I must hasten to add that the Talmudic c_Rashi

masters were inadequate, and did not meet all needs. We can judge

of the lacunae in them both from the commentaries that have been

preserved and from the criticisms which Rashi frequently added as

an accompaniment to his citations. Sometimes the commentaries

were too diffuse, sometimes too concise; their language was

obscure and awkward; no stress was laid upon explaining all

details, and the commentaries themselves stood in need of

explanation; they addressed themselves to accomplished Talmudists

rather than to students. Rashi's commentaries, on the contrary,

could be understood by men of small learning-hence their

influence and popularity. Moreover, the commentaries of his

masters often contradicted one another, coming as they did from

scholars who did not shrink from discussion. Rashi wished to put

an end to these debates and introduce some unity into rabbinical

tradition, and generally his purpose in refraining from a

quotation of his predecessors was exactly to avoid an opening

into the field of controversy. Finally, their commentaries, it

seems, were not comprehensive; they bore upon only one or several

treatises; whereas Rashi's bore on all or nearly all the

treatises of the Gemara.[95] With Rashi execution rose to the

height of his conception.

Rashi availed himself so little of the work of his masters that

he began by establishing a correct text of the Talmud and

subjecting it to a severe revision. The mistakes of his

predecessors oftenest arose from the faultiness of the texts,

marred by ignorant copyists or presumptuous readers. What is

more, the use to which the Talmud was put in the academies and

the discussions to which it gave rise, far from sheltering it

from alterations made by way of correction, modified it in every

conceivable fashion, according to the views of the chiefs of the

schools. Like every book in circulation, the Talmud was exposed

to the worst changes, and this all the more readily, because at

that time no one had a notion of what we call respect for the

text, for the idea of the author. As rigidly as the text of the

Bible was maintained intact in the very minutest details, so lax

was the treatment of the Talmud, which was at the mercy of

individual whim. Naturally, the less scrupulous and less

clearsighted allowed themselves the most emendations.

Accordingly, Rabbenu Gershom felt called upon to put a severe

restriction upon such liberties. Though he succeeded in

moderating the evil, it could not be suppressed retroactively.

Rashi realized that corrections made wittingly were

indispensable, and that it was necessary to clear the Talmudic

forest of entangling briers. Moreover, as we learn from Rashi

himself, Gershom had already undertaken the task. Rashi also

tells us that he had Gershom's autograph manuscript before him,

not to mention other copies he was consulting and collating.

Further testimony, apart from this internal evidence, is provided

by Rashi's references to texts parallel to the Talmud, among them

the Tosefta. Sometimes he records two readings without giving

either the preference, though as a rule the reasoning or the

context shows that he leans one way or the other, so that his

alterations, which are usually correct, do not necessarily

represent the early text. When Rashi has good cause for deciding

a point in a certain way, he does not pay attention to possible

errors or contradictions on the part of the Talmudists. In other

words, though his text may be the most rational, it is not always

the most authentic.

Rashi exercised this criticism of the text to a wide extent, yet

prudently. I have already mentioned what Isaac of Vienna said

concerning the numerous erasures that covered an autograph

manuscript of his.[96] Many readings that Rashi rejected might

have been kept - in fact they sometimes were kept - by force of

finesse and subtlety. His method affords a striking contrast to

that of the Talmudist Hananel,[97] who either eliminates the

phrases unacceptable to him or preserves them only by doing

violence to the sense. Rashi, on the contrary, compared the

different versions of difficult or suspicious passages and

prefers the one not requiring a subtle explanation. It is only

when no reading satisfies him that he assumes an interpolation or

an error, in this event frequently resorting to the Responsa of

the Geonim. Needless to say, he also paid heed to the revision

of Gershom; but since he deemed that Gershom had himself

preserved faulty readings, he took up the work again, despite

Gershom's prohibition. He realized that this careful and

detailed critical revision of his predecessor, however ungrateful

the soil might appear, was nevertheless fertile ground, and might

serve as the solid basis of a thorough commentary.

He acquitted himself of the task with such success that his has

become the official text, the "Vulgate," of the Talmud. In fact,

his disciples inserted into the body of the Gemara the greater

part of his corrections or restitutions (but not all; and one

does not always comprehend the reasons for their choice), which

have now become an integral part of the text. Thus a single,

definite, and official text was established - a thing of great

value in assuring the stability of rabbinical tradition in France

and Germany.

From what I have already said, the reader can gather how

individual was Rashi's method. The foundation for his

commentaries, it is true, was provided by tradition and by the

instruction he received from his masters. But over and above the

circumstance that he preserved only what seemed fitting to him,

is the fact that value attached rather to the setting given the

material than to the material itself. Herein resides Rashi's

merit - and the merit is great. He was occupied not so much in

extracting from the discussion of the Talmud the essential ideas,

the principles indicating rules of practice, as in rendering the

discussion comprehensible both in its entirety and in its

details. He wrote a grammatical commentary which provides the

exact meaning, not only of the opinions set forth, but also of

the phrases and expressions employed. A Jewish scholar of our

day, I. H. Weiss, who has accomplished much toward acclimatizing

the scientific study of the Talmud in Eastern Europe, justly

remarked - and what he says is a lesson to the rabbis of his

country:

How many Talmudists are there nowadays who take pains to

understand exactly the meaning of such and such a passage of

the Talmud, or who are capable of explaining it grammatically?

They do like the predecessors of Rashi, whose method it was to

give an exposition of an entire discussion merely by

simplifying its terms. They wrote consecutive commentaries,

not notes; and they often failed to explain difficult words.

Rashi, on the contrary, always definitely determined the

meaning of the various terms.

He does this with a sure touch, and the precision of his

explanations is all the more remarkable as he did not know -

whatever one may say to the contrary - the Talmudic lexicon of

Nathan ben Jehiel, of Rome, which was not brought to a conclusion

until four years after Rashi's death. It is a favorite trick of

legend to establish relations between illustrious contemporaries,

especially when their activities were exercised in the same

field, and tradition has made Rashi the pupil of Nathan. The

idea of such a relationship, however, is purely fantastic, the

two rabbis probably not having ever known each other.[98]

Rashi carried the same spirit of exactness and precision into the

whole of this work - qualities indispensable but difficult of

attainment; for as A. Darmesteter well says:

Whoever has opened a page of the Talmud understands how

necessary is a commentary upon a text written in Aramaic and

treating of often unfamiliar questions in concise,

exasperatingly obscure dialectics. The language, too, is

obscure, and the lack of punctuation renders reading difficult

to novices. No mark separates question from answer,

digressions from parenthetical observations. The phrases form

only a long string of words placed one after the other, in

which one distinguishes neither the beginning nor the end of

the sentences.

The difficulty presented by the obscurity of the style is

increased by allusions to facts and customs which are no longer

known and cannot always be guessed at. Now, thanks to Rashi's

commentary, a reader possessing a knowledge of the elements of

the language and some slight knowledge of Jewish law, can

decipher it without overmuch difficulty.

Rarely superficial, Rashi explains the text simply yet

thoroughly. He sifts his matter to the bottom. His reasoning is

free from subtleties and violations of the sense. This

characteristic comes out in bold relief when we compare Rashi

with his disciples, the Tossafists, who carry their niceties to

an excess. It would be wrong to hold Rashi responsible for the

abuse later made of controversy; while, on the other hand, praise

is owing to him for the happy efforts he made to unravel the

texts, not only for the purpose of explaining their meaning, but

also to indicate possible objections and reply to them in a few

words. One must marvel at the clearsighted intelligence, the

sureness, the mastery with which Rashi conveys the gist of a

discussion as well as the value of the details, easily taking up

each link in the chain of question and answer, pruning away

superfluities, but not recoiling before necessary supplementary

developments. In addition, rather than resort to forced

explanations, he did not hesitate to avow that certain passages

puzzled him, or that his knowledge was insufficient - a scruple

not always entertained by his successors.

To determine the meaning of a text, Rashi frequently referred to

parallel passages, contained not only in the Gemara itself, but

also in other collections, such as the Tosefta, or the Halakic

Midrashim.[99] Sometimes the Gemara cites them, or refers to

them, at other times it makes no allusion whatsoever to them. In

the latter case, it may be stated, Rashi, even when he does not

say so explicitly, himself found the text for comparison and was

inspired by it.

Moreover, on occasion, he points out general rules to which he

conforms, some of them indicated in the Talmud itself, others

provided by the Geonim, and others again evolved by himself in

the course of his studies. Those who are competent to judge

admire the precision with which he lays down these principles. By

combining them, an excellent, although very incomplete, Talmudic

methodology might be drawn up.

Some examples will give a better idea than a mere description of

Rashi's method. I will separate his commentary from the text of

the Gemara by square brackets, so as to show how he inserts his

commentary, and how perfectly he adapts it to the Gemara.

The following passages deal with the proclamation of the new

moon, made by the supreme tribunal, upon the evidence of two

persons who declare that they have seen the new moon.

Mishnah: If he is not known [if the tribunal does not know the

witness, does not know if he is honest and worthy of

confidence], they [the tribunal of his city] will send another

person with him [to bear witness concerning the new moon before

the great tribunal, which proclaims the new month]. At first,

evidence concerning the new moon was accepted from any and

every body; since the Boethusians[100] turned to evil [this is

explained in the Gemara], it was decided that only the

testimony of persons who were known would be taken.

Gemara: What does "another" signify? Another individual? Does

it mean that a single person is thought [worthy of confidence

in declaring the first night of the new moon]? Is it not

taught in a Baraita: "It once happened that a man came [to the

tribunal, on the Sabbath, in order to give evidence concerning

the new moon], accompanied by his witnesses, to testify

concerning himself" [to declare him worthy of confidence]? Rab

Papa replies: "Another" signifies "another couple of

witnesses." This explanation seems to be the true one; for

otherwise what would these words signify: "If he is not known?"

If this individual is not known? But does it mean that

a single person is believed [in bearing witness in regard to

the new moon]? In connection with this, do not the Scriptures

use the word law [in the verse: For this was a statute for

Israel, and a law of the God of Jacob[101]]? Here, then, "the

witness" signifies "the couple" of witnesses; similarly the

previous "another" signifies "another couple." But is it

quite certain that a single man is not enough? However, it is

taught in a Baraita: "It once happened on a Sabbath that R.

Nehoral accompanied a witness to give evidence concerning him

at Usha" [at the time when the Sanhedrin had its seat in that

city, and the new moon was proclaimed there]. R. Nehorai was

accompanied by another witness, and if this witness is not

mentioned, it is out of regard for R. Nehorai [for R. Nehorai

is mentioned only that we may infer from his case that so

prominent an authority inclined to leniency in the

circumstances stated; but it is not fitting for us to appeal

to the authority of his less important companion]. Rab Ashi

replies: There was already another witness at Usha [who knew

the one that was coming to give evidence], and R. Nehorai went

to join him. If this is so, what is it that is meant to be

conveyed to us? This: we might have thought in case of doubt

[possibly this second witness might not be at home], the

Sabbath must not be trangressed; we are thus taught that one

should do it, etc. (Rosh ha-Shanah 22a bottom).

The following passage deals with the Lulab, which is used

at the celebration of the Feast of Tabernacles, and must be

flawless.

Mishnah: A Lulab [referring to the palm branch; farther

on it will be stated that the myrtle and the willow of the

brook are dealt with separately] that has been stolen [is

unfit; for it is said:[102] "And ye shall take you": what

belongs to you], or is dry [we demand that the ritual be

carried out with care, in conformity with the words of

Scripture:[103] "I will exalt Him "], is unfit. Coming from

an Ashera [a tree adored as an idol; the Gemara gives the

reason for the prohibition] or from a city given up to idolatry

[for it is considered as burnt down, as it is said: "And thou

shalt gather all the Spoil of it."[104] Now, the Lulab should

have the length of four palms, as will be said farther

on,[105] and since it is destined to be given up to the

flames, it no longer has the desired length, being considered

as burnt], it is unfit. If its end is cut [it is unfit; for

it is not "beautiful"], or if its leaves have fallen off [from

the central stem, and are united only by a band like the

broom, in French called "escoube."[106] In this case, also,

it is not "beautiful"], it is unfit. If its leaves are

separated [attached to the stem, but at the top separated on

each side, like the branches of a tree], it is good. R. Judah

says: It should be bound [if its leaves are separated, they

should be bound so that they are fixed to the stem as with

other Lulabim]. The stony palm of the mountain - of - iron

[the Gemara explains that these are palms] are good [they are

Lulabim, although their leaves are very small and do not

extend the length of the stem]. A Lulab having the length of

three palms, so that it can be shaken [the Gemara explains:

the stem should measure three palms, as much as the myrtle

branch, and, in addition, another palm for shaking, for we

require that the Lulab be shaken in the way told farther on

(37b): "It is shaken vertically and horizontally," so as to

exorcise the evil spirits and evil shades), is good.

Gemara: The Tanna is brief in showing [that the Lulab is

unfit] without distinguishing between the first day of the

festival [the celebration of which is made obligatory by the

Torah] and the second day [for which the ceremony of the Lulab

is prescribed only by the Rabbis, Scriptures saying "on the

first day"[102]]. It must certainly refer to the dry Lulab

[it may be unfit, even from a rabbinical point of view, for

since it is a rite instituted in commemoration of the Temple,

we require that it be practiced with care], for we require

that it be "beautiful," and in this case the condition is not

fulfilled. But so far as the stolen Lulab is concerned, I

understand that it should not be used the first day, for in

regard to the first day it is written: "And ye shall take

you:" of what belongs to you; but why not the second day

[whence does one know that one may not use it then?]? R.

Johanan replies in the name of R. Simon ben Yohai: because

then a regulation would be fulfilled through the commission of

a transgression, for it is said [for we find a verse which

forbids the fulfilment of a regulation through committing a

transgression]: "And ye brought that which was stolen, and the

lame, and the sick."[107] The stolen animal is likened to the

lame; and just as it is irremediably unfit [it can never be

offered as a sacrifice, because its imperfection is

perpetual], so the one that is stolen is irremediably unfit

[we deduce from this verse that it can never more become of

use, even if there has been a renunciation; that is, if we

have heard the owner renounce the object by saying, for

example, "Decidedly, I have lost this purse;" although in

regard to the ownership of the animal, we said, in the

treatise Baba Kama (68a), that the holder became the

possessor, if the first owner renounced it; however, he cannot

offer it as a sacrifice upon the altar], whether this be

before or after the renunciation. If before the renunciation,

because the Torah says, "If any man of you bring an

offering;[108] now, the stolen animal does not belong to him,

but after the renunciation the holder becomes the possessor of

it through the fact of this renunciation [why, then, does the

prophet forbid its being used as an offering?]. Is it not

exactly because this would be to fulfil [fulfill sic] a

regulation by committing a transgression? R. Johanan says

again in the name of R. Simon ben Yohai: what does this verse

signify: "For I the Lord love judgment, I hate robbery for

burnt offering"?[109] [for the burnt offering that you bring

me, I hate the theft of which you make yourself guilty in

stealing these animals, although everything belongs and always

has belonged to Me]. Let us compare this case with that of a

mortal king, who, passing before the house of a publican, says

to his servants: "Give the toll to the publican." They object

and say: "But is it not to thee that all the tolls return?"

To which the king replies: "May all travellers [sic] take an

example from me and not escape the payment of toll." In the

same way God says: "I hate robbery for burnt offerings; may My

children take an example from Me and escape the temptation to

theft."

It has likewise been shown [that the motive of the Mishnah in

declaring the stolen Lulab unfit for use on the second day of

the festival, is that It would be the fulfilment of a

regulation through the commission of a transgression]. Rabbi

Ammi says: etc., (Sukkah 29b).

From these two citations it is evident that Rashi does not shrink

from complicated explanations, and that he does not comment on

the easy passages. In the following quotation, the discussion is

somewhat more difficult to follow.

Mishnah: A slave [non-Jewish] who has been made

prisoner and ransomed [by other Jews] in order to remain a

slave, remains a slave [this will be explained by the Gemara];

In order to be free, becomes free. R. Simon ben Gamaliel

says: In the one case as in the other, he remains a slave.

Gemara: With which case do we concern ourselves? If it

is before the renunciation of the right of possession [by the

first master, who has bought him from the hands of the non-

Jew], ransomed in order to become free, why should he not

remain a slave? It is, then, after this renunciation. But,

bought to be a slave, why should he remain a slave?

[Understand: of his first master; why should he remain a

slave, since there was a renunciation by which rights upon him

as a slave have been renounced?]. Abaye says: The case under

debate is always that In which the first owner has not yet

renounced his rights upon the slave, and if the slave has been

bought to remain a slave [on condition of being restored to

his first master, or even upon condition of belonging to him

who bought him], he remains the slave of his first master [the

second, in fact, has not acquired him, for he knows that his

master remains his master, until the master has given him up;

he would, therefore, be stealing the slave]; if the slave is

ransomed to become free, he is the slave neither of the first

nor of the second; not of the second, since he ransomed the

slave to set him free, nor of the first who possibly abandoned

him and did not buy him back. R. Simon b. Gamaliel, on the

other hand, says: In one case as in the other he remains a

slave; in fact, he admits that just as it is a duty to ransom

free men, so it is a duty to ransom slaves [it is not,

therefore, to be supposed that the first master would have

abstained from buying back his slave].

Raba says: We are always dealing with the case in which the

first master has already renounced his right of possession.

And if the slave has been ransomed in order to be a slave, he

serves his second master [farther on the question will be

asked, from whom the second master bought him]; if ransomed to

be free, he serves neither his first nor his second master;

not his second master, since he bought the slave to give him

his liberty; and not the first, since he had already renounced

the slave. R. Simon b. Gamaliel, on the other hand, says: In

the one case as in the other he remains a slave [of his first

master], according to the principle of Hezekiah, who said: Why

is it admitted that he remains a slave in either case? So

that it should not be possible for any slave whatsoever to

deliver himself up to the enemy and thus render himself

independent of his master.

It is objected: R. Simon b. Gamaliel [we have been taught]

said to his colleagues: "Just as it is a duty to ransom free

men, so it is a duty to ransom slaves." This Baraita is to be

understood according to Abaye, who takes it that there had

been no renunciation [who applies the Mishnah to the case in

which there has been previous renunciation; then the first

paragraph of the Mishnah is motived by the abstention of the

owner, who did not ransom his slave]: we thus explain to

ourselves the expression "just as" [of R. Simon b. Gamaliel,

for he does not suppose that the owner abstained, granted that

it is a duty to ransom the slave]. But, according to Raba,

who takes it that there has been renunciation [who applies the

Mishnah to the case in which there was renunciation, and the

first paragraph of the Mishnah is motived by the abstention of

the owner, which is equivalent to a renunciation], this "just

as" [of R. Simon b. Gamaliel, what does it signify?], since R.

Simon b. Gamaliel bases his opinion upon the principle of

Hezekiah [since the reason of R. Simon b. Gamaliel is the

principle of Hezekiah: "so that the slave should not go and

deliver himself up to the enemy"]. Raba replies, etc.,

(Gittin 37b).

What one least expects to find in a Talmudist is historic

veracity. Yet it is not lacking in Rashi, either because he was

guided by ancient and authentic traditions, or because he was

inspired by his clear - sightedness, or - but this is apt to have

been the case less frequently because he was well served by his

power of divination. Rashi took good care not to confound the

different generations of Tannaim and Amoraim, or the different

rabbis in each. He knew the biographies of all of them, the

countries of their birth, their masters and disciples, the period

and the scene of their activity. Such knowledge was necessary

not only in order to grasp the meaning of certain passages, but

also in order to decide which opinion was final and had the force

of law. Rashi also tried to understand, and in turn render

comprehensible, the customs and the by-gone institutions to which

the Talmud alludes. He gave information concerning the

composition of the Mishnah and the Gemara, and the relations of

the Mishnahs and the Baraitas. Because it contains all these

data, Rashi's commentary is still a very valuable historical

document, and Jewish historians of our days continue frequently

to invoke its authority.

Yet in spite of this scattered information, the commentary is

marked by certain deficiencies which indicate a deficiency in his

mental make-up. When he explains an historical passage of the

Talmud, he is incapable of criticising [criticizing sic] it.

Apart from the fact that he would not believe legend to be

legend, nor the Gemara capable of mistakes, he had neither the

knowledge nor the scientific culture requisite for an historian.

To be convinced of this, it is necessary to read only the

following passage, in which the Talmud characteristically relates

the final events before the downfall of the Jewish State. As

before, I reproduce the Gemara along with the commentary of

Rashi; but in translating the Gemara I anticipate what Rashi

says. It must be borne in mind that Rashi explains in Hebrew -

in rabbinical Hebrew - text written in Aramaic.

R. Johanan says: what signifies this verse (Prov. xxviii. 14):

"Happy is the man that feareth always [who trembles before the

future and says to himself: provided that no misfortune befall

me if I do such and such a thing], but he that hardeneth his

heart shall fall into mischief"? For Kamza and Bar Kamza

Jerusalem was destroyed; for a cock and a hen the Royal

Tower[110] was destroyed; for the side of a litter (<H>rispak

(Resh Yod Samech Pe Qof)</H>) [the side of a lady's chariot,

called reitwage (?) in German, as is said in the

chapter "The mother and her young":[111] If thou yokest the

mule to the litter <H>rispak (Resh Yod Samech Pe Qof)</H> for

me], Betar was destroyed. For Kamza and Bar Kamza [names of

two Jews] Jerusalem was destroyed. A man whose friend was

Kamza [the name of whose friend was Kamza] and whose enemy was

Bar Kamza prepared a banquet. He said to his servant: "Go,

invite Kamza." The servant went to Bar Kamza. Finding him

seated, the host said: "Since this man is (thou art) my enemy,

why comest thou hither? Go, leave me." The other replied:

"Since I have come, let me remain here, and I will give the

price of what I shall eat and drink." "No," he answered [I

will not let thee remain here]. "I will give thee," he [the

other] insisted, "the half of the cost of the banquet." "No."

"I will give thee the price of the entire banquet." But he

took him by the arm, and made him rise and go out. [The

expelled man] said to himself: "Since the rabbis present at

this scene did not protest, it must be that it pleased them.

Very well! I shall go and eat the morsel [of calumny] upon

them in the presence of the governor." He went to the

governor and said to Caesar: "The Jews are revolting against

thee." Caesar replied: "Who told it thee?" "Send to them,"

replied the other, "a victim [to sacrifice it upon the altar;

for we deduce from the repetition of the word "man" (in Lev.

xvii.) that the non-Jews can offer voluntary sacrifices, like

the Israelites]; thou wilt see if they sacrifice it." Caesar

sent a calf without a blemish, but in transit a blemish

appeared on the large lip [the upper lip], others say on the

lid of the eye (<H>dokin (Dalet Vav Qof Yod Final_Nun)</H>)

["tela,"[112] as in Is. xl. 22 <H>Dok (Dalet Vav Qof)</H>],

which constitutes a blemish for us, but not for the Romans

[they could offer it to their gods on the high places,

provided it did not lack a limb]. The rabbis were in favor of

sacrificing the animal in the interest of public peace. Rabbi

Zechariah b. Eukolos objected: "It will be said that you offer

imperfect victims upon the altar." Then they wanted to kill

[the messenger] so that he could not return and report what

had happened. R. Zechariah objected: "It will be said that he

who causes a blemish on a victim should be condemned to death"

[it will be thought that because he caused a blemish on the

victim, and because he thus trangressed [transgressed sic] the

prohibition: "There shall be no blemish therein" (Lev. xxii.

21), he was put to death]. R. Johanan concluded: It is this

complai

sance of R. Zechariah b. Eukolos [who did not wish to

put the messenger to death] which destroyed our Temple, burned

our Sanctuary, and exiled us from the land of our fathers

(Gittin 55b)

This passage is less historic than legendary in character; it

forms part of the Haggadic element of the Talmud, In the

explanation of the Haggadah Rashi has preserved its method, so

wise, yet so simple. Others have attempted to be more profound

in interpreting it allegorically. Rashi, with his fund of common

sense, was nearer to the truth. His conception of the naive

tales and beliefs was in itself naive. Moreover, before his time

it was the legislative part of the Talmud that received almost

exclusive attention. The rabbis occupied themselves with

questions of practice and with making decisions, and they tried

to unknot the entanglements of the discussions for the sake of

extracting the norm, the definitive law. This is the case with

Hananel, Rashi's predecessor, as well as with Alfasi,[113]

Rashi's contemporary. Although, as we shall see, the French

rabbi had studied the Talmud for the sake of practical needs, he

adopted, so to speak, a more disinterested point of view. He did

not pretend to write a manual of Talmudic law, but an

uninterrupted running commentary for the use of all who wanted to

make a consecutive study of the Talmud.

In the treatise Baba Batra (73a), the Gemara having

exhausted the few observations it had to present upon the

Mishnah, which speaks of the sail of a vessel and its rigging,

falls back upon some popular narratives, "Tales of the Sea."

Raba said [all the facts that will be recounted are in

illustration of the verse (Psalms civ. 24), "O Lord, how

manifold are thy works!" Some of the facts show that the

righteous are recompensed in the world to come, or they serve

to explain the verses of Job that speak of large birds, of the

Behemot, and of the large cetaceans; in fact, "even the simple

conversations of the rabbis must be instructive"]: Some

sailors reported to me what follows: "The wave which engulfs

[which tries to engulf] a vessel seems to have at its head

[seems to be preceded by] a ray of white fire [a white flame,

which is a wicked angel]. But we beat it with rods (<H>alvata

(Alef Lamed Vav Vav Tav Alef</H>) [rods, as in these words

'neither with a rod (<H>(Alef Lamed He)</H>) nor with a lance'

in the treatise Shabbat (63a)], which bear these words graven

on them: 'I am He who is, Yah, Eternal Zebaet, Amen, Selah'

[such is the lesson of the text[114] and then it is laid to

rest" [from its agitation].

Raba recounts: Some sailors related to me that which follows:

"Between one wave and another wave there are three hundred

parasangs[115] [it is necessary to give us this detail, for

later on it will be said that the one wave raised its voice to

speak to the other; now, one can make oneself heard at a

distance of three hundred parasangs], and the height of a wave

is likewise three hundred parasangs. Once we were on a voyage,

when a wave raised us [up to the heavens, higher than its own

height; or the heat of the heavens is so great that it extends

to a distance which one could traverse in nearly five hundred

years, the distance of the heavens from the earth[116], so

high that we saw the encampment [the dwelling] of a little

star [of the smallest of stars]; it appeared so large to us,

that one would have been able to sow on its surface forty

measures of mustard seed [which is larger than other seeds],

and if it had raised us more, we would have been burned by its

fumes [by the heat of the star]. Then a wave raised its voice

[that is, called, just as it is said, "Deep calleth unto deep"

(Psalms xlii. 7); or it may mean angels placed over the stars]

and said to its companion: 'My companion, have you left

something in the world which you have not swallowed up [for it

had lifted itself so high, you might have thought it had

sprung from the bed of the sea and had engulfed the world]?

In that case I will go destroy it' [on account of the sins of

man] - It said [the one wave replied to the other]: 'Behold

the might of the Lord: I cannot by one thread [by the breadth

of a thread] go beyond the sand '[that is to say: I cannot

leave the bed of the sea]; thus it is said [it is the Gemara

that cites this verse]: 'Fear ye not me?' saith the Lord.

'Will ye not tremble at my presence, which have placed the

sand for the bound of the sea by a perpetual decree, that it

cannot pass it?'" (Jer. v. 22).

Raba says: Hormin appeared to me, the son of Lillit [Hormin

with an "n," such is the text which should be adopted, and

which I get from my father; but I have learned from my masters

that it should be read "Hormiz," with a "z," a word which

means demon, as we see in Sanhedrin (39a) "the lower

half of thy body belongs to Hormiz[117], running along the

edge of the wall of Mahuza [This account makes us realize the

goodness of God who loves his creatures and does not permit

evil spirits to injure them; it also teaches us that one must

not risk oneself alone on a voyage]; at the same moment a

horseman galloped by [without thinking of evil], and he could

not catch up to him [for the demon ran so quickly, that the

horseman could not think of overtaking him].

In conclusion I will give one more extract, from the last chapter

of Sanhedrin (92b), which contains a vast number of

curious legends.

Our rabbis taught: Six miracles occurred on that day [the day

on which Nebuchadnezzar threw the friends of Daniel into the

furnace]. These are: the furnace raised itself [for it was

sunk in the ground, like a lime-kiln; on that day it raised

itself to the surface of the ground, so that all could see the

miracle]; the furnace was rent in two [a part of its walls was

riven so that all could look in]; <H>humak suro (He Vav Mem

Qof, Samech Vav Resh Vav)</H> [its height was lowered, as in

the phrase <H>suro ka (Samech Vav Resh Vav, Resh Ayin)</H>

(Kiddushin 82a); another reading <H>humak duso (He Vav

Mem Qof, Dalet Vav Samech Vav)</H> like <H>yesodo (Yod Samech

Vav Dalet Vav)</H> its base was thrown. This is the

explanation taught me by R. Jacob ben Yakar; but my

master[118] reads <H> (He Vav Samech Qof, Samech Yod Dalet,

Vav)</H>: the lime of the furnace melted as a result of the

great heat. Such are the explanations of my masters. It was

from the heat thrown out by the lime that those men were

consumed who cast Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah into the

burning fiery furnace and that the golden image of the king

was transformed before his eyes]; the image of the king was

transformed before his eyes; the four empires were consumed by

the flames [the kings and their subjects, who aided

Nebuchadnezzar in casting Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah into

the fire]; finally, Ezekiel brought the dead to life in the

plain of Dura.[119]

What has been said up to this point indicates the position taken

by Rashi with regard to the Halakah. Unlike Maimonides in his

commentary of the Mishnah, he did not as a rule concern himself

with the fixation of legal principles and practice, or with the

definite solution of questions under controversy. He confined

himself to his task of commentator and interpreter. The brevity

he imposed upon himself made it an obligation not to enter into

long and detailed discussions; for he would have had to dispose

of varying opinions and justify his choice. He carried his

principle to such an extent that it could be said of him, "Rashi

is a commentator, he does not make decisions."[120]

But there are numerous exceptions to the rule. Often Rashi deems

it necessary to state a definite solution, either because it has

been the subject of controversies on the part of his masters, or

because it was difficult to separate it from the rest of the

discussion, or because it served as the point of departure for

another discussion. Finally, the explanation of such and such a

passage of the Talmud presupposes the solution of a question,

unless the solution changes with the explanation of the passage.

When the question is left in suspense by the Talmud, Rashi

usually determines it in the strictest sense; but when it

receives contradictory solutions, he either falls back upon

analogous cases or adduces rules of Talmudic methodology. Often,

however, his conclusion is nothing else than a statement of the

practice observed in his time.

In all these cases Rashi's authority carries great weight; so

much so, in fact, as to overbalance that of Alfasi and

Maimonides. Frequent appeal was made to it by casuists of a later

date, and it would have been invoked still oftener had his

Decisions been gathered together, like those of the Spanish and

German rabbis, instead of having been scattered through a large

number of compilations.

* * * * *

By reason of these and other qualities the Talmudic commentaries

of Rashi without doubt outweigh his Biblical commentaries. I

should be inclined flatly to contradict the opinion ascribed to

Jacob Tam, Rashi's grandson: "So far as my grandfather's

commentary on the Talmud is concerned, I might do as much, but it

would not be in my power to undertake his commentary upon the

Pentateuch." The Biblical commentary is not always absolutely

sure and certain, and the defects are marked. The Talmudic

commentary remains a model and indispensable guide. Although

numerous Biblical commentaries have been composed with Rashi's as

a standard and in order to replace it, no one has dared provide a

substitute for his Talmudic commentary. From an historical point

of view, the value of the Talmudic commentary is no less great.

At the same period, in three countries, three works were composed

which complemented one another and which came to form the basis

of Talmudic studies. At the time when Rashi commented on the

Talmud, Nathan ben Jehiel[121] composed the Talmudic lexicon,

which is still used to a great extent, while Isaac Alfasi in his

Halakot codified all the Talmudic regulations. Of the three

works the first was the most celebrated. The exaggerated

statement was made of Rashi, that "without him the Talmud would

have remained a closed book."[122] And Menahem ben Zerah[123]

said: "There was no one so illuminating, and so concise as Rashi

in the commentary he wrote as if by Divine inspiration. Without

him, the Babylonian Talmud would have been forgotten in Israel."

The echo of this enthusiastic opinion is heard in the words of

the Hebrew scholar H. L. Strack, a Christian, and the modern

Jewish scholar A. Darmesteter. The one says: "Rashi wrote a

commentary which the Jews hold in extraordinarily high regard and

which all must concede is of the greatest value." Darmesteter

wrote: "Suppress the commentary of Rashi, that masterwork of

precision and clearness, and even for a trained Talmudist, the

Talmud becomes almost enigmatical."

Can more be said? The commentary has become, in brief,

The Commentary, the Commentary par excellence, Konteros

(Gommentarius).

CHAPTER VIII

THE RESPONSA

In the previous chapter we saw that Rashi, though chiefly

concerned with the mere explanation of the Talmud, nevertheless

intrenched sometimes upon the domain of practice. It must not be

forgotten that at that epoch the life of the Jews was based upon,

and directed by, rabbinical jurisprudence and discipline. The

study of the Talmud was taken up for the sake of finding in it

rules for the daily conduct of existence. Apart from certain

questions purely theoretic in character and having no practical

application, Talmudic studies, far from being confined to the

school, responded to the needs of life and were of real, vital

interest. But since the Talmud is not allcomprehensive, the

rabbis in drawing inspiration from its rules, from precedents it

had already established, and from analogous instances contained

in it, were justified in rendering decisions upon new points

arising out of circumstances as they occurred. Thus, measures

are cited passed by Rashi upon the payment of taxes, Christian

wine, the Mezuzah, phylacteries, etc. These measures

resulted not so much from his own initiative as from the requests

preferred to him by his disciples, or by other rabbis, or even by

private individuals.

The Responsa addressed by rabbinical authorities to individuals

or to communities who had submitted difficult cases and questions

to them for solution, constitute a special genus of post-Biblical

literature. Not to mention their legislative value, how precious

they are as documents in proof of the fact that no distances were

too long, no obstacles too great to prevent the people from

obtaining the opinion of a scholar! They even sent special

messengers to him, when there were no favoring circumstances,

such as a fair at the rabbi's place of residence, or a journey to

be undertaken thither for other reasons than the purpose of the

consultation. Thus lively relations were established among the

Jews of the most widely separated countries; and an active

correspondence went on between scholars of Babylon, Northern

Africa, Spain, France, Germany, and Italy.

The circle of Rashi's connections, however, was limited to France

and Lorraine. His chief correspondents were his teachers and

their disciples.[124] It was only after Rashi's day, when

communication between the Christian and the Moslem worlds became

more frequent, that rabbinical authorities were appealed to from

all the corners of Europe and Africa.

Though his correspondents were not so widely scattered, the

subjects touched upon by Rashi in his Responsa are very varied in

character. He was consulted on the meaning of a Biblical or a

Talmudic passage, on the text of the liturgy, on rules of

grammar, on Biblical chronology, and, especially, on new cases

arising in the practice of religion. These Responsa, inspired,

so to speak, by actualities, by the come and go of daily affairs,

introduce the reader to the material and intellectual life of the

Jews of the time, besides furnishing interesting information

concerning the master's method.

One of the questions most frequently agitated regarded wine of

the Gentiles, the drinking of which was prohibited to the Jews

because it was feared that the wine had been employed for

idolatrous libations. Cases of this kind turned up every day,

because the Jews occupied themselves with viticulture[125] and

maintained constant communication with the Christians. Rashi

showed himself rather liberal. Though, of course, forbidding

Jews to taste the wine, he permitted them to derive other

enjoyment from it, the Christians not being comparable to the

pagans, since they observed the Noachian laws. Rashi's grandson,

Samuel ben Meir, explicitly states in Rashi's name that the laws

set forth by the Talmud against the Gentiles do not apply to the

Christians.

The brother of Samuel, Jacob Tam, tells us that Rashi forbade the

payment of a tax by using a sum of money left on deposit by a

Christian. This decision, Jacob Tam adds, was intended to apply

to the whole kingdom and, in fact, was accepted throughout

France. This testifies not only to the great authority Rashi

enjoyed, but also to the uprightness, the honesty of his

character. Another of his qualities becomes apparent in a second

Responsum treating of the relations between Jews and Christians.

They carried on trade with each other in wheat and cattle. Now,

the Mishnah forbids these transactions. "When this prohibition

was promulgated," wrote Rashi, "the Jews all dwelt together and

could carry on commerce with one another; but at present, when we

are a minority in the midst of our neighbors, we cannot conform

to so disastrous a measure." Rashi, it is therefore evident,

knew how to take into account the needs of the moment, and

accommodate rules to conditions.

Relations, then, between the Jews and their fellow citizens were

cordial. The horizon seemed serene. But if one looked closer,

one could see the gathering clouds slowly encroaching upon the

calm sky, clouds which were soon to burst in a storm of bloody

hate and murderous ferocity. Although the change came about

imperceptibly and the Jews enjoyed the calm preceding the

tempest, despite this and despite themselves, they entertained a

smothered distrust of the Christians. For instance, they used

ugly expressions to designate objects the Christians venerated.

The Christians responded in kind. The ecclesiastical works of

the time are full of insults and terms of opprobrium aimed at the

Jews. If one reads the narrative of the Crusades, during which

the blood of innocent massacred Jews flowed in streams, one must

perforce excuse, not so much real hostility toward the

Christians, as the employment of malicious expressions directed

against their worship. The feeling that existed was rather the

heritage of tradition, the ancient rivalry of two sister

religions, than true animosity. As for tolerance, no such thing

yet existed. It was difficult at that time for people to

conceive of benevolence and esteem for those who professed a

different belief. The effect of the First Crusade upon the inner

life of the communities was to create anomalous situations within

families, necessitating the intervention of rabbinical

authorities. The Responsa of Rashi dealing with martyrs and

converts no doubt sprang from these sad conditions. A woman,

whose husband died during the persecution, married again without

having previously claimed her jointure from the heirs of her dead

husband; but she wanted to insist on her rights after having

contracted the new union. Rashi, in a Responsum, the conclusions

of which were attacked after his death by several rabbis,

declared that the claim of the woman was entitled to

consideration.

The echo of the Crusades is heard in other instances. I have

already spoken of the liberal, tolerant attitude[126] assumed by

Rashi in regard to the unfortunates who deserted the faith of

their fathers in appearance only, and sought refuge in that of

their persecutors. He excused the hypocrisy of these weak

beings, who accepted baptism only externally and in their hearts

remained Jews.

In general, so far as questions in regard to lending on interest,

to giving testimony, and to marriage relations were concerned,

Rashi held the apostate to be the same as the Jew. He was once

asked if the testimony of an apostate was valid in law. "It is

necessary," he replied "to distinguish in favor of those who

follow the Jewish law in secret and are not suspected of

transgressing the religious precepts which the Christians oblige

them to transgress outwardly. At bottom they fear God. They

weep and groan over the constraint put upon them, and implore

pardon of God. But if there is a suspicion that they committed

transgressions without having been forced to do so, even if they

have repented with all their heart, and all their soul, and all

their might, they cannot bring evidence ex post facto concerning

facts which they witnessed before they repented."

Rashi, then, was indulgent above all toward those who had been

converted under the compulsion of violence, and who sincerely

regretted their involuntary or imposed apostasy. On one

occasion, he was asked if the wine belonging to such unfortunates

should be forbidden, though they had proved their return to the

Jewish faith by a long period of penitence. Rashi replied: "Let

us be careful not to take measures for isolating them and thereby

wounding them. Their defection was made under the menace of the

sword, and they hastened to return from their wanderings."

Elsewhere Rashi objects to recalling to them their momentary

infidelity. A young girl was married while she and her

bridegroom were in the state of forced apostasy. Rashi declared

the union to be valid, for "even if a Jew becomes a convert

voluntarily, the marriage he contracts is valid. All the more is

this true in the case of those who are converted by force, and

whose heart always stays with God, and especially, as in the

present case, if they have escaped as soon as they could from the

faith they embraced through compulsion."

Since internal union is the surest safeguard against persecution

from without, Rashi earnestly exhorted his brethren to shun

intestine strife. "Apply yourselves to the cultivation of

peace," he once wrote. "See how your neighbors are troubled by

the greatest evils and how the Christians delight in them.

Concord will be your buckler against envy and prevent it from

dominating you." In a community, doubtless that of Chalons-

sur-Saone, in Burgundy,[127] there were two families that

quarrelled [quarreled sic] continually. The community had

intervened to stop the strife, but one of the two families

declared in advance that it would not submit to its decision. A

member of the other family, irritated, reproached one of his

enemies with having been baptized. Now Rabbenu Gershom, under

penalty of excommunication, had forbidden people to recall his

apostasy to a converted Jew. Rashi was asked to remove this

prohibition; but he declined, not wishing to intervene in the

internal administration of a strange community. "What am I that

I should consider myself an authority in other

places?... I am a man of little importance, and my

hands are feeble, like those of an orphan. If I were in the

midst of you, I would join with you in annulling the

interdiction." From this it is evident that the strongest weapon

of the rabbinical authorities against the intractable was, as in

the Church, excommunication; but that sometimes individuals

asserted, and even swore in advance, that they would not yield to

the decree against them. Rashi considered that this oath, being

contrary to law, was null and void.

Rashi, guided by the same feelings, was pitiless in his

condemnation of those who fomented trouble, who sowed discord in

families, sometimes in their own households. A man, after having

made promise to a young girl, refused to marry her and was upheld

in his intrigues by a disciple of Rashi. Rashi displayed great

severity toward the faithless man for his treatment of the girl,

and he was not sparing even in his denunciation of the

accomplice. Another man slandered his wife, declaring that she

suffered from a loathsome disease, and through his lying charges

he obtained a divorce from her. But the truth came to light, and

Rashi could not find terms sufficiently scathing to denounce a

man who had recourse to such base calumnies and sullied his own

hearth. "He is unworthy," Rashi wrote, "to belong to the race of

Abraham, whose descendants are always full of pity for the

unfortunate; and all the more for a woman to whom one is bound in

marriage. We see that even those who do not believe in God

respect the purity of the home, - and here is a man who has

conducted himself so unworthily toward a daughter of our Heavenly

Father." After indicating what course is to be pursued in case

of divorce, Rashi concluded: "But it would be better if this man

were to make good his mistake and take back his wife, so that God

may take pity on him, and he may have the good fortune to build

up his home again and live in peace and happiness."

The Responsa, providing us, as we have seen, with interesting

information concerning Rashi's character, are no less important

for giving us knowledge of his legal and religious opinions. As

a result of the poise of his nature, and in the interest of

order, he attached great importance to traditional usages and

customs. Innovations are dangerous, because they may foment

trouble; to abide by custom, on the contrary, is the surest

guarantee of tranquillity [tranquility sic]. In casuistical

questions not yet solved, he did not adopt as his principle the

one prevailing with so many rabbis, of rendering the strictest

decision; on the contrary, in regard to many matters, he was more

liberal than his masters or his colleagues. Nevertheless, he

congratulated those whose interpretation in certain cases was

more severe than his own. In his scrupulous piety, he observed

certain practices, although he refused to set them up as laws for

others, since, one of his disciples tells us, he did not wish to

arrogate to himself the glory of instituting a rule for the

future. He contented himself with saying: "Blessed be he who

does this." Since he stuck to the rigid observance of religion,

and feared to open the door to abuses, he advised his pupils not

to give too much publicity to certain of his easy interpretations

of the Law.

If he did not approve of laxity, he had still less sympathy with

the extreme piety bordering on folly of those whom he called

"crazy saints." Enemy to every exaggeration, he blamed those

who, for example, imposed upon themselves two consecutive fast

days. Once when the Fast of Esther fell on a Thursday, a woman

applied to Rashi for advice. She told him she was compelled to

accompany her mistress on a trip, and asked him whether she might

fast the next day. Rashi in his Responsum first recalled the

fact that the Fast of Esther was not mentioned either in the

Bible or in the Talmud, and then declared that the over-

conscientious Jews who fast on Friday in order to make a feast

day follow close upon a fast day, deserve to be called fools who

walk in darkness.[128]

Finally, although Rashi was very scrupulous in matters of

religion, he was tolerant toward faults and failings in others.

Sinners and, as I have shown, even apostates found grace with

him. He liked to repeat the Talmudic saying to which, in

generalizing it, he gave a new meaning, "An Israelite, even a

sinful one, remains an Israelite."

There is little to say concerning the style of Rashi's Responsa.

In the setting forth and the discussion of the questions under

consideration, his usual qualities are present - precision,

clearness, soberness of judgment. But the preambles - sometimes a

bit prolix - are written after the fashion prevailing among the

rabbis of the time, in a complicated, pretentious style, often

affecting the form of rhymed prose and always in a poetic jargon.

With this exception, the Responsa do not betray the least

straining after effect, the least literary refinement. The very

fact that Rashi did not himself take the precaution to collect

his Responsa, proves how little he cared to make a show with

them, though, it is true, the custom of gathering together one's

Responsa did not arise until later, originating in Spain, and

passing on to Germany. As I shall immediately proceed to show, it

was Rashi's disciples who collected the Responsa of their master

and preserved them for us, at least in part.

CHAPTER IX

WORKS COMPOSED UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF RASHI

After having passed in review the works which are the result of

Rashi's own labor and which have come down to us in the shape in

which they emerged from his hands, or nearly so, several works

remain to be described that present a double character; they did

not spring directly from Rashi's pen, but were written by his

pupils under his guidance, or, at least, as the result of his

inspiration and influence. They have reached us in altered form,

amplified, and sometimes improved, sometimes spoiled by various

authors. The confusion reigning in these works has contributed

toward an inexact appreciation of their function. From the first

they were meant to be compilations, collections of rules, rather

than works having a specified object.

To point out the fact once again, Rashi's pupils became his

collaborators; and, it must be added, they established a

veritable cult of their master. They neglected nothing

concerning him; they carefully noted and piously recorded his

slightest deed and gesture, on what day they had seen him, under

what circumstances, how he felt that day, and how he conducted

himself at the table. When a case similar to some previous one

arose, they contented themselves with referring to the former and

reproducing the discussion to which it had given rise.

It is to this veneration, bordering on religious devotion, that

we owe the preservation of Rashi's Responsa and Decisions. Some

entered into the collections of the Babylonian Geonim, - a fact

which shows how highly people regarded the man who was thus

ranked with the greatest rabbinical authorities, - but most of

them formed the basis of several independent works: the Sefer

ha-Pardes (Book of Paradise), the Sefer ha-Orah (Book

of Light?), the Sefer Issur-we-Heter (Book of Things

Prohibited and Things Permitted), and the Mahzor Vitry.

The first work was edited at the beginning, the last, at the end,

of the nineteenth century, and part of the second was introduced

into the first by the editor of the first. The whole of the

second has just been published by Mr. Solomon Buber. The third

work, which offers many resemblances to the Mahzor Vitry,

is still in manuscript; but Mr. Buber has recently promised us

its publication in the near future, as well as a Siddur,

or ritual, of Rashi, related to the Mahzor Vitry and to a

Sefer ha-Sedarim.

In all these collections it is sometimes difficult to determine

what is Rashi's handiwork, or which of his pupils is responsible

for certain passages. The composition of the works is, in fact,

original and merits brief characterization.

The Sefer ha-Pardes, though commonly attributed to Rashi

himself, cannot possibly have been his work, since it contains

rules, decisions, and Responsa made by several of his

contemporaries, and even by some of his successors. Among others

are additions by Joseph Ibn Plat or his disciples (second half of

the twelfth century). But in respect of one of its constituent

elements, it was a creation of Rashi's. It was formed, in fact,

by the fusion of two collections. The author of the one

containing the customs of the three cities of Speyer, Worms, and

Mayence, must have been one of the Machirites; while the author

of the other, comprising Rashi's practices and Responsa, must

have been his disciple Shemaiah.[129]

The Sefer ha-Pardes is a widely-read book, and it has been

used, sometimes under other titles, by the greater number of

legal compilations made in France and Germany. It passed through

various redactions, and the one now extant is not the most

complete.

The Sefer ha-Orah, the redaction of which is sometimes

attributed, though wrongly so, to Nathan haMachiri, is a

compilation of several works, which seem to have been written in

Spain at the beginning of the fourteenth century. It consists of

two principal elements; the first, German in origin, is similar

to the Pardes now extant; the second is the work of the Spaniard,

Judah ben Barzillai, of Barcelona (twelfth century). It is, of

course, in the first that one finds fragments of works which date

back to the disciples of Rashi.

The Mahzor Vitry is a more or less homogeneous work. It

contains rules of jurisprudence and of religious practice,

Responsa by Rashi, by his predecessors, and by his

contemporaries, prayers and liturgic poems, "Minor" Talmudic

treatises, the whole divided into chapters following the yearly

cycle, and bearing upon the various circumstances of life. The

work contains many additions due to Isaac ben Durbal, or Durbalo,

who visited the countries of Eastern Europe and was the disciple

of Rabbenu Tam (about 1150). He is wrongly considered to be the

redactor of the Mahzor Vitry. The author of the work is,

without doubt, Simhah ben Samuel, of Vitry, a disciple of Rashi

(about 1100), who availed himself, moreover, of the works of

other pupils of the master.

The Mahzor Vitry is of great importance not only for the

historian of Rashi, but also for the historian of Franco - Jewish

culture and literature at that time. The same may be said of the

Sefer ha-Pardes. Yet this material must be used with the

utmost caution; for it has come to us in a sad condition,

disfigured by the compilers and copyists, who introduced elements

from various sources and different epochs. The original works

disappeared during the persecutions and autos-da-fe which

followed one another in France and Germany. The redactions now

extant come from Spain and Italy.

These short analyses may give an idea of the collections not yet

edited; for they all stand in relation one with the other, and

are in great part formed of the same elements and derived from

the same material.

CHAPTER X

POETRY ATTRIBUTED TO RASHI

Almost immediately upon the birth of liturgical poetry in the

time of the Geonim, an illustrious representative arose in the

person of Eleazar ha-Kalir,[130] who came to exercise a profound

influence upon his successors, and in Rashi's day this poetry

attained a high degree of development. That was the time when

Jews, instead of merely listening to the officiating minister,

commenced to accompany him with their voices in antiphonal

chants.

Like most of the rabbis of his time, Rashi wrote liturgical

poems, the number of which Zunz, with more or less surety, places

at seven. Three are still preserved in some rituals. According

to Luria, Rashi composed more than this number.

It is fair to question whether a Talmudist is fashioned to be a

poet, and whether it is possible for love of discussion and

dialectics to accord with poetic sensibility and imagination.

Indeed, the liturgical poetry of the Jews of France and Germany

has not the least artistic value. It shows neither concern for

originality, nor knowledge of composition, and the poets were

strangers to the conception of art and beauty. Moreover, they

imposed upon themselves rather complicated rules, the most simple

forms adopted being rhyme and acrostic. Sometimes they

accomplished veritable feats of mental gymnastics, whose merit

resided in the mere fact that a difficulty was overcome. Too

often a play upon words or alliteration takes the place of

inspiration, and ideas give way to factitious combinations.

These defects disappear in a translation, which is all the more

acceptable for the very reason that it does not reproduce the

vivid coloring of the original. The following, recited on the

Fast of gedaliah (<H>az terem nimteju (Alef zayin, Mem resh

Final_Mem, Nun mem Tav Het Vav)</H>), may serve as an example.

Rashi uses certain Midrashim in it which describe the throne of

God and the heavenly court. Such poetry as there is - and there

is some - is overlaid and submerged by the slow development of

the thought and the painfully detailed enumerations, strongly

reminiscent of the Bible. It should be said that the language of

Rashi is far simpler than that of his contemporaries.

Before yet the clouds were gathered in a canopy,

Before yet the earth was rounded as a sphere,

Thou didst prepare seven in Thy abode:

The sacred Law, the splendid throne, the backslider's return,

Paradise in all its beauty, and insatiable hell,

The atonement place for sacrificial offerings,

And the resplendent name of him who delays to come because of

all our sins.

Two thousand years before our globe were these,

Set as jewels in the sky, whence earthward gleamed their

light;

In the realms above they ready stand round Him enthroned

between the Cherubim.

Firm established is the heavenly throne for the King supreme

Whose glory is shed upon all within His presence:

By His right hand the Law engraved with flaming letters

He caresses like a child beloved.

Toward the south lies the ever-fragrant Garden,

Hell with its ever-burning flames to the north,

Eastward Jerusalem built on strong foundations,

In the midst of it the sanctuary of God,

And in the sanctuary the altar of expiation,

Weighted with the corner-stone of the world,

Whereon is graven the Messiah's holy name

Beside the great Ineffable Name.

In the centre [center sic] before Him who is the source of all

blessings stands Repentance,

The healing balm for the suffering and afflicted soul,

Appointed to remove each blemish, array the repentant in

unsoiled garments,

And pour precious oil on the head of sorrowing sinners.

Thus we all, both old and young, appear before Thee.

Wash off our every taint, our souls refine from every sin.

Backsliding children, we come to Thee as suppliants,

Seeking Thee day by day with humble, urgent prayers.

Account them unto us as blood and fat of offerings,

Like sacrificial steers and rams accept our contrite words.

O that our sins might be sunk in abysmal depths,

And Thy brooding infinite mercy bring us near to Thee.

In the first part of this poem the imagination displayed cannot

be said to call forth admiration either by reason of fertility or

by reason of brilliance. Any ordinary student of the Talmud and

the Midrash might have produced it. Nevertheless Rashi awakens a

certain sort of interest, it may even be said that he touches the

emotions, when he pours out all his sadness before God, or rather

- for his grief is impersonal - the sadness of the Jew, the

humble sinner appealing to the mercy of God. When his feelings

rise to their most solemn pitch, their strong pulsations visible

through the unaccustomed poetic garb, the cloak of learned

allusions drops of itself, and emotion is revealed under the

strata of labored expressions. All the poems by Rashi belong

under the literary form called Selihot, penitential

psalms, recited on fast days.

What has been said of the first specimen quoted applies equally

to the next (<H>Hashem Elohei Hatzevaot Bore Baolionim (Yod Yod,

Alef Lamed He Yod, He Tsadi Bet Alef Vav Tav, Bet Vav Resh Alef,

Bet Ayin Lamed Yod Vav Nun Yod Final_Mem)</H>), for the eve of

the Day of Atonement. It would have been more effective, had

there been less emphasis and a more consecutive development of

the thought.

... Of all bereft we appear before Thee, --

Thine is the justice, ours the sin, --

Our faces flushed with shame we turn to Thee,

And at Thy gates we moan like doves.

Vouchsafe unto us a life of tranquil joy,

Purge us of our stains, make us white and pure.

O that our youthful faults might vanish like passing clouds!

Renew our days as of old,

Remove defilement hence, set presumptuous sins at naught;

The purifying waters of truth sprinkle upon us,

For we confess our transgressions, we rebellious, faithless

children.

* * * * *

O that a contrite spirit, a broken, repentant heart

Be acceptable to Thee as the fat of sacrifices!

Accomplish for the children Thy promise to the fathers.

From Thy celestial abode hearken unto us who cry to Thee!

Strengthen the hearts of those inclined to pay Thee homage,

Lend Thy ear unto their humble supplication.

Yet once more rescue Thy people from destruction.

Let Thy olden mercy speedily descend on them again,

And Thy favored ones go forth from judgment justified, --

They that hope for Thy grace and lean upon Thy loving-kindness.

The final specimen (<H>tefilah lekadma (Tav Pe Lamed He, Lamed

Qof Dalet Mem Final_Nun</H>) is still more pathetic in its

tearful contrition. The last lines even rise to unusual beauty

when they point down a shining vista of happy, serene days.

At morn we order our prayers, and wait to offer them to Thee.

Not sacrificial rams we bring to Thee, but hearts contrite and

tender.

O that the tribute of our lips might plead our cause,

When suppliants we stand before Thy threshold, watching and

waiting.

The early dawn awakens us, and our faces are suffused with

shame.

Our hearts beat fast, we whisper softly, hoarse and weary with

calling on Thee.

We are cast down, affrighted, -- Thy judgment comes.

To Thy teaching we turned deaf ears,

And unto evil were seduced.

Rebellious were we, when Thou camest to guide us aright,

And now we stand abashed with lowered eyes.

Our ruin Thou didst long past see --

Is Thy fiery wrath still unappeased?

We sinned in days agone, we suffer now, our wounds are open,

Thy oath is quite accomplished, the curse fulfilled.

Though long we tarried, we seek Thee now, timid, anxious,

--we, poor in deeds.

Before we perish, once more unto Thy children join Thyself.

A heavenly sign foretells Thy blessing shall descend on us.

Brute force is shattered, and with night all round about,

Thy affianced spouse, loving, yearning,

Calls on Thy faithfulness; she pleads with her eyes, and asks,

is still she Thine,

Is hers Thy love for aye?

The uniformity and monotony of this poetry, it must be admitted,

weary the reader. The author never goes beyond a narrow circle of

ideas, and general ideas at that. It is impossible to make out

whether the allusions are to contemporaneous events, the

persecutions connected with the First Crusade, for instance, or

whether they refer to the ancient, traditional wrongs and

sufferings. Nowhere is Rashi's poetry relieved by a touch of

personal bias. It cannot be denied, however, that the poems

testify to a fund of sincerity and enthusiasm, and that is

noteworthy in a period of literary decadence, when it often

happens that sincerity of sentiment fails by a good deal to find

sincere expression for itself. Esthetic inadequacy should by no

means be taken as synonymous with insincerity. Rashi proves,

that without being an artist one can be swayed by emotion and

sway the emotions of others, particularly when the dominant

feeling is sadness. "The prevailing characteristic of Rashi's

prayers," says Zunz, the first historian of synagogue poetry as

well as the first biographer of Rashi, "is profound sadness; all

of them are filled with bitter plaints." Finally, if the

Selihot by Rashi fall far short of our idea and our ideal

of poetry, they at least possess the interest attaching to all

that relates to their illustrious author.

BOOK III

THE INFLUENCE OF RASHI

CHAPTER XI

FROM RASHI'S DEATH TO THE EXPULSION

OF THE JEWS FROM FRANCE

The preceding chapters show how voluminous and varied was Rashi's

work. And yet we are far from possessing everything he wrote; a

number of texts have disappeared, perhaps are lost forever. But

this fertility is not Rashi's sole literary merit. If the

excellence of a work is to be measured not only by its intrinsic

value, but also by its historical influence, by the scientific

movement to which it has given the impulse, by the literature

which it has called into being, in short, by its general effect,

no work should receive a higher estimate than that of Rashi, for,

it may be said without exaggeration, no other work was ever the

occasion of so much comment and discussion, and none exerted an

influence so far reaching and enduring. From the moment of their

appearance his writings spread rapidly, and were read with

enthusiasm. After profoundly affecting his contemporaries, Rashi

continued to guide the movement he had started. His influence

upon rabbinical literature is comparable only with that of

Maimonides. Indeed, it was more wholesome than his. The

Talmudic codex established by Maimonides aimed at nothing less

than to shut off the discussions and to give the oral law firm,

solid shape. Rashi, on the contrary, safeguarded the rights of

the future, and gave his successors full play. Again, not having

introduced into his work philosophic speculations, he was

shielded against criticism, and his renown was therefore more

immaculate than that of the author of the Mishneh Torah, who had

to undergo furious attacks.

Rashi dominates the entire rabbinical movement in France and

Germany. Generally, the influence of a writer wanes from day to

day; but as for Rashi's, it may he said to have increased by

force of habit and as the result of events, and to have broadened

its sphere. Limited at first to French, Lotharingian, and German

centres [centers sic] of learning, it soon extended to the south

of Europe, to Africa, and even to Asia, maintaining its force

both in the field of Biblical exegesis and of Talmudic

jurisprudence.

Since it is impossible to mention all the authors and works

following and preceding Rashi, it must suffice to point out some

characteristic facts and indispensable names in order to bring

into relief the vitality and expansive force of his achievement,

and to show how it has survived the ravages of time, and, what is

more, how it has overcome man's forgetfulness - edax tempus,

edacior homo. We shall see that Rashi directed the course of

the later development at the same time that he summed up in his

work all that had previously been accomplished.

"The example of a man as revered as Rashi for his piety, his

character, and his immense learning was bound to make a

profound and lasting impression upon his contemporaries. His

descendants and his numerous disciples, pursuing with equal

zeal the study of the Talmud and that of Scriptures, took as

their point of departure in either study the commentaries of

their ancestor and master, to which they added their own

remarks, now to enlarge upon and complete the first work, now

to discuss it, refute it, and substitute new views. Thus

arose the Tossafot, or additional glosses upon the Talmud, and

thus in the following generations arose new commentaries upon

the Pentateuch or upon the entire Bible, in which the rational

spirit evoked by Rashi assumed a more and more marked and

exclusive form."[131]

Finally, Rashi's influence was not confined either within the

walls of the Jewries or within the frontiers of France, but it

radiated to foreign lands and to ecclesiastical circles.

It may be said without exaggeration that Rashi's Talmudic

commentary renewed rabbinical studies in France and in Germany.

It propagated knowledge of the Talmud there and multiplied the

academies. In fact, schools were founded in all localities

containing Jewish communities no matter how insignificant; and it

is difficult for us to obtain any idea of the number and

importance of these "Faculties," scattered over the length and

breadth of Northern France, which thus became a very lively

centre [center sic] of Jewish studies and the chief theatre

[theater sic] of the intellectual activity of the Occidental

Jews. Its schools eclipsed those of the Rhenish countries and

rivalled [rivaled sic] in glory those of Spain.

What in the first instance contributed to the success of the

movement begun by Rashi, is the fact that he moulded [molded sic]

numerous disciples - in this more fortunate than Maimonides, who

was unable to found a school and who sowed in unploughed land.

It was only with the lapse of time that his work little by little

made its way, while Rashi through his teaching exerted an

absolutely direct and, as it were, living influence. Rashi's

authority was such that Troyes became the chief centre [center

sic] of studies. Many pupils flocked to it and there composed

important works, casting into sure and permanent form the

intellectual wealth they had gathered while with their master.

They put the finishing touches to his work and labored to

complete it, even during his life, and as though under his

protection.

I have already spoken of Simhah ben Samuel de Vitry, author of

the liturgical and ritual collection, Mahzor Vitry.[132]

Among other disciples not so well known are Mattathias ben Moses,

of Paris, Samuel ben Perigoros, Joseph ben Judah, and Jacob ben

Simson (1123), who lived at Paris or Falaise and wrote Responsa

at the dictation of his master, and, besides commentaries, a

Mahzor, and an astronomic work. He was in turn the master of

Jacob Tam.

Judah ben Abraham, of Paris, aided by suggestions from his

master, wrote a ceremonial for the Passover. In carrying out his

task, he availed himself of the notes of his older fellow

disciple Simhah, and his collaborator was Shemaiah, who had

already worked on Rashi's commentary on Ezekiel. Besides,

Shemaiah made additions to Rashi's Talmudic commentaries, and

composed several commentaries under his guidance. He also

collected and edited Rashi's Decisions and Responsa, serving, as

it were, as Rashi's literary executor. Moreover, he was a

relative of Rashi's, though the degree of kinship is not known,

the evidence of authors upon the subject being contradictory.

Some maintain he was Rashi's grandson, or son-in-law, or the son-

in-law of his sister; according to others - and this seems more

exact he was the father-in-law of a brother of Jacob Tam.

At all events, it was Rashi's relatives who contributed most to

his renown. "In regard to his family Rashi enjoyed unexampled

good fortune," says Zunz. "It was not only through his

disciples, but also through his family that the founder of

rabbinical literature in France and Germany established his

reputation, spread his works, and added to the lustre [luster

sic] of his name." A fact which no doubt helped to assure the

direction of the studies made by Rashi's descendants, is that

they possessed the manuscripts written and corrected by their

ancestor; and these autographs were veritable treasures at a time

when books were rare and copies inexact.

One of Rashi's sons-in-law, Judah ben Nathan,[133] was a

scholarly and highly esteemed Talmudist. At the suggestion of

his father-in-law, he completed Rashi's commentaries and

continued the work after Rashi's death, using as his chief aid

the oral explanations he had received from him. The son of

Judah, Yomtob, was also a good Talmudist.

The other son-in-law, Meir ben Samuel (about 1065-1135), was

originally from the little town of Rameru,[134] which through him

and his sons became an important intellectual centre [center sic]

for more than a half century. Meir was a distinguished scholar

whom his sons sometimes cite as an authority. He wrote Responsa

in association with his master and father-in-law. As I have

already stated, Meir ben Samuel married a daughter of Rashi,

Jochebed, by whom he had four sons and a daughter, Miriam, the

wife of Samuel of Vitry. One of the sons, Solomon, has been

known to us for only about twelve years, although he had a

reputation as a Talmudic and Biblical scholar, chiefly the

latter, having received the surname of "father of grammarians."

His reputation, however, was eclipsed by that of his three

brothers, who have poetically been called the three vigorous

branches of the tree of which Rashi was the trunk. These were

Samuel ben Meir, surnamed Rashbam, Jacob ben Meir, surnamed Jacob

Tam, or Rabbenu Tam, and finally Isaac ben Meir, surnamed Ribam.

The last, who lived without doubt at Rameru and there composed

Tossafot,[135] died during the life-time of his father,

leaving seven young children. He did not equal his brothers

either in knowledge or renown.

Samuel ben Meir (about 1085-1158) studied under his grandfather.

As we have seen[136] he discussed exegetic questions with Rashi,

and went so far as to express opinions in his presence concerning

points of casuistry. On Rashi's death, it seems, he assumed the

direction of the school at Troyes; but he was more prominently

identified with the academy which he, following in the steps of

his master, founded at Rameru, and which soon became prosperous.

It was at Rameru, too, that he wrote his valuable Talmudic

commentaries.[137] Among his pupils are said to have been Isaac

ben Asher ha-Levi, of Speyer, and Joseph Porat ben Moses, known

also as Don Bendit. Samuel ben Meir's was a bold, independent

spirit. In some instances he sacrificed a Talmudic explanation

for the sake of one that seemed more natural to him. In addition

he had a fair amount of scientific and philosophic knowledge, and

he was very productive in the field of literature.

But Rashbam's authority, if not his knowledge, was exceeded by

that of his younger brother Jacob. Jacob Tam, born about 1100,

was still a very young child when Rashi died. He studied under

the guidance of his father, on whose death he assumed the

direction of the academy of Rameru in his father's place. Then

he went to Troyes, where he was surrounded by numerous pupils,

some from countries as distant as Bohemia and Russia. One of his

best known disciples was Eliezer ben Samuel, of Metz (died about

1198), author of the Sefer Yereim (Book of the Pious).

Other pupils of his mentioned were Moses ben Abraham, of

Pontoise, to whom he wrote in particularly affectionate terms,

and Jacob of Orleans, a scholar held in high regard, who died at

London in 1189 in the riot that broke out the day of Richard I's

coronation. A year later, in 1190, the liturgical poet and

Biblical commentator Yomtob de Joigny died at York. It seems

that Jacob Tam, like his successors, had to suffer from the

popular hate and excesses. In fact he tells how, on one

occasion, on the second day of Pentecost (possibly at the time of

the troubles resulting from the Second Crusade), he was robbed

and wounded, and was saved from death only through the

intervention of a lord. The end of his life was saddened by the

auto-da-fe of Blois, at which numerous Jews suffered

martyrdom. He perpetuated the memory of that occasion by

instituting a fast day. He died in 1171, universally regretted

for his clear and accurate intellect, his piety, uprightness,

amiability, and modesty. His contemporaries considered him the

highest rabbinical authority, and he was consulted by persons as

remote as in the south of France and the north of Spain. He

possessed a remarkably original, broad yet subtle intellect, and

his writings display keen penetration and singular vigor of

thought. He devoted himself chiefly to Biblical exegesis; but in

this domain he obtained a reputation less through the purely

exegetical parts than through the critical work in which he

defended the grammarian Menahem against the attacks of

Dunash.[138] His liturgical compositions and the short poems

with which he sometimes prefaced his Responsa show that he was a

clever poet, an imitator of the Spaniards. Abraham Ibn Ezra

while on his rovings in France was one of his correspondents.

However, Jacob Tam, or, to call him by his title of honor,

Rabbeun Tam, - in allusion to Gen. xxv. 27, where Jacob is

described as "tam," a man of integrity - owed his renown to his

Talmudic activity, which he exerted in an original line of work

though he was not entirely free from the influence of Rashi. If

he was not the creator of a new sort of Talmudic literature, he

was at least one of its first representatives. Either because he

considered the commentaries of his grandfather impossible to

imitate, or because he could not adapt himself to their

simplicity and brevity, he took pleasure in raising ingenious

objections against them and proposing original solutions. These

explanations joined to his Decisions and Responsa were collected

by him in a work called Sefer ha-Yashar (Book of the

Just), of which he himself made two redactions. The one we now

possess was put together - rather inaccurately - after the death

of the author according to the second recension. The Sefer

ha-Yashar was used a great deal by later Talmudists. It may

be said to have inaugurated the form of literature called

Tossafot.

As the word signifies, the Tossafot are "additional notes,"

"Novellae," upon the Talmud. They display great erudition,

ingenuity, and forcible logic, and they represent a prodigious

effort of sharp analysis and hardbound dialectics. The authors

of the Tossafot, the Tossafists, were marvellously [marvelously

sic] skilful [skillful sic] at turning a text about and viewing

it in all its possible meanings, at discovering intentions and

unforeseen consequences. Their favorite method was to raise one

or more objections, to set forth one or more contradictions

between two texts, and then to propound one or more solutions,

which, if not marked by simplicity and verisimilitude, none the

less bear the stamp of singularly keen insight. In their hands

the study of the Talmud became a sturdy course in intellectual

gymnastics. It refined the intellect and exercised the sense of

logic. Yet it would be a mistake to see in the Tossafot nothing

but the taste for controversy and love of discussion for the sake

of discussion. The Tossafists, even more than Rashi, sought to

deduce the norm, especially the practical norm, from the Talmudic

discussions, and discover analogies permitting the solution of

new cases. Thus, while Rashi's commentary is devoted to the

explanation of words, and, more generally, of the simple meaning

of the text, the Tossafot enter into a searching consideration of

the debates of the Talmud. Moreover, Rashi composed short but

numerous notes, while the Tossafists wrote lengthier but less

consecutive commentaries. At the same time one of Rashi's

explanations is a fragment of the Tossafot explanation. Thus,

the commentary of the Tossafists exists in abridged form, as it

were, in germ, in the commentary of Rashi. Rashi was the

constant guide of the Tossafists. His commentary, "the

Commentary," as they called it, was ever the basis for their

"additions." They completed or discussed it; in each case they

made it their point of departure, and his influence is apparent

at every turn. The species of literature called Tossafot is not

only thoroughly French in origin, but, it may said, without Rashi

it would never have come into existence. The authors of the

Tossafot are as much the commentators of Rashi as they are of the

Talmud.[139] The Tossafot bear the same relation to his Talmudic

commentary as the Gemara to the Mishnah. Like the Amoraim in

regard to the Tannaim, the Tossafists set themselves the task of

completing and correcting the work of the master; for, despite

their veneration for Rashi, they did not by any means spare him

in their love of truth.

The first Tossafists, both in point of age and worth, were not

only the disciples, but also, as we have seen, even the

descendants of Rashi. "We drink," said R. Tam, "at the source

of R. Solomon." One of the most celebrated Tossafists was a

great-grandson of Rashi, Isaac ben Samuel (about 1120-1195)

surnamed the Elder, son of a sister of R. Tam and grandson, on

his father's side, of Simhah, of Vitry. Born without doubt at

Rameru, he attended the school of his two uncles, Samuel ben Meir

and Jacob Tam. When Jacob Tam left for Troyes, Isaac ben Samuel

took his place. Later he founded a school at Dampierre,[140]

where, it is said, he had sixty pupils, each of whom knew one of

the treatises of the Talmud by heart. Through his departure,

Rameru lost its importance as a centre [center sic] of study. He

collected and co-ordinated various explanations growing out of

Rashi's commentaries. Thus he established the foundations for

the Tossafot, on every page of which his name appears.

He was the teacher of the most learned Talmudists of the end of

the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth century. His son

and collaborator Elhanan, a highly esteemed rabbi, died before

him, some say as a martyr. Among his disciples are said to have

been Baruch ben Isaac, originally from Worms, later resident of

Ratisbon, author of the Sefer ha-Terumah (Book of the

Heave-Offering), one of the first and most influential casuistic

collections (about 1200); Isaac ben Abraham, called the Younger

to distinguish him from his master, whom he succeeded and who

died a little before 1210; and the brother of Isaac, Samson of

Sens (about 1150-1230), whose commentaries, according to the

testimony of Asheri, exercised the greatest influence upon the

study of the Talmud. He was one of the most illustrious

representatives of the French school, and his authority was very

great. His usual abiding place was Sens in Burgundy, but about

1211 he emigrated to Palestine in the company of some other

scholars. He met his death at St. Jean d'Acre.

By this time Champagne had proved too contracted a field for the

activity of so many rabbis. Flourishing schools arose in Ile-de-

France and Normandy; and it is related that at Paris, in the

first half of the twelfth century, lived the scholarly and pious

Elijah ben Judah, who carried on a controversy about phylacteries

with his kinsman Jacob Tam. But the most celebrated Tossafist of

Paris without reserve was Judah Sir Leon, born in 1166 and died

in 1224, a descendant of Rashi. The school of Paris having been

closed after the expulsion of 1181, Judah went to study at

Dampierre under the guidance of Isaac and his son Elhanan. Among

his fellow-disciples, besides the rabbis already mentioned, were

Samson Sir of Coucy, Solomon of Dreux, Simon of Joinville,

Abraham ben Nathan, of Lunel, and others. In 1198 Philip

Augustus recalled the Jews he had expelled, and the community

again prospered. Judah re-established the school, which soon

assumed the first place in the list of academies. Among his

numerous pupils mention is made of Moses ben Jacob, of Coucy,

brother-in-law of Samson and 'author of the famous Sefer

Mizwot Gadol (Great Book of Precepts), abbreviated to

Semag, which shows the mingled influence of the Mishneh

Torah of Maimonides and of the Tossafot of the French

masters; Isaac ben Moses, of Vienna, who carried into Austria the

methods and teachings of his French masters, surnamed Or

Zarua after the title of his work, a valuable ritual

compilation; and Samuel ben Solomon Sir Morel,[141] of Falalse

(about 1175-1253), whose most celebrated pupil was Meir of

Rothenburg, the greatest authority of his country and his time,

known for his dramatic end as well as for his great intellectual

activity (1225-1293).

The successor of Judah Sir Leon was Jehiel ben Joseph, or Sir

Vives, of Meaux. At this time the school is said to have counted

three hundred pupils. In the disputation of 1240,[142] Jehiel

ben Joseph together with Moses of Coucy, Samuel of Falaise, and

another less well-known rabbi, Judah ben David, of Melun,

represented the Jews. A Christian source calls Jehiel "the

cleverest and most celebrated of all the Jews." When he left for

Palestine in 1260 the school of Paris was closed not to be opened

again.

Jehiel left behind him in France two important disciples, his

son-in-law, Isaac ben Joseph, of Corbeil (died in 1280), who in

1277 published the "Columns of Exile," also called Sefer

Mizwot Katan (Little Book of Precepts), abbreviated to

Semak, a religious and ethical collection, which enjoyed

great vogue; and Perez ben Elia, of Corbeil (died about 1295),

who mentions Isaac as his master also. Perez visited Brabant and

Germany, where he maintained relations with Meir of Rothenburg.

Among his pupils there was Mordecai ben Hillel, an authority

highly esteemed for his decisions, who died a martyr at Nuremberg

in 1298. Another master of his was Samuel ben Shneor, of Evreux

(about 1225), a much-quoted Tossafist, who studied under the

guidance of his elder brother Moses, editor of the "Tossafot of

Evreux," largely used for the present printed editions of the

Tossafot. In the second half of the thirteenth century, Eliezer

of Touques compiled the Tossafot of Sens, of Evreux, etc., adding

his own explanations on the margin. His work forms the chief

basis for our present Tossafot to the Talmud.

As always with redactions and compilations, these mentioned here

are a sign of the discontinuance of studies, worn threadbare by

two centuries of intense activity. Decadence, moreover, was

brought about more rapidly, as we shall see, by the misfortunes

that successively befell the Jews of France.

Rashi's influence was no less enduring and no less wholesome in

the province of Biblical exegesis. An idea of the impression he

made may be gained from the fact that more than fifty super-

commentaries were written on his commentary on the Pentateuch, to

explain or to complete it, to defend it, and occasionally to

combat it. But Rashi's influence was productive of still more

than this. It called into being original works superior even to

his own. His disciples shook off the yoke of Talmudic and

Midrashic tradition that had rested upon him. But even when they

surpassed him, it was nevertheless his influence that was acting

upon them and his authority to which they appealed.

Samuel ben Meir, diffuse as were his Talmudic commentaries, was

admirably brief in his commentary on the Pentateuch, which is a

model of simplicity and accuracy, and is marked by insight and

subtlety. It is possibly the finest product of the French

exegetic school. It sets forth general rules of interpretation,

as, for instance, that the Bible should be explained through

itself and without the aid of the Haggadic or even Halakic

Midrash. Literal exegesis, said Samuel ben Meir, is more

forceful than Halakic interpretation. He so resolutely pursued

the method of Pesbat, that Nahmanides felt justified in declaring

he sometimes overdid it. The same admirable qualities exist in

Rashbam's commentaries on the Prophets and the Hagiographa, in

which he everywhere turns to excellent account the works of his

ancestor, sometimes merely referring to them, but also combating

Rashi's explanations, though in this case he does not mention

Rashi.

Eliezer of Beaugency and Moses of Paris (middle of the twelfth

century) were doubtless among the disciples of Samuel ben Meir.

Moses of Paris, in turn, had a pupil by the name of Gabriel.

Occasionally Rashbam did not disdain the Midrash. But the same

cannot be said of his friend and collaborator Joseph ben Simon

Kara (born about 1060-1070, died about 1130-1140), a nephew and

disciple of Menahem ben Helbo, and the friend if not the disciple

of Rashi, to whom he acknowledges himself indebted. He wrote

additions to Rashi's commentaries, and on Rashi's advice wrote a

part of his Biblical commentaries, several of which have been

published. They enjoyed great vogue, and in certain manuscripts

they are set alongside of, or replace, Rashi's commentaries.

They fully deserve the honor; for, in fact, Joseph Kara surpasses

Rashi and rivals Rashbam in his fair-minded criticism, his

scrupulous attachment to the literal meaning, and his absolutely

clear idea of the needs of a wholesome exegesis, to say nothing

of his theological views, which are always remarkable and

sometimes bold. He frankly rejected the Midrash, and compares

the person making use of it to the drowning man who clutches at a

straw. Contrary to tradition he denies that Samuel was the

author of the Biblical book bearing his name.

Side by side with Joseph Kara belongs his rival and younger

contemporary Joseph Bekor-Shor, doubtless the same person as

Joseph ben Isaac, of Orleans, who was a disciple of Rabbenu Tam,

and must, therefore, have lived in the middle of the twelfth

century. His commentary on the Pentateuch, which has been

published in part, is frequently cited by later exegetes, and its

reputation is justified by its keen insight and its vein of odd

originality. Joseph Bekor-Shor had felt the influence of the

Spaniards, but he had yielded to the attractions of Talmudic

dialectics, which he had acquired at a good school, although,

like his master, he cites, in connection with the Bible, a

certain Obadiah.

Quae secutae sunt magis defieri quam narrari possunt. In

the works of the second half of the twelfth century this fault

becomes more and more perceptible, and signs of decadence begin

to appear. Moreover, the writings at this time were very

numerous, fostering, and, in turn, stimulated by, anti-Christian

polemics. The greater number of the Tossafists study the Bible

in conjunction with the Talmud. Citations are made of

explanations or Biblical commentaries by Jacob of Orleans, Moses

of Pontoise, Isaac the Elder, Isaac the Younger, Judah Sir Leon,

Jehiel of Meaux, and Moses of Coucy. All these rabbis wrote

Tossafot to the Bible as well as to the Talmud. This comparative

study of Bible and Talmud was continued for some time, untill

[until sic] at the beginning of the thirteenth century

intellectual activity was exhausted. Original works were

replaced by a large number of compilations, all related to one

another, since the authors copied without scruple and pillaged

without shame.

Chief among these works, which bear the general title of Tossafot

to the Torah and some of which have been printed, are

Hazzekuni, by Hezekiah ben Manoah (about 1240),

Gan[143] (Garden), by Aaron ben Joseph, (about 1250),

Daat Zekenim (Knowledge of the Ancients), in which many

exegetes are cited (after 1252), Paaneah Razah (Revealer

of the Mystery), by Isaac ben Judah ha-Levi (about 1300),

Minhat Yehudah (Offering of Judah), by Judah ben Eliezer

(or Eleazar), of Troyes (1313), Hadar Zekenim (Glory of

the Ancients; beginning of the fourteenth century), and Imre

Noam (Pleasant Words), by Jacob of Illescas (middle of the

fourteenth century).

All these works were more or less inspired by Rashi, and some,

such as Hazzekuni, might be called super-commentaries to

Rashi. But these disciples were not true to the spirit of the

master. They gave themselves up to the Haggadah more than he

did, and also to a thing unknown to him, Gematria and mystical

exegesis. Thus this French school, which for nearly a century had

shone with glowing brilliance, now threw out only feeble rays,

and abandoned itself more and more to the subtleties of the

Midrash, to the fancifulness of the Gematria. It almost

consigned to oblivion the great productions in rational exegesis,

always excepting Rashi's commentaries, the popularity of which

never waned, as much because of the author's renown as because of

his concessions to the Midrash.

It remained for a Christian exegete to free rational exegesis

from the discredit into which it had fallen. The ecclesiastical

commentators even more than the authors of the Biblical Tossafot

were steeped in allegorism and mysticism; but among them were

some who cultivated the interpretation of the literal meaning of

Scriptures, and even appealed to Jewish scholars for

explanations'. Unfortunately, Rashi's works, written in a

language unintelligible to the Christians, could not in any

degree influence a general intellectual movement.

However, exception must be made of the celebrated Franciscan monk

Nicholas de Lyra (born about 1292, died in 1340), author of the

Postillae perpetuae on the Bible which brought him the

title of doctor planus et utilis. Nicholas de Lyra

possessed knowledge rare among Christians, knowledge of the

Hebrew language, and he knew Hebrew so well that he was thought

to be a converted Jew. In his works, polemical in character, he

comes out against the mystical tendencies in the interpretations

of the rabbis, and does not spare Rashi, even attributing to him

explanations nowhere existing in Rashi's writings. But these

criticisms of his, as he himself says, are "extremely rare."

Moreover he does not refrain from accepting for his own purposes

a large number of Midrashim borrowed from Rashi. It was from

Rashi's commentaries, in fact, that he learned to know rabbinical

literature - only to combat it. On one occasion he said, "I

usually follow Rabbi Solomon, whose teachings are considered

authoritative by modern Jews." He sometimes modified the text of

the Vulgate according to the explanations of the rabbi, and his

commentary on the Psalms, for instance, is often only a

paraphrase of Rashi's. For this reason Nicholas de Lyra was

dubbed, it must be admitted somewhat irreverently, simia

Salomonis, Rashi's Ape. Nevertheless, he exercised great

influence in ecclesiastical circles, comparable to that of Rashi

among the Jews. His commentary was called "the common

commentary." Possibly it was in imitation of Nicholas's work

that the name glosa hebraica (the Hebrew commentary), or

simply glosa, was bestowed upon Rashi's work by a

Christian author of the thirteenth century, who, if not the

famous scholar and monk Roger Bacon, must have been some one of

the same type. Another Christian exegete of the same period,

William of Mara, cites Rashi's commentary under the title of

Perus. The admiration felt for Nicholas de Lyra, which now seems

somewhat excessive, is expressed in the well-known proverb: Si

Lyra non lyrasset, totus mondus delirasset. A modification

of the proverb, si Lyra non lyrasset, Lutherius non

saltasset, is not an exaggeration; for the works of the

Franciscan monk were soon translated into German, and they

exercised a profound influence on the leader of the Reformation

when he composed the translation of the Bible, epoch-making in

the history of literature as well as of religion. It is known

that Luther had large knowledge of the Hebrew and a strong

feeling for it, a quality he owed to Nicholas de Lyra and,

through him, to the Jewish exegetes, although his scornful pride

would never permit him to concede that "Rashi and the Tossafists

made Nicholas de Lyra and Nicholas de Lyra made Luther."

At the time when Rashi's influence was thus extended to Christian

circles, the Jewish schools called into being by his work and his

teachings fell into decay on account of the persecutions that

shook French Judaism to its foundations and almost deprived it of

existence. This shows how firmly intellectual activities are

bound up with temporal fortunes - a truth manifested in the

period of growth and maturity and illustrated afresh in the

period of decadence.

I must hasten to add that the Talmudic commentaries of Rashi's