressed

objection, to refute a false interpretation, or to throw light

upon the true meaning of word or phrase. This is expressed in the

saying, "In Rashi's time a drop of ink was worth a piece of

gold." It was not without justification - though, perhaps, the

practice was carried to excess - that for centuries commentaries

were written upon these suggestive words of his under the title

Dikduke Rashi, the "Niceties of Rashi." Even at the

present day his commentaries are minutely studied for the purpose

of finding a meaning for each word. In fact, because of this

concise, lapidary style, his commentaries called into existence

other commentaries, which set out to interpret his ideas, - and

frequently found ideas that did not belong there. Though the

authors of these super - commentaries were Rashi's admirers, they

were scarcely his imitators.

In this regard it is of interest to compare the commentary of

Rashi upon the beginning of the treatise Baba Batra with

that of Samuel ben Meir upon the end of the treatise, which Rashi

did not succeed in reaching. An even more striking comparison may

be made with the commentary of Nissim Gerundi upon the abridgment

of the Talmud by Alfasi, which is printed opposite to that of

Rashi.[53] Rashi's style is unmistakable, and prolixness in a

commentary attributed to him is proof against the alleged paternity.

By virtue of these qualities, possessed by Rashi in so high a

degree, he is true to the traditions of French literature, which

is distinguished for simplicity and clearness among all

literatures. Besides, he compares with the French writers of the

middle ages in his disregard of "style." It is true, he handles

with ease Hebrew and Aramaic, or, rather, the rabbinical idiom,

which is a mixture of the two. But he is not a writer in the true

sense of the word. His language is simple and somewhat careless,

and his writing lacks all traces of esthetic quality.

* * * * *

Since the Bible and the Talmud made appeal to readers of another

time and another language than those in which they were written,

Rashi's first duty was to explain them, then, if necessary,

translate them, now to add clearness to the explanation, now to

do away with it wholly. These translations, sometimes bearing

upon entire passages, more often upon single words, were called

glosses, Hebrew laazim (better, leazim), the plural

of laaz. They were French words transcribed into Hebrew

characters, and they formed an integral part of the text. Rashi

had recourse to them in his teaching when the precise Hebrew

expression was lacking, or when he explained difficult terms,

especially technical terms of arts and crafts. The use of a

French word saved him a long circumlocution. Sometimes, the laaz

followed a definition or description, in a striking manner giving

the meaning of the word or expression.

In employing these French laazim, Rashi introduced no innovation.

His predecessors, especially his masters, had already made use of

them, perhaps in imitation of the Christian commentators, who

likewise inserted words of the vernacular in their Latin

explanations. The Latin - speaking clergy were often forced to

employ the common speech for instructing the people; and in the

eleventh century beginnings were made in the translation of the

Old and New Testament by the rendition of important passages.

But while it perturbed the Church to see the Scriptures spread

too freely before the gaze of the layman, the rabbis never feared

that the ordinary Jew might know his Bible too well, and they

availed themselves of the laazim without scruple. The frequent

occurrence of the laazim is one of a number of proofs that French

was the current speech of the Jews of France. Hebrew, like Latin

among the Christian clergy, was merely the language of literature

and of the liturgy. It is noteworthy that the treatises

containing most laazim bear upon questions affecting the common

acts of daily life - upon the observance of the Sabbath (treatise

Shabbat), upon the dietary laws, (Hullin), and upon

laws concerning the relations of Jews with non-Jews (Abodah

Zarah). Rashi extended the use of the laazim, developing this

mode of explanation; and the commentaries of his disciples, who

continued his method, are strewn with French words, which were

then inserted in the Hebrew - French glossaries. Several of

these glossaries are about to be published. After Rashi's

commentaries became a classic wherever there were Jews, the

laazim were often translated into a foreign language, as into

German or Italian. The Pseudo - Rashi on Alfasi,[54] following

the manuscripts, sometimes presents a German translation now

with, now without the French word.

Rashi's Biblical and Talmudic commentaries contain 3157 laazim,

of which 967 occur in the Biblical commentaries and 2190 in the

Talmudic, forming in the two commentaries together a vocabulary

of about two thousand different words. In the Biblical

commentaries, concerned, as a rule, not so much with the

explanation of the meaning of a word as with its grammatical

form, the laazim reproduce the person, tense, or gender of the

Hebrew word; in the Talmudic commentaries, where the difficulty

resides in the very sense of the word, the laazim give a

translation without regard to grammatical form.

At the present time these laazim are of interest to us, not only

as the expression of Rashi's ideas, but also as vehicles of

information concerning the old French. As early an investigator

as Zunz remarked that if one could restore them to their original

form, they would serve as a lexicon of the French language at the

time of the Crusades. But even Zunz did not realize the full

value to be extracted from them. The rare specimens that we

possess of the langue d'oil[55] of the eleventh century

belong to the Norman dialect and to the language of poetry.

Written, as they were, in Champagne, the laazim of Rashi

represent almost the pure French (the language spoken in

Champagne lay between the dialect of the Ile-de-France and that

of Lorraine [56]), and, what is more, they were words in common

use among the people, for they generally designated objects of

daily use. These laazim, then, constitute a document of the

highest importance for the reconstruction of old French, as much

from a phonetic and morphologic point of view, as from the point

of view of lexicography; for the Hebrew transcription fixes to a

nicety the pronunciation of the word because of the richness of

the Hebrew in vowels and because of the strict observance of the

rules of transcription. Moreover, in the matter of lexicography

the laazim offer useful material for the history of certain

words, and bring to our knowledge popular words not to be found

in literary and official texts. In the case of many of these

terms, their appearance in Rashi is the earliest known; otherwise

they occur only at a later date. And it is not difficult to put

the laazim back into French, because of the well-defined system

of transcription employed. Even the laws of declension (or what

remained of declension in the old French) are observed.

Unfortunately, the great use made of Rashi's commentaries

necessitated a large number of copies, and frequent copying

produced many mistakes. Naturally, it was the laazim that

suffered most from the ignorance and carelessness of the copyists

and printers, especially in the countries in which French was not

the current language. Efforts have been made within the last two

centuries to restore the laazim. Mendelssohn and his associates

applied themselves to the commentary on the Pentateuch, Lowe, to

the Psalms, Neumann, to the Minor Prophets, Jeitteles and Laudau,

to the whole of the Bible, and the Bondi brothers, Dormitzer,

and, above all, Landau, to the Talmudic commentaries. But these

authors, not having consulted the manuscripts and knowing the

French language of the middle ages only imperfectly, arrived at

insufficient results. Even the identifications of Berliner in

his critical edition of the commentary on the Pentateuch are not

always exact and are rarely scientific.

Arsene Darmesteter (1846-1888), one of the elect of French

Judaism and a remarkable scholar in the philology of the Romance

languages, realized that in the commentaries of Rashi "the

science of philology possesses important material upon which to

draw for the history of the language in an early stage of its

developinent." With the aim of utilizing this material, he

visited the libraries of England and Italy, and gathered much

that was important; but his numerous occupations and his

premature death prevented him from finishing and publishing his

work. In the interests of French philology as well as for a

complete understanding of the text of Rashi, it would be

advantageous to publish the notes that he collected. In fact,

such a work will appear, but unfortunately not in the proportions

Darmesteter would have given it. Nevertheless, it will be found

to contain information and unique information, upon the history,

the phonetics, and the orthography of medieval French; for the

first literary works, which go as far back as the eleventh

century, the life of Saint Alexius and the epic of Roland, have

not come down to us in the form in which they were written. "What

would the trouveres of Roland and the clerics of Saint Alexius

have said if they had been told that one day the speech of their

warrior songs and their pious homilies would need the aid of the

Ghetto to reach the full light of day, and the living sound of

their words would fall upon the ears of posterity through the

accursed jargon of an outlawed race?"[57]

In this chapter I have made some general observations upon the

composition and the method of the Biblical and Talmudic

Commentaries of Rashi. Concerning their common characteristics

there is little to add, except to remark that the explanations

are generally simple, natural, and unforced. This is especially

true of the Talmudic commentaries. Rashi in large part owes the

foundations upon which his works are built to his predecessors,

and no higher praise could be accorded him than to say that he

knew the great mass of traditions and the explanations made

before him.

However, Rashi rather frequently gave his own personal

explanation, either because he did not know another, or because

those propounded before him did not seem adequate or satisfying.

In the latter case, he usually put down the rejected explanation

before setting forth his own. Yet there are cases in which

intelligence and imagination fail to supply knowledge of some

special circumstance; and such lack of knowledge led Rashi into

many errors. On the whole, however, the commentaries contain

invaluable information, and are of the very highest importance

for Jewish history and literature, because of the citations in

them of certain lost works, or because of hints of certain facts

which otherwise would be unknown. Modern historians justly

recognize in Rashi one of the most authoritative representatives

of rabbinical tradition, and it is rare for them to consult him

without profit to themselves.

CHAPTER VI

THE BIBLICAL COMMENTARIES

"Thanks to Rashi the Torah has been renewed. The word of the Lord

in his mouth was truth. His way was perfect and always the same.

By his commentary he exalted the Torah and fortified it. All wise

men and all scholars recognize him as master, and acknowledge

that there is no commentary comparable with his." This

enthusiastic verdict of Eliezer ben Nathan[58] has been ratified

by the following generations, which, by a clever play upon words,

accorded him the title of Parshandata, Interpreter of the

Law.[59] And, verily, during his life Rashi had been an

interpreter of the Law, when he explained the Scriptures to his

disciples and to his other co-religionists; and he prolonged this

beneficent activity in his commentaries, in which one seems to

feel his passionate love of the law of God and his lively desire

to render the understanding of it easy to his people. Yet it is

true that all scholars did not share in the general admiration of

Rashi, and discordant notes may be heard in the symphony of

enthusiasm.

Of what avail these eulogies and what signify these reservations?

If one reflects that the Bible is at the same time the most

important and the most obscure of the books that antiquity has

bequeathed to us, it seems natural that it should soon have been

translated and commented upon. The official Aramaic translation,

or Targum, of the Pentateuch is attributed to Onkelos and that of

the Prophets[60] to Jonathan ben Uzziel. Rashi constantly draws

inspiration from both these works, and possibly also from the

Targumim to the Hagiographa, which are much more recent than the

other two Targumim. Sometimes he simply refers to them,

sometimes he reproduces them, less frequently he remarks that

they do not agree with the text.

For the establishment of the text Rashi scrupulously follows the

Massorah, the "Scriptural Statistics," the work of scholars who

lived in the period between the seventh and the tenth century,

and who assured the integrity of the Bible by counting the number

of verses in each book and the number of times each word, phrase,

or expression recurs. The Massorah soon came to have great

authority; and many scholars, such as R. Gershom, for example,

copied it with their own hands in order to have a correct and

carefully made text of the Bible. The Massorah was Rashi's

constant guide. From a calculation made, of the number of times

he transgressed its rules, the infractions do not appear to be

numerous, and sometimes they seem to have been involuntary. As a

consequence, variants from the text of the Bible are extremely

rare in Rashi, and the copyists eliminated them entirely. In

general at his time the text was definitely established to the

minutest details, and variants, if there were any, were due to

blunders of the copyists. Rashi, who probably carefully compared

manuscripts, once remarked upon such faulty readings.

It is to the Massoretes that some attribute the accents which

serve to mark at once the punctuation and the accentuation of the

Biblical text. Rashi naturally conformed to this system of

accentuation, and if he departed from it, it seems he frequently

did so inadvertently.

* * * * *

But the two great sources upon which Rashi drew for his exegesis

were the Talmudic and the Midrashic literature, with their two

methods of interpreting the Scriptures. As a knowledge of these

two methods is indispensable to an understanding of Rashi's

exegesis, I will give some pages from the work of a recent French

exegete, L. Wogue, who presents an excellent characterization of

them in his Histoire de la Bible et de l'exegese biblique:

Whatever diversities may exist in the point of view adopted by

the investigators of the Bible, in the aims they pursued, and

in the methods they employed, the methods are necessarily to

be summed up in the two terms, peshat and

derash. This is a fact which scarcely requires

demonstration. There are only two ways of understanding or

explaining any text whatsoever, either according to the

natural acceptation of its meaning, or contrary to this

acceptation. At first glance it seems as though the former

were the only reasonable and legitimate method, and as though

the second lacked either sincerity or common sense, and had no

right to the title of method. Yet we shall see how it came

about, and how it was bound to come about, that the Derash not

only arose in the Synagogue, but assumed preponderating

importance there.

From very ancient times the Pentateuch and certain chapters of

the Prophets were read or translated in the synagogue every

Saturday. Accordingly, the interpretation of the Law could not

be slavishly literal.

Destined for the edification of the ignorant masses inclined

to superstition, it perforce permitted itself some freedom in

order to avoid annoying misconceptions. Sometimes the literal

rendition might suggest gross errors concerning the Divine

Being, sometimes it might appear to be in conflict with

practices consecrated by the oral law or by an old tradition,

and sometimes, finally, it might in itself be grotesque and

unintelligible. Hence a double tendency in exegesis, each

tendency asserting itself in the synagogue at different epochs

and with varying force.... Two sorts of Midrash are to be

distinguished; if the question concerns jurisprudence or

religious practice, it is called Midrash Halakah, Halakic or

legal exegesis; if the subject bears upon dogmas, promises,

the consolations of religion, moral truths, or the acts of

daily life, the Midrash is called Midrash Haggadah, the

Haggadic or ethical exegesis. The first is intended to

regulate the form and the external exercise of religion; the

second, to sanctify and perfect man's inward being. Each

brings to the examination of the text a preconceived notion, as

it were; and it reconciles text and preconceived notion

sometimes by traditional, sometimes by arbitrary, methods,

often more ingenious than rational. The Peshat, on the

contrary, subordinates its own ideas to the text, wishes to

see in the text only what is actually there, and examines it

without bias....

The pious instructors of the people felt the need of utilizing

and applying to daily life as much as possible these Holy

Scriptures, the one treasure that had escaped so many

shipwrecks. That a word should have but one meaning, that a

phrase should have but one subject, this seemed mean, shabby,

inadequate, unworthy the Supreme Wisdom that inspired the

Bible. The word of God was perforce more prolific. Each new

interpretation of the Biblical text added richness and new

value to the precious heritage.... Another very important

circumstance, if it did not originate the Midrashic method, at

all events tended strongly to bring it into vogue. I speak of

the religious life, such as it was among the Israelites,

especially in the time of the second Temple. A number of

practices, more or less sacred and more or less obligatory,

were established in, or after this period, either by

rabbinical institution, or by virtue of the oral law or of

custom; and these practices, sanctioned by long usage or by

highly esteemed authorities, had no apparent basis in the

written law. To maintain them and give them solidity in the

regard of the people, it was natural to seek to prove by

exegesis ad hoc that the Holy Text had imposed or

recommended them in advance, if not expressly, at least by

hints and allusions.... The application of this method was

called forth not only by the religious practices, but also by

the ideas and opinions that had been formed or developed in

the same period. After the Babylonian Exile the successive

influence of the Chaldeans, the Persians, and the Greeks

produced among the Jews of Asia as well as among the Jews of

Egypt certain theories concerning cosmogony, angels, and the

government of the world, which rapidly gained credence, and

were generally held to be incontestable. These theories

provided a complete apparatus of doctrines so attractive and

so enthusiastically accepted even by our teachers, that the

people could not resign themselves to the belief that they

were not contained in the Bible, or, worse still, that they

were contradicted by this store-house of wisdom and truth. But

these doctrines - for the most part, at least - are not to be

found in the literal text of the Bible, and, as a consequence,

the scholars turned to the Midrashic method as the only one

calculated to read the desired meaning into the text.

Now the general character of Judaism had not changed perceptibly

during ten centuries. In the eleventh century the Jews had the

same needs as in the first, and the same method of satisfying

their needs. They found it quite natural to bring their ideas

into agreement with the Bible - or, rather, they did so

unconsciously - and to twist the text from its natural meaning,

so as to ascribe to the Biblical authors their own ideas and

knowledge.

Yet, however great the favor attaching to this method, the Peshat

was never entirely deprived of its rights. It was even destined

to soar high into prominence. The appearance of the Karaites

(eighth century), who rejected the Talmud and held exclusively to

the Scriptures, brought into existence, either directly or

indirectly, a rational, independent method of exegesis, though

the influence of this sect upon the development of Biblical

studies has been grossly magnified. It was the celebrated Saadia

(892-942) who by his translation of, and commentary upon, the

Bible opened up a new period in the history of exegesis, during

which the natural method was applied to the interpretation of

Biblical texts. The productions of this period deserve a

commanding position in Jewish literature, as much for their

intrinsic value as for their number.

While, however, in the countries of Arabic culture, natural

exegesis made its way triumphantly, in the countries of Christian

Europe, it freed itself from the traditional Midrash only with

difficulty. Moreover, Derash - to carry a Jewish term into an

alien field - was the method always employed by the Christian

theologians. Throughout the medieval ages they adhered chiefly to

a spiritual, allegoric, moral, and mystic interpretation. In the

employment of this method the literary, grammatical, philologic,

and historical aspect is perforce neglected. Nevertheless, even

among Christian scholars the rational method found some worthy

representatives, especially among the Belgian masters.[61]

The deplorable ease of the Midrashic method readily accounts for

its vogue. The Haggadist is not compelled to hold fast to his

text, his imagination has free play, and is untrammelled

[untrameled sic] by the leading-strings of grammar and good

sense. The task of the exegete properly so called is quite

different. He may not find in the text anything which is not

actually there. He must take heed of the context, of the

probable, and of the rules of the language. The exegete searches

for the idea in the text; the Haggadist introduces foreign ideas

into the text.

"At the same time, whatever the attraction of the Midrashic

method for the Jews of France and Germany, and however great

the wealth of their material, neither this attraction nor this

wealth could take the place of a pure, simple explanation of

the genuine meaning of Scriptures, a meaning which often

served as a basis for the Midrash, and in a vast number of

cases would have remained obscure and incomplete. Here there

was a yawning gap in an essential matter, and the man who had

the honor of filling up this gap - and with marvellous

[marvelous sic] success, considering the insufficiency of his

scientific resources - was one of the most eminent scholars of

the Synagogue, the leader of Jewish science, Rashi."[62]

It would be unjust to ignore the efforts of two of Rashi's

predecessors, Moses ha-Darshan (first half of the eleventh

century) and Menahem ben Helbo, who prepared the way and rendered

the task easier for him. The principal work of Moses ha-Darshan,

often cited by Rashi under the title of Yesod,

"Foundation," is a Haggadic and mystic commentary, giving,

however, some place to questions of grammar and of the natural

construction of the text. As to Menahem ben Helbo, a certain

number of his explanations and fragments of his commentaries have

been preserved; but Rashi probably knew him only through the

intermediation of his nephew Joseph Kara. Following the example

of Moses ha-Darshan and possibly, also, of Menahem ben Helbo,

Rashi used both the Peshat and the Derash in his Biblical

commentaries. "Rashi," says Berliner, "employed an in-between

method, in which the Peshat and the Derash were easily united,

owing to the care he exercised, to choose from the one or the

other only what most directly approximated the simple meaning of

the text. Rashi was free in his treatment of traditional legends,

now transforming, now lengthening, now abridging them or joining

several narratives in one, according to expediency."

This opinion is comprehensive; but it is necessary to emphasize

and differentiate.

As a rule, when the Midrash does no violence to the text, Rashi

adopts its interpretation; and when there are several Midrashic

interpretations, he chooses the one that accords best with the

simple sense; but he is especially apt to fall back upon the

Midrash when the passage does not offer any difficulties. On the

contrary, if the text cannot be brought into harmony with the

Midrash, Rashi frankly declares that the Midrashic interpretation

is irreconcilable with the natural meaning or with the laws of

grammar. He also rejects the Midrashic interpretation if it does

not conform to the context. "A passage," he said, "should be

explained, not detached from its setting, but according to the

context." In other cases he says, "The real meaning of the verse

is different," and again, "This verse admits of a Midrashic

interpretation, but I do not pretend to give any but the natural

meaning." Rashi was fond of repeating the following Talmudic

saying, which he elevated into a principle: "A verse cannot

escape its simple meaning, its natural acceptation." Rashi, then,

cherished a real predilection for rational and literal exegesis,

but when he could not find a satisfactory explanation according

to this method, or when tradition offered one, he resigned

himself to the Haggadic method, saying: "This verse requires an

explanation according to the Midrash, and it cannot be explained

in any other way."

A few quotations will facilitate the comprehension of this

characteristic method.

1. CREATION OF THE WORLD (Genesis 1.1)

In the beginning]. R. Isaac[63] says: The Law ought to

have begun with the rule enjoining the celebration of

Passover, which is the first of the Mosaic precepts. But God

"showed his people the power of His works, that He may give

them the heritage of the heathen."[64] If the heathen nations

say to Israel: You are robbers, for you have seized the land

of the seven nations (Canaanites), the Israelites can reply:

The entire earth belongs to God, who, having created it,

disposes of it in favor of whomsoever it pleases Him. It

pleased Him to give it to the seven nations, and it pleased

Him to take it away from them in order to give it to us.

In the beginning, etc. Bereshit bara]. This verse

should be interpreted according to the Midrash, and it is in

this way that our rabbis apply it to the Torah as having

existed "before His works of old,"[65] or to Israel, called

"the first-fruits of His increase."[66] But if one wishes to

explain these words in their natural meaning, it is necessary

to observe the following method. In the beginning of the

creation of the heaven and the earth, when the earth was

confusion and chaos, God said: "Let there be light." This

verse does not set forth the order of the creation. If it

did, the word <H>barishona (Bet Resh Alef Shin Nun He)</H>

would have been necessary, whereas the word <H>reshit (Resh

Alef Shin Yod Tav)</H> is always in the construct, as

in Jer. xxvii. 1, Gen. x. 10, Deut. xviii. 4;[67] likewise

<H>bara (Bet Resh Alef)</H> must here be taken as an

infinitive <H>(Bet Resh Alef with shin dot)</H>; the same

construction occurs in Hosea i. 2. Shall we assert that the

verse intends to convey that such a thing was created before

another, but that it is elliptical (just as ellipses occur in

Job iii. 10, Is. viii. 4, Amos vi. 12, Is. xlvi. 10)? But

this difficulty arises: that which existed first were the

waters, since the following verse says, that "the Spirit of

God moved upon the face of the waters," and since the text did

not previously speak of the creation of the waters, the waters

Rashi's exegesis is a bit complicated, because his beliefs

prevented him from realizing that the narrative of Genesis

presupposes a primordial chaos; but his explanations are

ingenious, and do away with other difficulties. They have been

propounded again as original explanations by modern commentators,

such as Ewald, Bunsen, Schrader, Geiger, etc. Botticher even

proposed the reading <H>bara (Bet Resh Alef)</H>. I did not give

the preceding commentary in its entirety, because it is fairly

long and, in this respect, not typical. Consequently other

quotations will serve a purpose.

2. THE SACRIFICE OF ISAAC (Gen. xxii. 1)

1. After these words]. Some of our teachers explain

the expression: "after the words of Satan," who said to God Of

all his meals Abraham sacrifices nothing to Thee, neithe a

bull nor a ram. He would sacrifice his son, replied God if I

told him to do it. Others say: "after the words of Ishmael,"

who boasted of having undergone circumcision when he was

thirteen years old, and to whom Isaac answered: If God

demanded of me the sacrifice of my entire being, I would do

what he demanded. Abraham said: Behold, here I am].

Such is the humility of pious men; for this expression

indicates that one is humble, ready to obey.

2. God said: Take now]. This is a formula of prayer;

God seems to say to Abraham: I pray thee, submit thyself to

this test, so that thy faith shall not be doubted. Thy

son]. I have two sons, replied Abraham. Thine only

son]. But each is the only son of his mother. Whom

thou lovest]. I love them both. Isaac]. Why did not

God name Isaac immediately? In order to trouble Abraham, and

also to reward him for each word, etc.

All these explanations are drawn from Talmudic (Sanhedrim

89b) and Midrashic (Bereshit Rabba and Tanhuma)

sources. The meaning of the passage being clear, Rashi has

recourse to Haggadic elaborations, which, it must be admitted,

are wholly charming. Rashi will be seen to be more original in

his commentary on the Song of the Red Sea, the text of which

offers more difficulties.

3. SONG OF THE RED SEA (Ex. xv. 1)

1. Then sang Moses]. "Then": when Moses saw the

miracle, he had the idea of singing a song; similar

construction in Josh. x. 12, I Kings vii. 8. Moses said to

himself that he would sing, and that is what he did. Moses

and the children of Israel "spake, saying, I will sing unto

the Lord." The future tense is to be explained in the same way

as in Josh. x. 12 (Joshua, seeing the miracle, conceived the

idea of singing a song, "and he said in the sight of Israel,"

etc.), in Num. xxi. 17 ("Then Israel sang this song, Spring

up, O well; sing ye unto it"), and in I Kings xi. 7 (thus

explained by the sages of Israel: "Solomon wished to build a

high place, but he did not build it"). The "yod" (of the

future) applies to the conception. Such is the natural

meaning of the verse. But, according to the Midrashic

interpretation, our rabbis see in it an allusion to the

resurrection, and they explain it in the same fashion as the

other passages, with the exception of the verse in Kings,

which they translate: "Solomon wished to build a high place,

but he did not build it." But our verse cannot be explained

like those in which the future is employed, although the

action takes place immediately, as in Job i. 5 ("Thus did

Job"); Num. ix. 23 ("The Israelites rested in their tents at

the commandment of the Lord") and 20 ("when the cloud was a

few days"), because here the action is continued and is

expressed as well by the future as by the past. But our song

having been sung only at a certain moment, the explanation

does not apply.

<H>Ki gaoh gaah (Kaf Yod, Gimel Alef with holam He, Gimel with

qamats, Alef with qamats He)</H>]. As the Targum[68] translates.

Another explanation: "He is most exalted," above all

praise, and however numerous our eulogies, I could add to

them; such is not the human king whom one praises without

reason. The horse and his rider] - The one attached to

the other; the waters carried them off and they descended

together into the sea. <H>Ramah (Resh Mem He)</H> (hath He

thrown)] like <H>hishlich (He Shin Lamed Yod Final_Kaf)</H>;

the same as in Dan. iii. 21. The Haggadic Midrash[69] gives

this explanation: one verse employs the verb <H>(Yod Resh

He)</H> the other the verb <H>Ramah (Resh Mem He)</H> which

teaches us that the Egyptians mounted into the air in order

then to descend into the ocean. The same as in Job xxxviii.

6, "who laid (<H>yarah (Yod Resh He)</H> ) the corner stone

thereof" from top to bottom?

2. <H>Ozi vezimrat yah vayei li lishuah (Ayin Zayin Yod, Vav

Zayin Mem Resh Tav, Yod He, Vav Yod He Yod, Lamed Yod, Lamed

Yod Shin Vav Ayin He)</H>]. Onkelos translates: my strength

and my song of praise. He therefore explains <H>ohzi

(Ayin with qamats Zayin with dagesh and hiriq Yod)</H> as

<H>uzi (Ayin with qubuts, Zayin with dagesh and hiriq Yod)</H>

and <H>vezimrat (Vav Zayin Mem Resh Tav)</H> as <H>vezimrati

(Vav Zayin Mem Resh Tav Yod)</H> But I am astonished at the

vowelling of the first word, which is unique in Scriptures, if

an exception is made of the three passages in which the two

words are joined. In all other places it is provided with the

vowel "u", for example in Jer. xvi. 19 and Psalms lix. 10. In

general, when a word of two letters contains the vowel "o", if

it is lengthened by a third letter, and if the second letter

has no "sheva", the first takes an "u": <H>oz (Ayin with holam

Zayin)</H> makes <H>rok, uzi (Resh with sin dot Qof, Ayin with

qubuts Zayin with dagesh Yod</H> makes <H>jok, ruki (Het Qof,

Resh with qubuts Qof with dagesh and hiriq Yod)</H> makes

<H>ol, juki (Ayin with holam Lamed, Het with qubuts Qof with

dagesh and hiriq Yod</H> makes <H>kol ulo (Kaf with holam

Lamed, Ayin with qubuts Lamed with dagesh Vav)</H>[70] makes

<H>kulo (Kaf with qubuts Lamed with dagesh Vav)</H>, as in

Exodus xiv. 7. On the contrary, the three other passages,

namely, our passage, the one in Is. (xii. 2), and that in

Psalms (cxviii. 14), have <H>ozi (Ayin Zayin Yod)</H> vowelled

with a short "o"; moreover, these verses do not have

<H>vezimrati (Vav Zayin Mem Resh Tav Yod)</H> but <H>vezimrat

(Vav Zayin Mem Resh Tav)</H>, and all continue with <H>vayei

li lishuah (Vav Yod He Yod, Lamed Yod, Lamed Yod Shin Vav Ayin

He)</H>. And to give a full explanation of this verse, it is

in my opinion necessary to say that <H>ohzi (Ayin with qamats

Zayin with dagesh Yod)</H> is not equivalent to <H>uzi (Ayin

with qubuts Zayin with dagesh Yod</H> nor <H>vezimrat (Vav

Zayin Mem Resh Tav)</H> to <H>vezimrati (Vav Zayin Mem Resh

Tav Yod),</H> but that <H>ohzi (Ayin with qamats Zayin with

dagesh Yod)</H> is a substantive (without a possessive suffix,

but provided with a paragogic "yod"), as in Psalm cxxiii. 1,

Obadiah 3, Deut. xxxiii. 16. The eulogy (of the Hebrews)

therefore signifies: it is the strength and the vengeance of

God that have been my salvation. <H>vezimrat (Vav Zayin Mem

Resh Tav)</H> is thus in the construct with the word God,

exactly as in Judges v.23, Is. ix. 18, Eccl. iii. 18. As for

the word <H>vezimrat (Vav Zayin Mem Resh Tav)</H> it has the

meaning which the same root has in Lev. xxv. 4 ("thou shalt

not prune") and in Is. xxv. 5; that is to say, "to cut". The

meaning of our verse, then, is: "The strength and the

vengeance of our Lord have been our salvation." One must not

be astonished that the text uses <H>vayehi (Vav Yod He

Yod)</H> (imperfect changed to past) and not <H>haiah (He Yod

He)</H> (perfect): for the same construction occurs in other

verses; for example, I Kings vi. 5, II Chron. x. 17[71], Num.

xiv. 16 and 36, Ex. ix. 21.

He is my God]. He appeared to them in His majesty, and

they pointed Him out to one another with their finger.[72]

The last of the servants saw God, on this occasion, as the

Prophets themselves never saw Him. <H>veanvehu (Vav Alef Nun

Vav He Vav)</H>]. The Targum sees in this word the meaning of

"habitation"[73] as in Is. xxxiii. 20, lxv. 10. According to

another explanation the word signifies "to adorn," and the

meaning would be: "I wish to celebrate the beauty and sing the

praise of God in all His creatures," as it is developed in the

Song of Songs; see v.9 et seq.[74] My father's

God]. He is; and I will exalt Him. My father's

God]. I am not the first who received this consecration;

but on the contrary His holiness and His divinity have

continued to rest upon me from the time of my ancestors.

In the above the text calls only for the embellishments of the

Haggadah. In the following passage from Rashi's commentaries the

place allotted to Derash is more limited.

4. CONSTRUCTION OF THE TABERNACLE (Ex. xxv. 1 et seq.)

2. Speak unto the children of Israel, that they bring me an

offering]. To me; in my honor. An offering (<H>terumah

(Tav Resh Vav Mem He)</H>), a levy; let them make a levy upon

their goods. Of every man that giveth it willingly with

his heart (<H>idbenu (Yod Dalet Bet Nun Vav)</H>), same

meaning as <H>nedava (Nun Dalet Bet He),</H> that is to say, a

voluntary and spontaneous gift.[75] Ye shall take my

offering] Our sages say: Three offerings are prescribed by

this passage, one of a beka from each person, used for

a pedestal, as will be shown in detail in Eleh

Pekude[76]; the second, the contribution of the altar,

consisting of a beka from each person, thrown into the

coffers for the purchase of congre gational sacrifices; and,

third, the contribution for the Tabernacle, a free-will

offering. The thirteen kinds of material to be mentioned were

all necessary for the construction of the Tabernacle and for

the making of priestly vestments, as will be evident from a

close examination.

3. Gold, and silver, and brass]. All these were offered

voluntarily, each man giving what he wished, except silver, of

which each brought the same quantity, a half-shekel a person.

In the entire passage relating to the construction of the

Tabernacle, we do not see that more silver was needed; this is

shown by Ex. xxxviii. 27. The rest of the silver,

voluntarily offered, was used for making the sacred vessels.

4. <H>Tejelet (Tav Kaf Lamed Tav)</H>]. Wool dyed in the

blood of the halazon[77] and of a greenish color.

<H>viargaman (Vav Alef Resh Gimel Mem Final_Nun)</H>]. Wool

dyed with a sort of coloring matter bearing this name.

<H>Vasmesh (Vav Shin Shin)</H>]. Linen. <H>izim (Ayin Zayin

Yod Final_Mem)</H>]. Goats' hair; this is why Onkelos

translates it by <H>mazi (Mem Ayin Zayin Yod),</H> but not

"goats," which he would have rendered by <H>azia (Ayin Zayin

Yod Alef).</H>

5. And rams' skins dyed red]. Dyed red after having

been dressed. <H>techashim (Tav Het Shin Yod Final_Mem</H>].

A sort of animal created for the purpose and having various

colors; that is why the Targum translates the word by

<H>isasgona (Yod Samekh Samekh Gimel Vav Nun Alef),</H> "he

rejoices in his colors and boasts of them."[78] And

shittim wood] - But whence did the Israelites in the

desert obtain it? R. Tanhuma explains: The patriarch Jacob,

thanks to a Divine revelation, had foreseen that one day his

scendants would construct a Tabernacle in the desert. He,

therefore, carried shittim trees into Egypt, and planted them

there, advising his sons to take them along with them when

they left the country.

6. Oil for the light]. "Pure oil olive beaten

for the light, to cause the lamp to burn always."[79]

Spices for anointing oil]. Prepared for the purpose of

anointing both the vessels of the Tabernacle and the

Tabernacle itself. Spices entered into the composition of this

oil, as is said in KKi-Tissa.[80] And for sweet

incense] which was burned night and morning, as is

described in detail in Tezaweh.[81] As to the word

<H>ketoret (Qof Mem Resh Tav),</H> it comes from the rising of

the smoke (<H>Kitor (Qof Mem Vav Resh)</H>).

7. Onyx stones]. Two were needed for the ephod,

described in Tezaweh.[82] And stones to be set]

for an ouch of gold was made in which the stones were set,

entirely filling it. These stones are called "stones to be

set." As to the bezel it is called <H>mishbetzet (Mem Shin

Bet Tsadi Tav.</H> In the ephod, and in the

breastplate]. Onyx stones for the ephod and "stones to be

set" for the breastplate. The breastplate as well as the

ephod are described in Tezaweh[83]; they are two sorts

of ornaments.

If these citations did not suffice, his anti-Christian polemics

would furnish ample evidence of the wise use Rashi made of the

Peshat. The word polemics, perhaps, is not exact. Rashi does

not make assaults upon Christianity; he contents himself with

showing that a verse which the Church has adopted for its own

ends, when rationally interpreted, has an entirely different

meaning and application. Only to this extent can Rashi be said

to have written polemics against the Christians. However that

may be, no other course is possible; for the history of Adam and

Eve or the blessing of Jacob cannot be explained, unless one

takes a stand for or against Christianity. It was not difficult

to refute Christian doctrines; Rashi could easily dispose of the

stupid or extravagant inventions of Christian exegesis.

Sometimes he does not name the adversaries against whom he aimed;

sometimes he openly says he has in view the Minim or

"Sectaries," that is, the Christians. The Church, it is well

known, transformed chiefly the Psalms into predictions of

Christianity. In order to ward off such an interpretation and

not to expose themselves to criticism, many Jewish exegetes gave

up that explanation of the Psalms by which they are held to be

proclamations of the Messianic era, and would see in them

allusions only to historic facts. Rashi followed this tendency;

and for this reason, perhaps, his commentary on the Psalms is one

of the most satisfying from a scientific point of view. For

instance, he formally states: "Our masters apply this passage to

the Messiah; but in order to refute the Minim, it is better to

apply it to David."

One would wish that Rashi had on all occasions sought the simple

and natural meaning of the Biblical text. That he clothed the

Song of Songs, in part at least, in a mantle of allegory, is

excusable, since he was authorized, nay, obliged, to do so by

tradition. In the Proverbs this manner is less tolerable. The

book is essentially secular in character; but Rashi could not

take it in this way. To him it was an allegory; and he

transformed this manual of practical wisdom into a prolonged

conversation between the Torah and Israel. Again, though Rashi

discriminated among the Midrashim, and adopted only those that

seemed reconcilable with the natural meaning, his commentaries

none the less resemble Haggadic compilations. This is true,

above all, of the Pentateuch. And if the Haggadah "so far as

religion is concerned was based upon the oral law, and from an

esthetic point of view upon the apparent improprieties of the

Divine word," it nevertheless "serves as a pretext rather than a

text for the flights, sometimes the caprice or digressions, of

religious thought."[84] Now, Rashi was so faithful to the spirit

of the Midrash that he accepted without wincing the most curious

and shocking explanations, or, if he rejected them, it was not

because he found fault with the explanations themselves.

Sometimes, when we see him balance the simple construction

against the Midrashic interpretation of the text, we are annoyed

to feel how he is drawn in opposite directions by two tendencies.

We realize that in consequence his works suffer from a certain

incoherence, or lack of equilibrium, that they are uneven and

mixed in character. To recognize that he paid tribute to the

taste of the age, or yielded to the attraction the Midrash

exercised upon a soul of naive faith, is not sufficient, for in

point of fact he pursued the two methods at the same time, the

method of literal and the method of free interpretation, seeming

to have considered them equally legitimate and fruitful of

results. Often, it is true, he shakes off the authority of

tradition, and we naturally query why his good sense did not

always assert itself, and free him from the tentacles of the

Talmud and the Midrash.

Now that we have formulated our grievance against Rashi, it is

fair that we try to justify him by recalling the ideas prevailing

at the time, and the needs he wished to satisfy.

The Midrashim, as I have said, have a double object, on the one

hand, the exposition of legal and religious practices, on the

other hand, the exposition of the beliefs and hopes of religion.

So far as the Halakic Midrash is concerned, it was marvellously

[marvelously sic] well adapted to the French-Jewish intellect,

penetrated as it was by Talmudism. The study of the Talmud so

completely filled the lives of the Jews that it was difficult to

break away from the rabbinical method. Rashi did not see in the

Bible a literary or philosophic masterpiece. Nor did he study it

with the unprejudiced eyes of the scholar. He devoted himself to

this study-especially of the Pentateuch-with only the one aim in

view, that of finding the origin or the explanation of civil and

ritual laws, the basis or the indication of Talmudic precepts.

Sometimes he kicked against the pricks. When convinced that the

rabbinical explanation did not agree with a sane exegesis, he

would place himself at variance with the Talmud for the sake of a

rational interpretation. What more than this can be expected?

Nor need we think of him as the unwilling prisoner of rules and a

victim of their tyranny. On the contrary, he adapted himself to

them perfectly, and believed that the Midrash could be made to

conform to its meaning without violence to the text. That he

always had reason to believe so was denied by so early a

successor as his grandson Samuel ben Meir. Samuel insisted that

one stand face to face with the Scriptures and interpret them

without paying heed and having recourse to any other work. This

effort at intellectual independence in which the grandson nearly

always succeeded, the grandfather was often incapable of making.

In commenting upon the Talmud Rashi preserved his entire liberty,

unrestrained by the weight of any absolute authority; but in

commenting on the Bible he felt himself bound by the Talmud and

the Midrash. Especially in regard to the Pentateuch, the

Talmudic interpretation was unavoidable, because the Pentateuch

either explicitly or implicitly contains all legal prescriptions.

In point of fact, in leaving the Pentateuch and proceeding to

other parts of the Bible, he gains in force because he gains in

independence. He no longer fears to confront "our sages" with

the true explanation. For example, there is little Derash in the

following commentary on Psalm xxiii:

A Psalm of David]. Our rabbis say: The formula "Psalm

of David" indicates that David at first played the instrument,

then was favored by Divine inspiration. It, therefore,

signifies, Psalm to give inspiration to David. On the other

hand, when it is said "To David, a Psalm,"[85] the formula

indicates that David, having received Divine inspiration, sang

a song in consequence of the revelation.

1. The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want]. In this

desert in which I wander I am full of trust, sure that I shall

lack nothing.

2. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures]. In a

place to dwell where grass grows. The poet, having begun by

comparing his sustenance to the pasturing of animals, in the

words, "The Lord Is my Shepherd," continues the image. This

Psalm was recited by David in the forest of Hereth, which was

so called because it was arid as clay (heres), but it

was watered by God with all the delights of the next world

(Midrash on the Psalms).

3. He will restore my soul]. My soul, benumbed by

misfortunes and by my flight, He will restore to its former

estate. He will lead me in the paths of righteousness]

along the straight highway so that I may not fall into the

hands of my enemies.

4. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of

death, I will fear no evil]. In the country of shadows

this applies to the wilderness of Ziph.[86] The word

<H>tzalmavet (Tsadi Lamed Mem Vov Tav)</H> here employed

always signifies "utter darkness"[87]; this is the way in

which it is explained by Dunash ben Labrat[88]. Thy rod

and thy staff they comfort me]. The sufferings I have

undergone and my reliance, my trust, in Thy goodness are my

two consolations, for they bring me pardon for my faults, and

I am sure that

5. Thou wilt prepare a table before me], that is,

royalty. Thou hast anointed my head with oil]. I have

already been consecrated king at Thy command. My cup

runneth over]. An expression signifying abundance.

From this commentary one realizes, I do not say the perfection,

but the simplicity, Rashi could attain when he was not obliged to

discover in Scriptures allusions to laws or to beliefs foreign to

the text. As Mendelssohn said of him, "No one is comparable with

him when he writes Peshat." Even though Rashi gave too much space

to the legal exegesis of the Talmud, Mendelssohn's example will

make us more tolerant toward him - Mendelssohn who himself could

not always steer clear of this method.

Moreover, the commentary on the Bible is not exactly a scholarly

work; it is above all a devotional work, written, as the Germans

say, fur Schule und Haus, for the school and the family.

The masses, to whom Rashi addressed himself, were not so

cultivated that he could confine himself to a purely grammatical

exposition or to bare exegesis. He had to introduce fascinating

legends, subtle deductions, ingenious comparisons. The Bible was

studied, not so much for its own sake, as for the fact that it

was the text-book of morality, the foundation of belief, the

source of all hopes. Every thought, every feeling bore an

intimate relation to Scriptures. The Midrash exercised an

irresistible attraction upon simple, deeply devout souls. It

appealed to the heart as well as to the intelligence, and in

vivid, attractive form set forth religious and moral truths.

Granted that success justifies everything, then the very method

with which we reproach Rashi explains the fact that he has had,

and continues to have, thousands of readers. The progress of

scientific exegesis has made us aware of what we would now

consider a serious mistake in method. We readily understand why

Derash plays so important a role in Rashi's commentaries, and to

what requirements he responded; but that does not make us any

more content with his method. To turn from Rashi to a more

general consideration of the Midrashic exegesis, we also

understand its long continuance, though we do not deprecate it

less, because it is unscientific and irrational.

In spite of all, however, the use of the Derash must be

considered a virtue in Rashi. Writing before the author of the

Yalkut Shimeoni,[89] he revealed to his contemporaries,

among whom not only the masses are to be included, but, owing to

the rarity of books, scholars as well, a vast number of legends

and traditions, which have entered into the very being of the

people, and have been adopted as their own. Rashi not only

popularized numerous Midrashim, but he also preserved a number

the sources of which are no longer extant, and which without him

would be unknown. This Biblical commentary is thus the store-

house of Midrashic literature, the aftermath of that luxuriant

growth whose latest products ripened in the eighth, ninth, and

even tenth centuries.

It is hardly proper, then, to be unduly severe in our judgment of

Rashi's work. In fact, why insist on his faults, since he

himself recognized the imperfections of his work, and would have

bettered them if he had had the time? The testimony of his

grandson upon this point is explicit:

"The friends of reason," said Samuel ben Meir, "should steep

themselves in this principle of our sages, that natural

exegesis can never be superseded. It is true that the chief

aim of the Torah was to outline for us rules of religious

conduct, which we discover behind the literal meaning through

Haggadic and Halakic interpretation. And the ancients, moved

by their piety, occupied themselves only with Midrashic

exegesis as being the most important, and they failed to dwell

at great length upon the literal meaning. Add to this the

fact that the scholars advise us not to philosophize too much

upon the Scriptures. And R. Solomon, my maternal

grandfather, the Torch of the Captivity, who commented on the

Law, the Prophets, and the Hagiographa, devoted himself to the

development of the natural meaning of the text; and I, Samuel

son of Meir, discussed his explanations with him and before

him, and he confessed to me that if he had had the leisure, he

would have deemed it necessary to do his work all over again

by availing himself of the explanations that suggest

themselves day after day."[90]

It seems, therefore, that Rashi only gradually, as the result of

experience and discussion, attained to a full consciousness of

the requirements of a sound exegesis and the duties of a Biblical

commentator. What the grandfather had not been able to do was

accomplished by the grandson. The commentary of Samuel ben Meir

realized Rashi's resolutions. Though Rashi may not have been

irreproachable as a commentator, he at least pointed out the way,

and his successors, enlightened by his example, could elaborate

his method and surpass it, but only with the means with which he

provided them. We must take into account that he was almost an

originator, and we readily overlook many faults and flaws in

remembering that he was the first to prepare the material.

* * * * *

Grammar and lexicography are the two bases of exegesis. Rashi

was as clever a grammarian as was possible in his time and in his

country. At all events he was not of the same opinion as the

Pope, who rebuked the Archbishop of Vienna for having taught

grammar in his schools, because, he said, it seemed to him rules

of grammar were not worthy the Sacred Text, and it was unfitting

to subject the language of Holy Scriptures to these rules. Rashi

in his explanations pays regard to the laws of language, and in

both his Talmudic and Biblical commentaries, he frequently

formulates scientific laws, or, it might be said, empiric rules,

regarding, for instance, distinctions in the usage of words

indicated by the position of the accent, different meanings of

the same particle, certain vowel changes, and so on. Thus, we

have been able to construct a grammar of Rashi, somewhat

rudimentary, but very advanced for the time.

Nevertheless, in this regard, a wide gap separates the

commentaries of Rashi and the works of the Spanish school of

exegetes, which shone with such lustre [luster sic] in that

epoch. Under the influence and stimulus of the Arabs, scientific

studies took an upward flight among the Jews of Moslem Spain.

The Midrash was abandoned to the preachers, while the scholars

cultivated the Hebrew language and literature with fruitful

results. In France, on the contrary, though rabbinical studies

were already flourishing, the same is not true of philological

studies, which were introduced into France only through the

influence of the Spaniards. French scholars soon came to know

the works, written in Hebrew, of Menahem ben Saruk and Dunash ben

Labrat,[91] and Rashi availed himself of them frequently, and not

always uncritically. Thus, like them, he distinguishes

triliteral, biliteral, and even uniliteral roots; but contrary to

them, he maintains that contracted and quiescent verbs are

triliteral and not biliteral. Unfortunately, he could have no

knowledge of the more important works of Hayyoudj, "father of

grammarians," and of Ibn Djanah, who carried the study of Hebrew

to a perfection surpassed only by the moderns;[92] for these

works were written in Arabic, and the translations into Hebrew,

made by the scholars of Southern France, did not appear until the

twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Though the Spanish Jews did

not yet cultivate the allegoric and mystic exegesis, their

philosophic sense was rather refined and they did not always

approach the study of the Bible without seeking something not

clearly expressed in the text, without arriere-pensee so

to speak. Rashi's exegesis was more ingenuous and, therefore,

more objective.

Moreover, even if Rashi was not in complete possession of

grammatical rules, he had perfectly mastered the spirit of the

Hebrew language. Like the Spaniards, he had that very fine

understanding for the genius of the language which arises from

persevering study, from constant occupation with its literature.

We have cited the sources upon which he drew; it would be unjust

not to remark that he made original investigations. For example

(and the examples might be multiplied) apropos of a difficult

passage in Ezekiel, he asserted that he had drawn the explanation

from inner stores, and had been guided only by Divine inspiration

- a formula borrowed from the Geonim. He was frequently

consulted in regard to the meaning of Biblical passages, and one

response has been preserved, that given to the scholars of

Auxerre when they asked for an explanation of several chapters of

the Prophets. This fact shows that the Jews gave themselves up

with ardor to the study of the Bible, men of education making it

their duty to copy the Bible with the most scrupulous care and

according to the best models, to the number of which they thus

made additions. Among these copies are the ones made by Gershom,

by Joseph Tob Elem, and by Menahem of Joigny. The Jews were

almost the only persons versed in the Bible. I have mentioned

how much the Church feared the sight of the Bible in the hands of

the common people, and in clerical circles an absolutely

antiscientific spirit reigned in regard to these matters. It was

the triumph of symbolism, allegory, and docetism. All the less

likely, then, were they to know Hebrew. An exception was the

monk Sigebert de Gemblours, a teacher at Metz in the last quarter

of the eleventh century, who maintained relations with Jewish

scholars. He is said to have known Hebrew.

Rashi's thorough knowledge of Hebrew enabled him to depend upon

his memory for quoting the appropriate verses, and in all his

citations there is scarcely a mistake, natural though an error

would have been in quoting from memory. Distinguishing between

the Hebrew of the Bible and that of the Talmud, he sees in the

Hebrew of the Mishnah a transition between the two. Often, for

the purpose of explaining a word in the Bible, he has recourse to

Talmudic Hebrew or to the Aramaic. He pays careful attention to

the precise meaning of words and to distinctions among synonyms,

and he had perception for delicate shading in syntax and

vocabulary. Owing to this thorough knowledge of Hebrew he

readily obtained insight into the true sense of the text. By

subjecting the thought of the Holy Scriptures to a simple and

entirely rational examination, he not seldom succeeds in

determining it. Thus, as it were by divination, he lighted upon

the meaning of numerous Biblical passages. A long list might be

made of explanations misunderstood by his successors, and

revived, consciously or unconsciously, by modern exegetes. An

illustration in point is his explanation of the first verse of

Genesis, quoted above. Long before such Biblical criticism had

become current it was he who said that the "servant of God"

mentioned in certain chapters of the second part of Isaiah

represents the people of Israel.

Needless to say Rashi never tampers with the text. At most, as

is the case with Ibn Djanah, he says that a letter is missing or

is superfluous. Sometimes, too, he changes the order of the

words. Neither copyists' mistakes nor grammatical anomalies

existed for him. Yet he believed in all sincerity that the

ancient sages could have corrected certain Biblical texts to

remove from them a meaning startling or derogatory when applied

to the Divinity.

Rashi wholly ignored what modern criticism calls the Introduction

to the Scriptures, that is to say, the study of the Bible and the

books of which it is composed from the point of view of their

origin, their value, and the changes they have undergone. But

rarely, here and there in his commentaries, does one find any

references to the formation of the canon. To give an example

showing how he justified a classification of the Hagiographa

given by a Talmudic text and disagreeing with the present

classification: Ruth comes first, because it belongs to the

period of the Judges; Job follows, because he lived at the time

of the Queen of Sheba; then come the three books of Solomon,

Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, both gnomic works, and the Song of Songs,

written in Solomon's old age; Lamentations, Daniel, Esther, Ezra

(comprising the present Nehemiah), and Chronicles are likewise

placed in chronological order. In the same passage of the Talmud

the question is put as to why the redaction of the prophecies of

Isaiah is attributed to King Hezekiah and his academy. Rashi

explained that the prophets collected their speeches only a short

time before their death, and Isaiah having died a violent death,

his works could not enjoy the benefit of his own redaction.

Still less need one expect to find in Rashi modern exegesis, that

criticism which applies to Scriptures an investigation entirely

independent of extraneous considerations, such as is brought to

bear upon purely human works. Rashi's candid soul was never

grazed by the slightest doubt of the authenticity of a Biblical

passage. We can admire the genial divinations of an Abraham Ibn

Ezra, but we also owe respect to that sincere faith of Rashi

which was incapable of suspecting the testimony of tradition and

the axioms of religion.

Ibn Ezra[93] and Rashi present the most vivid contrast. Though

Ibn Ezra was open-minded and clear-sighted, he was restless and

troubled. He led an adventurous existence, because his character

was adventurous. Rashi's spirit was calm, without morbid

curiosity, leaning easily upon the support of traditional

religion, frank, throughout his life as free from the shadows of

doubt as the soul of a child. Ibn Ezra had run the scientific

gamut of his time, but he also dipped into mysticism, astrology,

arithmolatry, even magic. Rashi, on the contrary, was not

acquainted with the profane sciences, and so was kept from their

oddities. With his clear, sure intelligence he penetrated to the

bottom of the text without bringing it into agreement with views

foreign to it. But the characteristic which distinguishes him

above all others from Ibn Ezra is the frankness of his nature.

He never seemed desirous of knowing 'what he did not know, nor of

believing what he did not believe. Finally, and in the regard

that specially interests us, Ibn Ezra, who belonged to the school

of Arabic philosophers and scholars, who knew the Spanish

grammarians, and was their inheritor, always employed the Peshat

- that is, when he was not biassed by his philosophic ideas. In

this case he saw the true meaning of the text, perhaps more

clearly than any other Jewish commentator. Rashi did not possess

the same scientific resources. He knew only the Talmud and the

Midrash, and believed that all science was included in them.

Moreover, though he stated in so many words his preference for a

literal and natural interpretation of the text, he fell short of

always obeying his own principle.

* * * * *

There is one characteristic of Rashi's Bible commentaries which I

have already touched upon, but to which it is well to revert by

way of conclusion, since it makes the final impression upon a

student of the commentaries. I refer to a certain intimacy or

informality of the work, a certain easy way of taking things.

The author used no method. Now he explains the text simply and

naturally; now he enjoys adorning it with fanciful

embellishments. One would say of him, as of many an author of

the Talmud, that in writing his work he rested from his Talmudic

studies; and one seems to hear in these unceremonious

conversations, these unpretentious homilies, the same note that

even in the present day is sometimes struck in synagogues on

Saturday afternoons. What clearly shows that Rashi unbent a

little in composing his Biblical commentaries are the flashes of

wit and humor lighting them, the display of his native grace of

character, his smiling geniality. If he yielded some credence to

the most naive inventions, this does not mean that he was always

and entirely their dupe. They simply gave him the utmost

delight. He did not refrain from piquant allusions; and the

commentary on the Pentateuch presents a number of pleasantries,

some of which are a bit highly-spiced for modern taste.

Fundamentally, they are a heritage of the old Midrashic spirit

grafted upon the gaiety of "mischievous and fine Champagne," as

Michelet said. Assuredly, there were hours in which good humor

reigned over master and pupils, and we seem to see the smile that

accompanied the witty sallies, and the radiance of that kindly

charm which illuminated the dry juridic discussions. All this

forms an attractive whole, and everyone may feel the attraction;

for the commentaries on the Bible, which can be read with

pleasure and without mental fatigue, are intelligible to persons

of most mediocre mind and cultivation. The words of a certain

French critic upon another writer of Champagne, La Fontaine,

might be applied to Rashi, though a comparison between a poet and

a commentator may not be pressed to the utmost. "He is the milk

of our early years, the bread of the adult, the last meal of the

old man. He is the familiar genius of every hearth."

For many centuries the Biblical commentaries held a position -

and still hold it - similar to that of La Fontaine's Fables. Few

works have ever been copied, printed, and commented upon to the

same extent. Immediately upon their appearance, they became

popular in the strongest sense of the word. They cast into the

shade the work of his disciples, which according to modern

judgment are superior. Preachers introduced some commentaries of

his into their sermons, and made his words the subject of their

instruction; and Rashi was taught even to the children. The mass

of readers assimilated the Halakic and Haggadic elements. Those

who were not students, through Rashi got a smattering of a

literature that would otherwise have been inaccessible to them;

and the commentaries threw into circulation a large number of

legends, which became the common property of the Jews. Rashi's

expressions and phrases entered into current speech, especially

those happy formulas which impress themselves on the memory. His

commentary is printed in all the rabbinical Bibles; it has become

to the Jews inseparable from the text, and even Mendelssohn's

commentary, which has all of Rashi's good qualities and none of

his faults, did not succeed in eclipsing it. In short, it is a

classic.

CHAPTER VII

THE TALMUDIC COMMENTARIES

The commentaries on the Bible, especially those on the

Pentateuch, constitute a work for general reading and for

devotion as well as for scientific study. Their general scope

explains both their excellencies and their defects. On the other

hand, the commentary on the Talmud is an academic work. It

originated in the school of Rashi, and was elaborated there

during a long time. The one is a popular work for the use of the

masses, the other, a learned treatise for the use of students.

The explanation of the Scriptures was written for the benefit of

the faithful in popular, attractive, and comprehensible form; the

explanation of the Talmud constituted matter for serious study in

the academies. Or, rather, after the long, exhaustive, and often

dry-as-dust Talmudic discussion, the master took pleasure in

interrupting his instruction in the school to give his

interpretation of Biblical passages.

This is the reason why the Talmudic commentaries,[94] which are,

as it were, the summing-up of Rashi's teachings, of his own

studies, and of the observations of his pupils, have a more

mature, more thoughtful character than the Biblical commentaries.

They undoubtedly represent a greater amount of labor. It seems

that Rashi himself made two or three recensions of his

commentary, at least for many of the Talmudic treatises.

Testimony to this fact is given by the variations of certain

passages in the extant text and that cited by the ancient

authors, notably the Tossafists. Moreover, the Tossafists

explicitly mention corrections made by Rashi in his own work.

The query naturally arises whether the corrections indicate that

Rashi worked the entire commentary over and over again. The

answer is no; for certain treatises remained incomplete, and

others seem never to have been begun. Presumably, then, Rashi

revised a treatise according to the needs of the occasion, as,

for instance, when it came under his eyes in the course of

instruction. However that may be, the work that we now possess

is a mixture of the first and the last recension, though we

cannot always tell which is the later and which the earlier.

Another fact explains the difference I have pointed out between

the Biblical and the Talmudic commentaries. For the Biblical

commentaries there had been no precedent, and if they possess the

merit of originality, they also illustrate the errors of a man

who tries his powers in a field of work devoid of all tradition.

For the Talmudic commentaries, on the contrary, models were not

lacking. The example of Gershom was sufficiently notable to evoke

imitation, though his work was not so complete as to discourage

it. We must not forget Rashi's predecessors because he eclipsed

them. This would be contrary to his intentions, since he

frequently cites them, rendering value in return for value

received. In fact, he knew well how to use their works to

advantage. He submitted them to a judicial and minute

examination, collecting all the material he needed furnished by

the Geonim as well as by his immediate masters. It would be as

inexact to assert that he only made a resume of their

works as to say that he worked along entirely original lines and

relied solely upon his own resources. If we could compare his

commentaries with previous commentaries (for some this comparison

has been made), we should be forced into the admission that his

part is smaller than one would suppose. The best proof of this

fact is that the usual basis of his commentary for each treatise

was the explanation of the master under whom he had studied it.

He often cites the writings of his masters, to which he gives the

title Yesod, "Foundation," probably either collections

made by the teachers themselves or notebooks edited by their

pupils. As a result of the love of brevity which is one of

Rashi's marked characteristics, he does not quote in its entirety

the source upon which he draws, but more frequently reproduces

the sense rather than the exact words.

But they did not go to the other extreme and become philosophers.