AJS REVIEW The Journal of the Association for Jewish Studies Vol. IX, No. 1 Spring 1984

Front Matter Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984) Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the ...

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Front Matter Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984) Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486435 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:17 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.

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AJS VOL. SPRING

IX,

NO.

1

1984

it9 TheJournalof theAssociation forJewishStudies

('I

REVIE

Volume IX, Number 1, Spring,

1984

ASSOCIATION FOR JEWISH STUDIES CAMBRIDGE,MASSACHUSETTS

AJS Review

EDITOR:

Robert Chazan, QueensCollege ASSOCIATE EDITORS:

Seymour Feldman, RutgersUniversity Robert Goldenberg, StateUniversityof New Yorkat StonyBrook Paula E. Hyman, JewishTheologicalSeminaryof America David C. Jacobson, Universityof Pennsylvania Baruch A. Levine, New YorkUniversity Benjamin C. I. Ravid, BrandeisUniversity CORRESPONDINGEDITOR:

Lloyd P. Gartner, Tel-AvivUniversity BOOKREVIEWEDITOR:

Arnold J. Band, Universityof Californiaat LosAngeles The AJS Review(ISSN 0364-0094) is publishedtwice annuallyby the Association for Jewish Studies. Manuscriptsfor considerationshould be sent to Prof. Robert Chazan, Dept. of History,QueensCollege,Flushing,N.Y. 11367.Books for reviewshouldbe sent to Dr. CharlesBerlin,Association for Jewish Studies, WidenerLibraryM, Harvard University,Cambridge,Mass.02138. @ 1984bytheAssociationforJewishStudies

MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

AJSREVIEW THE JOURNAL OF THE ASSOCIATION FOR JEWISH STUDIES

VOLUMEIX, NUMBER1, SPRING,1984

Articles 1

NORMAN J. COHEN

Analysis of an Exegetic Tradition in the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael: The Meaning of 'Amanah in the Second and Third Centuries 27

STUART A. COHEN

The Concept of the Three Ketarim: Its Place in Jewish Political Thought and Its Implications for a Study of Jewish Constitutional History 55

MARTHA HIMMELFARB

R. Moses the Preacher and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs 79

JEFFREYFLECK

The Drama of Narration:Y. H. Brenner'sIn Winter 97

NAOMIB. SOKOLOFF

Metaphor and Metonymy in Agnon's A Guestfor the Night Book Reviews 113 James L. Kugel. TheIdea ofBiblical Poetry YEHOSHUAGITAY

116 Anthony J. Saldarini. Scholastic Rabbinism: A Literary Study of the FathersAccordingto Rabbi Nathan LAWRENCE H. SCHIFFMAN

119 Bernard Septimus. Hispano-Jewish Culture in Transition: The Career and Controversiesof Ramah JEREMYCOHEN

123 MosheGil. TheTustaris:FamilyandSect [inHebrew] NORMAN A. STILLMAN

125 Stephen Sharot. Messianism, Mysticism, and Magic. A Sociological Analysis ofJewish Religious Movements MARC SAPERSTEIN

129 Stanley Nash. In Search of Hebraism: Shai Hurwitz and His Polemics in the Hebrew Press DAVIDC. JACOBSON

132 Else-RahelFreund.FranzRosenzweig'sPhilosophyof Existence:An Analysisof "The Star of Redemption" NORBERTSAMUELSON

137 William B. Helmreich. The Worldof the Yeshiva:An Intimate Portrait of Orthodox Jewry. CHARLES

S. LIEBMAN

Publicationof this volumeof AJS Reviewhas been madepossibleby grants from the National Foundationfor JewishCulture,the S. H. and Helen R. ScheuerFamilyFoundation,andthe Dorot Foundation.TheAssociationis gratefulfor theirsupportandencouragement.

VolumeIX of the AJS Reviewmarksthe acceptanceof editorialresponsibilityby a new boardof editors.The membersof this new editorialboard wish to acknowledge,on behalfof the entireAssociationfor JewishStudies, the devotedlaborsof theirpredecessors.In particularwe note the effortsof ProfessorsLloyd P. Gartnerand Nahum M. Sarna,who servedas consulting editors for volumes VI-VIII, of Dr. Charles Berlin, who served as managingeditor for volumes I-V, and of ProfessorBenjaminRavid, who servedas associateeditorfor volumesIV-VIII. Above all, we wish to single out ProfessorFrankTalmagefor specialpraiseand thanks.FrankTalmage single-handedlycreated a major new journal. His indefatigablework, his carefulediting,his insistenceon the higheststandards- all these traitsare well-knownto his colleaguesand amply reflectedin the excellenceof the journalwhichhe editedfor the firsteightyearsof its existence.The Association for Jewish Studiesand the entire Jewish scholarlyworld will remain indebtedto Frank.The new editorialboardhopes to remainfaithfulto the central objectivesadumbratedin both theory and practiceby Frank Talmage duringthe period between 1976 and 1983. To be sure,changeis inevitable,and some alterationshavealreadybeen introduced.The most obvious are the new semiannualscheduleof publication and the inclusionof reviewsin thejournal.Ultimatelythe successof the AJS Reviewdepends upon the support of its writingand readingconstituency.The new editorialboardmust turnto the membershipof the Association for JewishStudies- and beyondit - with requestsfor articlesand reviews,for help in evaluatingmaterialssubmittedfor consideration,and for reactionsto works published.We trust that the supportprovidedto Frank Talmageand his fellow editors will prove to be our lot as well. The Boardof Editors

Analysis of an Exegetic Tradition in the "Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael": The Meaning of 'Amanah in the Second and Third Centuries Author(s): Norman J. Cohen Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 1-25 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486436 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:18 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



ANALYSIS OF AN EXEGETIC TRADITION IN THE MEKHILTA DE-RABBI ISHMAEL: THE MEANING OF 'AMANAH IN THE SECOND AND THIRD CENTURIES by NORMAN J. COHEN In the past few years,a numberof workshaveappearedwhichhavetried to utilize differentmethodsin the analysisof midrashicand aggadictexts. These recentefforts includethe applicationof literarystructuralanalysis,' formulacomparison,2linguistictools,3and formand redactioncriticism,4in 1. See, for example, the work of Jonah Fraenkel. Among his article'swhich deal with the nature of the talmudic story and the application of structural analysis to it are "Ma'ase be'R. Shila," Tarbi; 40 (1970): 33-40, "She'eilot Hermenutiyot be-Heker Sippur ha-'Aggadah," Tarbi; 47 (1978): 139-172, and "Ha-Zeman ve-'Isuvo be-Sippurei ha-'Aggadah," in Studies in Aggadah, Targumand Jewish Liturgy in Memory of J. Heinemann, ed. Jakob Petuchowski and Ezra Fleischer (Jerusalem, 1981), pp. 133-162. 2. The most recent work using formula comparison as a means of text analysis and correction is Isaac Boaz Gottlieb's "Formula Comparison in Midrash Research," Jewish Quarterly Review 70 (1979-80): 28-40. 3. For example, Jonah Fraenkel, "Paranomasia in Aggadic Narratives," Scripta Hierosolymitana 27 (1978): 27-51. 4. See Joseph Heinemann's work on the literary homily as a uniform, edited whole in his article " 'Omanut ha-Qompozigiyah be-Midrash Va-Yiqra Rabbah," Ha-Sifrut 2 (1971): 808-834 [English pr6cis: "Profile of a Midrash: The Art of Composition in Leviticus Rabbah,"

1

2

NORMAN J. COHEN

addition to concernfor the sitz im lebenof particularpassages,i.e., sociohistoricalstudies.5 Often, however,it is only througha multifacetedanalyticapproachthat one can begin to plumb the depths of a text. In order to maximizeone's understandingof any given passageor compilation,it is necessaryto take advantageof a varietyof scholarlytools.6In approachingthe text fromonly one analyticperspective,the studentof Midrashwill frequentlybe leftwith a ratherskewedview of its intentand development.We who are interestedin the Midrashmustbeginto hone as manytextualskillsas possiblein orderto uncover the mysteriesthat lie within its passages. With this in mind,I proposeto examinea ratherwell-knownpassagein the Mekhiltade-RabbiIshmael,7the famouspaeanto faith ('amanah)found at the end of Massekhtade-va-Yehibe-Shallab,parashah7, by focusing upon the exegetic formulae, wordplays, developmentof theme, literary structure,and historicalcontext. Journal of the American Academy of Religion 39 (1971): 141-150], as well as his analysis of the structure of the petibta in "The Proem in the Aggadic Midrashim: A Form-Critical Study," Scripta Hierosolymitana 22 (1971): 100-122. See also Zipporah Kagan, "Divergent Tendencies and Their Literary Moulding in the Aggadah," Scripta Hierosolymitana 22 (1971): 151-170; Wayne Sibley Towner, The Rabbinic Enumerationof Scriptural Examples (Leiden, 1973); Gary Porton, The Traditions of Rabbi Ishmael, Part Two: Exegetical Comments in TannaiticCollections (Leiden, 1977); Reuven Hammer, "Section 38 of Sifre Deuteronomy: An Example of the Use of Independent Sources to Create a Literary Unit," Hebrew Union College Annual 50 (1979): 165-178; and Ira Chernus, "On the History of a Pericope in the Midrash Tanbuma," Journal for the Study of Judaism 11 (1980): 53-65. These works attempt to analyze midrashic texts using form and redaction critical tools. Note also the important comments of Richard Sarason in his article "Toward a New Agendum for the Study of Rabbinic Midrashic Literature," in Studies in Aggadah, Targum and Jewish Liturgy in Memory of J. Heinemann, pp. 51-73. 5. For example, Philip R. Davies, "Passover and the Dating of the Aqedah," Journal of Jewish Studies 30 (1979): 59-67; Gary Porton, "Midrash: Palestinian Jews and the Hebrew Bible in the Greco-Roman Period," Aufstieg und Niedergang der r6mischen Welt, ed. Hildegard Temporini and Wolfgang Haase, 11, 19:2 (Berlin and New York, 1979), pp. 103-138; and Eugene Mihaly, A Song to Creation (Cincinnati, 1975). 6. Note as an illustration, Eugene Mihaly's analysis of pisqa 312 of Sifrei Devarim in his article "A Rabbinic Defense of the Election of Israel; An Analysis of Sifre Deuteronomy 32:9," Hebrew Union College Annual 35 (1964): 103-143. 7. Though much of the material in the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, like that of the other Exegetic Midrashim, probably emanated from the tannaitic period, scholars generally hold that it was compiled sometime during the first part of the amoraic period. See, in this regard, Leopold Zunz, Ha-Derashot be- Yisra'el, trans. and enl. Hanokh Albeck (Jerusalem, 1947), p. 27; Meir Friedmann, "Mavo," Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael (Vienna, 1870), pp. xvi-xxvi; and Towner, Rabbinic Enumerationof Scriptural Examples, p. 48, n. 1. For a survey of the scholarship on the dating and characteristics of the Mekhilta as well as an example of the minority view which regards it as a very late, post-talmudic compilation, see Ben-Zion Wacholder, "The Date of the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael," Hebrew Union College Annual 39 (1968): 117-144.

ANALYSIS OF AN EXEGETIC TRADITION

3

TheTextandComments The followingversionof the passageis takenfrom the criticaleditionof the Mekhiltade-RabbiIshmaelby Jacob Lauterbach8and is divided into fivesectionsto facilitatethe analysiswhichwill follow. I haveaddeda rather loose Englishtranslation. I Great is 'amanahbefore Him who spoke and the world came into :7bKm1,mer'Unbxi 91Dyn;nn7 ambS being. For as a rewardfor Israel's n.11 ;lIow x o" 10'fl r mtl Pffg1 'amanah,the holy spirit restedupon ,l ,iSS them and they gave forth in song, as l"**.11 'llSxS it is said:"And they had faith in the Lord.... Then shall Moses and the childrenof Israelsing" [Exod. 14:31, 15:1]. obirn

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s

2oi t

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aiv

'$$a •K1t•'13/ 2gK•D1•'7 ,'I2DI "=1D7:7

8. Jacob Lauterbach, ed. and trans., Mekilta de-Rabbi Ishmael (Philadelphia, 1933), vol. 1, pp. 252-255. The text of the Lauterbach edition is superior to that of Hayyim Horowitz and Yisrael Rabin (Jerusalem, 1960), since Horowitz used mainly the early printed editions (Venice, 1545; Constantinople, 1515; and Leghorn, 1801) for his basic text, while Lauterbach utilized both MS Oxford, no. 151 and MS Munich Cod. Hebr. 117 (1) in his text. For a general comparison of the two editions, see Louis Finkelstein, "The Mekilta and Its Texts," Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research 5 (1933-34): 3-54. In addition, compare Ezra Melamed's review of the Horowitz-Rabin edition in Tarbi; 6 (1934/35): 112-123 with Saul Lieberman's critique of the Lauterbach edition in Qiryat Sefer 12 (1934/35): 54-65. Even though Lieberman would have preferred it if Lauterbach had used one of the full manuscripts and points out the dangers and difficulties of an eclectic text, he repeatedly underscores the generally high quality of the Lauterbach edition. 9. The version in the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon b. Yobaireads a bit differently here: ni~av on line vr~ilnm ' . Even though a similar phrase, 'u;n • 1•a n'~,~9 (,3mtIn1) rnv•nlIr, appears 10, it probably was not an original part of the text, since it is not found in any of the other important parallels. These include the early-thirteenth-century Spanish work Sefer ha-Manhig (Hilkhot Pesah 2) and Sefer 'Or Zaru'a (Hilkhot Pesabim 234), which was compiled in the Provence at the beginning of the thirteenth century. Additionally, this phrase is not part of the repetition of the opening derash at the end of the passage (1. 43), even in the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon version (MRSBY). 10. The Horowitz-Rabin edition, following the earlier printed editions, has the formula "-ni introducing the second text from Exodus 15:1. 11. At this point, the printed editions and, therefore, the Horowitz-Rabin text contain the K y1 K mN l p1nri N following sentence: ,'n-' I~'Knurn nr1~ rfrn V' NtV Pm 1,'yn h1Ky . •t f, Pi, w. This segment is found in allnf, the text witnesses following the ques.isp- 15 -.1nan 'a nnT tion attributedr•n to R. Nehemiah and the restatement of the opening derash as an answer. Even though Isaac Weiss, in the commentary to his edition of the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, en-

4

NORMAN J. COHEN

II

R. Nehemiahsays:Whencecan you prove that whosoever accepts one m;nx:n ' 1 11 1mv irnn single commandmentwith 'amanah n iyna powr ui;sa l wp5 is deservingof havingthe holy spirit nwiv rest upon him?We find this to have on-flt n :1n v ,i)Vi N been the case with our forebears. , 1 " ~,, ltIN"1, 111"1 pl 14",. :"D ,93.1 mmn wr)xv my n For as a rewardfor their 'amanah, mbiyn. nx irnx on-inx meritedhaving the holy spirit c x na they 7,pnx xl:Wl "1 13g• ....l , n".1t"1 rest xrn ionx upon them,and as a resultthey pvxmr*:,nx~v; pil "*.*,= 153 x5x 5Kx-lw n13nx .1tDW Iroyntn Nx" gave forth in song, as it is said: In *":"1DNVI .12mxnP•1I"And they had faith in the Lord.... '6".P/,n1 Then shall Moses and the children of Israelsing."And so is the case of our fatherAbraham,who inherited both this world and the world-tocome only as a reward for his 'amanah,as it is said: "And he had faith in the Lord" [Gen. 15:6].And unx a

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nx

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titled Middot Soferim, argued that the order of the material in the printed edition was preferred and that the tradition regarding Abraham was correctly placed prior to the comment of R. Nehemiah (p. 406), this is surely not the case. Not only do the manuscripts and all the later parallels, such as Yalqut Shim'oni 1:240, confirm that this derash should appear only once in this passage and following the R. Nehemiah material, but from a structural point of view it can only appear there. (See my comments below, p. 12). The erroneous repetition of the material at this point in the passage is probably the result of a scribal error of the type called homoeoteleuton, by which the copyist simply moved his eye from line 5 to line 12 and copied the subsequent material. 12. The printed editions as well as Sefer ha-Manhig and Sefer 'Or Zaru'a do not have the nxl Tp~but begin simply with the word ?D. This reading, which presents opening as ... v ~VimK the comment attributed to R. Nehemiah as a statement of principle rather than a request for a and xi nnnrn p', which biblical proof text, is probably the original, since the formulae 'xr,-p7 follow, come to supply illustrations or applications of a previously stated point. See additional comments about the function of the formula xti nnrKp on pp. I 1-12. 13. The MRSBY reads v, while the version in 'Or Zaru'a substitues up?91n for n;wvir•, 14. The unit of material on lines 9-12 pv) is not found in either 'Or (wr~,-.a3w... •,~' Zaru'a or the Manhig. "And He 15. The printed editions supply the end of this crucial proof text: npsYT n' wn', counted it to him for righteousness." '~ 16. The rest of the text from Exodus 4:31 reads: K5e "And they nn 'n ,i'r) "p-) iiv•vni, heard that the Lord had remembered the children of Israel."


5

so also is the case of Israel, which was redeemedfrom Egypt only as a rewardfor its 'amanah,as it is said: "And the people had faith" [Exod. 4:31]. III

And thus it says: "The Lord pre13in "1ini pit'r" :1imi .nlim n31:ix servesthe faithful"[Ps. 31:24]- He nT" *"'1;21 keeps in remembrancethe 'emunah ".13 iR•• os''Yn "*•5 tnI of the forebears.And it also says: ujex nag1arSly 1rinnD," I9"?1m Ian Sftn "And Aaron and Hur supportedhis ?: mr. f~n *.nslx mv ) I l .ftn ma. irpns hands" [Exod. 17:12]."This is the nr'i' •u"1.":MINiHIM}P1.1:2703M2113W r of the -rq 1lv5 Lord;the righteousshall gate 1= iPxi qi;p-hY I-Ton -ini * enter into it" [Ps. 118:20]. What en ? *".'1212"nnobw 1,1 1'1•s•7: "nrn 02" v? blow x 13 X: ~ IT -1in does it say about the people of 20,nmK the gates, that ** 5 'amanah?"Open ye :n-x:13S 2nin1~ ITon "x171an the righteous nation that keeps ? inimx l**.mnL faithfulness may enter in" [Isa. "1 :msrpi :rnw"if :" mnv~x 2 rwmn wwranm;muni 26:2].In this gate, then, all peopleof " ' s h m i v r 2 ' n ' l :$rn 'amanahshall enter. And thus it :1wmi miSn11 : says: "It is a good thing to give :2'no2 t .n I- n21 xqpns o-q nmil .21 m a thanks unto the Lord, and to sing an* I**.ln31ix Ph praises unto Your name, O most high;to declareYourlovingkindness in the morning,and Your 'emunahin the night seasons" [Ps. 92:2-3], -1

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17. The entire Psalm 31:24 text is ma n in-, 5' a•?ww a' xK n lnX, "Love 'nX "Im: m ,1'on '.in the Lord, all you His righteous ones. The Lord preserves the faithful, and plentifully repays him who acts haughtily." 18. The key part of this biblical text, which is quoted in the MRSBY version as well as in a number of later parallels, like Tanhumaha-Nidpas, Beshallab 10, and YalqutHosea 519, is ,'m? -r unWun w "And his hands were faithful until the going down of the sun." T n in'r, 19. In the MRSBY text, the superfluous quotation from Psalm 118:20 is missing and the material skips right to "'anUuv Innr" :nmlm(Isa. 26:2). 20. The Munich MS, as well as the printed editions, adds here: apil ~I= n a5i5 D~ "it~r-. 21. The text from Lamentations 3:23 is preceded by the words ilnn * KD x5 -1DmnK5 -, 'n Ton. The peshat is clear: His (God's) mercy and compassion never cease. They are renewed every morning; great is Your faithfulness.

6

NORMAN J. COHEN

"For You, Lord,havemademe glad throughYour work" [ibid.,v. 5] What causedus to attainthisjoy? It was but a rewardfor the 'amanahof our forebearsin this world,whichis altogethernight. It is in this sense that it is said: "To declare Your lovingkindness in the morning becauseof the 'emunahin You in the night seasons" [ibid., v. 3]. And so also Jehoshaphatsays to the people: "Have faith in the Lord, your God, so shall you be established;have faith in His prophets, so shall you prosper"[2 Chron.20:20].And it is written:"O Lord, are not Youreyes directedto 'emunah"[Jer.5:3].And it is written:"Butthe righteousshall live by his 'emunah"[Hab.2:4].And it is written: "They are renewed every morning;great is Your 'emunah" [Lam. 3:23].

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And so is the case of the exiles,who will return in the future only as a reward for 'amanah, for it says: "Come with me from Lebanon,my bride, with me from Lebanon;look from the top of Amana"[Cant.4:8]. And it is also written:"And I will betroth you unto Me forever.... and I will betroth you unto Me because of [your] 'emunah"[Hos. 2:21-22].

22. This formula was used to introduce similar material on lines 12 and 16. is present in the Oxford and Munich MSS, in Tanbumaha-Nidpas, 23. The word n-r'n, Beshallab 10, and in Sefer ha-Manhig. Sefer 'Or Zaru'a reads: vlnv nmtrnn ni,*I pt.


7

V Great indeedis 'amanahbeforeHim

n nin i,S,:nmnn31n7nuna l n who on my spoke and the worldcame into l t I n? ,n" l1 '** 1): :TnIMxI R1" "." "1,myr 1il nx ?xnw nn1 -un notw)* w1

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being. For as a reward for their the holy spiritrestedupon "amanah, them and they gave forthin song, as it is said:"And they had faith in the Lord and in His servantMoses... Then shall Moses and the children of Israel sing this song unto the Lord" [Exod. 14:31, 15:1].And so also it says:"Sincethey have faithin His words, they will sing His praises"[Ps. 106:12].

The passage rests upon the proximityof the last verse of Exodus 14 ('myr=v• 'nr I~~nm1)and the first verse in chapter 15 ('31 nv n irv, t ... .•*iv'). Based upon the rabbis' belief that contiguity means causality,25it

is stressedat the outset that Israelmeritedsingingtheirsong of redemption because they had faith (irmni) in God.26 Redemption came as a result of the

people's 'amanah,howeverit is to be defined. The root Inx in the Bible, though most often translatedas "believe," clearlyconnotesa morecomprehensiveattitudeand relationship,andis betIn the context of a ter understoodas meaning"trust"or "confidence."27 the Israelite trusted that God would protect him covenantalrelationship, and ensurehis prosperityif he observedthe commandments.Havingfaithin 24. This reading is an error on Lauterbach's part, since the manuscripts as well as the key parallel versions, such as YalqutShim'oni 1:240 and Yalqut Hosea 519, all read r13m. 25. Isaac Heinemann, Darkhei ha-'Aggadah (Jerusalem, 1954), bk. 2, pp. 135-136, 140-143. 26. In this light, the reading in the Lauterbach edition, which does not have the term "I~m prior to the Exodus 15:1 citation in lines 5, 12, and 45, seems to be preferred. 27. For a definition of Inxin the Bible, see inter alia Rudolf Bultmann and Arthur Weiser, s.v. "Faith," Kittel's Dictionary of the New Testament(London, 1961), p. 10; Israel Abraham, s.v. "Belief," Encyclopaedia Judaica 4:929-934; Max Kadushin, The Rabbinic Mind (New York, 1952), p. 42; Claude Montefiore and Herbert Loewe, A Rabbinic Anthology (Philadelphia, 1960), p. 336; and Dan Dorfman, "Some Aspects of Faith in Rabbinic Literature" (rabbinic thesis, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, New York, 1976), pp. 16-18. It should be noted that God is not the exclusive object of Inx. It is also used in the Bible to describe the relationship among people. See, for example, 2 Chronicles 20:20.

8

NORMAN J. COHEN

God almostinvariablymeantbeingobedientto His laws and instructions.28 Similarly,the conceptof 'emunahin rabbinicliteraturealso representsa sense of comprehensivetrust in God. Even though trustingin God and it is clearthat for the obeyingHis mitzvotare not necessarilysynonymous,29 rabbisobservancewas a majorexpressionof Israel'sfaith in and reliance upon God. The rabbiscould nevermerelyhave understood'emunahas trust in a general,abstractsense, but ratheremphasizedthat it ultimatelyhad to be expressedin faithfulnessto God's commandments.30 The notion that beliefor trustin God meansthe observanceof the mitzvot is underscoredin our passage by the consistentuse of the term mxm instead of rnmox. The same term is found in the Bible in Nehemiah 10:1, whereit connotesenteringinto a covenantto keepthe commandments: "We similar make a sure covenant(mr In a and subscribe it." manner, qam1) i' whenever'amanahappearsin rabbinictexts it involvesthe fulfillingof obligations and acting in good faith. Whetherit be in halakhicpassages,in whichthe phrasem " is frequentlyfound,31or in 'Aggadah,whereterms •or• like mlimiv32 and mnX V,33 are used, the word 'amanahsignifies the expectationof action in the context of relationship.Here, in our Mekhilta tradition,the words ,n niv (11.9, 17, and 43) seem to mean rewardnot merelyfor faith but, rather,for the faithfulobservanceof God's commandments, since they follow upon R. Nehemiah'scomment at the outset of Section II (... In addition,the phrase1it ?ip rI m•ranx m ,Y.v pn ' ). mnnx ... has a clear legal tone which underscores the willingness on the

person'spart to take upon himself a specific obligation.

28. Isaac Heinemann, s.v. " 'Emunah," Encyclopedia Miqr'ayit 1:426-428, and Bultmann and Weiser, "Faith," p. 44. Many biblical passages illustrate that in the Bible faith is nearly synonymous with obedience. See, for example, 2 Chronicles 19:9. Similarly, when Israel lacks i faith or trust (i~'n x), the Bible emphasizes its failure to observe God's commandments. In this regard, see Deuteronomy 9:23 and Psalm 78. 29. Note Dorfman's critique of scholars like Bultmann who assert that in rabbinic literature faith is identical with obedience to the law. In his thesis, "Some Aspects of Faith in Rabbinic Literature," pp. 98-99, 168-169, Dorfman stresses that only a smattering of 'aggadot directly associate jTx with the performance of the mitzvot. 30. Even Dorfman (p. 77) admits that Israel demonstrates its "faith" in God mainly by its faithfulness to its part of the covenant, i.e., by observing God's commandments. See, in addition, the comments by Louis Jacobs, Faith (London, 1968), p. 101. 31. For example, note B.T. Ketubot 19b. 32. Bereshit Rabbah 100:9. 33. B.T. Sotah 48b.


9

Structureand Theme

It is sometimesquitedifficultto dissectpassagesfoundin theExegetic

Midrashiminto theirbasic blocks of expositionalmaterial,since our extant

haveundergonestagesof redaction.Frequently, laterredaccompilations torsglossedearliertraditionsin an effortto achievegreaterclarity.They oftenprovidedthe readerwithadditionalexamplesof majorprinciplesas well as supplementarybiblicalproof texts.34On occasion, they even added chunksof materialas a meansof balancingor evenmitigatingcertainpoints of view.35In addition,the ExegeticMidrashimsufferedfurtheraccretionsby copyists adding marginalannotationsand other material.36 Yet, if we focus upon the differentexegetic formulae and thematic phraseswhich recurin differentparts of a given passage,we can begin to delineatethe basic unitsof traditionwhichwereeditedtogetherand thereby improveour understandingof the purposeof the material.Note the following presentationof our traditionfrom the Mekhiltade-RabbiIshmaelin this regard: A

v'pn min,r tm'y

"f'ill .... 5 i

nimv

:11ron,,

34. K.G. Eckart, Untersuchungenzur Traditionsgeschichteder Mechilta (Berlin, 1959), p. 54. Ezra Melamed, in his Pirkei Mavo le-Sifrut ha-Talmud (Jerusalem, 1973), p. 187, stresses that through the process of redaction, strophelike structures were created around major principles or themes, while Towner, Rabbinic Enumeration of Scriptural Examples, p. 154, has demonstrated that the stichwort at times functioned as a rather artificial criterion for adding biblical texts to a rabbinic enumeration pattern. 35. Note, as an illustration, the opening section in the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, Massekhta de-Pisha, parashah 1, in which Moses is pictured at first as being superior to Aaron, since he received revelation while his brother did not. However, subsequently, through clear redactional additions, the two are declared to be equally important. 36. Louis Finkelstein, "Studies in the Tannaitic Midrashim," Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research 6 (1935): 190.

10

NORMAN J. COHEN

B II.

}'30 "I1N nInM ,1n Z 5KD 11iKflin

i 1'Kf 5T Mi

13n

'NT

l3vnv

x

l Yn

nx M

,15 Wv:] PnTpn nanI1 rnwnw 131111N=

,1"•1

13S1yn

I 1n I DT13"iKW inK

Knmml? rp minnpi ''1 13'•W1" "i,3 i~w " 131 1%n }t1 [".171," 13KVVxKilV fN 139nmK . 1num7

7"Inx-W

191 y Vl ,oZK

"f'11

wnN

aZ19 -1nx

""

nzwn

3 "7 1mlZ

.Im

. nIz~ll nix

I0n

n331nN

x','tN" 197Dn

011ml

i , DInn"T Tn $.3n ,"" -ft= I1'l

mn"1

1I1#

13MWI

on1' "

N95

mI0517n

13nxnl

ar..ft

:)I"

1

"'1f

I*oi

1X2

xNx

1=2

N13nm

151DIV

pi

xtvi

I-T

)-y

-.ri

5D

13nnnv

inbni

ImN

17,'1Y

.15yn

-.13nm

"1f1

'In

"'I1

"iv

Inmul

n15 )5

17

It" InnW"

muf "

nry1.k

I13

fIN1

7-1-1"mi

D13ibN

7,03m3

1i

I'l",'

10,11000 "

19wl

"Dn w

":

13.n'itN

1'-2

rwmn

13Nrnw"

IrniK;

11


w1 nn

IV.ofXVxtml n Inx

7".33l

i

g

r*DI7133:nIrix

From this layout, it is clear that our passage is made up of three distinct units of material. Each one possesses a uniformity of formulary elements, l as signs of editing. script language, and style,

with Section II. The second unit of material (B) comprises Sections II and IV. Though in our version of the tradition this unit begins with a question, we have already moreofplausible for the wasform that to R. Nehemiah noted a statement: .. comment . 1 pSznattributed to come initthe *.3 The next few lines, to

come

in

the

form

of

a

statement:

. .

1,ft

53pn-11

5D.38

The

next

few

lines,

37. In the parallel in Tanbumaha-Nidpas, Beshallab 10, the introductory formula is nrUrran, which is the fuller version. 38. See n. 12, above.

12

NORMAN J. COHEN

introducedby the formulalua and endingwith a repetitionof Exodus 7•, 14:31and 15:1,seem to be quite redundantand unnecessary.They merely repeatpreviouslycited materialand phrases,and probablywere added in order to link this unit of materialto the pericopetext. That these lines did not originallybelong to Unit B is substantiatedby the fact that they are missing in the versions in Sefer 'Or Zaru'a and Sefer ha-Manhig. Both of

these thirteenth-century compilationsare reliabletext witnesses,since their compilerswere veryexactingin transmittingthe materialthey quotedfrom earliersources.39In both of theseworks,followingR. Nehemiah'sstatement of principle,there are three case illustrations:two are found in Section II n xv and arnt m' ,•t), while the third constitutesSection IV (•x•V Eachof the cases is introducedby the words rn This (nmi7n 'KW). nxnp7n. formulaalmost alwaysfollows a derashor more frequentlya statementof principlebasedupon a biblicaltext and servesto introducean applicationor illustration.40In addition, the three cases bear the very same formula, phraseology,and structure,41and areorderedchronologically- Abraham's reward,redemptionfrom Egypt, and the final returnof the exiles. All this indicates that these three cases originally formed one unit of material togetherwith the statementof principleattributedto R. Nehemiah,which they illustrate. Unit C is the third uniformblock of materialutilizedin our Mekhilta passage.Its uniformityis underscoredby the use of one recurrentintroductory formula, txi K1~•p1,which, in contrast to

~nrinx1pi,merely lists addi-

tional biblicalexamples.42This unit is a collectionof verseswhich use the 39. Note, in this regard, the comments of Yi$1ak Raphael in the introduction to his recently published edition of Sefer ha-Manhig le-Rabbi Avraham be-Rabbi Natan ha-Yarbi (Jerusalem: Mosad ha-Ray Kook, 1978), pp. 22-24. 40. In the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael there are eighteen passages in which the formula pDI ann appears. In no fewer than sixteen of these, it comes to introduce a case which illustrates ax•in previously stated principle or interpretation of the text. Only in Shirta, parashah 2 (Lauterbach ed. 11, p. 20) and 'Amaleq, parashah 2 (11, p. 159) does this pattern partially break down. is repeated a number of times, It should be added that in many texts the formula Nin nnx p•is the case in our each time introducing another illustration or application, as passage. 41. The only possible breakdown seems to come in the last paragraph (Sec. IV), where the a nnxnID x (1. 38) reading in the Lauterbach edition and in the printed editions is invv ='o Yet both instead of the fuller inw n mm Kn z' x, as is the case in the first two illustrations. ,mr MSS as well as the Sefer ha-Manhig all have the added word the Oxford and Munich 3nuin. Moreover, unlike the first two cases, the last section has a second proof text appended (from Hos. 2:21 f.). However, this verse is associated creatively with the text from Song of Songs 4:8 and wi' 5 'nr I). by a subtle sound play on the roots wrK1(nmx wmni '* (nmin•n in the Mekhilta de42. Out of forty-five passages in which the formula,'n)rwi minpi appears


13

root JnK,most of which have been insertedbetweenthe second and third case illustrationsof Unit B (this material is designatedas Section III). Actually Section III is made up of two distinct subunitswhich are introduced by iniar n pi and which begin and end with a repetitionof key thematicphrases.The first starts with the words nxri oanmnand ends with while the second is built both upon the consonantalplay beain an•wv, tweenTon(Tron at theclose,as p%1732 3Tn•) at theoutsetandrvrTn (wp= ,~'vrn) well as on the repetitionof the word One additionaltext from Psalm np=. is introducedby the formulanax in ~p and 106:12which uses the root ~nK is appendedto the final sectionof our passage.It is highlyprobablethatthis text originallybelongedto Unit C but was separatedovertimeand placedat the close for thematicreasons.We have some reason to believe this is so since the parallelversionin YalqutHosea 519 presentsour materialwithout the summaryparagraph(SectionV) and withthe Psalm 106:12text attached to the main portion of Unit C. All of Unit C is missingfrom the version preserved in Sefer ha-Manhig and Sefer 'Or Zaru'a, which gives added proof

that the original core unit of our passageconsisted only of the comment attributedto R. Nehemiah with its three case illustrations.It seems that Unit C was interjectedat some point in order to extend the materialon amanah.

Our passage,therefore,is made up of threedistinctunits of traditional materialwhich have been sewn togetherby editorsand/or redactors.Even though Unit B (SectionsII and IV)is the coreof the materialandestablishes its essential thrust, the manner in which the other units were edited in enhancesthe developmentof the themeand helpsdrawthe materialto a fitting climax. SectionI stressesthatas a rewardfor their'amanahIsraelsangtheirsong of redemptionat the Red Sea. Thoughat this point the symbolicsignificance of "singing"is not clear, it is hinted at by the play on the roots rni (vnnw which indicatesthat "singing"involves a kind of min r) and nv,, ,ypni,7 propheticinsight.Additionally,impliedin the future-tenseform of the verb in Exodus 15:1(,vq,) is the notion that Israelwould sing a song of ultimate redemption.This, too, will be the result of 'amanah.However,the reader Rabbi Ishmael, thirty-five cases only involve the supplying of additional examples for a previously mentioned point. In the other ten instances a derash is appended to the biblical citation which usually explains its connection to the main point. On occasion, we find a series of biblical texts cited, each introduced by the formula nmixnn pi.

14

NORMAN J. COHEN

does not yet know exactly how to define 'amanah;he doesn't fully understand what it is that effects redemption. In Section II, which is the first part of Unit B, the rabbis'concept of amanahis clearlydefined.The traditionattributedto R. Nehemiahand its threecase illustrationsdemonstratethat, at least for our biblicalforebears, it was the faithfulobservanceof the mitzvotthatresultsnot only in prophetic insight but, more importantly,in the attainmentof blessingand redemption.43R. Nehemiahstressesthat it is not those who merelyhave 'amanah but those who fulfill one mitzvahwith 'amanahwho are rewarded.At this point, withthe utilizationof the formulaKxr pi, Abrahamis broughtas ,rnx the first case illustrationof R. Nehemiah'sprinciple. Abrahamis picturedas gainingthe world-to-comedue to his 'amanah. We might be temptedto understandthis commentand the appendedproof text from Genesis 15:6quite literallyas implyingthat Abrahammerelyhad faithin God and was rewarded,sincethis seemsto havebeenan earlyexegetic traditionof the Genesis 15:6passage.The bestexampleof this is foundin the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, Massekhta de-va-Yehi be-Shallah, parashah

4 (to Exod. 14:15),wherewe read the following traditionattributedto the famous early teacherShemaiah: l•Vl:3 •. ,'1 "....'In' •tm" :-.I? ,P,,•nw9r, •,-•p• r'a• r,• :3,T'nN9 r9

Yet, it is importantto note that this materialis set into a passagewhich emphasizes Abraham's observance of one commandment. Note, for example: Y,7391"

.9. nX w K

:"7;DN%1t ,•'•

IX K ,M ".r.K 7"1'117

nn "1..;IIXt YWtr

;1O3 ,•"1 1 = 1 :"17D1x -r,112b

Y ",-.bly ,)YY "....011W, '1y11"," :..2,=

Lest we think, however,that the redemptiveact whichAbrahamperformed was necessarilythe Akedah,the redactor(s)is quick to add the following: .....

wI •nxm;* •17'•nx')ji7 1iynw:'1?• ,3K

ITaru

43. Though Eckart's words of caution about the unreliability of the ascription of individual passages to particular tradents in the Mekhilta are important (see his Untersuchungen,pp. 110-114), it is interesting to note that the observance of the commandments is viewed as effectuating redemption in several traditions attributed to R. Nehemiah, a third-generation Palestinian tanna. See, for example, Shir ha-Shirim Rabbah 2:19 and Midrash Tehilim 12:5.


15

A similarjuxtapositionbetweenthe observanceof the commandmentof circumcision and the redemptiveexperienceoccurs in Massekhtade-Pisha, parashah16 (to Exod. 13:4): 13

'?41

1K15I.v JK

nx 1 1j 31 T 1?33 :1?31K1 "MY 011113M .(-w= :nljp W1KflK wp'flf) "p=?t Kvzywr" D13: y?= nx 01p w n n :-1?ZK3W rl nI I•"Zl "MI•Tn :'I;I l "I1:rw, ,1D3yxl" aP, u 5j7ynI-)",'lmv n1 rZ .(1:1i "in1'?3mL7j ;?1 ,1'?3rzr3

Therefore,even if early traditionsdid imply that Abraham'srighteousness was expressedthroughhis faith alone, it seemsthat a bit lateron the rabbis went out of their way to emphasizethat his faith was expressedthrough action, be it his willingnessto sacrificehis son Isaac or, by implication,his fulfillmentof the commandmentof circumcision.44 It is in this light that Abrahamis broughtas the firstillustrationof R. Nehemiah'sprinciple- he is rewardedbecauseof his faithfulaction, i.e., his 'amanah. Similarly,at the end of SectionII, the Israelites'redemptionfrom Egypt must be seen as beingdue to theirobservanceof the mitzvot,sincethis is the second case illustrationof R. Nehemiah'sprincipleregarding'amanah.The derashhere is most creativeand forceful.Attached to the statementthat Israel were redeemedfrom Egypt as a rewardfor their faith (noKt "w: I Dn 13bK'rn) is a proof text from Exodus 4:31: 'xn, ,:n n 'rn"o , i~n'i

n KJu'1

- "And the people had faith;and when they heardthat God had remembered the children of Israel ... " (1. 18). Though on a peshat level the verb

is understoodas "remember,"it can also mean"command."Therefore, "ip the verseis interpretedas sayingthat Israelshowedtheirfaithin God when they had internalized(i•y•,), i.e., accepted,His commandment(s).It was becauseof this that God redeemedthem from Egypt.It shouldbe noted in this regardthat thereare severalpassagesin the Mekhiltade-RabbiIshmael whichunderscorethe notionthat redemptionfromEgyptcameas a resultof the fulfillmentof one particularcommandmentby the Israelites,that being circumcision.45

At this point, prior to the final portion of Unit B, which involvesthe applicationof R. Nehemiah'sstatementto the ingatheringof the exiles in 44. The rabbis sometimes portray Abraham as having fulfilled all the laws of the Torah prior to Sinai. See, for example, M. Kiddushin4:14, B.T. Yoma28b, 'AggadatBereshit, chap. 56, and Midrash Mishlei 16:31. Nevertheless, here the emphasis has to be on Abraham's observance of one specific commandment, based upon R. Nehemiah's comment. 45. The best example is found in Massekhta de-Pisha, parashah 5 (to Exod. 12:6).

16

NORMAN J. COHEN

the future, Section III is appropriately interjected. Having presented Abraham and the Israelites redeemed from Egypt as illustrations of those whose 'amanah - faithful observance of the commandments out of their sense of covenant - brought them reward and redemption, our passage now turns to a listing of biblical texts which merely involve different forms of the word

InK. Yet, some of these verses may have been understood by the rabbis as also stressing that righteous action and obedience to the law lead to God's protection and to ultimate redemption. Note in this regard the symbolism present in the text from Psalm 92:2-3. It is a good thing to give thanksto the Lord... to declareYourlovingkindand Your 'emunahin the night seasons ness in the morning(T~on 1~i•= ,an*) For You, Lord, have made me glad Your lnnnxi). (,nnnwv)through (nm~,3 I will sing of the works of Your hands 'wuym). work (,'v' (15YD'); The simple meaning of the text is that God's own faithfulness to the covenant is measured by His willingness to act. It is the work of His hands, too, which leads to redemption.46However, because of the vacillation in the text between the second and third persons -

nfZ'5'jInnlm--

'".5nrn

the rabbis may have interpreted it to mean that God rejoiced in the faithin this world. As a result, we ful acts of humankind (,lpr',?n ~7DI ,nnlnxK) will be rewarded with the world-to-come. The full text in the printed editions and the Munich MS makes the derash explicit by adding the words n mI ? n *= 'r 'p'~I to line 30. "1• At this point, the theme of our passage may have taken on the futuristic aspect alluded to at the outset, which is best symbolized by the recurrent -

46. A number of passages in rabbinic literature emphasize that God Himself is considered 5 , when He acts in this world. Note in this regard Sifrei Devarim307: Kx faithful, i.e., an mn~a• nnxt - "God showed His faith when He created the world." See also ai'n5i oy:w Dorfman's ,twunI comment, in "Some Aspects of Faith," p. 57, that God is considered faithful primarily when He fulfills His promises of reward (and punishment) to humankind.

ANALYSIS OF AN EXEGETIC TRADITION /" usage of the terms "7//

17

. The derash on Psalm 92:2-5 is the first and most

importantexampleof this, since it can be read as stressingthat becauseof our faithful observance of the mitzvot in this world, symbolized by "night" n (nmbk ImnnK),we will be rewarded with life in the world-to-come (0•i~ v",l 1r7on).The play upon i~/,n' is made more explicit in the fuller version preserved in the printed editions and in the Munich MS, as is the identification of the second-person endings (e.g., innu) with humankind:

A similar use of as a symbol of the world-to-come and as a way of -•11n that future stressing redemption depends upon our 'amanah is seen in the from 3:22-23 which is cited at the end of Section III. Lamentations passage the section with this By ending quotation rather than with the last biblical verse, which is part of the overall unit (C), Psalm 106:12, the editor ensured a smooth transition to Section IV, which deals with the return of the exiles to Eretz Yisrael. The full text reads: Surelythe Lord'smercyis neverconsumed;surelyHis compassionneverfails. They are renewedevery morning;great is your 'emunah. Again, the change of address from third person to second person may allow the rabbis to interpret the verse conditionally, stressing that God's mercy and compassion are renewed in the morning, i.e., in the world-to-come, if your (humankind's) 'emunah is great. Section IV, which is also introduced by the formula ti ~i, is the rrnxn last of the block of case illustrations of the view attributed to R. Nehemiah that 'amanah involves the observance of the commandments. It is appropriately placed toward the end of the passage, since it moves the theme to a logical climax. It does not speak of redemption in a universal sense but specifies that the faithful observance of the mitzvot will bring an end to the persecution of the Jewish people and their return to their homeland, upon which they will dwell in perpetuity, forever covenanted with their God. It seems that the text from Hosea 2:21-22 is taken by the rabbis as emphasizing that God will solidify His relationship with Israel because of their faith (nm -1•' 1mrixK1).Yet, the second element in this tripartite betrothal statement serves to define the nature of pr=1I-nmY1K1) '4 (tu•z~l that faith: God says He will betroth Israel due to their just, righteous, and compassionate acts.

18

NORMAN J. COHEN

At the conclusionof our passagein Section V, Psalm 106:12,which is appendedto the repetitionof Unit A, makes very explicitthe notion that those who faithfully observe God's commandments (0'r~rni'rni) will surely i The juxtaposingof this verse, sing His praisein the future(irn9imn ,l).47

which is taken from Unit C, with the opening verses from Exodus 14:31/15:1 ('•,, t ....3.•,i1)

brings the passage full circle and clearly

defines the rabbinicidea of 'amanah. The themethat faiththroughobedienceto God's law effectsredemption which runs is highlightedby a beautiful play on the roots •,viivn-/'/ivn the extent to which our indicates our and Mekhilta passage passage through is the productof an editor.At the outset, the text stressesthat as a resultof theirtrustin God, the holy spiritrested upon the peopleof Israeland (onm.v) they sang(vw,) a song of redemption.Yet,as we havesaid, the act of singing also seemsto symbolizea kind of propheticglimpseinto the future.If there is any doubt that the passageis speakingof a messianicsong, note the same emphasisin the quotation from Isaiah 26 in Section III (1.22). There,the entiretext reads:"Onthat day shallthis songbe sung(tP1vrn Vw) in the Land of Judah:we have a strongcity;wallsandbulwarksdoes He appointfor salvation(nvIv'). Open ye the gates that the righteousnation that keeps faithfulness(mnnx viv) may enter in." In a similaryet even more creativeand poignantmanner,Song of Songs4:8 is citedin SectionIV in the contextof a stress upon the futureingatheringof the exiles. The peshat of this biblical text is clear: Israel shall gaze [upon the Land of Israel] from the top of the derashturnson the play 'i'v vm~n [Mount]Amana -•ln. However, of 'nin-invn and emphasizesthat Israel will glimpseinto the messianic futureand sing its song of redemptionbecauseof the extentof its 'amanah Finally, the last text quoted, from Psalm 106:12,stressesthe ,N~o).48 (,;Win between 'amanah,as expressedthroughthe observanceof the relationship commandments,and the singingof a futuresong of praiseto God: i~3~~' n-vY' ,rnrmr1. i•1n'r 47. Not only does the beginning of Psalm 106 (v. 12) succinctly define 'emunahin terms of the fulfillment of God's commands, but it also emphasizes the importance of acting justly and righteously (v. 3), and, as well, describes God redeeming His people from Egypt and saving them at the Sea (vv. 7-11). 48. A parallel in Shemot Rabbah23:5 spells out even more explicitly the play on ,'in/n'vn, and the stress on the song being a messianic projection: t v to ?Anran" :Kw'I a( e)t' 'upo -15nt ntlKm ":'-1p -•1 l• 'n "rflenK .t.. fil ".IV "n

This text may also rest upon the interpretation of the word vtxn as referring to Abraham, who


19

PossiblePolemicalConsiderations Having isolated the blocks of materialwhich make up our passageby focusing on key exegetic formulaeand characteristicphrases,and having

howthe themeof thismaterialwasshapedby the mannerin demonstrated

which these units were edited together,49it remainsfor us to considerwhy the rabbissaid what they did. Assumingthat the core of our tradition,like most of the Mekhiltamaterial,emanatedfromthe latterpartof the tannaitic period,and thatthe workitselfwas compiledin the earlypartof the amoraic period,50we mustanalyzewhatpossiblefactors,in the contextof second-to third-centuryPalestine,would force the rabbisto stress that only faithful obedience to the law would lead to ultimateredemption.Aside from the prohibitionagainstritualobservanceduringthe Hadrianicpersecutions,to which the rabbis respondedby underscoringthe importanceof continued fulfillmentof the commandments,5the two majorchallengesto the Jewish communityduring that time came from a burgeoningChristianityand a rampantGnosticism. It should be noted that a numberof scholarshave recentlyarguedthat thereis a lackof evidencefor the impactof PaulineChristianityand its theological views upon rabbinicJudaism in the tannaitic and early amoraic was the first person in the Bible about whom it was said that he "trusted in God" (Genesis 15:6 and from whom Israel inherited its notion of 'emunah. Additionally, the word ,n1also p,,1n) means "reward" or "gift" (see 1 Sam. 9:7), and this gives further support to the n•ivn derash that Israel was to be rewarded ('rnuin),i.e., redeemed, due to its 'amanah. See Song of Songs Rabbah 4:8:2 in this regard. 49. Since the time of Leopold Zunz (Ha-Derashot, p. 27), scholars have viewed the Exegetic Midrashim as collections of independent expositions arranged according to the order of scriptural verses. They thought that these texts simply strung together traditions drawn from a variety of disparate sources without attempting to shape them into homogeneous structures. See, in this regard, Hanokh Albeck, Mavo u-Maftebot le-Midrash Bereshit Rabbah (Jerusalem, 1965), pt. I, p. 1; Jacob N. Epstein, Mevo'ot le-Sifrut ha- Tannaim(Jerusalem, 1957), pt. III, p. 572; and Joseph Heinemann (with Jakob Petuchowski), Literature of the Synagogue (New York, 1975), p. 135. However, our analysis has shown that at least certain sections of these compilations reflect some degree of editing and the development of unified themes. For a similar view, note the work of Jakob Petuchowski, "A Sermon on Psalm 29 Attributed to Rabbi Ele'azar Hamoda'i," Hebrew Union College Annual 48 (1977): 243-264, and Hammer, "Section 38 of Sifre Deuteronomy," pp. 165-178. In addition, note the comments of scholars like Joseph Heinemann, who, in his works Literature of the Synagogue, pt. III, pp. 119 and 135, and Derashot ba-Zibbur be-Tequfat ha- Talmud (Jerusalem, 1971), p. 17, underscores the few examples of the proem (petibta) pattern of public sermon preserved in the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael and in Sifrei Devarim. 50. See n. 7 above. 51. See, for example, Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, Massekhta de-Babodesh,parashah 6 (to Exod. 20:6).

20

NORMAN J. COHEN

periods.Theybelievethat if the rabbiswereconcernedaboutChristianity,it wassolely aboutJewishChristianswho remainedpartiallywithinthe fold.52 However,even some of the exponentsof this view admitthat by the time of the BarKokhbarevolt,with the final separationbetweenJewsand Christians and the growingGentile natureof the churchin Palestine,the rabbis wereforcedto reactwitheverincreasingvigorto Christiantheologicalviews and biblical interpretations."To be sure, the early rabbinicresponse to Christianitywas almostentirelyinternallydirected.Therabbisattemptedto buttresstheir fellow Jews, who were beset both by membersof the Jewish communitywho wereChristianand by Christiantheologicalargumentscurrent in the second to third century.54As the nascentchurchbecamemore and more Gentile and threatenedto make inroads into the Jewish community,rabbinicleadershad to providepolemicalrepliesto the theological challengesthey faced.One of the greatestchallengescame from the Pauline notion of justificationby faith and the rejectionof Jewishritualpractice. 52. For example, Reuven Kimelman, "Birkat ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-Christian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity," in Jewish and ChristianSelf-Definition, vol. 2, Aspects of Judaism in the Graeco-Roman Period, ed. E. B. Sanders (Philadelphia, 1981), pp. 229-233; Lawrence Schiffman, "At the Crossroads: Tannaitic Perspectives on the JewishChristian Schism," in Jewish and ChristianSelf-Definition, vol. 2, p. 149; Ephraim Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, trans. from the Hebrew by Israel Abrahams (Jerusalem, 1975), vol. 1, p. 303; Michael Avi-Yonah, The Jews of Palestine: A Political History from the Bar Kokhba War to the Arab Conquest, trans. from the German by the author (New York, 1976), pp. 139-140; and Michael Chernick, "Some Talmudic Responses to Christianity, Third and Fourth Centuries," Journal of Ecumenical Studies 17 (1980): 305, 405. It should be noted that a clear description of the Jewish-Christian groups in Palestine is difficult, since their do history is scantily documented, and the church fathers from whom we receive information not have a very clear notion of their doctrinal positions. See the different portraits of JewishChristian groups by such scholars as Gedaliah Alon, The Jews in Their Land in the Talmudic F. Age, trans. from the Hebrew by Gershon Levi (Jerusalem, 1980), vol. 1, pp. 294-302; F. Jewish Hans-Joachim 371-373; Schoeps, Testament New 1969), pp. History (London, Bruce, Christianity: Factional Disputes in the Early Church,trans. from the German by Douglas Hare (Philadelphia, 1969), pp. 10-12; and Jean Danielou, The Theology of Jewish Christianity,trans. John Baker (Philadelphia, 1978), pp. 55-64. 53. Note the additional comments of Schiffman, "At the Crossroads," pp. 155-156; AviYonah, Jews of Palestine, pp. 143-147; and Chernick, "Some Talmudic Responses," p. 394; as well as those of Alan Segal, Two Powers in Heaven (Leiden, 1977), p. 224; Alon, Jews in Their Land in the TalmudicAge, pp. 305-307; and Morton Smith, "Early Christianity and Judaism," in Great Confrontations in Jewish History, ed. Stanley M. Wagner and Allen Breck (Denver, 1977), pp. 44-55. In addition, see Eugene Mihaly's understanding of pisqa 312 of Sifrei Devarim as a response to a series of Christian arguments current in the second century in his article "'A Rabbinic Defense of the Election of Israel," passim. 54. Smith, "Early Christianity and Judaism," p. 61, and Chernick, "Some Talmudic Responses," p. 394.


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Most studentsof earlyChristianityhavearguedthatthe notion ofjustification by faith is the central theme in Pauline theology. Though this is debatedby a few eminentscholars," it is clear that Paul, especiallyin his

thatsalvationcomes Epistlesto theRomansandtheGalatians,emphasized

to the individualthrough his faith ratherthan through obedienceto the law.56For Paul, Mosaiclaw was no longervalid.Its purposewas temporary: to underscorethe sins of humankind,thus makingthem liable to punishment and death.7 Having consigned all persons to sin, the law brought about the need for Jesus and his redemptivework. Therefore,it was absolutely impossiblefor anyone to be justified before God through the law. Even those who arguethat Paul did not view Mosaic law in such negative terms, citing Paul's stress on the fact that obedience to the law is good (Rom. 2:13),admitthat its validityas a meansof attainingsalvationceased when Jesus rose from the dead.58Salvationcan only come "if you confess with your lips that God raisedhim from the dead"(Rom. 10:9).Faith, then, for Paul is the acceptanceof the gospel concerningthe death and resurrec-

of theseevents.Salvationis the tion of Jesus,andthe salvificsignificance product of &Ko•4 TrirfTop(Gal. 3:2, 5), which should not be translatedas

55. Among others, see Albert Schweitzer, The Mysticism of Paul the Apostle (London, 1956), pp. 220-226; Krister Stendahl, "The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West," Harvard Theological Review 56 (1963): 199-215; and W. D. Davies, Paul and Rabbinic Judaism (New York, 1965), pp. xiii and 221-222. Davies argues that justification by faith was merely a metaphor used by Paul due to polemical necessity. In his Epistles to the Galatians and to the Romans, Paul consciously presents his claims over against those of Judaism, and the emphasis upon faith vs. works was a convenient polemic for him. In regard to Davies's claims, it is interesting to note that out of a total of 109 instances of the use of the term 7rtcatg ("faith") in Paul's Epistles, 62 of them occur in Galatians and Romans. 56. See Rom. 3:20-31, 4:2-16, 9:30-33, 10:4-12 and Gal. 2:16-21, 3:6-25 among many. Though Paul's rejection of the law might be understood as applying only to ritual, it should be noted that for him the essential contrast is between lrirUTL("faith") and fpba ("work"). In fact, for Paul, justification through faith implies that no independent human activity of any kind, even ethical behavior, is necessary. Yet Paul speaks of both v6pov ToO XpLO pTo - "the law of - "a law of faith" (Rom. 3:27), which seems to show that Christ" (Gal. 6:2) and v6dov p he does not inculcate total ri'aT•g ethical indifference, as Hans-Joachim Schoeps points out in his Paul: The Theology of the Apostle in the Light of Jewish Religious History (London, 1961), p. 210. Faith completely revolutionizes the believer and produces within him a new kind of life. The stamp of Christ will be upon the whole of the Christian's daily activity; the life of the believer is one of moral renewal. See, in this regard, Rom. 12:2, 2 Cor. 3:18, 4:16, and Eph. 4:23-25, as well as the comments of William Henry Paine Hatch, The Pauline Idea of Faith (in Its Relation to Jewish and Hellenistic Religion) (London, 1917), pp. 39, 47, and 53. 57. See Terrence Gallan's astute comments on Galatians 3, in this regard, in his article, "Pauline Midrash: The Exegetical Background of Galatians 3:19b," Journal of Biblical Literature 99 (1980): 549-567. 58. For example, Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism, p. 550, and Schoeps, Paul, p. 171.

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"the hearing of faith," but rather as "believing what was heard," i.e., the Gospel.59 One of the key foundations of Paul's theme of justification through faith is the biblical patriarch Abraham. Both Galatians 3 and Romans 4 imply that Abraham was the prototype of Christian faith, since Genesis 15:6 emphasizes that blessing came to him not through obedience to the law but rather through the righteousness of faith.60Abraham was "justified" even before he was commanded to undergo circumision, merely because "he believed in God and it was accounted to him for righteousness." Abraham was viewed as the father of all who believe, whether circumcised or not, since blessing came to him through his faith in God's power of resurrection.6' The main thrust of Paul's argument is that salvation is attained apart from the law and as a pure gift of grace, and Abraham is its primary model. With Paul's emphasis upon justification by faith and his rejection of the law, especially ritual observance,62a clear contrast was established between Judaism and Christianity. According to Paul, Christianity was not the law and Jesus, but Jesus alone. Paul's view of faith as man's response to salvation offered in Jesus was an argument against the Jewish view that the observance of the mitzvot is the means of attaining redemption. Paul's totally negative attitude toward Mosaic law, and his view that neither ritual nor ethical behavior was necessary for the attainment of salvation, was not shared totally by the apostolic fathers. Starting with Clement of Rome's Epistle to the Corinthians,63 which emphasizes that Abraham proved himself through his actions,64 and lists the many ways a person must act justly,65the early church fathers modified Paul's teachings. The most important change was their overriding concern for the require59. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism, pp. 482-483. Like other New Testament scholars, Sanders emphasizes that for Paul salvation comes through faith and not through the law for two reasons: (1) if salvation came as a result of the observance of Mosaic law, it would exclude the Gentiles and nullify Jesus' appointment as savior of all who believe; and (2) if it is sufficient to keep the law in order to inherit the promise of salvation, Jesus died in vain (p. 490). 60. Edward Earle Ellis, Paul's Use of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, 1957), pp. 119-120. 61. Rom. 4:17. See Ernst Kiisemann's insightful comments in "The Faith of Abraham in Romans 4," in his Perspectives on Paul, trans. Margaret Kohl (Tiibingen, 1969), pp. 79-90. 62. Issues such as the observance of circumcision, Sabbath, festivals, and the avoidance of forbidden foods are discussed throughout Galatians, in several places in Romans, e.g., chap. 14, as well as in Corinthians (1 Cor. 8, 10:18-33). 63. Clement's Epistle to the Corinthiansappeared at the very end of the first century C.E. 64. Epistle to the Corinthians, chap. 10. Here, Clement seems to follow the point of view expressed in the Epistle of James. Contrary to Paul, the Epistle of James, which was written for


23

ment of a morallife, whichwas expressedin a varietyof exhortations, cataloguesof virtuesand vices, and lists of rulesby which one should live. Such churchfiguresas Irenaeus,Tertullian,Hippolytusof Rome, Clement of Alexandria,and even Origenall seem to believethat ethical action and moralintegrityare an essentialpartof the contentof faith.Jesus'deathand resurrectiondid not lead to a total suspensionof Mosaic law but only of its rabbinicelaborations.66 Even though second-centurytheologiansemphasizedthe importanceof ethical behavior, they did accept Paul's notion of faith insomuch as it implieda rejectionof Jewishritualobservance.For example,JustinMartyr, of culticlaw as a Irenaeus,and Tertullianecho Paulin theircharacterization yoke intendedsolely for the Jews whichwas made obsolete by Jesus,67and in their understandingof circumcisionin purelysymbolicterms.68In addition, both Justin and Irenaeusstress that Abrahamwas the forerunnerof Christianfaith because he receivedGod's blessing while he was yet uncircumcisedand before the Sinaiticcovenant.69 Whilethe worksof thesechurchfathersreflectthe fact that Paul'srejection of Mosaic law was only partiallyacceptedby the mainstreamof the second-centurychurch,anotherposition developedwhichwas moreclosely akin to Paul'stheology. Stemmingperhapsfrom the Gospel of John,70this point of view had as its springboardthe Letterof Barnabas.Besidesrejecting Jewish ritual practice,particularlycircumcision,7'and seeing Abrahamas the model of justificationthroughfaith, basedupon Genesis 15:6,72the Letter of Barnabascontainsa totally deprecatoryattitudetowardall of Mosaic law. Based upon Paul's famous comment in Galatians 3:19,73the author Judeo-Christians, understood Genesis 15:6 to mean that Abraham was justified by his works and not by faith alone when he willingly offered his son, Isaac, as a sacrifice (2:21-24). 65. Epistle to the Corinthians, chap. 22. 66. Schoeps, Paul, pp. 263-271. See, for example, Irenaeus' Treatise against Heresies, IV, 12:4. 67. Justin Martyr, The Dialogue with Trypho,chaps. 10, 18, 19, and 43; Irenaeus, Treatise against Heresies, IV, 13:1, 16:5; and Tertullian, Against Marcion, chap. 4. 68. Justin Martyr, Dialogue, chaps. 16 and 43; Irenaeus, Treatise, IV, 16:2; and Tertullian, Against Marcion, loc. cit. 69. Justin Martyr, Dialogue, chap. 23; and Irenaeus, Treatise, IV, 16:2, 21:1, and 25:1. 70. Note, for example, John 3:18, in which belief is seen as the sole vehicle for salvation. 71. Letter of Barnabas, chap. 9. 72. Ibid., chap. 13:7. 73. Gal. 3:19 reads: "Wherefore then serveth the law? It was added because of transgression, till the seed should come to whom the promise was made; and it [the law] was ordained by angels through a mediator."

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undercutsthe validityof the law when he claimsthat it was the productof A similarattitude "an evil angelwho was teachingthem [vain]cleverness."74 is seen in the first part of the Epistle to Diognetus and the Apology to A ristides.75

Paul'srejectionof the law was takento an extremeby manyof the early Gnosticgroups.Basilideans,Carpocratians,Valentinians,and Marcionites, among others, believed that the material world was the product of a demiurge,a lesserangelicforce, and was intrinsicallyevil. In addition,anything that affirmedman's participationin the systemof creationwas but a meansby whichthe creatorshackledman'ssoul and preventedit fromjoining the Sourceof Goodness,whichwas outsideof the cosmos.Therefore,all spiritualbeingswho havegainedtrueknowledge(gnosis)of God mustcease observingthe law, since to do so would be to affirm a belongingto the world, which should be reducedto a minimum.76In this light, Mosaic law was viewed as the vehicle for the persecutionand enslavementof humankind, and thereforemust be rejected.Even moralgoodness,whichby thisworldlystandardsmightbe preferableto licentiousness,is totallyirrelevant from the point of view of transcendentsalvation.77The radicalGnostics createda total antinomianismwhich perhapstook Paulineinferencesfar beyond the position of Paul himself. It is against the backdropof Christianity'srejectionof the law as the means of attainingsalvationand its emphasisupon the faith of the pious believerin the deathand resurrectionof Jesus,as well as the antinomianism of its Gnostic counterparts,that our Mekhiltapassagemust be read.When GentileChristiansand Gnosticswereclaimingthatsalvationwouldcome as a resultof either faith or mysticalknowledge,the rabbisof the secondand third century had to go out of their way to emphasizethat for the Jew redemptionwould be the rewardfor observanceof the commandments. Additionally, it is not surprisingthat the core tradition ascribed to R. Nehemiahsingledout Abrahamas an exampleof one who, throughthe performanceof even a singleact, was rewardedwith life in the world-to-come. Since Abrahamwas viewedby the earlychurchas the majorillustrationof the Paulinenotion of justificationby faith,and Genesis 15:6was thoughtto 74. Letter of Barnabas 9:4. 75. Leslie W. Barnard, Studies in the Apostolic Fathers and Their Background (Oxford, 1960), p. 118. 76. As an illustration, note Irenaeus' description of Simon Magus' view of the law in his Treatise against Heresies, II, 23:2-3. 77. Hans Jonas, The Gnostic Religion (Boston, 1963), p. 142.


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be its biblical basis, our passage utilized this very text to teach that Abraham was blessed because he observed the mitzvot, because he acted out of his faith. Even if earlier traditions could imply that Abraham's righteousness was expressed through his faith alone,78by the middle of the second century the rabbis had no choice but to underscore his obedience to the law as the expression of his faith. Conclusions Utilizing a variety of approaches in the analysis of our passage from the Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, including formula comparison, sensitivity to the use of language, theme and structural analysis, as well as concern with historical context, we have been able to accomplish three important goals. First, we have isolated the three basic units of material from which our tradition is constructed. Second, we now have a very good idea of how these individual blocks of material were edited together into a rather uniform, well-developed tradition which builds to a climax. While the material ascribed to R. Nehemiah (Unit B) is clearly the core of our passage, the interjection of Unit C in the midst of this block further enhances the development of the theme. Likewise, the repetition of Unit A at the conclusion of the passage with the added text from Psalm 106 frames the entire tradition and subtly clarifies the rabbinic notion of 'amanah. Finally, we have improved our understanding of the thematic aspects of this material and the purpose for which it most probably was shaped. We now know the sitz im leben of this tradition on 'amanahand how it was part of the rabbis' attempt to meet the challenge of Gentile Christianity and Gnosticism. To be sure, the analysis of one rather brief passage cannot provide us with definitive conclusions regarding the usefulness of any one of the techniques we have utilized. However, it has given us an indication of the extent to which a multifaceted analytic approach can heighten our understanding of how individual passages were edited as well as clarify their purposes. As a result, we have increased our appreciation of the rabbis' use of the midrashic process as a way of responding to the exigencies of their life-situations. Midrash was indeed a language of Jewish survival. HebrewUnion College-JewishInstituteof Religion New York, N.Y. 78. See p. 15, above.

The Concept of the Three Ketarim: Its Place in Jewish Political Thought and Its Implications for a Study of Jewish Constitutional History Author(s): Stuart A. Cohen Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 27-54 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486437 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:18 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



THE CONCEPTOF THE THREE KETARIM: ITS PLACE IN JEWISH POLITICALTHOUGHT AND ITS IMPLICATIONSFOR A STUDY OF JEWISH CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY by STUART A. COHEN

Jewish political traditions, it has been argued, constitute an integral facet of Jewish civilization in its entirety. They reflect a constant - albeit often implicit - understanding that the validity of Jewish teaching can best find expression in a political setting. They also embody Judaism's commitment to the establishment of the perfect polity. As implemented through the process of covenant (brit), and as buttressed by the attribute of loving-kindness (hesed), political traditions in effect comprise the vehicles whereby the Congregation of Israel attempts to transpose the kingdom of heaven (malkhut shamayim - "the good commonwealth") to earth.' 1. An earlier version of this paper was presented to the Workshop on Studying and Teaching the Jewish Political Tradition, held in Jerusalem in August 1981 under the auspices of the Center for Jewish Community Studies. The center, under the direction of Professor Daniel Elazar, has been in the forefront of Jewish political studies throughout the decade of its existence, and I am grateful for the opportunity to express my thanks to Professor Elazar and the other fellows and associates of the center for their inspiration and advice. For an introduction to the general subject of this paper, see D. J. Elazar, "Covenant as the Basis of the Jewish Political Tradition," in Kinship and Consent: The Jewish Political Tradition and Its Contemporary

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Thus understood, Jewish political traditions are perceived to be utilitarian in intent and dynamic in form. They constitute neither the linear derivatives of a systematic body of political theory nor a monolithic corpus of constitutional doctrine. Rather, they are the products of a continuous political dialogue which, throughout the long course of Jewish history, has been primarily concerned with the practical definition of proper modes of Jewish political conduct and the instrumental application of appropriate forms of internal Jewish government. Only partially has that dialogue been summarized formally, in the occasional comments of Jewish political thinkers. More often, and more fully, it has been articulated in the behavioral dimensions of Jewish public life. That is why its investigation and reconstruction is such an exacting task. The principles underlying Jewish political traditions cannot be distilled from the writings of individual Jewish philosophers - very few of whom have composed reasonably architected statements of political import. Rather, they have to be inferred from the activities and habits of Jewish political practitioners. Ultimately, indeed, they can only be identified by an examination of the instrumental arrangements which have periodically regulated relationships within and between the component segments of the Congregation of the Children of Israel (Adat B'nei Yisrael - otherwise, the edah). It is these which lie at the very root of the Jewish political experience and these which therefore have to be explored in order to understand its evolution. The present paper is designed as a contribution to that inquiry. Its underlying purpose is to examine the institutional processes whereby the stream of covenantal arrangements which have characterized the various epochs of Jewish constitutional history have been put into effect. Specifically, it seeks to trace the form and structure of the provisions which the Jewish political tradition has made for the exercise of political power and the manner of its distribution. It will attempt to demonstrate that the concept of the three ketarim encapsulates the organizational system whereby Jewish polities traditionally - and consistently - distributed authority among and between specific governmental instrumentalities. It will further suggest that a study of the development of the ketarim might also facilitate wider historical analyses of the dynamics of Jewish constitutional change.

Uses, ed. D. J. Elazar (Ramat-Gan: Turtledove Publishing, 1981), pp. 21-56; and D. J. Elazar and S. A. Cohen, A Gazetteer of Jewish Political Organization, experimental ed. (Jerusalem: Center for Jewish Community Studies, 1981).

THE CONCEPT OF THE THREE KETARIM

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I Fundamentalto the argumentthat follows is the contention that the Jewishpoliticaltradition- like all covenantaltraditions- demandsthat powerbe sharedout amongproperlyconstitutedinstitutionsand officers.It has no sympathywith a system of governmentin which a single body or grouppossessesa monopolyof the attributes,prerogatives,andprivilegesof politicalauthority.A surveyof the long historyof Jewishpoliticalconduct, as well as a reviewof the commentspassedon the Jewishpoliticaltradition by some of its most representativeexponentsandcommentators,revealsthis to be a cardinalconstitutionalaxiom. It has madeits influencefelt in every one of Judaism'sconstitutionalepochs, and in everyarenaof Jewry'scommunalorganization.In principle,the concentrationof poweris to be avoided and denigrated;its diffusionamong various legitimate(or legitimated) domains of governmentis to be encouragedand praised. Constitutional omnipotenceis occasional and implicitlyrefusedeven to God;2 it is permanentlyand explicitlydenied to man. One illustrationof the Jewishcommitmentto this ruleis providedby the earlyrabbinicattitudetowardthe degreeof constitutionalauthoritywielded by Moses. The example,as will be readilyappreciated,is not chosen at random. Moses is singledout for attentionbecausehe is a protagonistof such extraordinarystature and status within the Jewish political tradition. Accordingto the biblical account, not only was he in exceptionallyclose contact with God. Apart from his successor,Joshua, he was also the only humanbeingever to be divinelydesignatedevedadonai(lit. "servantof the Lord,"a title which, in constitutionalterms,carrieswith it the designation of "ChiefMinisterto God"). That is why subsequentcommentatorsfound it so difficult to dragoon him into any of the categoriesconventionally appliedto lesser mortals,whose influenceover the entire course of Jewish historyhas been less manifestand less profound.3Therein,however,lies the 2. Hence, Abraham can invoke jurisprudential principles when haggling over the fate of Sodom ("Shall the judge of the entire world not performjustice?"; Gen. 18:25);Moses can refer to basic rights when attempting to avert God's wrath (e.g., Num. 16:22);the tannaim can insist that the torah is "not in heaven" (e.g., Talmud Bavli [hereafter T.B.] Bava Me;iah 59a-b); and the amoraim can reject the notion that the covenant was foisted upon an unwilling and virgin people at Sinai (T.B. Shabbat 88a and tosafot). 3. For one early example of the extent to which Moses was considered to have fulfilled an extraordinarily wide range of constitutional functions, see Philo, De Sacrificiis Abelis et Caini, IV, 130, Loeb Classical Library ed., trans. F. H. Colson (London, 1929), vol. 2, p. 189: There he is described as Israel's "captain and leader the High Priest [sic] and prophet and friend of

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interestof thecase.So stringent wasthetraditional Jewishinsistence on the diffusion of political power that not even Moses could be granted the preponderance of authority which - according to aggadic legend - he blatantly sought. In the words of Exodus Rabbah(2:7), "Moses requested that kings and priests should descend from him. Thereupon God said to him: 'Draw not nigh thither' [al tikravhalom; Exod. 3:5]; i.e., your sons will not perform sacrifices because the priesthood is already assigned to your brother Aaron ... the monarchy is already assigned to David." What followed, the sources suggest, had to conform to the pattern thus established at an embryonic stage of Jewish constitutional history. As much is emphasized by the rabbinic attitude toward the succession of Joshua, who - although also an evedadonai - was clearly in not quite the same category as Moses.4 The relevant biblical narrative (Num. 27:15-23) itself intimates that Joshua's authority was not to be as far-ranging as that of Moses; it specifies that at his induction ceremony Joshua, unlike Moses, was commanded to stand before Elazar the High Priest, the custodian of the Urim and Thummim (Num. 27:21). Characteristically, commentators of the talmudic era noted this obligation as well as the additional fact that (according to a strict rendering of the text) Moses was instructed to place only one of his hands upon Joshua. Hence the comment, first found in the fourthcentury Sifrei to this passage, that "Joshua had need of Elazar and Elazar of Joshua."5 The requirement, we are invited to understand, was not merely functional - in the sense of being the consequence of the manifold tasks which awaited the new leader of the edah. It was, rather, constitutional - in the sense of being a symbolic commitment to the survival of the principle of power-sharing arrangements. God." Talmudic sources, although more precise, are only marginally less extravagant. They refer to Moses as both "king and prophet" (melekh ve-navi);e.g., T.B. Shavu'ot 15a. The designations of David as eved adonai in Psalms 18:1 and 36:1 are not manifestly of divine origin. Within the present context they might be understood to be the consequence of a human endeavor to attribute to the founder of the royal dynasty a title which intimated unquestioned constitutional primacy. 4. E.g., T.B. Bava Batra 75a; "The elders of that generation said: 'The face of Moses is like the sun; that of Joshua is like the moon.'" 5. Chap. 141. The fact that Moses did, eventually, place both of his hands on Joshua (Num. 27:23) presents an obvious complication and provoked much subsequent rabbinic huffing and puffing (e.g., T.B. Sanhedrin 105b and Numbers Rabbah 12:9). None of this, however, satisfied the Malbim (Meir Loeb ben Jebiel Mikhael, 1809-1879), who restated the obvious: "And then he was commanded to lay on Joshua only one single hand and to bestow upon him only some of his honor" (Ha-Torah ve-ha-Mitzvah,Num. 27:21). For an alternative (non-Jewish) view of this incident, see Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, pt. III, chap. 40.


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remained rabbinichistoriography To thisaxiomsubsequent consistently faithful. Accordingly, examples of deviations from the norm were severely castigated; threats to its preservation were stringently denigrated. In some instances, this gave rise to shrewd - and tongue-in-cheek - comments on the political situation prevailing at the time of the redaction of the Talmud (e.g., T.B. Horayot Ilib: " 'The scepter shall not pass from Judah' [Gen. 49:10], this refers to the exilarch of Babylon, who dominates [rodeh] Israel with a rod; 'nor the staff from his descendants' [ibid.], these are the children of Hillel, who publicly teach the Torah to Israel"). In others it provoked particularistic - perhaps even idiosyncratic - interpretations of Jewish history. A case in point is provided by the treatment accorded to the Hasmonean kingship, a vein of Jewish constitutional history which rabbinic commentators assiduously mined (and to which we ourselves shall have cause to return). Nalhmanides (Moses ben Nabman, 1194-1270), to cite only one such source, was in little doubt as to the explanation for the string of tragedies which befell that unfortunate family. Basing himself on eminently respectable sources (T.J. Horayot 3:2), he referred explicitly to the principle of the division of powers: "It is possible that there was an element of sin inherent in their kingship because they were priests and were commanded to reserve their officiation for the needs of the altar. . . . it was not for them to rule [limlokh]but only to perform the service of God. ... and R. Hliyya bar Aba explained that the Torah ordained that the priests, levites, and entire tribe of Levi should not have a portion in the kingship - and that is a fitting and proper matter" (commentary to Gen. 49:10). The whiff of the manifesto which pervades such comments must not be allowed to conceal their instrumental impulse. The power-sharing principles thus adumbrated were not left in the rarefied sphere of high theory. Such was the unity of conception and execution that they were institutionally fostered throughout the evolutionary course of Jewish constitutional history. A clear line might therefore be traced from the models of constitutional power-sharing described in the Bible to similar arrangements developed under very different political circumstances. The boundaries which (in the traditional view) were supposedly placed on the extent of Joshua's power were not regarded as exceptional. On the contrary, parallel limiting provisions - some of them explicitly derived from such pentateuchal precedents as the limited monarchy of Deuteronomy 17:14-20 - were laid down wherever and whenever Jews found themselves confronted with the need to adapt or alter their framework of government to the pressures of unprecedented requirements. One prominent example is provided by the talmudic

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prohibition against the presence of a melekh in the Sanhedrin; another by

the conventionthat the appointmentof dayyanimin talmudicBabylonbe jointly approved by the resh galuta (exilarch) and the rashei yeshivah; yet a third by the meticulously preserved balance between the ray rosh (Rab de la Corte) and the nagid in Sephardi communities of the high medieval era; a fourth in the provisions made for joint consultation between the rashei medinot and dayyanei aratzot in the Va'ad Arba ha-Aratzot (Council of the Four Lands) of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Polish Jewry.6 The list suggests that Jews persistently attempted - albeit with varying degrees of success - to divide communal governance in a way which might preserve and foster the federal requirements of their political heritage.

II It would not be difficult to adduce further examples of constitutional power-sharing in Jewish public life. The exercise would undoubtedly be instructive, since each instance possesses instrinsic historical interest. But for present purposes such repetition would probably be superfluous. Unless subjected to further analysis, a mere catalogue of Jewish governmental arrangements would add little to a synoptic understanding of the procedures whereby the appropriate ordinances were initiated and nothing at all to an identification of the procedures whereby they were sustained or modified. In order that these facets of the case might be clarified, attention must therefore be turned elsewhere. Specifically, an examination needs to be made of the forms and structures of the separation of powers which the Jewish political tradition seems most consistently to have favored and to which (as far as the evidence suggests) it most faithfully adhered. At this point it seems necessary to guard against the intrusion into our discussion of two potentially obstinate red herrings. One is Jesus' injunction to the Pharisees to "Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's" (Matt. 22:21); the other 6. On these instances see, respectively, T.B. Sanhedrin 18b, and Maimonides, Hilkhot Sanhedrin 2:4; M. Beer, Reshut ha-Golah be-Bavel bimei ha-Mishnah ve-ha-Talmud(Tel Aviv, 1970), pp. 106-141; A. Ashtor, Korot ha- Yehudimbi-Sefarad ha-Muslemit, 2 vols. (Jerusalem, 1966), vol. 1, pp. 263-265, and Y. Baer, A History of the Jews in ChristianSpain, vol. 1 (Philadelphia, 1961), pp. 212-231; Y. Heilprin, Pinkas Va'ad Arbah Aratzot: Lekutei Takkanot, Ketavim ve-Reshumot(Jerusalem, 1945), introduction. The constitutional position allotted to the rabbanim rashi'im and the rabbinical courts in the modern State of Israel - for all its anomalies - can be portrayed as an echo of precisely the same principle.


33

is Montesquieu'sdivision of the arms of propergovernmentinto the three branchesknown as the executive,the legislative,and the judiciary.7These are two familiarformulas,both of whichreadilycome to mindas paradigms for an analysisof the Jewishsystemof government.Moreover,superficially attractivesupportsfor theiradoptionas appropriatereferentsfor a studyof Jewishattitudesto governmentcan be found in Jewishsources,both classical and postclassical.Montesquieu'sdivision,for instance,might be straitjacketed into the verse:"The Lord our judge, the Lord our law-giver,the Lord our King - He will save us" (Isa. 33:22).More explicit,if of slightly less distinguishedpedigree,are the propswhich could be found to support the bifurcatedivisionpositedby Jesus.In one frequentlyquotedpassage,for instance,MenahlemHa-Meiri(1249-1316) speakspointedlyof "the leadership" being "generallydeliveredto two persons,one fromthe standpointof the Torah,and he is the highpriest;and one for the leadershipof the [material] world, and he is the king" (Beit ha-Bebiraon T.B. Sanhedrin18b). Neitherof these formulascan be acceptedas a relevantparadigmfor the Jewishperspectiveon the separationof powers.Principally,this is because neitherof them complementswhat we know from sourcesotherthan those cited here about Jewishattitudestowardgovernmentand its exercise.The classic Christian division into the "two swords" of government, for instance,is most blatantlycontradictedby the majoritarian- indeed,virtuallyunanimous- view of mainstreamJewishthinking,whichsimplydoes not abide the division into Churchand State to which the paradigmmust logically lend itself - and to which, indeed, it has ultimatelyled in the Westernworld.8The tripartitedivision suggestedby Montesquieuis simi7. For which the conventional source is De l'Esprit des Lois, bk. XI, chap. 6. No attempt is here made to determine whether Montesquieu actually inventedthe notion; that is a scholastic minefield which has already led to the spilling of much ink. Suffice it to say that "this idea was by Montesquieu expounded with greater insight and elaboration than anyone before him; he possessed it more fully than they did, saw fully into its implications and into the conditions, social and psychological, of it being realised. It is his idea by right of conquest." J. Plamenatz, Man and Society, vol. 1 (London, 1963), p. 194. 8. See M. Sicker, "Rabbinic Political Thought" (Ph.D. diss., New School for Social Research, 1972), pp. 384-387. This interpretation also points out that a closer study of each of the quotations adduced here suggests that they did not really constitute constitutional comments of the sort which we seek. Rather, they fall into the category of incidental intrusions, each in its own way of intrinsic interest as an indication of the extent to which the Jewish tradition has sporadically managed to pick up occasional statements from other traditions and assimilate them to its own use. They cannot, however, be elevated to the level of comprehensive and specifically Jewish - statements of political fact or political theory, to which, indeed, they are basically alien.

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larly at odds with the mainstream of the Jewish political tradition, albeit for different reasons. From the Jewish point of view, Montesquieu placed the cart before the horse. His principal concern was with the examination and definition of the major functions of government - which branch was to be responsible for which actions. In his view, a balanced separation of powers constituted a virtually mechanistic guarantee of constitutional freedom, and was therefore an end in itself. ("Liberty does not flourish because men have natural rights or because they revolt if their rulers push them too far; it flourishes because power is so distributed and so organized that whoever is tempted to abuse it finds legal restraints in his way.") Jewish traditions and experience of government, however, suggested a different order of priorities. How governmental institutions ought to exercise power became a secondary consideration; whence they derive the authority to do so was a subject of prior importance. To put matters another way, the exponents of the Jewish political tradition (over the long haul) considered it proper to tackle the issue of the precise source of constitutional power before getting down to an examination of the appropriatefunctions of constitutional instruments. It is this which explains why Jewish commentaries addessed themselves to an entire range of questions which Montesquieu (quite rightly, by his own standards) would have considered antecedent to his own concerns: What is the nature of the Jewish people's particular covenantal relationship with God? Within the framework of that covenant, which instrumentalities possess the right to interpret the relationship and make it effective? Whence do they derive the discretionary powers of exegesis and implementation which might enable them to do so? The answers to these questions, it is here suggested, both reflected and enhanced the covenantal traditions of the Jewish political heritage. In their descriptions of the just governmental system, Jewish sources posit a framework which is both federal in arrangement and consensual in tone. More explicitly, they depict the distribution of political power among three distinct clusters of governmental authority: the sphere of the torah; that of the kehunah (priesthood); and that of the malkhut (kingship). Each of these domains possesses a distinct franchise, with prerogatives laid down in various sets of law-making enunciations. As thus ordained, the torah constitutes the vehicle whereby God's teachings to Israel are interpreted, specified, and transmitted; the kehunah, the conduit whereby God and the edah are brought into constant contact and close proximity; the malkhut, the legitimately empowered means whereby civic relationships are structured and regulated in accordance with the covenantal stipulations of the divinely


35

ordained constitution. Demarcatingthese authoritativecombinationsare divisions not of function but of interest. Their distinctionslie less in the needs they servethanin the perspectiveswhichtheybringto bearon Jewish politicalconduct.Eachof thesedomainsis regardedas possessinga distinct focus of interest,an attributewhichis reflectedin theirbehavioras separate mediatingdevicesbetweenGod and His people.Eachketer,in effect,acts as a particularprism on the constitutionof the Jewish polity. Accordingly, each is entitled to exercisea constitutionalcheck on the others.

III

Referencesto the tripartitedivisionbetweenthe torah,the kehunah,and the malkhutare scatteredthroughoutbiblicaland rabbinicliterature.In the former,the categorizationseems sometimesto be impliedby the structural arrangementof the text;9in the latterit is often referredto obliquely(as in the aggadic passage relating to Moses, quoted above, p. 30). It is most prominentlyto be found, however, in sources dating from the talmudic period, where these domains are first specificallyreferredto as the three ketarim.'• 9. Most notably in the outlines of governmental provisions to be found in Deuteronomy, chaps. 17 and 18, wherein, after a general introduction (17:8-13), separate paragraphs are allotted to the appointment and prerogatives of the melekh (Deut. 17:14-20), the kohanim and levi'im (18:1-8), and the navi (18:9-22). This division established a form to which, it appears, the Jewish political tradition thereafter remained remarkably faithful. The source is important, since - from the viewpoint of biblical chronology - it provides early evidence for a theory of Jewish civics in conditions of independent statehood. It is also, admittedly, somewhat problematical. Confusion is likely to be engendered by the appearance of the word yorukhah (from the same root as torah) in juxtaposition to the judicial functions of the priests (17:11). For a discussion of this point that largely does away with the difficulty, see A. Cody, A History of Old Testament Priesthood (Rome, 1969), pp. 114-123, esp. p. 119. For an explicit exegetical application to these passages of the conceptual framework posited here, see the sixteenth-century commentary Torat Mosheh to Deut. 18:1 by Moses Alshekh of Safed, especially par. 6: "Here are the three ketarim ..." 10. Of which the most succinct, and probably the best known, is to be found in Mishnah Avot 4:13: "Rabbi Simeon said: 'There are three crowns: the crown of torah, the crown of kehunah, and the crown of malkut; but the crown of a good name excels them all.'" The purpose of this particular epigram is manifestly ethical - and that is how it has quite properly been interpreted in the standard commentaries. Nevertheless, the need to acknowledge the heuristic intentions of R. Simeon cannot be transposed into an excuse for ignoring the political realities upon which his statement was based - and which probably rendered it all the more intelligible to his contemporaries. As much was appreciated by the author of A vot de Rabbi Natan (chap. 41), as well as by such medievals as Duran and Bartenoro, all of whom did in fact go to some to establish the biblical basis for each of lengths the three ketarim. Unfortunately, their efforts

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andneat.It is signifiis bothsignificant Thetiming,it maybe suggested, cantbecausethetermemergedduringoneof themostconvulsive periodsof Jewishconstitutional history.Thefirstthreecenturiesof the commonera span the fall of the Second Commonwealth,the failureof the Bar Kochba revolt, the floweringof rabbinicJudaism,and the rise to authorityof the greatcentersof Jewishgovernmentand scholarshipin Babylon.Any one of these phenomena might have been expected to necessitatea significant degreeof politicalstock-taking.Together,theygenerateda completeconstitutionalreappraisalwhichboth summarizedthe principlesof previousconstitutionalpracticeand shaped much of the form of subsequentconstitutional development.Moreover(as was often the case in Jewishconstitutional history),the processwas essentiallyconservativein style.Earlierpolitical modes were not totally abandoned;rather,they were now fully articulated and - in the process- preservedfor futureadaptationand enhancement. From that point of view, the timingof the use of the termketarimis also neat. Chronologically,the earlytalmudicperiodconstitutessomethingof a halfway house in Jewish constitutional development;it stands roughly equidistantfrom the genesis of the Jewishpolitical tradition(the epoch of the patriarchs)and its presentstation.The form,structure,andterminology of that criticalperiod can thereforeperhapsserve as a benchmarkfor the studyof Jewishconstitutionaldevelopmentin its entirety.From it, the historian can delve back for earlier origins and manifestationsand reach forwardfor later derivativesand echoes. Such has been the methodology employed here. No claim is made that during the talmudicera the three ketarimhad reachedtheirapogee,nor that the balancebetweenthemwasfrom a constitutionalperspective- ideal (in many respects,in fact, quite the oppositewas the case). Nevertheless,it was duringthatperiodof recurrentconstitutionalcrisisthat somethingof an apotheosiswas attained,with the claimsof each keterand its respectiveinstrumentalities beingarticulated in a particularlypungentform. have been completely wasted on some other observers, who complain that the original teaching "is only spoiled by laboured interpretations" (R. Travers Herford, The Ethics of the Fathers [New York, 1961], p. 113). Something of a case might be made for the adoption of an alternative term to that of ketarim. Zirin (lit. "garlands" or "wreaths"), for instance, might be considered one prospective candidate, not least since it is employed in the Talmud to describe precisely the tripartite division with which we are here concerned (T.B. Yoma 72b). Significantly, however, Rashi's commentary on that particulartext reverts to the more conventional ketarim- and it is in such respectable company that we beg to remain.


37

of thoseclaimsrevealstwofeaturesof immediate An initialexamination relevance;on the one hand, the autonomy of each of the ketarim;on the other, the interdependenceof the tripartitesystemas a whole.The firstfinds

of each expressionin those textswhichstressthe intrinsic"sovereignty" keter (a concept itself nicely conveyed by the generic title itself, which is literallytranslatedas "crowns").Theydepicteach as wielding- underGod - independentauthoritywithin its own sphereof jurisdiction.This is the

thetalmudicinsistencethatnonebuttheprincipalinstruthemeunderlying

mentof the keterkehunahmay enterthe Holy of Holies;that only officersof the keter malkhutcan lead the edah into a battle classified as milbemet reshut;and that no constitutionalinterpretationis validunlessit receivesthe

of theketertorah.No keter,is the sanctionof theaccredited representatives

clear implication, possesses a constitutional right to impinge upon the domainof the others,far less to deprivethem of theirproperconstitutional franchises.As much is indicatedby the attestedhistoricalcircumstancesof theircreation.Accordingto the classicsources,each keteroriginallyderived its authorityfrom a foundingcovenantof its own with God; the revelation

at Sinaiestablishedthe ketertorah;the covenantwithAaroncalledinto

beingthe keterkehunah(Num. 25:13);the covenantwith the houseof David gave institutionalform to the keter malkhut(Ps. 89:13, Ezek. 37:24-25)." These distinctionswere furtherhallowedby the ordaineddifferencesin the internal structuresof each keter. From the first, each possessed its own

networkof officers;each, furthermore, institutedits own proceduresin

order to determinethe mannerof theirlegitimateappointmentand succession.12 11. A vot de Rabbi Natan, loc. cit. For an early comparison of the "priestly" and "royal" covenants, see Ecclesiasticus 45:24-25. 12. As is the case in all political systems, the issue of legitimate succession poses problems of a particularly thorny nature. These are too intricate to be detailed here. Briefly stated, the Jewish political tradition requires that prospective candidates for appointment to governmental office (minui) fulfill at least two of the following three criteria: appropriate heredity (yibhus); popular approval and/or recognition (haskamah); and the enactment of a constitutionally recognized ceremony of induction into office (meshibiah- "anointment"; or semikhah "ordination"). The point to be made here is that the "mix" between these various requirements varies from keter to keter, with no two ketarim demanding identical qualifications. As much is evident, to take but one example, from the deuteronomic passage quoted above: the melekh, in that case, derives his power from a process which combines both popular selection and divine the approval (in later coronation ceremonies symbolized by both acclamation and meshibhah); position of the kohanim is made principally dependent on genetic circumstances; the navi is "raised up from amongst his brethren" by virtue of his divinely inspired understanding of God's will (which can be given formal recognition within the keter by a process of semikhah, as in the case of Joshua, who was thus ordained by Moses).

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Interdependence- the second characteristicof the arrangementhere outlined- is no less markeda featureof the ketaricsystem.Essentially,this principleconveysthe idea that no Jewishpolity is constitutionallycomplete unlessit containsrepresentatives of all threeketarimin one formor another. the are, indeed, governmentalextensions of the three pillars upon They which all society must rest;removeany one, and the entireedificeis bound to collapse.-3 They are not, therefore,perceivedas severelycompartmentalized spheresof jurisdiction,with one (or more) being responsiblefor matters secular,and the other(or others)for mattersreligious.On the contrary, what characterizesthe system in its entirety- indeed,what transposesit into a system- is the insistencethat they mustbe seenjointlyto participate in the most crucialareasof Jewishgovernmentallife:judicialas well as legislative, militaryas well as sacerdotal.That is why authorizedofficersof all three ketarimmust combinein orderto give constitutionaleffectto acts of politicalsignificance- minoras well as major.'4The properJewishpolity, is the implication,is that which contains fully articulatedand functioning institutionsin all three ketarim.The good Jewish polity is that in which, furthermore,the balance between the ketarim is both buttressed and respected. In practice,of course,historyrarelyobligedby conformingto suchneat categorization.Consequently,attestedheights of constitutionalperfection (as here outlined)were rarelyattained.The threeketarimcan be described as manifestlyarticulatedentitiesduringthe ancientperiodsof independent Jewish statehood. Most obviously was this so during the First Commonwealth. The biblical account suggeststhat, after an initial period of gestation, the system then settled into what might be describedas a "classic" pattern: the prophets constituted the principalinstrumentsof the keter torah;the prieststhose of the keterkehunah;and the kingsthoseof the keter malkhut.The era of the SecondCommonwealthpromisedto bringaboutthe A thorough analysis of this issue - citing classic sources and specifically referringto the differences between the three ketarim - is to be found in Moses Sofer, Responsa Iatam Sofer, Orah Hayyim, no. 12. I am grateful to my student, Ms. Hildah Shatzburger, for drawing my attention to this source. 13. E.g., Joshua Falk Katz, Perishah to Tur, HIoshenMishpat I, la; commentary on Avot 1:2. 14. The presence of representatives of all three ketarim in such major constitutional actions as the designation of the melekh is profusely illustrated in the Bible (e.g., 1 Kings 1). More interesting, because less obviously necessary, is the requirement that any extension of the city limits of Jerusalem, or of the boundaries of the Temple, similarly requires their joint presence. See Mish. Shavu'ot 2:2.


39

reemergenceof a similarpattern,with the officesbeingoccupiedby (respectively) the sages, the priests, and - after the Maccabeanrevolt - the ethnarch.Even in ancientIsrael,however,periodsof equilibriumand harmony betweenthe threebranchesof governmentwerefew and far between. One possible instance is providedby events at the very beginningof the Israelitemonarchy,whenthe Davidickingshipbecamean establishedfact of Jewishpoliticallife, but not yet an overweeninginfluenceoverJewishpolitical development.Anothermight be sought at the very close of the biblical chronology, when the Ezra-Nehemiahcovenant laid down new ground rulesfor Jewishconstitutionalexpressionin circumstanceswhichnecessitated a high degreeof inter-ketercooperation.But even thus to identifybrief momentsof apparentconstitutionalequilibriumis to demonstratethe extent to which- even in the classicalphase- theywereexceptional.The predominantpictureof Jewishgovernmentwas far more turbulentand, for precisely that reason,far more interesting.For the most part,Jewishconstitutional history (biblical and postbiblical alike) is shot through with the records of continuous tensions between accreditedrepresentativesof the three ketarim,few of whom adheredstrictlyto the boundariesof theirprescribedconstitutionaldemesnes,and most of whom sought to attaina preponderanceof political power and the preeminenceof their own facet of constitutionalinterpretation.It is theseconflictswhich, it is heresuggested, account for the recurrenceof tension which underlaysuch a largeproportion of the intricategyrationsof Jewishpolitics,both sectionaland national.

IV Any synoptic examinationof Jewish constitutionalhistory from that perspectivemust beginby notingthe fundamentalresilienceof the tripartite structureof the ketarim.For all the vicissitudesof Jewishpublic life, the basicparametersof the triadseemconstantlyto havereassertedthemselves. Throughoutevery epoch of Jewish constitutionalhistory, and within virtually everyarenaof Jewishpoliticalorganization- in the diasporaas well as in Eretz Israel - each of the ketarimcan be seen to have found some form of institutionalexpression.This characteristicis, in retrospect,even more remarkablethan the periodicstrainswhichhave markedthe relationshipsbetweenrepresentativesof thesethreedomains.Indeed,whathas to be noted in this context is not that the ketarimwereoften engagedin struggles for constitutionalsuperiority,but that the struggleswere never taken to

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extremes.If the sources are to be believed, the weapons employed were those of usurpationratherthan destruction.ClassicJewishrecordsprovide not a singleinstanceof the uttereliminationof one keterby another(or by a combinationof the other two); neither,for that matter,do they indicatea successfulattempton the part of one keterto indicatethat the existenceof any other is either illegitimateor unnecessary.What can be discerned, rather,are numerousexamplesof a processof co-option. Principalinstruments of one keterattempted(sometimes,and for limitedperiods,successfully so) to attain commandingauthoritywithin the edahby posing as the repositoriesof two domains.By thus amalgamatingprerogativesand wearing, as it were, two crowns, they contrivedto neutralizethe constitutional influenceof the third and subjectits officers to their own particularwill. The historicalcircumstanceswhichgeneratedsuch shiftsin the balance of power betweenthe three ketarimcan be variouslycategorized.In some (isolated)instances,the sourcesindicatethat a degreeof imbalancemustbe attributedto God's own will. Suchis the case with Moses,the divinelydesignated eved adonai, who combined the principaloffices of both the keter torahand the keter malkhut(and, to boot, ordainedthe chief officerof the keter kehunah- Lev. 8:12).5 In a second category, the stimulantto a similarmonopolyof powerseemsto havebeenmoreproperlyforeign,in the sense of being the directconsequenceof the actionsof a non-Jewishagency. The most blatantexampleappearsto be that of the earlytalmudicnasi.Formally, his seat of authoritylay in the ketertorah.With the approvalof the victoriousRoman authorities,however,incumbentsof this officewerealso able to straddlethe domain of the keter malkhut- and thus to acquirea degree of preponderancenot recalledsince the days of Moses himself.'6 The most arrestingcases of constitutionalusurpation,however,wereof a third kind: where the stimulantsappearto have been primarily- and often exclusively- internal.They are not directly attributableto an ex machinaagencylocatedbeyondthe formalconfinesof the edahbut to forces and movementsat work withinone of its componentdomains.Alterations in the relationshipsbetweenthe ketarim,in other words,were in this cate15. The fact that the appointee, Aaron, was also his brother, tended further to increase Moses' authority; it also helped to incite the discontent expressed by Korab. See Rashi's commentary to Num. 16:3. 16. Significant, in this context, is the Talmud's comparison of Moses and R. Judah haNasi, both of whom combined "torah and greatness [gedulah]," to which Rashi adds: Moses "was superior to all Israel in malkhut and torah, so was Rabi [Judah ha-Nasi] in the nesi'ut and torah" (T.B. Gittin 59a and Sanhedrin 36a).


41

gory alliedto changesof institutionalcommandand procedurewithinindividual ketarim.The two processeswereinterdependent,not only becauseone precededor succeededthe other, but becausethey fed upon each other.The relationshipwas at once both organic and dynamic. It is truethat this structureof relationshipshas oftenbeenobscured.The attested motives for many of the cases of attemptedpolitical usurpation whichfall withinthe presentcategoryappearto have beenprosaic.A highly personalquest for power- even thoughoccasionallydeckedout in ideological garb - provideda conventional,but nonethelessviable, explanation for severalof the constitutionalstrugglesof Jewishhistory.Often, in fact, such struggleswere depictedas nothing more remarkablethan the individual aspirationsand ambitionsof the dramatispersonaewho stalk the pages of all mainstreamJewish demonologies.But even when due allowanceis made for this aspect of human nature," appropriatenote might also be taken of the mold into which Jewish constitutionalstruggleshave been invariablycast. Onceattentionis shiftedfromthe immediatemotivesof particularepisodesto theirunderlyingstructure,a recurrentpatternof conflict begins to emerge. Periods of relative constitutional stability, when the balance of power betweenthe three ketarimwas held more or less stable, seem to have been followed by momentsof constitutionalcrisis,when one keter harnessedsufficientstrengthto assert preponderatingclaims which necessitateda readjustmentof the alignmentin its entirety.That readjustment itself held sway for some time, until it was in turntried,tested,and if found to be incapableof resistingthe aggrandizementof anotherketersupersededby a new constellationof the forces. The evolutionof this somewhatcyclicalpatterncan best be illustratedby the examinationof variousexamples,each of which facilitatesits analysis step by constitutionalstep. One strikinginstanceof the genesisof the process is provided by the kingship of Solomon; another can be discerned duringthe reignof AlexanderYannai.Both epochswitnessedthe emergence of a particularlystrong ketermalkhut.In both cases, moreover,that keter attemptedto attainconstitutionalpreponderanceby encroachinguponroles 17. And it is significant that classic Jewish sources do acknowledge the weight which it deserves. "R. Joshua ben Kovsai said: 'All my life I ran away from executive authority [serarah];now that I wield it, I pour a pot full of boiling water on all who would take it away from me. Just as the pot burns, injures, and sullies - so do I act' " (T.B. Menabot 109b, T.J. Pesabim 6:1). Contrast this with the apolitical stream of Jewish thought expressed in the injunction to "love work and hate mastery [rabbanut],and do not acquaint yourself with government [reshut]" (Mish. Avot 1:10).

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which properly belonged to another keter. By constructing the Temple, it has been pointed out, Solomon clipped the political wings of the kohanimat the same time as he expanded their sacerdotal functions and provided them with economic security - a masterly stroke.'" Yannai's achievement, although equally important, was considerably less dramatic. It was an accident of birth, which ensured that all Hasmoneans were genetically kohanim, that gave him a foot in both domains. The significance of each of these episodes lies as much in the responses to which they gave rise as in the circumstances from which they evolved. Each was considered to endanger the constitutionally ordained balance between the ketarim, and was on those grounds resisted by the keter which felt itself to be dangerously isolated. In the two cases here cited, for example, it was spokesmen for the keter torah who recalled the necessity for power-sharing arrangements. During the biblical monarchies the principle was ultimately to be invoked by the nevi'im, whose conflicts with the instruments of royal tutelage (kohanim included) consequently became endemic (e.g., Amos 7:10-17). During the Maccabean kingship it was enunciated by the Pharisaic sages. Clearly, it was Yannai's usurpation of a second of the three crowns which aroused their ire, quite as much as his rude infringements of the niceties of sacerdotal protocol or the alleged murky circumstances of his mother's past. "Suffice yourself with the keter malkhut," they exhorted him in a classic exposition of the thesis, "and leave the keter kehunah to the descendants of Aaron" (T.B. Kiddushin66a). A range of factors ultimately determined the fate of such constitutional struggles. Hard-and-fast rules are difficult to ascertain, since conditions vary from one constitutional crisis to another, and success was therefore dependent upon the particular political circumstances attendant upon each. In some cases, much depended on the autonomy of the putative arrangement intimated by the aggressive keter and its consequent immunity to external interference, whether divine or gentile. (If, to take a very early example, Koralhand his entire edah are swallowed up by a miraculous earthquake, then there can be no likelihood of the eved adonai being easily ousted from his anomalous position. Similarly, there was little hope for a restored 18. Of course, the construction of the Temple essentially culminated a process; it did not set a trend. Solomon's blunt deposition of Abiathar (1 Kings 2:26) had already indicated the balance of forces between the two ketarim. See A. Alt, "Formation of the Israelite State in Palestine," in Essays on Old TestamentHistory and Religion (Oxford, 1960), p. 218 and fn. 17; Y. Aharoni, The Land of the Bible (London, 1966), pp. 268-273; and E. W. Heaton, Solomon's New Men: The Emergence of Ancient Israel as a Nation State (London, 1974), pp. 50-51.


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and independent keter malkhut in Eretz Israel after 135 C.E., when the Roman suzerain restricted its dealings almost entirely to the nesi'ut.) More generally, however, the factors determining the fate of a move toward constitutional usurpation seem to have been internal, and to have depended upon the responses of the concerned branches of the Jewish constitutional system itself. At this level, two other sets of circumstances generally proved to be particularly decisive. One was the cohesiveness of the keter which had originally sought to usurp power and to bring about a constitutional realignment. As much is again illustrated by the sequence of events during the biblical and Hasmonean monarchies. In the former case, it was the recurrence of dynastic squabbles within the Judean royal household which enabled Jehoiada, the kohen gadol, to reassert his rightful constitutional authority and play a crucial role in the coronation of Joash (as did Hilkiah the kohen gadol in the reforms of Josiah). In the latter, it was the internecine strife between Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II, leading to the intervention of Pompey, which brought about the accession of Herod - who did not share Yannai's yihus and could not, therefore, possibly continue to function as the principal instrument of the keter kehunah as well as the keter malkhut. Equally influential, however, was the response of the keter which felt itself to be most threatened by a possible combination of the other two. Here, too, Jewish history provides no infallible recipe for success. In some cases, representatives of threatened ketarim attempted to thwart their adversaries by advocating a strategy of entrenchment and conservatism. Such, to quote an early example, was the reaction of the prophet Samuel to the prospect of a mighty keter malkhut.9"Elsewhere, and more successfully, the chosen course was that of reform and flexibility. Threatened ketarim managed to survive, not by clinging with gritty determination to their former institutions and procedures, but both by adapting to the new constitutional circumstances and, where and when necessary, by inventing new ones. Such, most notably, was the policy pursued by the keter torah during the 19. For which the classic source is 1 Sam. 8:11-18. Within the present context, two points are worthy of note in regard to this passage. The first is the phrase mishpat ha-melekh, which may (or may not) be a deliberate echo of Deut. 18:3 (mishpat ha-kohanim)possibly designed to contrast the two domains. The second is Samuel's own position. By virtue of his status and activities (and rather ambivalent title: ro'eh - "seer"), he may be described as a leader with a foot in both the keter torah (as a prophet) and the keter malkhut (as a military leader). The fact that, in his youth, he had also ministered at Shiloh might also have left him with residual claims on the keter kehunah.The coupling of his name with that of Moses and of Aaron in Psalms 96:6 certainly raises an intriguing question (cf. T.B. Rosh ha-Shanah 25a-b).

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Firstand SecondCommonwealthsin responseto the dangerousaggrandizement of the keter malkhutand its usurpationof the authorityof the keter kehunah.In the former case, its response was to adumbratea distinct "propheticcode," which emphasizedthe keter torah's claims to be the repositoryof the edah'smoral conscience. During the Hasmoneanmonarchy the threatwas similarlycounteredby the formulationof new - and distinctlynonpriestly- rulesand proceduresfor constitutionalinterpretation and exegesis, and their incorporationinto the traditionas the torah shebe'alpeh.20Both developmentswerefar morethanthe reflexivereactions of spokesmenfor popularresistanceto royal absolutism(thoughthey were that too). They were,perhapsabove all, attemptsto repairinfringementsof the constitutionallyordainedbalanceof power betweenthe ketarimby the invention and applicationof new mechanismswhich might restore some balance to the structurewhich one keter consideredto have been undermined by the actions of another. It is the hypothesisof the presentpaperthatthe patternthusoutlineddid not come to an abruptend with the destructionof the SecondTemple.The structureof the threeketarimwas subsequentlypreserved,not only in occasional disquisitionsof a theoreticalnature,but in the practicalmanifestations of Jewishgovernmentalforms. Not even the heterogeneousnatureof diasporacircumstances,it is here contended,entirelyobliteratedan apparent Jewishcommitmentto the maintenanceof the threeketarim.As expressions of governmentalforms, they provedto be remarkablypersistentand significantlyuniversal. Therein, it might be suggested, lies the intrinsic interestof the paradigmand the possiblevalueof its use as an analyticaltool for the study of Jewish constitutionalhistory in its entirety.That history can, indeed,profitablybe structuredaroundthe fate and fortunesof eachof the ketarimand can be analyzedfrom the perspectiveof their triangular relationships.In this way, observersmightbe enabledto viewJewishconstitutionalhistorynot as a recordof disparateeventsbut as somethingapproximatingto a carefullystructuredthree-leggedracein whichthe participants - even thoughoften out of step and not infrequentlytrippingeachotherup - seem generallyto be headingtoward the same constitutionalgoal. 20. For one view of the political thrust of Pharisaic exegesis, see L. Finkelstein, New Light from the Prophets (London, 1969): "The Mishnah in all its versions was a proclamation of the authority of the non-priestly scholar as opposed to that of the Temple priests. It was used by the Pharisaic teachers, spiritual heirs of the Prophets and the Men of the Great Synagogue, to show that they, and not the contemporary High Priests, were the authorized interpreters of the Law" (p. 82). See also J. Neusner's comment in A Life of Yohananben Zakkai: Ca. 1-80 C.E.,


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V

If the essentialresilienceof the structureof the threeketarimseemsoften to have been obscured, the principalreasons might lie in the nature of Jewishhistoriography.The vast majorityof the survivingrecordsfor a study of Jewishconstitutionaldevelopmentsderive,almostexclusively,from rabbinic sources.They were compiledby personswho regardedthemselvesas linearintellectualdescendantsof the prophets,and hence similarlyentitled to serve as the mediatorsof God's commandmentsand the interpretersof His constitutionaldecrees. For preciselythat reason, the sources tend to slant mattersin such a way as to emphasizethe keter torah'sversionof the marchof events.That version,indeed,has becomesomethinglike the "official" Jewishconstitutionalrecord.To say that is not to deny that the rabbinic sourcesdo themselvesfaithfullyacknowledgethe theoreticalrightsof the other ketarimto an independentform of constitutionalexpression. Neitheris it to disregardthe fact that some of the philosophicaland kabbalistic literatureproduced by subsequentgenerations (such as the Sefer of the thirteenth-centuryIjasidei Ashkenaz or the more inha-.Hasidim fluentialZoharcompiledat roughlythe sametimein Sepharad)also provide glimpsesof streamsof thoughtwhichwereat variancewiththe conventional rabbinictrend. Nevertheless,not until comparativelyrecentlydo we begin to possess the rangeof communaland individualrecordswhichmightcontributetoward a comprehensiveinterpretationof events from the perspectives of each of the threedomains.Until then, the historianis constrainedto rely upon sporadicdigressionsin an area which is for the most part dominated by the vast corpusof halakhicliteratureat its variouslevelsand in its various literaryforms. It is this circumstance,more than any other,whichhas contributedto a Jewishversionof the "Whig"viewof constitutionalhistory.Those segments of the edah which are perceivedto expresssympathyfor the claims of the keter torahare generallysingledout for attentionand examinedwith sympathy;representativesof other attitudestend to be neglectedand theirposi2d ed. (Leiden, 1970), pp. 63-64. "The sage was not a charismatic leader. .... He could not claim authority by reason of a legitimate place in the cult. He did not have any function in the Temple service which might support his demand to direct and interpret the rites. On the contrary the sage's only authentication was his teaching and his own embodiment of the burden of his message. He represented a third force in religion, opposed to the two primary elements of charisma and traditional routine. These two elements were united in the experience of the 'Torah.'

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tion hardly explored at all. Furthermore,and preciselybecause the vast majorityof Jewishopinionson mattersconstitutionalare to be found in the classicstorehousesof halakhicworks(theTalmudand its commentaries;the

articulate theyalmostinvariably greatcodes;andthe responsaliterature), the perspectivesof the keter torah,by whose representativesthey were for the most partcompiled.Not only do they insist on the necessityfor the full

of thatketerin Jewishgovernment (a viewwhichis incontestaparticipation ble), but also on its inherentsupremacy(whichis farmoredebatable).Carefully selected biblical verses are subjected to close scrutiny,2' and then tendentiously set to a purpose which is as avowedly political as manifestly moralistic. They are the props upon which major halakhic authorities of the High Middle Ages supported their contention that the keter torah was entitled to be considered the final arbiter of constitutional interpretation.22 They are also the basis upon which earlier tannaitic sages had constructed a strict hierarchy of three ketarim. It has been found to be said: there are three ketarim- the keter torah,the keter kehunah, and the keter malkhut. Aaron merited the keter kehunah and

took it; David meritedthe keter malkhutand took it; but behold the keter torahis not apportioned.This in ordernot to give an excusefor peopleto say: "Werethe keterkehunahand ketermalkhutstill available,I wouldhavemerited themand takenthem."Beholdthe ketertorah;it is an admonitionto everybody. For anyone who merits it is consideredby God as though he had meritedall three.Conversely,anyonewho does not meritit is consideredby God as thoughall threeketarimwereavailableand he had forfeitedthem all. And shouldyou say:"Whichis the greater?"R. Simeonb. Elazarusedto say: o ha"Who is greater,he who anointsthe ruleror he who rules [ha-mamlikh two ketarof the other entire essence the former The ." .. molekh]?Obviously im is derivedsolely fromthe strengthof the ketertorah;as it is said:"By me kings reign ... by me princes rule" [Prov. 8:15-16]." The Covenant which

God enteredinto with Aaronis greaterthan that He enteredinto with David. (Sifrei to Numbers,chap. 119.) 21. See, for example, the exegesis of Deut. 17:11, 17:18, and 32:7 in such passages as T.B. Shabbat 21a-23b, which are themselves amplified in such later commentaries as those of Nabmanides (e.g., to Deut 17:11). The manner in which these verses are thus examined stands in marked contrast to the treatment accorded to other passages, whose thrust is somewhat different. For a summary of much of this trend, see Abarbanel's commentary on 1 Sam. 8:4-7 in his Perush al Nevi'im Rishonim, pp. 202-210. 22. E.g., Maimonides, Hilkhot Mamrim 1:1-2, and the sources quoted in M. Elon, Ha-Mishpat ha-Ivri: Toldotav, Mekorotav, Ekronotav, 3 vols. (Jerusalem, 1973), pp. 220-221.


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One striking example of the qualitative imbalance which can be produced by the quantitative discrepancy in the source materials is provided by the keter torah's claims to unique continuity. For a large proportion of Jewish history its spokesmen have claimed that they speak for the branch of Jewish government that is not only the most senior of the three but also the one that has been least subject to modifications in structure and form. Ever since mishnaic times (at least) they have claimed to wear a seamless cloak of uninterrupted interpretation and consecutive exegesis, and hence to embody that segment of the polity which has been least subject to disturbance. That, clearly, is the thrust of such historical excursi as Mishnah A vot 1:1 ("Moses received the Torah from Sinai and passed it on to Joshua, Joshua to the elders, the elders to the prophets, the prophets to the men of the Great Assembly . . ."). That, too, is the implication of the various legal formulas which establish rules of halakhic precedence (e.g., hilkhata ke-vatra'ei). Such passages are designed to emphasize the perpetuity, as well as the supremacy, of rabbinic discourse. Not surprisingly, therefore, they have been assiduously cited in every one of the constitutional referents and commentaries in whose composition representatives of the keter torah have played a commanding role.23All proclaim that the thread which linked the talmudic hakhamim to Moses continued to stretch, unbroken, down through the amoraim, savoraim, geonim, posekim - even to the gedolei ha-dor of later eras. The extent to which such claims arejustified in the case of the keter torah may, it seems, have been exaggerated. The story of that domain, as has already been indicated, is not one of uninterrupted continuity. Both the First and Second Commonwealths witnessed revolutionary shifts in the persona and institutions of the keter torah. Challenges which originated outside its own sphere of constitutional jurisdiction then required its representatives to formulate new forms of constitutional interpretation. These remained distinct from those of the contemporary keter malkhut and keter kehunah, but they were also noticeably different from those adopted by 23. E.g., Ibn Daud's introduction to his twelfth-century Sefer ha-Kabbalah,ed. G. Cohen (Philadelphia, 1966), p. 3: "The purpose of this Book of Tradition is to provide students with the evidence that all the teachings of our rabbis of blessed memory, namely, the sages of the Mishnah and the Talmud, have been transmitted: each great sage and righteous man having received them from a great sage and righteous man ... as far back as the men of the Great Assembly, who received them from the prophets, of blessed memory all." See also the introductions to such great codes as those compiled by Maimonides, Asher ben YeIhiel,and Joseph Caro (which are all conveniently quoted in Elon, Mishpat Ivri, vol. 3).

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previous institutions of the keter torah itself. The navi of the monarchy was not an exact replica of the ro'eh of the era of the judges; neither was the of the Talmud a carbon copy of the navi. (That, it might be talmid is one reason why spokesmen for the keter torah during the talmudic argued,.hakham era went to such lengths to emphasize that they were the legitimate heirs of the prophets' mantle. The difference between the two instrumentalities was too obvious to be passed over in silence.)24 Equal note might be taken of the changes which affected the development of the keter torah at a later stage, when its claims to continuity and uniformity are less open to question. The shifts, it must be pointed out, were more evolutionary than convulsive; but they are noticeable for all that. The yeshivot of the high and late Middle Ages were not the precise equivalents of the earlier recruiting grounds for officers in the keter torah, the metivtot of Bavel.25Neither can the rabbinate of the early modern period, with its strict bureaucracy and heavy formality, be regarded as a replica of the institutional forms fashioned by the talmidei bakhamim of talmudic times.26Finally, there has been the response of the keter to the circumstantial and intellectual challenges of the contemporary age. The postemancipation emergence of modern "schools" of interpretation (the neo-Orthodox, the Conservative, the Reform) seems - from a strictly constitutional perspective - to provide appropriate indices of the continuing vigor of the keter torah. That development has, admittedly, produced divisive effects, some of which have brought about the diffusion of the demesne. It has not, however, caused its dissolution. On the contrary, by stimulating the establishment of new "seats" of Jewish learning (the rabbinical seminary, the theological college, and the 24. T.B. Bava Batra 12a: "From the day that the Holy Temple was destroyed, prophecy was removed from the prophets and given to the sages." See also the commentaries on this passage by the Perush ha-Kotev and the Etz Yosef For further evidence, Elon, op. cit., p. 225, fn. 15. 25. On which there is a large and growing literature. For recent research in this field, see D. Goodblatt, Rabbinic Instruction in Sasanian Babylon (Leiden, 1975); Y. Gafni, "Yeshivah u-Metivta," Zion 43 (1978): 12-37; and D. Goodblatt, "Hitpatbuyot Hadashot be-Heker Yeshivot Bavel," Zion 46 (1981). For an interesting contemporary attempt to seek a direct connection between the geonic yeshivah and Moses, see the letters of R. Samuel b. Eli quoted in B. Z. Dinur, Yisrael ba-Golah, vol. 1, bk. 2 (Tel Aviv, 1961), p. 119. 26. If, indeed, such an institutional form did then exist. According to one view: "In the world of the sages during the Temple period you find no bureaucratic organization - no system whatsoever of appointment, no promotion, no remuneration, nor even any real arrangements for training or definition of functions. Likewise, there were, of course, no titles; simply the personal name of the sage was used. The titles 'rabban' or 'rabbi' are of a later time." E. Urbach, "Jewish Doctrines and Practices in Halakhic and Aggadic Literature,"in Violenceand Defense in the Jewish Experience, ed. S. Baron and G. Wise (Philadelphia, 1977), p. 90.


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departmentsof Jewishstudiesin the universities),it mightbe interpretedas a demonstrationof the keter torah'scontinuingabilityto retainits voice in the Jewishpolitical dialogue of which it forms an integralpart. Be that as it may, a synoptichistoricalsurveysuggeststhat the survival of the keter torah(in its variousmanifestations)need not be regardedas a uniquephenomenonin the historyof the Jewishpoliticaltradition.Indeed, whendue accountis takenof the potentiallydestructivepressuresexertedon the keter kehunahand the keter malkhut,it is their resiliencewhich would appear to be the more remarkable.They, too, participatedin the Jewish strugglefor survivalin its constitutionalmanifestations.Similarly,theyboth developed characteristicsof dynamismand flexibilitynecessaryfor their continuity.Hence each periodicallyeffectedmultiplechangesin its institutional structuresand operationalprocedures.At one level, these took the form of the inventionand utilizationof a rich varietyof termsto describe their principalinstruments.At another,they generatedmore fundamental searchesfor new meansof expressionwithinthe originaltermsof reference. These changesundoubtedlywroughtrealignmentsin theirindividualforms and manifestations.But, notwithstandingthe variousoverlaysof terminology and nomenclature,they did not cause their total disappearance.Still less did they precipitatestructuralalterationsof a fundamentalcharacterin the systemas a whole. Both the keterkehunahand the ketermalkhutcontinued to articulatethe Jewishpolitical tradition'sdemandfor two constitutionalperspectiveswhichwereindependentof the ketertorah.Both, accordingly, were grantedsome degreeof whateverformalor informalauthority the edah possessedin the managementof its own affairs. It is less difficult to substantiatethis thesis in the case of the keter malkhutthan in the case of the keterkehunah.In part, the reasonsarefunctional. In everyone of the epochs of Jewishconstitutionalhistorytherehas existed a perceivedneed for the presenceof civic instrumentalities- empoweredto participatein the formulationof public policies, the adjudication of communal disputes, and the execution of political requirements. These were functions which no representativesof the keter torah ever attemptedto fulfill by themselvesfor any significantlength of time. Once the monarchyhad receiveddivinesanction,therewas no validprecedentfor their attemptingto do so. Davidha-Melekh,after all, had been mashiah adonai("the Lord'sanointed")and the designatedforebearof the Messiah. His direct descendants,therefore,possessed a far more personalclaim to partnershipin the constitutionalframeworkthan did most representatives of the keter torah. For preciselythat reason, every nasi in early talmudic

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Palestine, like every resh galuta in Babylon, stressed his pedigree as nir le-veit david.27Conventional rabbinic qualifications, which most of them possessed, were not their only criteria of office. The seat of their authority lay in another domain. Hence their claims to independence from (if not precedence over) such representatives of the keter torah as the av bet din and the geonim (respectively). Subsequent officers of the keter malkhut attained equally substantial status. Most significantly was this so during the High Middle Ages, when no single instrumentality of that keter was operative at the very broadest level of Jewish communal organization. The centripetal nature of Jewish public life, as expressed by the emergence of the kehillah as the virtually autonomous unit of Jewish government, greatly increased the weight of the keter torah. Its representatives, operating as a communications network which rested upon halakhic correspondence between individual posekim, then constituted the sole means of preserving the unity of the edah. Even they, however, did not deny parnassim, negidim, mishtadlim, and shtadlanim a legitimate share of Jewish communal authority. During the modern era, which witnessed the reemergence of wider civic instrumentalities of the Jewish polity, these rights were further buttressed. The postemancipation appearance of worldwide Jewish political spokesmen (as first exemplified by Moses Montefiore and Adolphe Cr6mieux), and subsequently of multicountry Jewish representative organizations (such as the Alliance Israelite Universelle, the Anglo-Jewish Association, B'nai B'rith, and the World Zionist Organization) demonstrated the extent to which the constitutional continuity of the keter had been preserved. The occasional overlapping of their claimed franchises was less significant than their collective claim to an authoritative voice in the making of Jewish public policy and their combined representation of interests which were clearly distinguishable from those bespoken by the keter torah. The establishment of the State of Israel, whose founding fathers deliberately invoked the slogans and symbols of Jewry's ancient political sovereignty, further underscored this development. Sporadic Israeli claims that the agencies of the state possess a prior right to defend and represent Jewish civic interests throughout the world - however often challenged - are in many respects little more than an atavistic restatement

27. In recognition of which Maimonides noted: "The rashei galuta of Babylon replace the melekh." Hilkhot Sanhedrin 4:13.


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of constitutional principles enunciated at the very dawn of Jewish political history.28 The history of the keter kehunahis less amenable to linear analysis, principally because, at a particular moment in its history, it was subjected to a more severe crisis than either of the other two ketarim. The destruction of the Second Temple (an event which exerted an obviously crucial influence on the entire course of Jewish constitutional development) was for the keter kehunaha shock of catastrophic proportions. Admittedly, the weaknesses of this branch of government had long been apparent. Its independence had been undermined by the keter malkhut during the biblical monarchy, when kohanim were sometimes virtually reduced to the status of royal instrumentalities. Despite the kehunah's increased prestige early in the Second Commonwealth (especially under Ezra, himself a priest, and Simon ha-Zaddik, a kohen gadol), its principal officers had subsequently suffered from an increasing degree of disrepute, which had already become chronic by the middle generations of the Hasmonean monarchy.29Nevertheless, the cessation of the Temple service in 70 C.E. undoubtedly put an end to any hope that the situation might be rectified. At a stroke, the kohanim were then deprived of their sacerdotal roles and judicial functions. They were reduced - in fact if not in name - to the status of fossils, in possession of only marginal constitutional rights and honorific ceremonial duties. Under such circumstances, all attempts to revive the keter kehunahin its predestruction form, as a genetically unified and independent branch of Jewish government, were bound to fail.3" Readjustment, in this case, had necessarily to be a more protracted and complicated process. For a considerable length of time thereafter, accordingly, this keter virtually dropped out of sight. If the Jewish political tradition was to remain true to its own principles, however, this state of vacuum could not long persist. The tradition, to put it 28. C. S. Liebman, Pressure Without Sanctions: The Influence of WorldJewry on Israeli Policy (Rutherford, N.J., 1977), especially chap. 8, "The Israeli Image of Diaspora Jewry," pp. 216-231; and idem, "Diaspora Influence on Israel:The Ben-Gurion-Blaustein 'Exchange' and Its Aftermath," Jewish Social Studies 36 (1974): 278-280. 29. E.g., T.B. Pesabim 57a and Yoma 81b; cf. earlier notions that the Messiah might be a descendant of Aaron; M. Z. Segal "Moga'oh shel ha-Melekh ha-Mashiab," Tarbiz21 (1950): 133-136. 30. Whether or not any attempts were made remains an intriguing historical question. The thesis that the kohanim attempted to reestablish their cohesion and regain their authority was put forward by Buchler (Kohanim ve-Avodatam)and Dinur (in his commentary to Pirkei A vot). Both of these sources saw indications of this revival in the coup which brought about the deposition of Gamaliel II and his replacement by Elazar ben Azariah ha-Kohen. See G. Alon, Mekharim be-Toldot Yisrael, vol. 1 (Tel Aviv, 1967), p. 258.

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baldly, could not suffer the complete disappearanceof a domain which addressedconstitutionalissues from such an importantperspectiveas the ritual dimensionof Jewish life. It demandedthe continuedexistenceof a recognizablebranchof governmentwhichwouldsanctifythe polityby helping to bringGod's presenceinto the lives of individualmembersof the edah. From this perspective,the destructionof the Templemerelycompelledthe domain to seek new instrumentalexpressions(parallelto the shift in the emphasisof ritualexpressions,with the extensionof synagogalworshipto replaceTempleservice).It did not ultimatelyobviatethe needfor a separate branch of governmentwhich would sharpenthe edah'sawarenessof the divine and interpretits constitutionthroughsucha prism.Therewas a continued and felt need for a designatedand legitimatedinstrumentalitywhich would help the edah to achieve communionwith God, and which might attemptto give some metaphysicalmeaningto His variousmanifestations. From a constitutionalperspective,these functions could not be performedby the halakhicauthoritieswho adoptedthe role of spokesmenfor the keter torah.Their prismswere bound by the strictlycodifieddoctrinal and juridical traditions of their own domain. Instead, they ultimately devolved upon a completely new spectrum of instrumentalities,whose claims to acquiredsanctityincreasinglycame to restupon the inspirational (and sometimes ecstatic) sources of the spiritual messages which they claimedto embody.Theirultimatelyphilosophicalheuristicobjectivesmay not have been very differentfrom those of the scribe-cum-rabbi of the talmudic genre. Like them, they were essentiallyconcernedwith a quest for synthesis,throughthe reconciliationof apparentambiguitiesandthe resolution of seemingincongruities.3" Wherethey differed,however,was in the means wherebythe depths of such concernswere exploredand mediated. From the point of view of the keterkehunah,God and Israelhad not merely to be associatedby a streamof formal actionswhose proprietywas establishedthroughattestedscholarship.Theyhad also to be "married"through emotionsand feeling.Godlygovernment,in this sense,necessitatednot only the regulatingand ritualizingof specificand recurrentmodesof behavior.It also requiredan explicitexplorationof the metaphysicaldimensionsof the concepts upon which such regulationsare based. The distinctionsmust not, of course,be exaggerated.Intellectand emotion, like scholarshipand piety, were never regardedas opposites in the 31. J. Neusner, "Max Weber Revisited: Religion and Society in Ancient Judaism," The Eighth Sacks Lecture (Oxford, 1981), esp. pp. 12-18.


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Jewish tradition. Rather, they were perceived as two sides of a coin which in the most authentic of cases - were combined within the personality of a single individual. Nevertheless, these attributes were sufficiently distinct to be accorded separate designations. It is this, perhaps, which explains the use of a multiplicity of terms to describe the emergence of a range of communal instrumentalities who were collectively considered to fulfill public needs distinct from those satisfied by recognized representatives of the keter torah and the keter malkhut. The darshan, the moreh horayah, the maggid, the ;addik - perhaps even the shaliah ;ibbur and the hazzan32- provide examples of such roles at the most limited level of communal organization. (The modern communal rabbi of Western communities, who makes extensive use of the moralistic sermon from a pulpit when communicating with his congregants, in many ways epitomizes the type.)33Groups and individuals who might be be described as pietists and/or speculative thinkers (the Ashkenaz, the kabbalists, the theologians of the modern era) may be .Iasidei as instances of figures who may be considered to have exerted a adduced wider influence. None can be described as the functional descendants of the classical priesthood - most obviously since they do not perform the ritual services for which that class was solely responsible. Clearly, however, each was also significantly distinct from both the posek of the halakhah and the embodiment of Jewish civil government. Their role, rather, has been to serve as interpreters of the Jewish condition and thus to influence the tone of Jewish government.34 It was, in sum, by replacing the sacrament with the 32. An office which would once appear to have been of more than marginal importance. The term itself (possibly derived from the Akkadian bazzanu - "governor") is employed in mishnaic texts to describe a Temple officer (e.g., Sotah 7:7-8, Yoma7:1-2) and was soon transposed to the synagogue (Tosefta Megillah 3:13 and T.J. Berakhot 9:4). For the hazzan's later participation - often formal - in Jewish communal affairs, see the sources quoted in L. Finkelstein, Jewish Self-Government in the Middle Ages (New York, 1936), p. 197, fn. 1; B. Rosensweig, Ashkenazic Jewry in Transition (Ontario, 1975), p. 42; and L. Landman, "The Office of the Medieval Hazzan," Jewish QuarterlyReview 62 (1971-72): 156-187 and 246-276. Discussing one period, Landman notes: "As a result of the educational standards of the cantorate and the fact that they were considered 'the messengers of the community' to intercede with God on the community's behalf, the status of the cantor during the Geonic Age was on a very high level. In some areas, the hazzan was the head of the community." 33. For various discussions of this point, see G. S. Rosenthal (ed.), The American Rabbi (New York, 1977), especially A. Kass, "Watchmen for the Community," pp. 9-22; G. S. Rosenthal, "The American Rabbi as Theologian and Philosopher," pp. 77-96; and H. R. Rabinowitz, "The Rabbi as Preacher," pp. 117-140. 34. One recent example is provided by the convention of Holocaust survivors and their children held in Jerusalem in June 1981. The gathering was largely inspired by Elie Wiesel, who in many respects deserved to be regarded as one of the contempoary edah's interpreters of its

STUART A. COHEN

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word that they kept alive what has here been described as the essence of the priestly dimension of the constitution and that they reinforced (or reawakened) the edah's awareness of its presence in the midst of the divine.

VI To point to such changes is not, of course, to ignore the unique circumstances by which each was generated. It is, however, to suggest that they might also be seen as extensions and expression of a wider pattern, and thus as evidence of the continuity of Jewish governmental forms over long periods and across cultural watersheds. It is at this level that an analysis of the three ketarim might facilitate an understanding of the workings of the Jewish political tradition. Through the three ketarim, the multifaceted character of the Jewish people seems to have found political as well as religious expression in a way that constitutionalized power-sharing. By remaining faithful to that structure, moreover, the Jewish people might traditionally have prevented their political life from losing all unity of form. On both counts, it is here suggested, the concept would appear to warrant further investigation. At the very least, it might profitably be employed as an organizational device with whose assistance seemingly disparate elements of the Jewish constitutional story might be seen to adhere to a recognizable pattern. Furthermore, a study of changes within and between the ketarim might provide observers with a tool of analysis, with whose help they might measure the forces which have helped to shape the very texture of Jewish constitutional life. Bar-IlanUniversity Ramat Gan, Israel

condition and past. By explicitly covenanting to ensure the remembrance of the Holocaust, participants in the gathering - led by Wiesel - undertook to reinforce the place of that experience as a motif of Jewish public life and behavior. The presence of the Prime Minister of Israel at the closing ceremony of the convention (which was held at the Western Wall) further contributed to the deep symbolic significance of the event, and to its possible reinforcement of the Holocaust syndrome as an influence on Jewish political culture.

R. Moses the Preacher and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs Author(s): Martha Himmelfarb Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 55-78 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486438 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:18 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



R. MOSESTHE PREACHER AND THE TESTAMENTSOF THE TWELVE PATRIARCHS by MARTHA HIMMELFARB R. Moses the Preacherin eleventh-centuryNarbonnewas the compiler of an early exampleof the genreof biblicalcommentaryto which the later YalqutShim'onibelongs,the anthologydrawnfroma widerangeof rabbinic sources. Bereshit Rabbati (henceforth, BR), Midrash Aggadah, and Bemid-

barRabbahto Bemidbarand Naso are the survivingremnantsof this work.' R. Moses'use of nonrabbinictraditionsas well, includingsome fromthe pseudepigrapha,has often been noted.2The appearanceof these traditions 1. On R. Moses, see Abraham Epstein, R. Mosheh ha-darshan mi-Narbonah (Vienna, 1891; reprinted in Kitvei R. A. Epstein, ed. A. M. Habermann [Jerusalem, 1950], pp. 213-244); Hanokh Albeck, ed., Midrash Bereshit Rabbati (Jerusalem, 1940), introduction; and S. W. Baron, A Social and Religious History of the Jews, 17 vols. to date (New York and Philadelphia, 1958-), 6:171-172, 410-411. On the relationship of the preserved works to each other, see Albeck, introduction, pp. 5-21. 2. In addition to the studies mentioned in note 1, see Epstein, "Le livre des Jubil6s, Philon, et le Midrasch Tadsche,"Revue des e'tudesjuives 21 (1890): 80-97; 22 (1891): 1-25; and Samuel Belkin, "Midrash Tadshe; or, The Midrash of R. Phineas b. Ya'ir: An Early Hellenistic Midrash" (Hebrew), Horev 11 (1951): 1-52, who goes much further than Epstein in discerning Philo's influence on Midrash Tadshe.The attribution of Midrash Tadsheto R. Moses is speculative. Albeck rejects it (Bereshit Rabbati, introduction, p. 16).

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in his work is part of a little-studiedprocessof reclamationof literatureof the Second Templeperiod by Jews in post-talmudictimes, beginningwith Pirqeide-Rabbi'Eli'ezerin perhapsthe eighthcentury.3Withthe emergence of rabbinicJudiasm,most of that literaturewas abandonedby Jews. The worksof Philo, the Apocrypha,and the pseudepigrapha all owe theirpreservation to Christians.4 The natureof the reclamationvaries. CompleteHebrewand Aramaic versionsof manybooks of the Apocryphacirculatedin the MiddleAges, but is moreoften in motifs, themes,or citations the influenceof pseudepigrapha in embedded largerworks.5 It is muchmoredifficultto explainhow medievalJewscameto knowthe pseudepigraphathan the Apocrypha,whichhad becomepart of the Chris3. Yosef Dan, Ha-Sippur ha-'ivri bi-ymei ha-baynayyim (Jerusalem, 1974), pp. 134-135, calls the reappropriation of texts and traditions from the Second Temple period a characteristic of medieval reworkings of biblical stories. 4. The Apocrypha are those books that were included in the canon of the Greek Bible used by Jews but not in the Hebrew Bible. They are all of Jewish origin. The corpus of the pseudepigrapha, on the other hand, has been defined by modern scholars. The term has the value of convenience, but there are no clear-cut criteria for membership in the corpus. The various texts contained in the collections have in common their attribution to heroes of the Hebrew Bible, but they are extremely diverse in content and in provenance. The standard English-language collection has been R. H. Charles, The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament,2 vols. (Oxford, 1913). The new collection edited by J. H. Charlesworth, The Old TestamentPseudepigrapha,2 vols. (Garden City, N.Y., 1983), is much larger in scope. Both collections include works undoubtedly written by Christians. Distinguishing a Jewish work retouched by Christian transmitters from a Christian work that draws on Jewish traditions raises a variety of methodological problems. 5. For the Apocrypha, see the introductions to individual books in Avraham Kahana, Ha-Sefarim ha-hisoniyyim, 2 vols. (Tel Aviv, 1956). For examples of the influence of the pseudepigrapha, see Dan, Ha-Sippur ha-'ivri, pp. 133-141, and M. E. Stone, Scriptures, Sects and Visions: A Profile of Judaism from Ezra to the Jewish Revolts (Philadelphia, 1980), pp. 109-111. On specific topics, see, for example, Martha Himmelfarb, "A Report on Enoch in Rabbinic Literature," in Society of Biblical Literature: 1978 Seminar Papers, ed. P. J. Achtemeier, 2 vols. (Missoula, Mont., 1978), 1:259-269 (on motifs from 1 Enoch and Jubilees); and W. L. Lipscomb, "A Tradition from the Book of Jubilees in Armenian," Journal of Jewish Studies 29 (1978): 149-163 (on lists of wives of the patriarchs dependent on Jubilees, including some in medieval Hebrew works). It should also be noted that entire medieval works drawn largely from traditions of the pseudepigrapha exist in the Hebrew Testament of Naphtali (in S. A. Wertheimer, revised by A. Y. Wertheimer, Batei midrashot, 2 vols. [Jerusalem, 1969], 1:187-203) and Midrash Va-yissa'u (critical editions by J. B. Lauterbach, "Midrash Va-yissa'u; or, The Book of the Wars of the Sons of Jacob" [Hebrew], in Abhandlungenzur Erinnerungan Hirsch Perez Chajes [Vienna, 1933], Hebrew sec., pp. 205-222; and Yosef Dan and Tamar Alexander, "The Complete Midrash Va-yissa'u" [Hebrew], Folklore Research Center Studies 3 [1972], Hebrew sec., pp. 67-76; each edition contains MSS unknown to the other).

R. MOSES THE PREACHER

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tian Bibleand thus was widelyavailablein Europein the MiddleAges. The possibilitythat Jews borrowedpseudepigraphafrom Christianscannot be ruled out, but many of the pseudepigraphawere not known to the Christians of Europe.For example,the Book of Jubilees,which leaves tracesin several post-talmudicworks, including R. Moses', was preservednot by EuropeanChristiansbut by the Ethiopicchurch.Thus it appearsthat there are grounds for supposing internal Jewish transmission of Jubilees, although the process of transmissioncannot yet be described.6In some instances medieval Jewish works seem to reflect knowledge not of the pseudepigraphictexts that have come down to us, but of works on which those texts drew. That is, the authorsof the medievalworks seem to have had access to the sources of the survivingtexts.7 Further,the designation"pseudepigrapha"should not misleadus into assuminga common historyof transmissionfor texts thus labeled.Unlike the Apocrypha, the pseudepigraphawere collected by modern scholars. Thus it is certainthat thereis no singleexplanationfor the transmissionand reemergenceof traditions from pseudepigraphictexts. Even different instancesof knowledgeof a single text requireseparateexplanations. In his editionof BR, HanokhAlbeckidentifiesalmosttwentypassagesin 6. For Jubilees in the work of R. Moses, see Albeck, Bereshit Rabbati, introduction, p. 17; Epstein, "Le livre des Jubil6s"; and Himmelfarb, "Enoch," pp. 262-263. In addition to the Ethiopic and a few Greek fragments, the Book of Jubilees is preserved in Latin fragments which cover about a fourth of the book. This does not suggest wide circulation in the West. The question of whether a Syriac version ever existed has not been answered conclusively. See Eugene Tisserant, "Fragments syriaques du livre des Jubil6s," Revue biblique 30 (1921): 55-86, 206-232, who argues in favor of the existence of a Syriac version on the basis of passages in a Syriac chronicle; S. P. Brock, "Jewish Traditions in Syriac Sources," Journal of Jewish Studies 30 (1979): 224, who rejects Tisserant's view of the passages in the chronicle; and Lipscomb, "Jubilees in Armenian," who shows that the Syriac list of wives of the patriarchs is translated from Greek. Lipscomb also concludes that there must have been internal Hebrew transmission of the list of wives of the patriarchs. 7. T. Korteweg, "The Meaning of Naphtali's Vision," in Studies on the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, ed. Marinus de Jonge, Studia in Veteris Testamenti Pseudepigrapha 3 (Leiden, 1975), argues at length that the Hebrew Testament of Naphtali preserves the content of the visions used in the Greek Testament of Naphtali better than the Greek text. Thus the author of the medieval Hebrew Testament of Naphtali must have had access to one of the sources of the Greek testament. Korteweg does not concern himself with the process of transmission by which this source reached a medieval Jew. It has long been noted that Midrash Va-yissa'u appears to preserve a source common to Jubilees and the Testament of Judah. See, for example, R. H. Charles, The Greek Versionsof the Testamentsof the TwelvePatriarchs (Oxford, 1908), p. li, or Marinus de Jonge, The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs: A Study of Their Text, Composition and Origin (Assen, 1953), pp. 70-71.

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BR and MidrashAggadahthat he takes as evidenceof use of the pseudepigrapha.Manyof the parallelsare too vague to indicatedependence.Others involve traditionsfound in rabbinicliteratureas well as in the pseudepigrapha.But the six parallelsto the Testamentsof the TwelvePatriarchsfall into neitherof these categories.8 The Testaments,however, can no longer be taken as a Jewish text. Although it undoubtedlydraws on Jewish traditions,recent scholarship regardsit as an early Christianwork.9If the Testamentsneverexistedas a Jewish document, Albeck's belief that R. Moses drew on the original Hebrewof the Testamentshas to be discarded.In any case Albeck'sargument for a Hebreworiginalis weak.'1 8. All references to BR are to page and line of Albeck's edition (see n. I above). For Albeck's list of instances of R. Moses' use of the pseudepigrapha, see Bereshit Rabbati, introduction, p. 17. An example of the first category, parallels too vague to indicate dependence, is Albeck's comparison of BR, p. 51, 1. 4, which says that the earth is divided into three parts, a third inhabited, a third water, a third wilderness, to 4 Ezra 6:42, 47, where the world is described as six-sevenths land and one-seventh water. (This example could equally be considered in the second category, passages paralleled in rabbinic works as well as in the pseudepigrapha, because BR's tripartite division appears also in Midrash Konen [in Adolf Jellinek, Beit ha-midrash, 6 vols. (Leipzig, 1853-77) 2:27] and in R. Bahya's commentary to Num. 10:35, as Albeck notes.) An example of the second category is BR, p. 51, 11.15-16, which says that man's dominion over animals was lost after the fall. Albeck's own note and Louis Ginzberg's note in Legends of the Jews, 7 vols. (Philadelphia, 1909-38), 5:119-120, n. 13, indicate so many parallels in rabbinic literature that the Life of Adam and Eve 37-38 (or Apocalypse of Moses 10-11) seems an unlikely source. For a listing of the instances of use of rabbinic works in BR, see Bereshit Rabbati, introduction, pp. 24-36. It seems to me that Albeck lists so many doubtful cases of use of the pseudepigrapha because once he had become convinced that R. Moses used some pseudepigrapha, he assumed that he had had access to all of them as easily as to rabbinic texts. Thus if a tradition appears both in a rabbinic text and in a pseudepigraphon, there was no reason to preferthe rabbinic text as R. Moses' source. Unlike the other parallels, which are elements of larger units, most of the parallels to the Testaments constitute independent units. The traditions discussed in sections 2 and 3 below are parts of larger units, but 1, 4, 5, and 6 are independent. So too is the extract from Bel and the Dragon, also discussed below. The three parallels to Jubilees in Midrash Aggadah that Albeck identifies also merit further investigation. I had originally planned to discuss them together with the parallels to the Testaments in BR, but the nature of the relationship between the two midrashim and their pseudepigraphic sources turns out to be very different. I follow the common practice of abbreviating the titles of the individual testaments within the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs as T. Levi, T. Judah, T. Naphtali, etc. 9. The most important work for setting the tone of recent scholarship is de Jonge, Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs: A Study. 10. While his view is probably based on more general considerations, the only evidence that Albeck presents is a single passage in which he believes BR to preserve the original Hebrew


59

But R. Moses' knowledgeof the Testamentscould not have come from his Christian neighbors in eleventh-centuryNarbonne. The Testaments seems to have been known widely among Greek-speakingChristians throughoutthe MiddleAges, but it was not knownto Christiansin Western Europe until about 1235, when Robert Grosseteste, bishop of Lincoln, importedto Englandfromthe libraryof MichaelChoniates(Acominatus)in Byzantiumthe single manuscriptfrom which the Latin and all descendant vernacularversionsderive." I shall arguethat the conclusionthat R. Moses knew the Testamentsas transmittedby Christianscannot be avoided despitethe difficultiesthat it involves, and I shall try to suggest a way in which R. Moses might have come to know a Christianworkthat was not availablein LatinEurope.The differencesbetweenthe passagesin BR and the Testamentsof the Twelve Patriarchsseem to me to representrevisionof the Testamentsfor R. Moses' exegeticalpurposes. Our discussionof the transmissionof the pseudepigraphaand similar works into the Middle Ages raises another possibilitythat must be considered.It is clearthat the Testamentsdrewon Jewishtraditionsand indeed on actualJewishtexts. Thereexist a numberof Aramaicand Hebrewfragments from Qumranrelatedto the Testaments.An Aramaicwork closely related to T. Levi was found in the Cairo Geniza. The medievalHebrew Testamentof Naphtali,whichcontainsmaterialthat seemsto standbehind T. Naphtali, gives us reason to believe that some such texts did circulate among Jews in the MiddleAges. So does MidrashVa-yissa'u,which seems to reflecta source of Jubileesand T. Judah.12It is possible, then, that R. where the Greek of T. Judah is corrupt (Bereshit Rabbati, introduction, p. 17, and text, p. 180, note to 1. 8). The passage is discussed below in section 6. 11. H. J. de Jonge, "La bibliotheque de Michel Choniates et la tradition occidentale des Testaments des XII Patriarches," in Studies on the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs. 12. Aramaic Levi fragments from Qumran and the Cairo Geniza as well as the related passage in Greek MS e of the Testaments make it clear that a Jewish document that contained much of the material of T. Levi existed in Second Temple times. This text probably took the form of one of a series of visions of Levi, Qahat, and Amram, the progenitors of the priestly line, rather than of a testament. See J. T. Milik, "4Q Visions de 'Amram et une citation d'Origene," Revue biblique 79 (1972): 77-79; and Marinus de Jonge, "The Main Issues in the Study of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs," New TestamentStudies 26 (1980): 513-514. In 1956 Milik announced the discovery of a Hebrew fragment from Qumran of a genealogy of Bilhah more extensive than the one in T. Naphtali ("'Priere de Nabonide' et autres r6cits d'un cycle de Daniel," Revue biblique63 [1956]: 407, n. 1). The fragment is still unpublished, but de Jonge has expressed doubts about Milik's assumption that the original context of the genealogy was a testament of Naphtali ("Main Issues," p. 513).

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Moses knewnot the ChristianTestamentsbut its Jewishsources.The differ-

in thatcasewouldreflecthis use of encesbetweenBR andtheTestaments theseearliertexts.(If the Testaments took overits sourceswithoutsignificantchange,it wouldof coursebe futileto attemptto makesucha distinction.ButwheretheearlyJewishsourcesareextant,as forT.Levi,it is clear that a considerableamount of adaptationhas taken place.)

Withthesepossibilitiesin mind,let us turnto the passagesfromBR,

treatedin the order of their appearance.'3

BR, p. 119, 11. 12-18 1 And someone says: 2 The fatherof Bilhahand Zilpah 3 4 was the brotherof Deborah. 5 Rebecca'snurse 6 and 'Abotay was his name. 7 8

T. Naphtali 1:9-12 My mother is Bilhah, the daughterof Rotheos, the brotherof Deborah, Rebecca'snurse, who was born on the very sameday as Rachel. Rotheos was Abraham's kin, a Chaldean,pious, free, and noble.

9 Before he married, 10 he was taken captive, Having been taken captive, and Laban sent and ransomed he was bought by Laban, 11 him 12 andgave him his maidfor a wife. who gave him Aina his maid for a wife. Milik has recently published some fragments that he identifies as parts of a testament of ' Judah and a testament of Joseph ("Ecrits preesseniens de Qumran: d'Henoch Amram," in Qumrdn:Sa pidte, sa thdologie et son milieu, ed. Mathias Delcor, Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum Lovaniensium 46 [Louvain, 1978], pp. 99-103). For the medieval Hebrew Testament of Naphtali and the similarities between Jubilees and the Testaments suggesting a common written source, see n. 7 above. 13. The translations of the passages below are my own. For the text of the Testaments I used Marinus de Jonge, ed., The Testamentsof the TwelvePatriarchs: A Critical Edition of the Greek Text, Pseudepigrapha Veteris Testamenti Graece 1:2 (Leiden, 1978), and I consulted the translation of R. H. Charles, The Testamentsof the TwelvePatriarchs (London, 1908). References to Charles's notes in the body of this article are to the commentary found in this work.

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13 She bore him a daughter, 14 and he called her Zilpah 15 after the name of the city 16 to which he had been taken as a

She bore him a daughter, and she called her Zilpah after the name of the city in which he had been a captive.

captive. 17 She bore anotherdaughter, 18 and he called her Bilhah, 19

Next she bore Bilhah, saying, My daughter is eager for what is new [kainospoudos].

20 for when she was born, For as soon as she was born, 21 she was eager [mitbahelet]to she was eager [espeude]to suck. suck. 22 He said, 23 How eager [behulah] my daughteris. 24 And when Jacob went to Laban's, 25 'Ahlotaytheir fatherwas dead. 26 Labantook Havahhis maid and her two daughters 27 and gave Zilpah,the older,to his older daughterLeah as a maid, 28 and Bilhah, the younger, to his youngerdaughterRachel. The differencein the way the two passagesbeginis a resultof theirdifferent contexts. "Someone says" (1) is a rabbinicformulafor introducinga saying. The genealogy in T. Naphtali is part of a first-personnarrative. Some detailsof the accountin T. Naphtali (7, 8) are lackingin BR. As Charlesnotes (to T. Naphtali 1:9-11), the purposeof the genealogyis to show that the sons of the concubinesare descendedfromAbrahamon their mother'sside as well as on their father's.BR fails to make this point. Some of the detailsof BR appearat firstglance to be independentof T. Naphtali, but turn out not to be. BR (9), which places the captivityof the fatherof Bilhahand Zilpahbeforehis marriage,only makesexplicitwhat is implicitin T. Naphtali.T. Naphtaligives the nameof the motherof Bilhah and Zilpah as Aina (12). BR does not mentiona name at this point in the narrative,but latercalls the motherHavah, Eve (26). Albecksuggestsreadwhichis a reasonableHebrewequivalentfor Aina. Graphically ing .Hannah,

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n and v are very close in Hebrew;since Ijavah too is a common Hebrew name,such an interchangecould easilytake placein the courseof transmission in Hebrew. The restof BR (24-28), whileindependentof T. Naphtali,is drawnfrom Gen. 29:24, 29. The additionof this materialseems to be the resultof the desire to link the passagemore firmlyto the biblicalverse on which it is offeredas a comment.The only detailnot found in Genesis,the deathof the fatherbeforeJacob'ssojournwith Laban(24-25), can be understoodas an exegeticalresponse to his absence from Genesis. If he was alreadydead when Jacob arrivedat Laban's,the silence of the biblicaltext about this ancestor of Israel is easier to understand. AnotherminordifferencebetweenBR and T. Naphtalisuggestsrevision in BR to conformto contemporaryJewishpractice.Accordingto T. Naphtali (11), Labanbought the captive Rotheos;accordingto BR, Labanransomedhim. Knowledgeof the dutyof ransomingfellowJews,codifiedin the Talmudand widelypracticedby the Jewishcommunitiesof the premodern period,mighthave led a medievalJew to understandLaban'sactionas performanceof this religiousduty. The two elements of the etymologicalexplanationof Bilhah's name (19-23), the descriptionof the baby's behaviorand the parent'sexclamation, are not given in the same orderin the two passages.The etymology obviously has a Hebrewbackground.The phoneticsimilaritybetweenthe root "to be eager"and the name Bilhahis lost in Greek.Yet this does not necessarilymean that the Greekis based on a Hebrewtext. Philo provides Nor does the etymologiesfor Hebrewnames,as do Christianonomastica.14 passage in BR requirea Hebrewsource;realizingthat a play on words is involved, someone translatingT. Naphtali into Hebrewmight guess that spoudeinrepresentsthe Hebrewroot b-h-1.'5 Albeck suggestsin his notes that the name 'Abotay is a corruptionof 'Arotay,the Hebrewequivalentof the GreekRotheos.'6Givenhis viewthat 14. See Franz Wutz, Onomastica Sacra: Untersuchungenzum Liber InterpretationisNominum Hebraicorum des hi. Hieronymus, Texte und Untersuchungen 41 (Leipzig, 1914-15). 15. It is worth noting that Charles's attempt at retroversion (note to T. Naphtali 1:12)yields nivhalah for espeude. BR reads mitbahelet. 16. Graphically, h for ro is easily explained in Hebrew. Hebrew -y for the Greek ending -os is common. Samuel Krauss, Griechische und lateinische Lehnw6rterim Talmud, Midrasch und Targum,2 vols. (Berlin, 1898), explains the Hebrew ending as derived from the Greek vocative (1:74). Although Albeck seems to view the Hebrew's addition of the ' as standard practice (notes to p. 119, 11.12-16), Krauss gives no examples of ' before r in his discussion of prothetic vowels in Hebrew transliterations (1:136-40). M. E. Stone has suggested to me that the 'takes the place of the rough breathing that accompanies initial Greek r, a phenomenon with parallels in Armenian.


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BR preservesthe originalHebrewof the Testaments, this suggestionis a Onemighthaveexpectedhimto arguethatRotheosis the littlesurprising. Greekversionof a Hebrewname,especiallysinceRotheosis a rareGreek name.As faras I can tell it appearsnowhereelse."Thename'Abotayis I knowis in B.T.Keritot13b,whereit is alsorare.Theonlyotheroccurrence spelled'Ahot'ay. The passagein BR is so similarto the passagefromT. Naphtalithat someliteraryrelationship mustexist,but it is difficultto offerconclusive evidenceaboutthedirectionof dependence. Is BRa Hebrewtranslation and revisionof T. Naphtali,or doesBRpreserveanearlyHebrewtexton which theauthorof theTestaments drew?WehaveseenthatT.Naphtali'setymolbutnot necessarily a ogy of thenameBilhahrequiresa Hebrewbackground Hebrew Vorlage;the corresponding passagein BR could representa withsomerevision,of T.Naphtali.Inthispassagefrom Hebrewtranslation, BR andin the othersconsideredhere,personalandplacenamesfromthe Bibleappearin theiroriginalforms,notin Hebraized versionsof theGreek. Yetthis neednot be takenas evidencefor use of Hebrewdocumentsthat standbehindtheTestaments ratherthanof theTestaments itself;familiarity withthe Masoretictext is enoughto accountfor it. The two namesin the passagethat are not takenfromGenesis29 thecomplexity of questionsof Vorlage. demonstrate BR'sHannahis a common Hebrewnamefoundin the Bible.It is theequivalentof T. Naphtali's Aina,a namenot foundin Greek,whichlookslikean effortto providea Greekformof Hannah.BR'sHannahmaypreserve theHebrewof thetradition behindT. Naphtali,butit couldalsorepresent an attemptat retroversion of T. Naphtali'sAina,an attemptthatperhapssucceedsin recovering the namein the traditionbehindthe Greek. In the case of the othernames,'Abyotay/Rotheos, neitherthe Greek namenorthe Hebrewis common.Theformof the Hebrewnamesuggests of a Greekname,butthatdoesnotmeanthatthenameis only Hebraization a Hebrewequivalentfor a namein a Greektext.Dostay,for example,a nameof the sameformas 'Abotay,derivedfromthe GreekDositheos, becomesa Jewishname.It wouldcertainlybe helpfulto knowthenamesof the parentsof Bilhahin the unpublished Qumrangenealogy.'8 I havenotedelementsof BRthatseemto markit as a revision.WhileT. in Naphtalicontainsdetailsfoundneitherin BRnorin Genesis,everything 17. Charles suggests no parallels, and the name does not appear in the Liddell-Scott GreekEnglish Lexicon or in Friederich Preisigke, Namenbuch (Heidelberg, 1922). 18. See n. 12 above.

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BR can be explained on the basis of T. Naphtali and Genesis. BR (24-28) serves to make the relation of the passage to Genesis more explicit in accordance with the exegetical needs of BR. A different kind of revision, this time toward medieval Jewish practice, is in evidence in the use of the verb "ransom" for T. Naphtali's "buy." Both types of revision could reasonably be attributed to the hand of R. Moses. But in light of the difficulties involved in assuming that R. Moses knew the Testaments, it is worth considering the other possibility. It is clear that an early Hebrew work related to T. Naphtali once existed. The medieval Hebrew Testament of Naphtali lacks much of the material found in T. Naphtali, but contains a longer and more coherent version of the visions that cannot be explained as depending on the Greek. Rather, both versions go back to a common source, which is preserved better in the Hebrew.'9 The medieval Hebrew Testament of Naphtali does not contain any mention of Bilhah, but it is possible that the source document contained material that does not appear in the medieval Hebrew testament. If the unpublished genealogical fragment from Qumran resembles T. Naphtali 1:9-12, a case could be made for viewing a form of this passage as part of that source document. It appears that the redactor of the medieval Hebrew Testament of Naphtali somehow had access to a text of the Second Temple period. Perhaps R. Moses too was able to draw on it. In that case BR would represent a revision of the source of T. Naphtali rather than a revision of T. Naphtali. Although an explanation built on a hypothetical source is rarely to be preferred to one based on an actual text, there are great historical difficulties involved in attributing knowledge of the Testaments to R. Moses. If the passage just discussed was the only example of such knowledge, the theory of dependence on a Hebrew document of Second Temple times would be appealing. But that passage must be considered together with those that follow.

II BR, p. 156, 1. 23-p. 157, 1. 1, comments on Gen. 35:21, "Israel journeyed on and pitched his tent." 19. See n. 7 above.

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It is written, "her tent." [The consonants 'hlh, vocalized "his tent" in the Masoretictext, as the context requires,would ordinarilybe vocalized"her tent."] This is Bilhah's tent. When Rachel died, he brought Bilhah into Rachel'stent, and she took her place and nursedBenjamin.Eventhoughshe had ceasedgivingbirthseveralyearsbefore,her milkcamein, and she nursed him. The view that Bilhah took Rachel's place in Jacob's tent is found in several rabbinic sources.20 The only other place where Bilhah is said to have nursed Benjamin, however, is T. Benjamin 1:3.

III According to the version of the story of the ten martyrs in BR, Zebulun pitied Joseph and did not want to sell him (p. 178, 1. 10). But because he and Reuben, who was not present when the sale was made, also pitied their other brothers2' and did not tell Jacob the truth about Joseph's fate, they were punished by having one of their descendants included among the ten martyrs, one for each of the brothers who participated in the crime against Joseph. There is no mention of Zebulun's feelings toward Joseph in any rabbinic source, but T. Zebulun 4 describes Zebulun as so sorrowful that he could not eat while Joseph was imprisoned in the pit.

IV In relation to Gen. 38:6, "And her name was Tamar," BR, p. 178, 1. 27-p. 179, 1. 1, reports first the standard rabbinic view that Tamar was the daughter of Shem.22 As in the genealogy of Bilhah and Zilpah, the motive seems to be the desire to provide honorable ancestry, Semitic rather than Canaanite-Hamitic, on the female side. After offering this view BR goes on to say, "Our rabbis of blessed memory said: Judah took her from among the women of Aram Naharayim, 20. See Albeck's note ad loc. and Ginzburg, Legends, 5:319-320, n. 312. 21. I follow Albeck, note ad loc., in reading basu for 22. See Albeck, note ad loc., and Ginzburg, Legends, 5:333, .anu. n. 79.

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and he broughther fatherand her motherand her threebrotherswith her. And furtherJudahdid not allow them to returnto Aram Naharayim,but gave thema city namedShiqron,and they livedthere."AramNaharayimis Laban'shometown(or country)accordingto Gen. 24:10. Albeckcomparesthis to T. Judah 10:1,"Ertook Tamaras his wife,from Mesopotamia,a daughterof Aram,"and to Jub. 41:1, "Judahtook for his first-bornEr, a wife from the daughtersof Aram, named Tamar."23 These three passages are closer than the translationssuggest. Benot, which I have translatedidiomaticallyas "women"in the BR passage, is literally"daughters." GinzbergunderstandsT. JudahandJubileesto be speakingof Aram,the son of Shem(Gen. 10:22).But T. Judah'smentionof Mesopotamia(Naharayim means "two rivers")and Jubilees'plural"daughtersof Aram"(like the "women"of BR) suggestthe possibilitythat Aramis a placeratherthan a person. The hostility of Bat-Shua24and her sons to the non-Canaanite Tamar,an importantthemein both T. Judahand Jubilees,requiresSemitic lineage for Tamar,but either descentfrom Aram or Shem or birth in the Mesopotamiantown of Aram would provide it. Thus BR seemsto sharewith T. Judahand Jubileesa versionof Tamar's Semiticlineagebased on geography.But neitherT. Judahnor Jubileescan account for the furtherinformationof BR: that with TamarJudahbrought herparentsand threebrothers,whomhe thensettledin a city calledShiqron and did not allow to returnhome. The proximityof Tamar'sparentsmaybe exegeticalrevision,an attemptto explainhow this Mesopotamianwoman could returnto her father'shouse (Gen. 38:11)and still be in a position to hear about her father-in-law'ssheep-shearingexpedition(Gen. 38:13).The name of the town, Shiqron,and the number,or even the existence,of the brothers,are more difficultto explain.It seems reasonableto supposethat they are drawnfrom a traditionin whichthey have some function,but I do not knowsucha tradition.I cannotlocatethe nameShiqron("falsity,"from the root sh-q-r?)anywhereelse. Perhapsit is suggestedby Chezib("deception," from the root k-z-b?),the town associatedwith the story of Judah and Tamarin Genesis 38. 23. This and all subsequent references to Jubilees are to the translation and notes of R. H. Charles, The Book of Jubilees; or, The Little Genesis (London, 1902). 24. Genesis never gives Judah's wife a name, but refers to her as bat-shua, "the daughter of Shua" (Gen. 38:12). Both Jubilees and T. Judah take this designation as a name, on the order of Bat-sheva, Bathsheba.

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V

BR, p. 179, 11. 7-10, agreeswith T. Judah in attributingthe death of Judah'swife to Judah'scurse. "Andthedaughter of Shuadied"[Gen.38:12].Whydidshedie?Ourrabbisof blessedmemorysaid:WhenShelahgrewup,hismotherwentandmarried him to anotherwoman,for she fearedthathe too mightdie on accountof her andJudahdidnot knowof this.WhenJudahfoundout,he cursed [Tamar], his wordsandtransgressing herfor disobeying thecommandment of levirate Shediedimmediately. marriage. T. Judah11:3-5 reads, WhileI wasaway,she [Bat-Shua] wentandtook for Shelaha wifefromthe landof Canaan.WhenI foundout,I cursedheroutof mysoul'sgrief,andshe diedthroughthe evil of hersons.25 In T. Judah,Bat-Shua'smotivefor preventingthe marriageof Shelahto Tamar is apparentlyher Canaanitehostility toward Tamarthe Mesopotamian. The narrativeof T. Judahhas alreadydevelopedthe theme of the hostility of Bat-Shuaand her sons towardTamar.In the exegeticalframeworkof BR the incidentof the cursehas no such narrativecontext.According to BR, Judah'swife preventsthe marriageof Shelahto Tamarbecause she is afraidthat Tamarwill causethe deathof her last son. This is the same motive that the biblicaltext attributesto Judahwhen he sendsTamarback to her father'shouse (Gen. 38:11). Again BR can be viewed as a revision. It exchangesthe motive of T. Judah, which requiresa largercontext, for one drawnfrom Genesis. But while the biblical motive is adopted, the reluctanceto marry Shelah to Tamaris attributedto Bat-Shuaratherthan to Judah.Thus the blamefor violating the law of levirate marriageis shifted from Jacob's son to his Canaanitewife. The revision succeeds in accomplishingtwo purposes:it brings BR closer to the biblicaltext, and it absolves Judah. 25. In the parallel passage in Jub. 41:7, Bat-Shua prevents Shelah from marrying altogether. ". .. B6dsu'&l,the wife of Judah, did not permit her son Shelah to marry. And Bedsfi'~l, the wife of Judah, died in the fifth year of this week." While Bat-Shua's death is reported immediately after the notice that she did not permit Shelah to marry, no causal relationship is spelled out.

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VI Commentingon Gen. 38:15, "And he thought her to be a prostitute," BR, p. 180, 11. 8-13, offersan accountof Judah'sencounterwith the disguised Tamarvery much like the one in T. Judah 12:1-3. BR, p. 180, 11. 8-13 1 Our rabbis of blessed memory said: 2 WhenJudahleft Chezibto go to Timnah, 3 while he was on the road, he ate and drank and becamedrunk. 4 Tamar, when she found out about this, 5 went and dressed in bridal garments 6 and stood at the gate of Enaim. 7 When he saw the hill and saw Tamar, 8 the wine confused him, and he thought in his heart 9 that she was a cult prostitute ['ishahqedeshah]sittingfor prostitution [zenut]. 10 For such was the custom in the land of the Amorites: 11 when a woman dedicated [meqaddeshet]herself to prostitution [zenut], 12 she would sit at the crossroads for seven days 13 for everyoneto know her. 14 And thereforehe thoughther to be a prostitute[zonah]. 15

T. Judah 12:1-3

After these things,while Tamarwas a widow, after two years, when she heardthat I was going up to shear my sheep, she adornedherselfin bridal attire and sat in the city of Enan at the gate.

For it is the customof the Amorites for the bride to sit in fornication for seven days at the gate.

Since I had gotten drunk at the waters of Kozeba,


16 17

69 I did not recognizeher because of the wine, and her beautydeceivedme through the arrangementof her adornment.

Genesisdoes not mentiondrunkennessin the storyof JudahandTamar, but it is an importantthemein T. Judah.Drink is the cause not only of the incidentwith Tamarbut also of Judah'smarriageto a Canaanitewoman(T. Judah 8:2, 11:2, 13:6).With fornication,drunkennessis perhapsthe most prominentof the sins againstwhichJudahwarnsin the paraeneticpassages of the testament. Chezib,Kozebain T. Judah,is the nameof the town in whichGen. 38:5 left Judahand his family.T. Judah(15), "I hadgotten drunkat the watersof Kozeba,"suggestsa play on the Hebrewroot k-z-b, "deceive,"that is lost in Greek.26As I arguedin relationto the etymologyof Bilhah,such a play on wordsdoes not necessarilymeanthat the Greekis drawingon a Hebrew text. The play on Chezib does not appearat all in BR. The passagefrom BR includesdetailsof the biblicaltext absentfromT. Judah.BR (2) namesJudah'sdestinationas Timnah(Gen. 38:12).The hill (ma'aleh)of BR (7) seems to reflectthe verb '-I-hin Gen. 38:12, 13, as does the verb "go up" of T. Judah (4). Accordingto both T. Judahand BR, Tamardressesherselfas a bridein orderto deceiveJudah.But Gen. 38:14in the Masoretictextsays only, "She took off herwidow'sgarments,coveredherselfwith a veil,and wrappedherself." The Septuagintreads slightlydifferently:"She took off her widow's garments,wrappedherselfin a veil, and beautifiedherself."27 While the Septuagint's"beautifiedherself,"kalldpizein,may have suggestedT. Judah's"adornedherself,"kosmein,neitherthe Septuagintnorthe Masoretictext mentionsbridalattire.Perhapsthe idea was suggestedby the veil of both the Masoretictext and the Septuagint,whichis not found in T. Judahor BR.28Tamar'smethod of disguiseis most appropriate,since her 26. For examples of this play on Chezib in rabbinic sources, see Ginzberg, Legends, 5:334, n. 81. 27. Similarly the Peshitta, Onqelos, and Jub. 41:9. See Charles's note to Jub. 41:9. 28. The association of veils with brides is very ancient. In Gen. 24:65 Rebecca veils herself upon approaching her bridegroom. Laban's deception of Jacob presupposes the custom. On veils and brides in ancient Israel, see L. M. Epstein, Sex Laws and Customs in Judaism (New York, 1948; reprinted New York, 1967), pp. 36-39.

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trickis intendedto rightthe wrongdone herin preventingher frombecoming a brideagain.Laban'suse of the veil in his deceptionof Jacobmayhave suggestedthis stratagemto the author of T. Judah. Accordingto T. Judah there is a good reasonwhy Tamardressedas a bridein orderto accomplishher plan:it was the Amoritecustomfor a bride to act as a prostitutefor sevendays. Whilethe Amoritesprobablypracticed this custom nowherebut in the author'simagination,Charles(note to T. Judah 12:2)comparesit to an Assyrianpracticedescribedby Herodotus. In the situationdescribedin BR, however,Tamar'sbridalattire,rather than signalingthat she was availablefor prostitution,would have appeared most eccentric.Accordingto BR (10-13), the custom of the Amoriteswas that a woman whodedicatedherselfto prostitutionannouncedher choice of careerby sitting at the crossroadsfor seven days. To make sense of BR we need to returnto Genesis38. Accordingto the Masoretictext, Judah takes Tamarfor a zonah(Gen. 38:15),an ordinary prostitute. But when his friend Hirah the Adullamiteis sent to retrieve Judah'spledges, he asks for the qedeshah,or cult prostitute(Gen. 38:21). Later Judah is told that his daughter-in-lawhas engagedin prostitution, zantah,and that she is pregnantby prostitution,liznunim(Gen. 38:24).E. A. Speisersuggeststhat we are to understandHirah'suse of the termqedeshah as reflectingwhat Judahhad told him;Judah'schoice of termswould have been motivatedby a desireto "placethe affairon a highersocial level."29 In the Septuagintthe distinctionbetweenordinaryprostitutionand cult prostitutionis lost. The two differentHebrewroots are translatedby the same Greek root, porn-. In Gen. 38:5JudahmistakesTamarfor an ordinaryprostitute;in BR (9) he mistakesher for a qedeshah.Butin its explanationof the Amoritecustom that led Judahto believethat Tamarwas a prostitute,BR (11) speaksof a herself to prostitution(zenut).BR is woman who dedicates(meqaddeshet) playinghere on the derivationof the word for cult prostitutefrom the root that means "to dedicate,""set apart,"and thus, "to marry." BR's versionof the Amoritecustom may have been motivatedto some extentby disbelief:even the Amoritescould not havebeenas licentiousas T. Judahclaims.But it is also an attemptto resolvethe problemof the two differenttermsfor "prostitute"in the Masoretictext. BR seemsto be suggesting the qedeshahin Genesis 38 means a woman dedicatedto prostitution, not a cult prostitute.If the authorof T. Judahused the Septuagint,he did 29. Genesis, The Anchor Bible (Garden City, N.Y., 1964), p. 300.


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not face the problem,since the Septuagintdoes not indicatethe existenceof two kinds of prostitute. It is these lines that Albeckcites as proof that R. Moses had beforehim the original Hebrew of the Testaments.According to Albeck, T. Judah representsa mistranslationof a Hebreworiginalthat spoke of the Amorite customin relationto a womanwho decidesto devoteherselfto prostitution, as in BR (11). The word "to prostitution"was somehowomitted, and the translator translated meqaddeshet'aSmah,"dedicated herself," as "gets married."30 Albeck'sclaimof a Hebreworiginalfor the Testamentsas a whole on the basis of this one instanceis extravagant.Evenif the claimis restrictedto this passage from T. Judah, the presenceof the bridalattirein both BR and T. Judahis a compellingargumentagainstit. If BR's versionof the customis original,there is no reasonableexplanationfor the bridalattire. If, on the other hand, BR representsa revisionof T. Judahout of the exegeticalneeds of an interpreterof the Masoretictext, the presenceof the bridalattire,now without a function,can be satisfactorilyexplained. What conclusionscan be drawnfrom the parallelsbetweenBR and the Testamentsof the TwelvePatriarchs?The parallelsin sections 2, 3, and 4 consist of isolated elements of traditions.Any of these parallelsby itself could be explained as coincidence,and even the three sections together without the evidenceof the other sectionswould not be stronggroundson whichto basean argumentfor the dependenceof BR on the Testaments.But the longer passagesfrom BR in 1, 5, and 6 shareso many detailswith the Testamentsthat some kind of dependenceis indicated,and for I and 6 the conclusionthat the dependenceis literaryseems unavoidable. At the outset I suggestedtwo possibleexplanationsfor BR'sparallelsto the Testamentsof the TwelvePatriarchs:knowledgeof the Testamentsitself or knowledgeof the sources that stand behind the Testaments.The most importantargumentfor viewingthe passagesin BR as drawingon the Testamentsratherthanon its sourcesis that,with a singleexception,all of the differencesbetweenBR and the Testamentscan be explainedas revisionsof the Testamentsto serve the needs and interestsof a medievalJew whose Bible was the Masoretictext. 30. Bereshit Rabbati, introduction, p. 17, and note to p. 180, 11.8-11, where Albeck cites B.T. Ketubot 22a as an instance of this usage. Normally the subject of the verb q-d-sh in the sense of "to marry" is the bridegroom.

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The only point at which BR seemedlikely to reflectindependenttradi-

is in someof thedetailsabout tionsratherthanrevisionof theTestaments Tamar'sfamilyin section4. Tamar'sparentsandbrothersandthecitythat Judahgavethemdo not appearin T. Judah,noraretheyknownfromany other source. It was suggestedabove that the parentsand their city were introducedfor exegeticalpurposes,but no exegeticalexplanationseemspos-

sibleforthethreebrothers, whohaveno functionin thestoryas it standsin

BR.

In additionto thethreebrothers,oneotherfactormightseemto recombut on its sources. mendthe viewthat BR drawsnot on the Testaments Parallelsto T. Naphtali and T. Judah make up four of the six passagesin

BR.Forbothof thesetestaments, althoughnot for mostof theothersthat thereis evidenceof theexistenceof writtenJewish makeup theTestaments, to theHebrewTestaof thesetestaments sources.Butwhentherelationships are comparedto theirrelationmentof Naphtaliand MidrashVa-yissa'u

ships to BR, the case for viewingBR as drawingon the Testamentsof the TwelvePatriarchsin its final form is strengthened. The medievalHebrewTestamentof Naphtali,as we have seen,preserves a fuller form of some of the materialfound in T. Naphtali,while Midrash

offersan accountof thewarsof Jacobandhissonsthatclarifies Va-yissa'u

the narrativeof T. Judah and Jubilees.3'Thus it is not possible to understand the Hebrew Testament of Naphtali and Midrash Va-yissa'uas medievalreworkingsof the pseudepigraphicworks to which they are related. The conclusionseemsunavoidablethat both medievalworkshad access to textsused by the pseudepigraphic works,despitethe difficultyof explainthe such The transmission of ing texts.32 passagesin BR offerno suchclarifi31. See n. 7 above, Charles's commentaries to the relevant passages of T. Judah and Jubilees, and Samuel Klein, "PalIstinisches im Jubilienbuch," Zeitschrift des deutschen PaldstinaVereins 57 (1934): 8-12. 32. As indicated in n. 7, Korteweg, "Naphtali's Visions," does not discuss the issue of transmission. Klein, in his investigation of the place-names mentioned in the parallel accounts of the war against the Amorites in Midrash Va-yissa'u,T. Judah, and Jubilees ("Palistinisches im Jubildenbuch," pp. 11-12, 15-16), invariably prefers the readings of Midrash Va-yissa'u, although they too stand in need of some correction. But he cautions that the Hebrew text cannot be viewed as the Hebrew original but rather as a "translation or reworking" from Greek or Latin. He never makes explicit the grounds for this claim, but it seems likely that it is based on his opinion that some of the place-names preserved in Midrash Va-yissa'uare transliterations into Hebrew of a Greek (or Latin) version of a biblical place-name. Another approach to Midrash Va-yissa'u, from an entirely different angle, deserves mention here. Dan's treatment cuts through the problem of transmission by eliminating it altogether (Ha-Sippur ha'ivri, pp. 138-140; and Dan and Alexander, "Midrash Va-yissa'u"). For


73

cation of the testaments they parallel. Further, BR contains passages parallelto T. Benjaminand T. Zebulun,testamentsfor which there is no evidence of the use of early Jewish texts. The cumulativeweight of the evidence for BR's knowledgeof the Testamentsas it has reachedus probably makes it best to regard the troublesomebrothersof section 4 as invented,in Gilbert'swords, to lend artisticverisimilitude.33 It is now clearthat R. Moses knewpartsof the Testamentsof the Twelve Patriarchs.How did he come by that knowledge?R. Moses lived in Provence. The place closest to Provencewherethe Testamentsis likely to have been known is southeasternItaly, which then formedpart of the Byzantine Empire.ByzantineItaly containedseveralflourishingJewishcommunities. By the mid-ninthcenturythe town of Oria was a centerof talmudicstudy, and afterits decline,it was replacedby Bariand Otranto.Thegloryof Bari's reputationis indicatedby the fact that the rabbisof Ibn Daud'sstoryof the four captives came from there. Bari was also the seat of an archbishop, whichsuggestsa certainamountof Christianlearningas well, and thus possibly the availabilityof a manuscriptof the Testaments.34 There is evidence for contact between the Jews of Provenceand the Jews of Lucca and Rome in the tenth and eleventhcenturies,35and these northernItalian communitiesmay have servedto link ByzantineItaly to Provence.Nathan b. Yebhielof Rome, the compiler of the 'Arukh,was a student of R. Moses the Preacher,and he seems also to have studiedwith Moses Kalfo of Bari.36Throughsuch channelsa Hebrewtranslationof the Dan and Alexander, Midrash Va-yissa'u is a Jewish version of the Christian literature of the exploits of knights and crusaders. Since knights were not a feature of contemporary Jewish life, Jewish authors who wished to provide a Jewish equivalent to this Christian literature drew on the great heroes of the biblical past and invented wars for them. Dan and Alexander's dismissal of the parallels to Midrash Va-yissa'u in Jubilees and T. Judah as "isolated hints" on which the author of Midrash Va-yissa'u built ("Midrash Vayissa'u," p. 67), is simply wrong, as even a quick comparison of the texts will show. Nevertheless, their remarks about the influences that produced Midrash Va-yissa'u can perhaps be applied to the preservation and reworking of the source of chapters 2-3. 33. This is, of course, a disturbing thought with important methodological implications for a source critic. I feel justified in considering it only in relation to Tamar's brothers because I have been able to account for all of the other details in BR without recourse to hypothetical sources. 34. Andrew Sharf, Byzantine Jewry (London, 1971), pp. 122-123, 163-172. 35. B. Z. Benedict, "On the History of the Torah Center in Provence" (Hebrew), Tarbi; 22 (1951): 91, 94-95. 36. Baron, History, 7:29-31.

MARTHA HIMMELFARB

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Testamentsor of excerptsfrom the Testamentsmight have reachedNarbonne,for it seemsreasonableto supposethat the translationwas madeby a ByzantineJew, who would have known Greekbetterthan a Jew fromProvence. I haveoperatedon the assumptionthat the reviserof the passageswas R. Moses. Albeck notes that it is characteristicof R. Moses to revise his sources.37Still it is certainlypossible that the revisionshad alreadybeen made when the text reachedR. Moses. Why was R. Moses willing to include passagesand traditionsfrom a Christianwork (or at least a work in Christianhands)in his compilation? Our only clues to R. Moses' attitudebeyondthe fact that he did includethe passagesare the formulashe used for introducingthem. Thereare no such formulasfor passages2 and 3, whichare elementsof largerunits. PassageI begins, "And someone says,"a common rabbinicformulafor introducing an opinion.The passagesfromT. Judah(4, 5, and 6) are all introducedwith "Ourrabbisof blessedmemorysaid,"anotherstereotypedrabbinicexpression. It mightbe possibleto view the introductory"someonesays"as casting doubt on the authorityof the opinion, althoughthis is not how the formula functionsin rabbinicliterature.But the attributionof a traditionto "our rabbisof blessedmemory"can be nothingbut an endorsementof the value of the tradition,althoughnot necessarilya vote for it against other views presented.In the realm of aggadah, no conclusion need be reached,and contradictoryopinions may happilycoexist. But theremay be anothernuanceto R. Moses' attributionof thesepassages to "our rabbis of blessed memory."Albeck points out that it is R. Moses' practiceto cite a passageby the nameof the supposedauthorof the work from which it is drawn.A passagefrom MidrashTadsheis quoted in the name of R. Phineasb. Ya'ir;from Pirqeide-Rabbi'Eli'ezer,in the name Thusthe attribuof R. Eliezer;fromSeder'Eliyahu,in the nameof Elijah.38 tion of the passagesfrom the Testamentsto "someone"or even "our rabbis" may be an admissionof ignoranceabout authorship.It is worthnoting that when R. Moses quotes from Midrash Va-yissa'u (BR, p. 153, 11. 4-7;

pp. 162-163), it too is attributedto "our rabbis." R. Moses'mannerof citingthesepassagesseemsto me to suggestthat he 37. Bereshit Rabbati, introduction, pp. 22-24. 38. Ibid., pp. 18-19.


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knew the Testamentsonly throughHebrewexcerpts.Evenif he weremaster enough of Greek to translatethe Testamentshimself,it is hard to imagine that he would have vieweda Greekwork as rabbinic.If he knew the Testaments as a whole, it seems unlikelythat he could have avoidednoticingits Christiancontent, althoughit is possible that the completeT. Judahalone would not have struckhim as Christian.Altogetherit seemsmorereasonable to supposethat R. Moses'knowledgeof the Testamentswas restrictedto Hebrewexcerptsthat he could comfortablyview as rabbinic. R. Moses' citation of a passage from the episode of Daniel and the Dragonin relationto Gen. 37:24(BR, p. 175, 11. 10-16) providesa point of comparison.The story of the Dragon appearstogetherwith the story of Daniel and Bel, the idol of the Chaldeans,as part of the Book of Daniel in the Greek Bible. Thus, althoughthe two stories are of Jewishorigin, they circulatedas part of the Bible used by Christians.While most of BR is in Hebrew,the passagefrom the storyof the Dragonis in Aramaic.It is introduced by the formula, "Our rabbis said: We have a tradition..." A completeAramaicversionof Bel and the Dragon, introducedby the same versesand formulafound in BR, appearsin a fifteenth-centuryBodleian manuscriptthat also contains an Aramaic version of the Book of Tobit. Accordingto the manuscript,Tobit and Bel and the Dragon were copied from MidrashRabbahde-Rabbah,which Albeck believes to be a name for the larger work of Moses the Preacherfrom which BR was drawn.39 Adolf Neubauerhas identifiedthe AramaicBel and the Dragon in the Bodleian manuscriptas a transliterationinto Hebrew charactersof the Peshittaof Daniel 13.40The passagein BR, whichquotesonly verses40-42, abbreviatesthem, but preservesthe wordingof the Peshitta. Unlike R. Moses, the scribeof the Bodleianmanuscriptnotedthe Christian provenanceof the work he was copying. He appendedthe following remarksto his transcription:41 includethesetwostories,thatis, thestoryof Bel,theidolof the TheChristians andthe storyof theDragon,in thetotalof twenty-four booksof Chaldeans, 39. Ibid., p. 6. 40. The Book of Tobit (Oxford, 1878), pp. xiii-xiv; text, pp. 39-43. There are a few small differences between the MS and the Peshitta. 41. My translation. The Hebrew is found in Neubauer, Tobit, p. 43, with a translation on p. xcii.

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theprophetswiththreeotherbooks.42 Andtheirtranslator43 saysthathe has not foundthemin the sacredtongue. The scribeapparentlythoughtit noteworthythat the work he was copying was found only among Christians,but this circumstancedid not deterhim from copying it. In ChristianSpain in the thirteenthcentury, Nabmanides,who used Judith and the Wisdom of Solomon in Syriac,44developed a theory to account for the problemsraisedby the fact that the Wisdom of Solomon was preservedby Christians.45 We havefoundanotherbook,whichis calledthe GreatWisdomof Soloit fromthat mon.46It is in verydifficultAramaic,andthe nationscopied47 that men did not It seems to me the of of Hezekiah, Judah, king language. 42. I do not know what our scribe has in mind here. The total of twenty-four books is common in Jewish tradition for the Bible as a whole, and the three extra books could refer to apocrypha known to the scribe. But the scribe refers to twenty-four books of the prophets. Daniel is indeed included among the prophets in the Greek Bible, and there are three additions to Daniel in the Greek and its daughter versions that do not appear in the Masoretic text: Susanna, the Prayer of Azariah, and Bel and the Dragon. But the scribe does not seem to include Bel and the Dragon among the three. The total of twenty-four books of the prophets remains mysterious. 43. The causative of the root '-t-q can mean either "copy" or "translate" in medieval Hebrew (see Eliezer ben Yehudah, Thesaurus). Perhaps in this context the best translation of ma'atiq would be "transliterator." 44. See Alexander Marx, "An Aramaic Fragment of the Wisdom of Solomon," Journal of Biblical Literature 40 (1921): 57-69. Nahmanides quotes Judith 1:7, 8, 11, in abbreviated form in a discussion of the root '-m-r in the commentary to Deut. 21:14. He quotes Wis. Sol. 7:5-8, 17-21 again in a sermon entitled, "The Torah of the Lord Is Perfect" (Ps. 19:8). In explaining why he chose not to use Nabmanides' quotations from the Wisdom of Solomon as witnesses to the Peshitta text, J. A. Emerton writes that the passages "represent the Peshitta with slight modifications, which are partly dialectal" (The Peshitta of the Wisdomof Solomon, Studia Post-Biblica 2 [Leiden, 1959] p. xxxiii). For example, the gar of Syriac, borrowed from Greek and not found in Jewish Aramaic, does not appear in Nahmanides' quotations. The list of 7:17-20 is not identical in Nabmanides and the Peshitta. 45. My translation. The passage comes from Nabmanides' "Sermon on the Works of Qohelet." A critical edition is found in Charles Chavel, ed., Kitvei RabbenuMosheh b. Nahman, 2 vols. (Jerusalem, 1963). Our passage is found on 1:182. Chavel translates the sermon in Ramban.: Writings and Discourses, 2 vols. (New York, 1978). Our passage appears on 1:154-155. Marx, "Aramaic Fragment," translates the passage on p. 60. 46. This is the title of the book in Syriac. 47. Again, the root '-t-q. Does Nalhmanides mean that the nations copied it in their form of Aramaic (Syriac), or that the nations translated it into the various languages in which the work was found in the Middle Ages? I suspect that the first suggestion is correct, since the Syriac version is of special importance for Nabmanides.


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butthatit wentwiththemto Babylonia orally.Andtherethey copyit down,48 recitedit in theirlanguage[Aramaic], forit consistsof wisesayings,butit was hintsat this.49 not spokenin inspiration. Scripture Although he accepts it as Solomon's words, Nabmanidesaccountsfor the fact that Wisdomwas transmittedby the nationsby placingthe workon a lowerlevel than otherSolomonicworks:it is not inspired.Yethe has sufficient regardfor the work to quote it severaltimes, and neverfor linguistic reasons alone, as for his quotation of Judith.50 The scribe of the Bodleianmanuscriptand Nabmanides,then, did not hesitate to call attention to the fact that the works they quoted had been transmittedby Christians.This does not makeit certainthat R. Moses treated the Testamentsof the TwelvePatriarchsand the story of the Dragon as rabbinic because he was ignorant of their Christianprovenance,but it weighs in favor of that view. It should be rememberedthat R. Moses' Christianneighborsread Bel and the Dragonin Latinratherthan in Syriac. It is unlikelythat a ProvencalJew would have had accessto the Peshitta.It seems more likely that R. Moses had before him a text of Bel and the Dragon that had been transliteratedinto Hebrewcharactersby Jews who lived among Syriac-speakingChristians.If he was aware that the stories appearedin the ChristianBible, R. Moses mighthave assumedthat he was in possession of their Jewish originals. The Testamentsof the TwelvePatriarchsis a Christiandocument,and thus its use by medievalJewsraisessome specialissues. But the Testaments is based to a considerableextent on Jewishtraditions,some of whichwere certainlywritten. Any attempt to explain the process of transmissionby whicha medievalJewcameto know the Testamentsmustworkbetweenthe same poles as an attempt to explain the knowledge of a Jewish pseudepigraphon:internalJewishtransmission,by which the text somehowsurvivedthe talmudicperiod,or borrowing(back)fromChristiantransmitters. 48. Again the root '-t-q. See Prov. 25:1. 49. Chavel (in notes to both works) suggests that Nabmanides understands Prov. 25:1, "These also are the proverbs of Solomon which the men of Hezekiah, king of Judah, copied," to imply that the proverbs of Proverbs 25, like those of the first part of the work, were inspired, and thus they were copied by the men of Hezekiah, but that other proverbs of Solomon, not inspired and thus not copied, were also in existence. 50. See n. 44 above.

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ThepassagesfromBRthatcontainparallelsto theTestaments standat thesecondpole.Theyarenot theresultof independent Jewishtransmission of thesetraditions, butof R. Moses'useof partsof theTestaments as a comThere no Christian document. is reason to assume that R. Moses pleted knewthe Testaments as a whole,and he was probablynot awareof the

Christianprovenanceof the portions he did know. The resultsof this investigationof R. Moses'use of the Testamentsof the Twelve Patriarchsshould not be generalizedto all instancesof medieval Jewish knowledgeof the Testamentsor to R. Moses' use of other pseudepigrapha.The HebrewTestamentof Naphtaliand MidrashVa-yissa'uare examplesof medievalJewishworksthat standin a relationshipto the Testamentsverydifferentfromthat of BR, and I suspectthat furtherstudywould point towardinternalJewishtransmissionas the meansby whichelements of the Book of Jubilees,for example,reachedR. Moses. There is no single explanationfor the reappearanceof Second Temple traditionsin medievalJewish works. The clarificationof the relationship between BR and the Testamentsof the Twelve Patriarchsenlarges our knowledgeof the possibilitiesand helps us appreciatethe complexityof the situation. Princeton University N.J. Princeton,

The Drama of Narration: Y. H. Brenner's "In Winter" Author(s): Jeffrey Fleck Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 79-95 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486439 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:18 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



THE DRAMA OF NARRATION: Y. H. BRENNER'S IN WINTER by JEFFREY FLECK In her book, Transparent Minds,Dorrit Cohn remindsus that one of the specialpowersof fictionlies in its abilityto revealthe normallyhiddeninner life of people otherthan ourselves.'Writersof fictioncan, if it fits theirpurposes, placebeforeour scrutinythe most intimateand privatethoughts,feelings, motives, fears,and passionsof their imaginedcharacters,and can do so with a varietyof techniqueswhich, especiallyin twentieth-centuryfiction, take accountof the complex,overdetermined,and largelyunconscious processesof the humanpsyche. In modernHebrewliterature,no novelist has exploitedthis aspect of fiction with more passion and technicalinventivenessthan Y. H. Brenner.From the very outset of his career,Brenner's ability to make transparentthe minds of his charactersdrewspecialattention and praise. Respondingto his first collection of short stories, M. Y. Berdyczewski,for example,marveledthat Brenner'scharactershad only to speak and they "standbefore us naked, revealingall that is within."2And 1. Dorrit Cohn, TransparentMinds: Narrative Modes for Presenting Consciousness in Fiction (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978). 2. M. Y. Berdyczewski, "Shte ha'arakhot," Sefer ha-shanah 3 (1902): 268-271; reprinted in Yitshak Bakon, Yosef Haim Brenner:mivharma'amere bikoret al yetzirato hasifrutit (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1972), pp. 37-44.

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even Bialik,who was troubledby Brenner'sfictionon othergrounds,hadto admithis impatiencewith literarytheorieswhen,as he put it, he was able to "see a living soul."3 Both Berdyczewskiand Bialikrecognizedthat Brenner,alongwith other writersof the "youngergeneration,"was no longercontent to write about Jewishsociety in the mannerprescribedby the most influentialintellectual figure of their own generation,Ahad Ha-Am. In the "Statementof Purpose" that appearedin the firstissue of HaShiloah,Ahad Ha-Amhadcalled for a literaturethat would present "faithfulpicturesof our situation ... The younger awakeningthoughtand broadeningnationalconsciousness."4 writers,on the other hand, set their sights not upon Jewish society as a whole, but upon the Jewishindividualand, in particular,on the intensely personal inner conflicts of that individual. Indeed, critics who attacked Brennerand the "youngergeneration"(includingBialik himself)focused their attacks preciselyupon the individualsthese writersportrayed.How, they asked, could dwellingupon the inner life of a few "miserableadolescents" on the marginof Jewish society contributeto the social mission of Hebrew literatureas laid out by Ahad Ha-Am?SShelomo Zemah, chief among Brenner'saccusers,blamedhim for a "lack of imaginationand an inabilityto see anythingbut the ugly." Brenner'scharacters,Zemahcomplained, were fashionedfrom "worn-out,rotten material,"and even then Brennercould only see the "evil that is within them."6 The criticswho came to Brenner'sdefensemet his accuserson theirown ground. Thus, writingenthusiasticallyof In Winterin the Russian-Jewish press,H. Y. Katzenelsonarguedthat Brenner'sprotagonists,far frombeing meremalcontentsor the projectionsof a sick mind,werethe "genuinerepresentativesof the new generation."Borrowinghis termsfrom contemporary Russianliterarycriticism,Katzenelsondescribedthe collectivefate of these individualsin languagethat was to become standardin definingthis new "nationaltype."Havingbrokentheirties with traditionalJewishsociety,he wrote, Brenner's protagonists had become "superfluous,broken men, 3. H. N. Bialik, "Igeret al misaviv lanekudah," Igrot Bialik (Tel Aviv, 1931), I, pp. 268-270; reprinted in Bakon, Yosef Haim Brenner, pp. 45-46. 4. Ahad Ha-Am, "Te'udat HaShiloah," Kol kitve Ahad Ha-Am (Tel Aviv: Hotsa'at Devir, 1956), p. 127. 5. See, for example, the comments of Y. A. Lubitzki, quoted by Bakon in YosefHaim Brenner, p. 16. 6. Ibid., p. 21.

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uprooted from one world yet not having arrivedin another."7For Ba'al Mahshavot,anotherof Brenner'searlyadmirers,the two maincharactersin Brenner'ssecond novel, Besidethe Point,were"symbolsof the fragmented, wretchedsouls that fill the newgeneration."They were,he wrote, "the victims of an age of transition."8The talush("uprootedman"), as Brenner's protagonistscameto be called,was, ShimonHalkinwouldlatersay, a "sign for the generations"of the "generaluprooting"that had taken place in Jewish life in the twentiethcentury.9 Brenner'sdetractorsand admirersdid agree, however, on one thing, namely, what they consideredhis "slovenly"style, though they differedin explainingits significance.For some, Brenner'sapparentlack of control over conventionalnarrativeform and his disregardfor stylisticconsistency were weaknesseswhich the young writershould correct.For others, these "flaws" were a logical and necessaryconsequenceof Brenner'schoice of subjectmatter, as though the evocation of a "livingsoul" were somehow incompatiblewith considerationsof artisticform, composition,and style.' Bialik'scharacterizationof Brenneras a writer of "excellentstories with such a slovenly style"" set the tone for most Hebrew literarycriticism devotedto Brenner'sworks well into the 1950s.Sympatheticcriticssought to locatethis elusiveexcellencein Brenner'ssubjectmatteror in his intensely personaltone. Problemsof narrativeform and style wereeitherignoredor excused in deferenceto the "authentic"and, in the eyes of some, "prophetic" nature of his enterprise.'2 Bialik'snotion that Brennerwroteexcellentstoriesin spiteof his inattention to mattersof narrativestyle and compositionis, of course, no longer taken very seriouslyby contemporaryHebrewcritics.In recentyearsample analytical,textual,and biographicalevidencehas been presentedto suggest that Brennerwas not the carelessand uncriticalstylisthe sometimeslikedto appear. Dan Miron, for example,has arguedconvincinglythat Brenner's 7. H. Y. Katzenelson, "Sihot al davar hasifruit," reprinted in Bakon, YosefHaim Brenner, p. 54. 8. Ba'al Mahshavot, "Misaviv lanekudah," Ha-Zeman, February 27, 1905, reprinted in Bakon, Yosef Haim Brenner, p. 61. 9. Shimon Halkin, Mavo lasiporet ha'ivrit, ed. Tsofia Hillel (Jerusalem: Bet Hotsa'ah shel Histadrut haStudentim shel ha'Universitah ha'Ivrit, 1958), p. 334. 10. U. Z. Gnessin, on the other hand, understood the functional aspect of Brenner's breaking of conventional narrative form. See Bakon, Yosef Haim Brenner, p. 15. 11. H. N. Bialik, "Ta'ut ne'imah," Kol kitve H. N. Bialik (Tel Aviv: Hotsa'at Devir, 1971), p. 269. 12. See Bakon's introduction (esp. pp. 23-27) in his Yosef Haim Brenner.

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stylisticpeculiarities,far from a resultof carelessness,flow fromhis extreme sensitivityto languageand, moreover,from a vision of life that requireda radical break with the norms of the nusachstyle championedby Ahad Ha-Am.'3Similarly,Gershon Shaked has shown that Brenner'squest for "authenticity"requiredno less care and conscious art than conformityto conventionalnarrativeforms.14 Finally, WilliamCutter and Yosef Even's analysisof the manuscriptsof Brenner'slast novel, BreakdownandBereavement,revealsthe painstakingattentionBrennerdevotedboth to the details and the overallcompositionof that novel.'"Far from beingextraneouselementswhichone musteitherignoreor excuse,Brenner'sstylisticidiosyncrasies and narrativestrategiesare now seen as the verysourceof his excellence as an artist.Yosef Even's 1977studyof Brenner'sliteraryoeuvreis entitled, pointedly, Y. H. Brenner's Narrative Craft.16 Clearly,if Brennerdid indeedwriteexcellentstories,if, as I havesuggested, he succeededin renderingthe mindsof his protagonistsmore transparent than had any Hebrew novelist before him, he accomplishedthis by meansof - not in spiteof - the stylistictechniquesand narrativestrategies he devotedto the task. But beforewe examinethose techniquesand strategies in Brenner'sfirst novella,In Winter,a few wordsshould be said about "psychologicalfiction,"a termwhichis often ratherloosely associatedwith Brennerand his work. Psychologicalfiction is indeed as overdetermineda termas any in use in the currentcriticallexicon.If it is used to describefiction in whichactionis regardedas an expressionor symptomof the personality of the actor, as does Tzvetan Todorov,'7then it might arguablybe appliedto nearlythe entirecorpusof the novel, fromMadamede La Fayette and Richardsonto the present.In the late nineteenthand early twentieth century,however,the representationof personalityin fiction,particularlyin the worksof experimenterslike Woolf,Joyce,and Proust,underwenta kind of epistemologicalrevolutionwhich permitsus to speak of a particularly 13. Dan Miron, "Al be'ayot signono shel Y. H. Brenner besipurav," Gazit 19, nos. 9-12 (1961): 50-54; reprinted in Bakon, Yosef Haim Brenner, pp. 66-78. 14. Gershon Shaked, "Omaut bilti beduyah," in his Lelo motsa (Tel Aviv: Hotsa'at haKibbutz haMeuhad, 1973), pp. 66-78. 15. William Cutter and Yosef Even, "Be'ikvot Brenner baderekh el shekhol vekishalon," HaSifrut, 17 (1974): 127-144. 16. Yosef Even, Omanut hasipur shel Y. H. Brenner (Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1977). 17. "Psychological narrative," writes Tzvetan Todorov, "regards each action as a means of access to the personality in question, as an expression if not a symptom." Tzvetan Todorov, "Narrative-Men," in his The Poetics of Prose, trans. Richard Howard (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1977), p. 67.


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modernvarietyof psychologicalfiction. In such fiction, the fictionalworld is no longerviewedas an independentand objectiverealityin whichvarious characters,of varyingdegreesof individuality,pursue their fates. Rather, the fictional world is typically revealedto the readeronly as it impinges upon the consciousnessof the character;what we "see" is the imprintof experience upon consciousness, seldom experienceitself. Thus, the true object of representationin the modernpsychologicalnovel is, to use Leon Edel'sphrase(borrowedfromHenryJames),the "atmosphereof the mind," the act of perceptionitself and the mannerin whichit is complicatedby the processesof the mind.'8Brennerdescribedmuch the same thing when he wrote, in responseto criticismof his novel FromHereand There,that it was not his intentionto show "how things appearto an objective,clear-headed observer,"but ratherto evoke an "atmosphere"as it is perceivedby a particular individual.'9In Brenner'snovels, and in the modern psychological novel in general,the consciousnessof the protagonistis the medium,as it were, in which all else is suspended,and as such, it constitutesthe centerof narrativeinterest.

In Winteris the fictional autobiographyof JeremiahFeuermann,a young Jewishintellectualin Russia at the turn of the century.Raised and educatedin the establishedmodes of traditionalJewishsociety,he suffersa religiouscrisis at an early age and, havinglost his faith, attemptsto find a place for himselfamong the conflictingvalue-systemsand ideologiesof the modernworld. He is hamperedin these efforts,however,by his inabilityto breakhis psychologicalties to his past, and particularlyto his father,who is an object of both hatredand guilt, and by his own deep-seatedfeelingsof inferiority,which burst out, at times, in bitter expressionsof self-hatred. Feuermann,then, is caughtbetweentwo worlds,neitherof whichcan offer him a home. This situation, reflected externally in his restless travels between his hometown and the city N., leads eventuallyto psychological and spiritualparalysis,an internalseason of "Winter." Neither the autobiographicalform of In Winternor the first-person mode in whichit is narrated,however,make Brenner'snovellaan example 18. Leon Edel, The Modern Psychological Novel (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1964), pp. 11-26. 19. Y. H. Brenner, "HaGenre ha'arets yisraeli va'avizereyho," Kol kitve Y. H. Brenner, II (Tel Aviv: Hotsa'at haKibbutz haMeuhad, 1960), pp. 269, 270.

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of modern psychologicalfiction as I have attemptedto define it. Indeed, modern psychologicalnovelists have generallypreferredomniscientthirdperson narratorsin orderto avoid the restrictionsimposedby a fixed and limitedpoint of view as well as the loss of immediacyin the presentationof the "atmosphereof the mind"that resultsfrom the inevitablyretrospective nature of first-personnarrative.Brennerhimself employed third-person narrativein otherworks,most notablyin his last andbest novel,Breakdown and Bereavement.What makes the first-personautobiographicalnarrative of In Winteran example of psychologicalfiction is the mannerin which Brennerexploits the "logic" of first-personnarrative,turningits apparent disadvantagesinto the very substanceof the psychologicaldrama. The appearanceof the pronoun "I" in a narrativecalls to the reader's attentiona matterwhich, in third-personnarratives,is generallyforgotten, or, by convention,consideredirrelevant,namely,the narrativeact itself or, Who is this "I" and as GerardGenettecalls it, "the narratinginstance."20 circumstances under what did he and he this Where story? why is writing write it, and how much time has elapsed since the eventshe is recounting took place?Now while first-personnarrativemay provokethese questions, it does not have to provideanswersfor them. It may, in fact, ignorethem entirely. In S. Y. Abramovitsh'sThe Beggars'Book, for example,the circumstancesin which Mendelewriteshis tale are never alludedto. Indeed, while Mendeleclearlyrecountshis adventuresand encounterson the road afterthey have taken place, it often appearsas if the action and the writing take place simultaneously.21In In Winter,on the other hand, the narrating instance is clearly and insistentlyforegrounded.As a result, the reader's interestis split betweenthe narratedevents,on the one hand,and the narrator's attitude toward those events and, indeed, toward his own narrative activity, on the other. GershonShakedand Yosef Even,two criticswho have madeimportant contributionsto the analysisof Brenner'snarrativeart, haverecognizedthe Drawingupon Bertril importanceof the narratinginstancein In Winter.22 of Romberg'sstudy first-personnarrative,23 they emphasizetwo aspectsof 20. Gerard Genette, Narrative Discourse. An Essay in Method (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1979), pp. 212 ff. 21. See my "Mendele in Pieces," Prooftexts 3 (1983): 169-188. 22. Gershon Shaked, "Lifne cas hamishpat," in Lelo motsa, pp. 79-98; Yosef Even, Omanut hasipur shel Y. H. Brenner, pp. 175-195. 23. Bertril Romberg, Studies in the Narrative Techniquesof the First-Person Novel (Stockholm, 1962).


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its "logic"that are crucialto any analysisof the novella. In drawingattention to the narratinginstance,first-personnarrativealso drawsattentionto

thetemporaldistancebetweentheeventsthataredescribed in thenarrative itself.Thus,onemustdistinguish andtheactof narrating betweenthe"narandtakethisdistinctionintoconratedtime"andthe "timeof narration" siderationwhenanalyzingthe narrator's attitudetowardtheeventshe narratesas wellas the mannerin whichhe narratesthem.In autobiographical narrative,this distinctionis particularly crucial,for temporal first-person distancealmostinevitablyleadsto psychological distance.Thus,theclassic in autobiographical narrativeis betweenthe mature,knowconfrontation I" andthe morenaiveandfoolish ledgeable,anddispassionate "narrating I."24Applyingthesedistinctionsto In Winter,Shakedand "experiencing Eventracethevarietyof attitudesthatJeremiah as narrating Feuermann, I, his toward earlier the I. For thatattiavatars, Shaked, displays experiencing - thenarrating tudeis essentially ironicandjudgmental I bringstheexperiI before the "throne of Shaked notesa relaxencing judgment" although of the toward the end of the In narrative. Even's ing irony analysis,Feuermann'sattitudeswingsbetweenthe poles of total identification with his earlierself(the"nearview")andtotalironicrejection(the"distantview"). In bothanalyses,the emphasisfallsuponFeuermann's abilityto distance himselffromhis pastandregardhis earlierselveswiththeliberatingirony that is only availableto an "olderbut wiser"narratingI. In Winter,however,does not entirelyconformto Romberg'sschema, and it is, I wouldsuggest,preciselythe novella'sdeviationsfromclassic narrative thataccountfor muchof its power.Feuermann autobiographical andemotionaldistancefromhispastwhich,in clearlylackstheintellectual classicautobiographical narratorto narrative,enablesthe retrospective andcoherentwholeandto maintaina structurehis pastinto a meaningful ironicstancetowardhisearlierselves.Onthecontrary,thepast consistently is still ladenwithhighlychargedemotions,still,as he sits for Feuermann downto writehis "notesand sketches,"a painfuland rathermysterious betweenhispastandpresentcircumstances burden.Theveryrelationship whetherhe is a productof his"wretched" or his a is reflecpast past simply - is a matterof someconfusionto Feuertionof hisowninnatedeficiencies mann. 24. "The tone of autobiography tends to be ironic or comic, because it usually represents experience gazing backward at the innocent illusions of the child that fathered the man and because it reflects the individual's ability to rise above circumstances, if only through retrospec-

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andvulgarbecauseit is mine,thepastof a Yes,mypastis gloomy,wretched, manlikeme;andyet,to a greatdegree,I amwhatI ambecauseI havea past likethat,a pastof littleness,a gloomy,wretched,andvulgarpast.25 Ratherthan a retrospectivesummingup, Feuermann'snarrativeenterprise is an act of introspection,an obsessiveexercisein self-analysisand accusation. The model that Genetteproposesfor this type of "testimonial"narrative is Rousseau's Confessions:"In writing this," Rousseau states at one point, "I feel my pulse quickenyet."26It is this quickeningof the pulsethat takes place in the narratinginstance that forms the central drama of In Winter,a dramacomposednot of narratedeventsbutof the act of narration itself. The natureof this dramais laid out for us in the firstparagraphsof the novella. Here, Feuermannnot only announceshis intentionto write some "notesand sketches"on his life, he expressesin no uncertaintermshis attitude toward both his past and his efforts to write about it. "My past," Feuermannasserts,"is not the past of a hero because,quitesimply,I myself am not a hero" (p. 7). Feuermannis both repelledand fascinatedby his past, or, as he sees it, his lack of a "heroic"past. He cannot free himself from that past, nor fromthe need he feels to writeabout it, but at the same time he must drainit of all significance,find in it only furtherjustification for his cynicismand self-hatred.Thus,each time he assertsthe possibilityof narratinghis past,evenin the formof "notesand sketches,"he immediately, impulsivelyretractsthe assertionand retreatsinto an attitudeof disillusionment and self-denigration.The very term "my life" must, for Feuermann, be surroundedby quotationmarks,hemmedin with reservations,explanations, objections.Still, even thoughhe knows that his story has no hope of "thrilling"the public, he must writeit. "My past,"he concludes,"the past of a nonhero, I write for myself and in secret"(p. 7). This syndromeof attractionand repulsionwhich, as Dan Miron has forms pointedout, is reflectedin the verysyntaxof thisopeningstatement,27 the basis of the drama of narrationthat follows. Feuermannwill indeed evoke momentsand scenesfrom his past, but they will not form a coherent tive analysis." Stephen Shapiro, "The Dark Continent of Literature:Autobiography," Comparative Literature Studies 5, no. 4 (December 1968):447; see also Roy Pascal, Design and Truthin Autobiography (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1960). 25. Kol kitve Y. H. Brenner, I (Tel Aviv: Hotsa'at Devir, 1956), p. 25. All further references to In Winter will appear in the text. All translations are my own. 26. Genette, Narrative Discourse, pp. 256-257. 27. Miron, "Al be'ayot signono shel Y. H. Brenner besipurav," p. 176.


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or complete autobiographical narrative. Rather, they will remain isolated and fragmentary memories rocked by varying degrees and combinations of attraction and repulsion. At times the narrative is full of empathy and pity toward the child who is victimized and persecuted by his father, his schoolmates in the cheder, later by the head of the yeshiva, and still later by the gentiles and assimilated Jews of the city N., where he attempts to learn of the world beyond the confines of Jewish tradition. At other times, Feuermann's narrative seethes with self-hatred and loathing toward what he considers his weaknesses and inadequacies, his inability to gain the knowledge of the world he so desires, his obsessions with self-analysis and doubt, and especially his ambivalent and confused feelings toward women. When Feuermann sits down to write his notes and sketches, few if any of the conflicts that plagued him in the past have been resolved. Thus, far from the object of retrospective evocation and analysis, these conflicts are very much a part of the narrating instance. At one point, Feuermann denies the very notion of a past that exists beyond the present moment of recollection. The shapeof my past is completelyhiddenfrom the eye of my memory[.. .] and the isolated facts that have escapedthe upheaval,of which I know more than I remember[...] do not combineinto flesh and blood to form a whole body [. . .] (pp. 9-10) Feuermann "knows" rather than "remembers" the isolated facts of his past: chronologically of the past, psychologically they belong to the present. As a result, Feuermann cannot distance himself from the events and inner conflicts that form the object of his narrative, cannot consistently maintain the perspective of an "older but wiser" autobiographer who can separate himself from his past selves through a liberating irony. The manner in which the narrating instance (and the unresolved conflicts it contains) impinges upon the narrative of past events can be seen most clearly in Feuermann's efforts to describe his relations with women. In the course of his narrative, Feuermann returns to this subject repeatedly, and every time he does the traces of the narrating instance are unmistakable. The very first time the subject comes up we see with what difficulty and hesitation he approaches the still sensitive issue. Feuermann is recalling his studies at the home of Reb Hanan-Natan and the three daughters of the rabbi's boarder, who occupied the thoughts of the older students "more than Reb Hanan-Natan's Seder Nashim."

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heart,the son of the rabbihimself,therewas"sym[...] andin Obadiah's pathy"- I havealreadyforgottentowardwhom... it seemsto me... no, also towardthe youngestone. Shewasa full-bodied girl,withcherrylips,a Butthat'snot highbosom,anda mouththatwasalwaysringingwithlaughter. relevanthere.WhatI meantto do wasonlyto notethatI, whowasquitedisof themfromthebottomof myheart. tancedfromthesematters,wasashamed are (p. 14)(Unbracketed ellipses Brenner's.) Feuermann'sforgettingandthenrememberingwhichof the threesisterswas the objectof Obadiah's"sympathy"is, of course,an actionthat takesplace in the narratinginstance.It is as if we are readingan uneditedfirstdraftin which we can see not only the resultsof Feuermann'sstruggleto tell his story but the struggleitself. Even afterthe initial effort to remembermeets with success, moreover, the struggle continues. For Feuermann'svivid memories of the youngest daughter,memoriesthat focus upon her sensuality and vitality, catch him by surprise,as it were, and he feels called upon not only to interruptand dismissthe description("Butthat'snot relevant here"), but to attempt to explain and even justify this "digression" from his real narrativeintentions. Feuermann'sclaim that he was in fact "quite distancedfrom these matters,"however,is hardlyconvincing.The strugglereflectedin this first attemptto raisethe issue of Erosin his narrative offers far more convincingevidenceto the contrary. In the pages that follow Feuermannexpendsa greatdeal of energyand words tryingto explainthe sourcesof his confusedand contradictoryfeelings towardwomen. The distanceand shamehe feels in theirpresenceare, he admits, "the extreme opposite of coldness and purity."In fact, he is obsessedand tormentedby his desires,on the one hand, and his feelingsof inadequacyand guilt, on the other. Ugly, clumsy,and uncouthby his own estimation,he is sure that he is simplya "burdento the daughtersof Eve," an objectof scornand laughter.Yethis feelingsof physicalinadequacyin no way diminishhis desires,which, in his eyes, are made no less sinfulby the fact that he cannot fulfill them. "How shall I lift my head before my Creator?Is this fitting for a fighterof the kelipot?"Evenafterhe leavesthe world of the belt midrashfor "the air of the world,"desireand guilt still dominate his relationswith women. Eitherthey are the object of his allconsumingneed to love and be loved, "evenif I will only sufferfromsucha love," or they are useless creaturesthat are unworthyof him. andher Insucha stateof mindI knewseveralyoungwomen:Nerman,Lerner, is needed But Here art ... Rachel Mohisevnah ... something enough.


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whichthe last pagestestifyI have little of. I have filleda pagewith wordsand words - and I have said nothing. Indeed, my very effort to explaineverything is stupid. As much as I add nuanceto nuance- still, that essential, secret hiddenthing will remainlocked deep inside of me. (pp. 15-16) After having filled a page (in fact many pages) with "words and words," Feuermann comes to the conclusion that, in fact, he has explained nothing. At first, he attributes this to his artistic limitations, as if the difficulty were simply a matter of finding the proper mode of expression. But he immediately realizes that the very effort to "explain everything" is doomed to failure. The hidden essence which he is struggling to express remains hidden precisely because it is still "deep inside," still a controlling obsession of his present struggle. It must remain hidden and unexplained (although Feuermann will fill more pages with "words and words" on the subject) also because the very words that Feuermann must use are bound to give a false prestige to what, in his view, are feelings deserving only scorn. Here is Feuermann, seven chapters later, still struggling to sort out his feelings toward Rachel Mohisevnah: And my feelingsof attractionto that same young woman ... No, no! What love?Why do people use that noble and preciousword at all for that feeling which a manfeels for some young woman,even if that feelingof attractionis powerful,creative,complex,and not simplynaked, overpoweringlust?And thus ... but no ... I returnto the subjectof Haimovitz.(p. 30) Having rejected but not entirely freed himself from his religiously inspired guilt toward sex, Feuermann cannot allow himself to use the "noble and precious word" to describe what he can only view as his lust. Indeed, the residue of his religious struggles is so powerful that even the attraction of a "normal" man toward a woman does not deserve the name love. Thus, even before writing the word, in the space of time that it takes to put pen to paper, as it were, Feuermann recoils from his original impulse to use it. What we read, which takes the form of a complaint about the haphazard way in which people use the word, is the outcome of a struggle taking place in the narrating instance. Feuermann's attempt to evoke a struggle that took place in the "narrated time" only serves to produce one in the "time of narration." Feuermann describes his erotic conflicts with difficulty and hesitation, with self-denigration and condemnation, because the issue is still sensitive,

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the crisis still unresolved. It is, quite simply, extremely painful for him to recall events and feelings from which he has not yet recovered, far more painful, he insists, than "picking in a wound" (p. 41). The pain is so great, in fact, that Feuermann must defend himself by denying any autobiographical significance to his frustrated longings, even as he returns to them again and again. Herewas, it is true,a commonoccurrence,but a passingone that does not add anythingto an understandingof my essentialbeing,a meaninglessoccurrence. (p. 41) Just as the life that Feuermann sets out to narrate is only a life in quotation marks which, nevertheless, he feels he must record, so his erotic conflicts, which play such a central role in that life, are finally dismissed as meaningless. Feuermann's obsessive efforts to analyze his erotic difficulties, of course, belie this particular retraction. His feelings of shame and sexual inadequacy are clearly central elements of his present attitude toward himself and, as such, are a major factor in his inability to write of his past from the comfortable distance of retrospective irony. Indeed, when Feuermann attempts to narrate his encounters with women, the temporal distance between event and narration of event tends to collapse, creating a temporal ambiguity indicative of the unresolved state of the conflict. Consider, for example, the following passage in which Feuermann recalls his feelings after his first encounter with Rachel Mohisevnah in the presence of Borsif, whom he considers his sexual rival: When I left, there was only deep hatredin my heart toward Borsif, hatred towardhis forelock,his laughter,his vest, the buttonson his coat - a hatred the like of which I had never known to that day. Clearly,that hatredwas causedby my envy,envytowardthe freeand sublimegesturesof that man ... by way of comparison,I recalledmy own unbecoming,unnaturallaughter,my slow negligentgestures,my stutteringwords- and it all seemedso loathsome to me, so stupidand base ... and she noticedit - of course she noticed... Who?A provincialheroine?- No, I am trulystupidand base!Whydo I use such a "banal"term?Whatwrongdid I find in her?A girl like all the girls! And yet ... what is there betweenus anyway?(pp. 41-42) As is characteristic of Brenner's prose, the narration of a past event slides into what Dorrit Cohn calls "self-narrated monologue," the equivalent of


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"narratedmonologue"or le style indirectlibre in third-personnarrative.28 When evoking thoughtsor feelingsof an earliertime, Feuermannrenders the movementsof his mind as if they were happeningin the present,rather than offeringa retrospectivesummaryor analysis.In general,thesepassages are more or less clearly framedby obviously retrospectivepassages, and thus the readerhas little difficultyin transformingthe grammaticalpresent tense into the narrativepast tense. What is especiallyinterestingabout this passage,however,is whathappenswithinthe self-narratedmonologueitself in regardto time. The passagebegins,conventionallyenough,with a pasttenseand clearly retrospectivenotation of the moment in question. From this retrospective vantage,Feuermanncan point out both the unprecedentedintensityof his hatred and its source. When Feuermannbegins to evoke his unspoken thoughtsin self-narratedmonologue,however,we are faced with some difficulties. The past-tenseverb that introducesthe monologue ("I remembered ...") is followed by two verbs ("It all seemed ... she noticed ...")

whose temporalstatusis ambiguous.Does the verb"it seemed"expressthe narratingI's recollectionof his earlierfeelingsor the experiencingI's recollectionof his feelingswhilein the presenceof Racheland Borsif?Is the conclusionthat "shenoticed"drawnby Feuermannonly now, as he recallsand narratesthe past event, or was it drawnby Feuermannat the time of which he writes? The present-tense verbs that follow ("I am ... stupid... Why do I use ... ?") only add to the confusion. Is Feuermann quoting, as it were,

the thoughtsthat ran throughhis mindat that particularmomentout of the past, or is he calling himself stupid and questioninghis use of a "banal" termnow, in the narratinginstance,and thus makinga statementabouthis narrative?What,finally,arewe to makeof thejuxtapositionof tensesat the end of the passage ("What wrong did I find in her? ...

What is there

betweenus anyway?")?Are we dealingherewith past or presentemotions? Is the very style of the passage, with its fragmentedsyntax, its ellipses, dashes, question marks, and exclamation points, a renderingof earlier emotionalconflicts,or an indicationof difficultiesin the narratinginstance? The temporalconfusionof the passage,whetherit is a resultof conscious artisticchoice or simply intuition, is certainlyno flaw. It is, in fact, what gives the passageits particularpower and intensity.Temporaldistinctions collapse,past and presentoverlap,merge,and finallybecomeindistinguishable because the erotic conflict at the heart of the matter has not been 28. Cohn, TransparentMinds, pp. 99 ff.

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resolved.Feuermanncannot evoke this momentfrom his past from a comfortableretrospectivedistancebecauseit is not simplya memorybut, as he would put it, a "fact" of the presentfrom which he can never escape. Feuermanncannot relegatehis memoriesto the comfortableotherness of the past. But why does he feel compelledto commit those memoriesto writing?Whatis the sourceof the obsessionthat forceshim to recorda past thatcan only causehimpain and fromwhich,in any case, he deniesall significance?Towardthe end of the narrative,Feuermannattemptsto answer these questions:"I write,"he says, "only becauseit is impossiblefor me not to cry out in despair,becauseI shall neverstop lamentingthe old pain ... yes, never ... until my last moment .. ." (p. 57). But what is to be gained from such a cry of despair?The condensedsymbolismof a recurringnightmarethat plaguesFeuermannduringhis finalstay in his hometown,a nightmare in which "childhood dreams were intermingledwith my latest impressions,"providessome clues. I am in a filthysack.A pileof sandcoversmy head,andheavystoneshold downmyhandsandlegs.I burstoutof thesack- myfatherstrikesmefrom above.I ama fly playinguponthecheekof thatsameyoungwoman... She grabsmywingsandtearsthemoff... Thepainis similarto thatwhichI used to feelin mychildhood, whenI wouldseeHellin mydreams. .. sevencircles of ice . . . step afterstep ... I am climbing. . . descending... everyone lamentsfor me. (p. 56) Feuermann'schildhood, with its emotional burden of helplessnessand claustrophobicentrapment,is evoked in the image of the filthy sack, while the father,who, as Dov Sadanhas pointedout, constitutesone of the central obsessionsof all of Brenner'sprotagonists,appearsas the child'simplacable foe.29If that sack representsthe womb, then the fatheris not only threatening the child'slife, he is attemptingto preventhis very birth.The fear of the fatheris juxtaposedin the dreamwith another,not unrelatedfear,that provoked by the erotic woman. Feuermannsees himself as a repugnant insectwhosewingsthe youngwomancasuallyripsoff, a symbolicact of castration. In both cases, Feuermannsees himself as a victim, but as the imageryof the dreamsuggests("a dirtysack,""a fly"),Feuermannalso sees himself as a repulsivecreaturewhose victimization,whetherfrom a lifedenying father or a castratingwoman, is not entirelyundeserved. 29. Dov Sadan, "Perakim al hapsikhologia shel Y. H. Brenner," Ahdut ha-avodah 3, nos. 1-2 (1931): 103-116; reprinted in Bakon, Yosef Haim Brenner, pp. 113-132.


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This emphasis upon victimization is also present in the evocation of the childhood dream of Hell. But a new element in this dream provides us with additional insight into Feuermann's fascination with a past he abhors. The presence of a "chorus" whose lamentations accompany the child's ascents and descents among the icy circles of Hell introduces an element of pathos into the scene. The victim is not alone, and his terrible fate does not go unrecognized. The dream, then, in spite of the terror it evokes, represents a wish-fulfillment. Feuermann receives the sympathy that he feels he was denied in his childhood and which, as an adult, he cannot give himself. The unconscious processes of the dream-work reflect, and help explain, Feuermann's attraction to a past which repells him: he must evoke his past in order to reexperience the punishment which his sense of guilt convinces him he deserves and, at the same time, to seek the sympathy he feels he has been denied. In Winterconcludes, as do most autobiographical narratives, when the narrative of the past events converges upon the moment of writing. In this case, however, the convergence is of special significance, for it compels Feuermann to consider, once again, his relationship to his past and to his efforts to record it. He finally concludes that, although many more pages remain in his notebook, it would be futile to continue writing because he will never be able to "tell all." The winter drama of his life must always be marked, "to be continued." All the old fears and obsessions, the sense of irrevocable guilt and repulsion as well as the fatal attraction to self-analysis and doubt, remain. The only alternatives that Feuermann sees at this point are insanity or the "liberation" of suicide: In my Scripturenow is found the following verse:See, before you lie two paths:the first involuntary,the secondvoluntary- insanityor suicide.Now choose death! (p. 58) In the end, Feuermann pursues neither of these alternatives, but a kind of temporary liberation comes from an unexpected place. I am silent and I stop writing,that filthylabor.Whatwas I thinking?I shall dash the cursedpen ... (p. 58) Feuermann does not dash the pen (three more chapters remain to be written), but this expression of rage proves to be cathartic: for the moment, at least, he can look forward to the future as well as back to the past, and even

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see in that futurecausefor hope. "I know thatthe secondhalf of my life will be completelydifferent,"he writes to his friend Davidovsky."Whatdo I haveto do withprobingscalpels?"Liberatedfor the momentfromscalpel,if not pen, Feuermanncan write the last chaptersof his narrative(now more stoic restraintand calm diarythan autobiography)with an uncharacteristic that are especiallystrikingafter the franticintrospectionof the preceding chapters. How can we describethis catharsisand the radicalshift in tone that follows on its heels other than as an "event"in the narratinginstance.Feuermann's recoiling from the act of narrating,expressedin his (unfulfilled) intentionto dash his pen, is in fact no differentin qualitythanthe numerous other retractionsand false starts,those tracesof the narratinginstance,that fill his narrative.The only differencehere is that Feuermann,for the first time, directshis wrathnot at himself,not at his own deficiencies,but at the act of writing. If earlierthe problemwas that his past was "gloomy and wretched,"that he was a "nonhero,"that he lackedthe "art"to properly explainthings,that his lust cannotbe called"love,"thathe is stupidto use a "banal"term,herethe problemis not in his past or in the type of man that past has madehim, but in his presentaction,an actionthat, he now seemsto discoverfor the first time, can be stopped. What Feuermanndiscoversis that his effort to "tell all" is not only futile but unnecessary.The "second half" of his life lies before him, and it will be - or so it appearsto him at this point - "completelydifferent." Thecatharsis,however,remainsproblematicand no doubttransitory.In the final entry of his autobiography-diary,Feuermanntells how he finds refugefromthe winterynight- and an anti-Semiticstationmaster- under some timber piled behind a provincialtrain station on the way to the "second half" of his life. The imageryof winterhas returned,and with it Feuermann'sphysical and spiritual isolation. Nothing has really been solved, no demonshave been exorcisedonce and for all. Still, Feuermann's affirmationof the richnessand complexityof life that "transcendall analysis," however ephemeralit may be, opens up possibilitieswhich, while under the sway of the past, simply did not exist for him. The apparentformlessnessof the plots of Brenner'snovels - and particularlyof In Winter- has long beenconsidereda weakpoint in his narrative art even by those who acceptedit as a necessarythough unfortunate corollaryof his subjectmatter.30The plot of In Winter,however,appears 30. See, for example, Gershon Shaked, Hasiporet ha'ivrit (Jerusalem: Hotsa'at Keter, 1977), pp. 375-376.

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formlessonly whenit is analyzedaccordingto conventionalnotions of plot structure,that is, when plot is viewed as a correlationof narrativeunits denotingactionsin the narratedtime, and whenthe link betweenchronological and logical order is sought exclusivelyat that level. If, on the other hand, we approachthe narrativeunits from the point of view of the narrating instanceand considerthem as acts of narration,anotherplot emerges whose regulatingprincipleis neitherlogical nor chronologicalbut rather psychological.The form of this plot is essentiallycyclicaland, at the most abstractlevel, can be reducedto four actions:(1) to remember,(2) to nar-

and(4) to stopnarrating. The rate,(3) to respondto the act of narration, first three actions, of course, constitutethe cycle; the fourth action is the escapehatch, as it were,that bringsthe cycleto an end, and with it, the narrativeitself. As we have seen, the cycle is reflectedat all levels of the narrative, from the syntax of statementand retraction,to the organizationand juxtapositionof largernarrativeunits, all the way to the global structure that pits the entirenarrative,so to speak,againstthe statement"I will dash the cursed pen." It is only by referenceto this structurethat the denouementof In Winter can be understood.For, as we have seen, this denouementdoes not take place in the narratedpast; it is neithercausednor constitutedby a specific event in Feuermann's"autobiography."Rather,it takesplace in the narrating instance,at the momentwhen Feuermann,closed in by the inevitable convergenceof narratedtime and time of narration,turnshis rageupon the act of writingand, as a result, "liberates"himself from his obsessionwith the past. Feuermann'sneed for such a liberationset the narrativeinto motion; once achieved(even if temporarily),the narrativeloses its raison d'etreand grinds to a halt. BrownUniversity R.I. Providence,

Metaphor and Metonymy in Agnon's "A Guest for the Night" Author(s): Naomi B. Sokoloff Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 97-111 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486440 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:18 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



METAPHOR AND METONYMY IN AGNON'S A GUEST FOR THE NIGHT by NAOMI B. SOKOLOFF Roman Jakobson's now classic distinction between metaphor and metonymydefinestwo primarymodesof linguisticthought:on the one hand relationsof similarityand dissimilarity,and on the other relationsof contiguity or, we might say, dependenceand independence.Though they find their most condensedexpressionin the tropes metaphorand metonymy, these sameprinciplesgovernphonemic,lexical,and phraseologicallevelsof language,and they operateas well in largersegmentsof discourse.A piece of fiction or poetry,for example,may developalong lines of associationby likenessor throughlinks of sequenceand consequence.' Jakobson'sdichotomyhas receivedmuchattentionin variousfields,and his terms have elicited varyinginterpretations.The model continuesto be persuasivebecause of compelling psycholinguisticevidence and because attemptsto modify the theoryhave succeededmost when they build on the 1. Two outstanding essays of Jakobson's on the subject of metaphor and metonymy are "Linguistics and Poetics," in Style in Language, ed. Thomas Sebeok (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1960), pp. 350-377, and "Two Aspects of Language: Metaphor and Metonymy," in Fundamentals of Language, ed. Jakobson and Morris Halle (The Hague: Mouton, 1956); rpt. in European Literary Theory and Practice: From Existential Phenomenology to Structuralism, ed. Vernon Gras (New York: Dell, 1973), pp. 119-131.

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original distinctionand acknowledgeits intrinsicflexibilities,ratherthan when they attempt to alter it substantially.2The contrast holds special attractionfor literaryanalysisbecauseit offersa comprehensiveperspective from which to discernunity and disunityin an artistictext. It can help us clarify how various levels of a text parallel, complement,contradict,or detract from one another. Theseissuesalertus to intriguingquestionswith regardto ShmuelYosef Agnon'sA Guestfor theNight,sincethe stronglymetaphoricoverallorganization of the novel contrastsmarkedlywith the notablelack of metaphorat the lexical level of the text and the resultingpredominanceof metonymic qualitiesin the prose itself. Jakobson'sconcepts have pertinenceto Agnon first of all within the 2. Evidencefromstudiesof aphasiacontinuesto recommendpositingthe existenceof two primaryverbalorientations.Individualssufferingfromaphasiatendtowardeithersimilarityor contiguitydisordersdependingon whichof two separate,identifiablepartsof the brainhave incurredinjury. Examplesof extremelyvaluablework buildingon Jakobson'sideasincludethe following: JamesIrby's"TheStructureof the Storiesof JorgeLuisBorges"(diss.,Universityof Michigan, 1962)providesan exampleof a studythat exploresin depththe role of metonymyin specific texts. Anthony Wilden's System and Structure: Essays in Communicationand Exchange (Lon-

don:Tavistock,1972)relatesthe metaphor/metonymy conceptto a widerangeof fields,including Lacanianpsychoanalysis,cybernetics,mathematicaland logical theory, and Marxism. Michel Le Guern's Semantique de la metaphore et de la metonymie (Paris: Larousse, 1973)

presentsa directexpansionof Jakobson'stheoreticalframework. My discussionof metaphorand metonymyin Agnon drawson materialfrommy dissertation, "SpatialForm in the Social Novel" (Princeton,1980). Worksthatdrawon but attemptto fundamentally modifyJakobson'sideasincludethe following:RhetoriqueGeneraleby J. Dubois, F. Edeline,J. M. Klinkenberg,P. Minguet,F. Pire, and H. Trinon(Paris:Larousse,1970),suggestsa tripartitesystemof metaphor,metonymy, of tropes.Thisviewfailsto perandsynecdocheas the basisfor a morecompleteunderstanding suade me, since the essentialfeaturesof metonymy,formulatedin terms of context by Le Guern,applyto synecdocheas wellandso reconfirmthe soundnessof the bipartitemodel.Substitutionsof a partfor a wholemostnaturallyforma subspeciesof metonymyand not an independent, equally important category of language. In Metahistory: The Historical Imaginationin

NineteenthCenturyEurope(Baltimore:John HopkinsUniversityPress, 1977),HaydenWhite proposeda fourfoldsystemof tropesthat revitalizesan approachto figurativelanguagewidely acceptedin the Renaissance.Whiteadds irony to metaphor,metonymy,and synecdocheas basic rhetoricalfigures.Jakobson'smodel still challengesWhite's,since, as White himself acknowledges,irony is a phenomenonof a differentorder entirely from metaphorand metonymy.Not properlya linguisticoperationat all, it is a perceptualone whichmay arise from either metonymicor metaphoricdiscourse.Gerard Genette, like these others, has attemptedto counteractthe confiningnatureof Jakobson'sbinaryopposition,and he does so by callingfor the revivalof a plethoraof rhetoricalterms.See FiguresII (Paris:Seuil, 1969), "La rhetoriquerestreinte,"pp. 21-40, and "Metonymiechez Proust,"pp. 41-63. Contraryto whatGenetteclaims,it seemsto me that his suggestionsaremosthelpfulto the extentthatthey refineratherthan challengeJakobson'sideas.

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frameworkof modernismand the reorientationof readingthat modernism has brought to so much of twentieth-centuryliterature.This aesthetic of fragmentationand discontinuity, which Joseph Frank has assessed as spatial form, disrupts links of time and causality, defying linear plot developmentin fiction.3 It encouragesthe readerto search for parallels betweendisjointsegmentsof narrativeand so to make sense out of otherwise perplexingand seeminglyincoherenttexts.We maysay thatthis kind of narrativeorganizationrepresentsmetaphoricstructurein the sense that it depends most fundamentallyon ties of similarityand dissimilarityrather than on causalinterconnectionsof successiveevents.Exploringthis kind of fragmentedcomposition,A Guestfor the Night- along with TheBook of Deeds - marksan importantturningpoint in Agnon's writing. As Gershon Shaked has discussedat length in his essay "Ha-mosaper kasoper,"A Guestfor the Night relieson a wealthof symmetries,contrasts and reiterativepatternsin orderto put into reliefthe sharedexperienceof multiplecharacters.4Despitethe chronologicalordermaintainedin the narrationof the text the storyline is highlyepisodic,for continualbreaksin the narrativesequenceaccumulateas many figurescross paths with the central protagonist and relate their own anecdotes to him. This protagonist, a writer from the Land of Israel, has returnedto his Galician hometown, Szibucz,in the aftermathof WorldWar I. He hopes to restoreits lost glory in writingand so, as it were, to recoverits traditionalways. The plot falls apart, though, as a result of the many digressions,and through these encountersthe Guest comes to see that the Szibuczof the presentis irremediablydifferentfrom that of the past. The secondaryplots in this way come to predominateover the primaryone, at firstcreatinga sense of disorientation but then revealingparallelsbetweenthe lives of the characters.Comparabletales of hardshipand loss told by the various figuresreflectand intensifyone anotheras signsof the town'sdeterioration,alertingthe reader to the scope of the crisisfacingEuropeanJewrybetweenthe warsand bringing the protagonistto understandthat large impersonalforces bind all of these lives in a common destiny. The metaphoricstructure,then, above all makesthis a collectivenovel, and one, moreover,that moves an individualto understandand empathize with communal dilemma. In this manner the fragmentedcomposition is 3. "Spatial Form in Modern Literature," in The Widening Gyre: Crisis and Mastery in Modern Literature (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1963), pp. 3-60. 4. cOmanuthassippurfel 'Agnon (Jerusalem: Ha-Kibbuts ha-Mouhad and Keter, 1976), pp. 228-278.

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instrumentalin adding meaningto the emptinessof the fictionalworldeven though not to the individualfictionallives, to be sure. Eachcharacter feels highlyisolatedin his or her personaltroubles,and so what resultsis a contradictorykind of collective unity; the members of the community remain bound primarilyby mutual alienation.Nonetheless,the novelistic vision of lonelinessand loss createsa dimensionof suprapersonalsignificancethat subsumesindividualsufferingand that the reader,along with the narrator,may come to appreciate. A deemphasison metaphorat the lexicallevel standsout by comparison with the importanceof metaphorin the generalorganization.At issue here is not the absoluteabsenceof devicesthat rely on similarityrelations(such as simile,allusion,and the incorporationof rhymeand parallelismsinto the writing).Instead,at questionis the significantturningawayfrommetaphor whichcharacterizesAgnon'slaterworksin oppositionto his earlierwriting. The prose in this novel, like the narrativestructure,representsa major transformationof Agnon's fiction betweenearlierand later stages of his career,and thoughcriticsdescribethis changein a varietyof ways,all agree that it resultedin a new economyof style, a reductionof excessand elaborate rhetoric,and a decreaseduse of metaphor.5This meansthatthe proseof A Guestfor the Night,whilenot exhibitingmuchmetonymper se as a trope, nonethelesstends towarddiscoursewhich is metonymicin emphasis.6The author leans less towardoperationsbased on likenessand unlikeness,and more to ties of contiguity. Consider,for example,the following descriptionof a house: 5. For discussionon the changein Agnon'sstyle, see, e.g., Shaked,"'Al balo'anusakhim iel 'Agnon, usalogaslabimbahitpatkhuthassippur'Yatomba'almanah,'" in 'Omanuthassippur pp. 137-150;RobertAlter,Afterthe Tradition (New York:Dutton, 1969),pp. 141-142;Arnold Band, Nostalgia and Nightmare: A Study in the Fiction of S. Y. Agnon (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1968), pp. 62-63; Joseph Kaspi: A Study in the Evolutionof S. Agnon's Style Y.

(Chicago:SpertusCollegeof JudaicaPress,1969);BenjaminDe Vries,"Vavha-mahapakh," in L'AgnonSai (Jerusalem: Mercaz,1959). 6. No discourse,of course,is entirelymetaphoricor entirelymetonymic.At stakeare not entitiesbut relationsbetweenterms;dependingon how we observeany phenomenonin language, we will discoverlinks of both contiguityand similarity.This overlapis evidentin the simple fact that to form a sentenceone must select lexicalitems from among the possible choicesavailable(thatis, fromamongthingsin someway equivalent)and then combinethose items together syntactically.The words and phrasesin the resultingutterancenecessarily maintainrelationshipsof both likenessand dependenceto other elementsin the language. Recognizingthis flexibilityin Jakobson'sworkmakeshis theoryof metaphorand metonymy elasticenoughto accountfor contrarynarrativeimpulseswithoutbecomingensnaredin reductive polarities.

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Schuster'shouse is in King's Streetbehind the well, one of a few scattered street and a littlethere below It isabout close to the war. that so have survived houses is at night thethe but is a smell of damp there street level, place; just the smell of damp and by day there is a smell of dust as well. The whole for thanown an ordinary room and is no higher of one square house in their content it built long was consists eyes andman, ago, when people were lowly with small houses. High on the wall, near the ceiling, to the right of the door, is

a long, narrowwindow, roughwhichyou can s the is a smell there plheads of the passers-by but not their faces, though you can hear their voices and see the dust they raise with their feet. One broken shutter hangs over the window outside, and when the wind passes the shutter knocks on the window and shuts out the light.

of the tailor'scraft,suchas a sewingmachine,a Apartfromthe paraphernalia long table, two irons, a mirror,and a wooden,cloth-covereddummyshaped like a woman without head or feet, on which the clothes are measured, there is

not much furniturein the room. And for this reasonthe plush-coveredchair that stands near the fireplace stands out particularly; they brought it from Berlin, where they used to live before they came back to Szibucz. (p. 57)7

While clearly free of metaphoric elaboration - in nouns, verbs, and adjectives as well - this passage moves forward through orderly syntactical sequence that clearly indicates relations of, for instance, spatial situation (the location of the house), causality ("so there is a smell of damp"), synecdoche (parts to wholes - the sewing machine, table, irons, mirror, and dummy are examples of "paraphernalia"), and temporal orientation (this scene occurs after the Schusters' residence in Berlin). These matters have important implications in A Guestfor the Night, for 7. Quotationsfrom'Oreahnatalalunarefromthe Schockenedition(Jerusalem,1976),and the Englishtranslationby Misha Louvish(New York:Schocken,1968).

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the prose and the composition have converse effects, reflecting differences in the ways that metaphor and metonymy signify. While the former has a propensity for polyvalence, the latter fosters univalence. Therefore, whereas the structural parallelisms multiply a basic idea into a series of new permutations, creating a contradictory picture of unity and heterogeneity, the metonymic tendency of the discourse reinforces the homogeneity of the lives portrayed in A Guest for the Night. In this way it facilitates a remarkably uniform depiction of an extensive range of characters. For all the people of Szibucz the destructive impact of the war, a loss of faith, and a waning of tradition have eliminated the past, and at the same time the future holds little promise. Like the fragmented composition, the prose binds these characters together, but, unlike the composition, it keeps a firm grip on the restrictive narrowness of existence in Szibucz. Indeed, reality here is too stark and narrow to admit metaphoric description. As Sidra Dekoven Ezrahi points out in a recent article, the Guest makes a comment to this effect when interpreting the verse from Lamentations, "She has become as a widow."' Pondering the number of women whose husbands have been killed in the war the narrator reasons,

(216.Y).p'?Y DXm ,V

V n --1 =5X ,X~-35X

-nn-l

When Jeremiahsaw the destructionof the First Temple,he sat down and wrotethe Book of Lamentations,and he was not contentwith all the lamentations he wrote until he had comparedthe congregationof Israelto a widow and said, "Shehas becomeas a widow"- not a truewidow,but like a woman whosehusbandhas gone overseasand intendsto returnto her.Whenwe come to lament this latest destructionwe do not say enough if we say, "She has becomeas a widow,"but a truewidow,withoutthe word of comparison.(p. 231) In Szibucz we are left with only the literal; the compelling and brutal facts of actuality stymie the imagination. Life in this kind of world seems to demand not interpretation but documentation, defying us to soften our perceptions, beautify them, ennoble, dignify, or enrich them through figurative language 8. "Agnon Before and After," in Prooftexts 2, no. I (January 1982): 78-94.

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that has the capacityto add extradimensionsof meaningto any assessment of our surroundings. The notion of contextis essentialto understandingthe differentkindsof referentialitythat metaphorand metonymyentail, and so allows us closer scrutinyand more preciseexplanationof how the languageand the organizationof Agnon'snovelcomplementone another.Whilemetonymicprocess restrictsitself primarilyto referencewithina singlecontext,metaphorcalls for the confrontationof two terms from separatecontextsor differentlinguistic levels.9Certainsemanticinformationfrom each level coincideswith or parallelsthat from the other;throughan amalgamationof the two realms - an amalgamationwhichincludesboth the semanticcommondenominators and other, more suppressedinformation- metaphorsynthesizesnew meaning.Thus,witha metonymicconfigurationsubstitutingpartfor whole, we can say that "the hoofs racedpast"to indicatethat a horseranby. Horse and hoofs are intrinsicallyrelatedin the worldexternalto the discourse.If, however,we turn to a metaphoricconfigurationand refer,for example,to "the sunsetof an era,"the discourseequatestwo thingsthat are not inherentlyequivalentin the worldoutsideof this statement.The imagematchesa settingsun with the end of a historicalperiodand so putsinto reliefconcepts common to both terms of the comparison:terminationand decline. The sunsethas been abstractedto convey somethingother than literalreference to the coming of nightfall, and at the same time the idea of ending has acquiredaddedconnotations.As the statementsuggestsa dimmingof brilliance, a diminishingof power, it may also imply a special colorfulness, 9. I am drawing here on discussion by Le Guern. A simple schematization, drawn from Rhe'toriqueGenerale (p. 118) may illustrate most clearly the difference between metaphor and metonymy. Metaphor appears as the overlapping of two circles, that is, as the copossession of semantic elements between two contexts. Metonymy appears as the coinclusion of two terms within a single ensemble of semantic components.

Metaphor

Metonymy

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perhapsa last burstof luxuriancemarkingthe diappearanceof a decadent culture. This processof expandingmeaning,properto metaphor,is the one we have alreadyseen at workin Agnon'snovel. It shouldbe rememberedat the same time that the suppressedinformationof metaphoriccomparisonmay challengeas well as enrichparallelscreatedbetweentwo terms.Incongruities that emergein this way maycauseironyand humor,grotesqueor ridiculous effects. And, just as metaphoron a lexical level allows for a clash betweensemanticcomponents,disparityamonglargerelementsof narrative may cause them to struggleagainstthe uniformitythat parallelismconfers on them. For this reason the metaphoriccompositionof A Guestfor the Night is an importantmechanismfor generatingthe irony so prominentin the novel. The ferventZionists, for example,who play at farmingand setting up communesin the Land,cannot transplanttheirdreaminto reality. They find themselvesthereforein much the same dilemma as Yeruham Hofshi,the disenchantedand embitteredpioneerwho has returnedfromthe Land and renouncedhis idealism.The authorcarefullycounterpointsthe courageand goodwillof the youthgroupmemberswith thecynicismof their more experiencedcolleaguein orderto show us that all, despiteindividual differences,are caughtin the samemomentof historicalstasis.All of them, ironically,live in the same precariouspresentbereftof comfort and meaning, cut off from both the strengthof the past and a viable future. Metonymicdiscoursereducesthe possibilityof such irony or semantic incompatibility,becauseit dealsonly with relationsof convertibility,thatis, with terms that imply one another in an integralway.'1 Its tautological naturelends it a kind of self-evidence.Due to such irreducibilityAgnon's prose insists on the nontranscendentalnatureof collectiveexperiencein A Guestfor the Night, even as the overall organizationcreatesa communal portraitthat encompassesand transcendsthe limitsof individualsorrow.By combiningoppositeorientationsin two levelsof the text the authoremphasizes both the meaninglessnessof the presentmomentand the meaningfulness of recognizingandcomingto termswithsenselessdestruction.It should be rememberedthat the metaphoricstructureand the tendencyaway from 10. Convertibility is Kenneth Burke's term from A Grammarof Motives (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1969), p. 508. It seems a very apt description to me, though Burke uses it in connection with synecdoche and not with metonymy. I would consider synecdoche a subclass of metonymy. Burke defines metonymy as the result of several metaphoric substitutions, but since the one trope can be explained in terms of the other in this framework, the definition seems less economical to me than Jakobson's dichotomy.


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metaphorin the proseof A Guestfor theNightareindicativeof important innovationsin Agnon'slaterwork.Thesestylisticdevelopments on both textuallevelsseemto haveemergedin responseto thehistoricalcrisesof the 1930sandthecollapseof oldworldJewishvalues,andtheyworkintandem, not separately,to aptlyconveya pictureof a worldin breakdown." Thenotionof contexthasa furtherimplication forourexamination of A Guestfor theNight,for this conceptremindsus thatmetaphorandmetoto extralinguistic nymyplacedifferingemphaseson references experience. never the of concedes Metonymy primacy denotation,whichwemaydefine as the widelyperceived,conventionally acceptedwayin whichwordsrelate to the realmof understanding outsideof language.For this reasonmetoIf we say, for instance,"he drankthe entire nymyis easilyparaphrased. glass,"to designatethathe drankthe entirecontentsof the glass,we can witha literalonebya simpleinsertion replacethemetonymic configuration of missinginformation.Metaphor,however,defiesparaphrase, since it createsan aggregateof semanticcomponentswhichthe individualmust in defianceof literalmeaning,thatis, in defianceof weighandreintegrate established of understanding. Releasedfromthebondsof already categories directs from thedenotative convention,metaphor energyaway capacitiesof more freedom of andpermits words,admits interpretation bytheindividual, a turningawayfromtheworldof actualityto theworldof theimagination. Theseobservations accordwiththefactthatspatialformrepresents a perA Guestfor theNightpresentsfewextendedactionsand ceptualexperience. largelydispenseswiththeideaof plot.Insteadit invitesanactivereadingin whichthe readercreatesmentalconstructsbetweendisparateelementsin the text. The reader,like the narrator,must contendwith disorienting andthereader'sstruggleto devisea newstrategyof readingphenomena, - corresponds basedon parallelisms to the Guest'sneedto createor perceivecoherentnewpatternsof meaningout of socialchaos. Thenarrator's to the pointof beingableto readthisnew development realitycorrectlyis a tortuousone.To a largeextentherebelsagainstacceptandone indexof his difficultyin recognizing ing the presentcircumstance, in the is hisinsistenceon drawingthe parallels, drawing rightcomparisons, He ones. tries to his andvaluejudgwrong frequently impose ownmemories 11. This consideration of metaphor and metonymy does not, of course, pretend to exhaust discussion of Agnon's prose in A Guestfor the Night, since so many factors contribute to the resilience of this writing. I do not think, however, that the complexities of the language discredit my principal arguments here, nor that my basic points are incompatible with the linguistic analyses by Shaked, Band, De Vries, and Alter.

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ments onto the emptinessof the currentmoment,and his use of simileillustrates clearlythat he tries unsuccessfullyto introduceadditionallevels of meaning into the reality of Szibucz. Moreover,the Guest often misuses simile,therebyinadvertentlyironizinghis own effortsandforcingthe reader to questionhis judgment.'2He tries,for example,to convinceRachelBach that all the daughtersof Israelare like princesses(chap.7). She immediately invalidatesthis point by notingthat no one respectsroyaltyor the trappings and symbolsof royaltyanymore.At anotherpoint the Guest comparesthe tears of the city's rabbi to pearls.The allusiveforce of the analogyevokes pathos, but in the next breaththe narratorcalls attentionto the vindictive personalityof the narrow-minded,self-centeredrabbi,and we see that he is not worthy of reverencenor of the lofty, praiseworthydescription(chap. 31). Othersimilesin A Guestfor theNightmanifesta differentkindof bankruptcy.They purportto add a degreeof significanceto actionsthat in fact are quite self-evident.The Guest tries to assumethe tone of aphorism,and this underscoreshis effort to impose new dimensionsof meaningonto the world.Sincethe comparisonsdo not justifythemselves,theyservemerelyto make the narratorlook pretentious.For example:

I put out my handto the door,as one putsout his handwhenhe doesnot expect it to open ... (p. 7)

The similehereelaboratesin sucha literalway thatit constitutesno elaboration at all, but only a metanarrationalcommentby the narratoron his art, drawingattention to his own desire to introduceadded contextuallevels into the narrative.By the sametoken, sincethe Guest does not statesimply that he put out his hand to the door without expectingit to open, he distanceshimselfas protagonistfrom the life of Szibuczand also fromhis own actions. By invokingsome model to explain his own behavior,the Guest plays down the forceof his personalthoughtsandemotions.In keepingwith his generalpassivity,his inabilityto empathize,and his noninvolvementin the life of the town, this distancingreinforcesthe unattractivepictureof him as a man who disregardshis moralobligationsand who floundershelplessly 12. In "Ha-masaper kosoper" Shaked discusses how the Guest's faulty logic in like manner undermines his credibility.

107


in an increasingisolationfrom himselfas well as fromothers.An especially tellingexampleof his use of simileto dissociatehimselffrom othersappears early in the text:

(16 .Y) .l

MY 1'1r?X

I sighedfor the menof ourtown,whohadbeenstrickenby thejudgmentof God,andI lookedstraightahead,likea manwhohasescapedsorrowhimself and nowtakeson the sorrowof his brethren.(p. 11) The Guest deliberatelystops short of assertingthat the misfortunesof his people are his own, even as he tries to give the impressionthat he is, indeed, concerned. Two points add to the ineffectivenessof the Guest'shandlingof simile. First of all, since simileconstitutesan importantelementof lasonhabamim, the Guest'sendeavorto injectspiritualityinto the worlddrawsnot only on his own values and perceptionsbut on a common culturalheritage.Since the realityof the modernworldcruellydefies faith, when the narratorfalls back on comparisonsof traditionalreligiousforce his effortsare destinedto failure. The protagonist further exacerbatesthat situation, through his insensitivityto this dilemma,by appropriatingtraditionalmaterialfor his own personal narration. The resulting false representationcauses the Guest's similes to reverberatewith inauthenticity. Secondly,it should be rememberedthat simileis a figureof speechthat serves a didacticpurposeboth in laion habamimand in the Guest's narrative, and in this capacityit should be distinguishedfrom metaphor.While enhancinginstructivematerialsto makethemmoreappealingor illustrative, simile all the samedoes not surrenderits own claimto logic in the way that metaphor must. Simile directs its connotative power deliberatelyback towarddenotativeends throughthe deliberateuse of a word of comparison, e.g., "like"or "as."These words help keep the two termsof a comparison clearly apart even while specifyingwhat the two terms have in common. Simile therebydoes not divest itself of polyvalence,but it frequentlykeeps ambiguityand incongruityto a minimum,diminishingthe importanceof that excess semanticinformationwhich adds so much to metaphor.Simile mediatesbetweenthe figurativeand the denotative,while metaphormore confidentlyassertsitself in its own rightas an expressionof somethingthat could not find any clearerverbal formulation.

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The narrator opts for simile because he wishes to adopt the position of intermediary between the town and its past or spiritual life - without surrendering his pious intentions, without indulging in what he sees as the vanity of unhampered fantasy or entertainment, and without losing touch with the reality of his contemporaries. This stance suggests that he sees himself as representing the supreme values of the town, yet so long as he maintains himself in the prominent position here, rather than accepting the primacy of the collective crisis itself and seeing himself as part of it, his outlook remains self-aggrandizing and immature. In a passage that explicitly expresses his opinions about figurative language we see that the text's attention to simile in this connection is neither incidental nor inadvertent, but a deliberate, self-conscious contribution on the part of the author to the characterization of the Guest.

EversinceI cameto yearsof understanding, I havehatedanyformscomposed of differentparts that do not accord with each other, especiallya picture whose partsexist in realitybut whose combinationand conjunctionexist not in theof in ofimage but only the artist: and more realityonly imagination things especially in which the concrete has been shifted to the abstract something image -- that is, when someonecomparesstates of the soul to thingsof the body, as certaincommentatorshave interpretedthe verse, "Lest ye corrupt in the likenessofand a graven So I andtomake yourselves, image, figure." There was find you to make myself surprised beginning analogies anysaying: are symbolicthingshere-b for a manfromthe Landof Israelhas come down to bring warmthto the sons of exile. (p. 120) The narrator here clearly points out that religious sentiments motivate his is searching for a forissimile andinparable over Heends preference metaphor. rhetoric that limited to serve this rhetoric didactic scope; so aspure must be judicious and pointed. Nonetheless the veGuest invalidatesthis own the end these at by contradicting precepts in an unjustifiable comparison a mismatches the two terms of hascoimself He comparison by referring way. to as a bringer of warmth, of the Holy Land, and so implyatotheasons representative so as a representative of the and of warmth, as a bringer Land, Holy imply-


109

ing spiritual consolation or guidance. His statement is overbearingly pompous, since in actualityall he has done is providea bit of firewoodto keep the Beit Midrashheatedin wintertime.Figurativelanguagehereneatly exposes the weaknessof the protagonistin his continuingreluctanceto identify with the communityand to face squarelythe social upheavalthat necessitates a break with the past. The authoror impliednarratorof A Guestfor the Night,naturally,does not identifywith the artisticgoals of the narratoras they are expressedin this passage.The overallmetaphoricconstructionof the novel leads to precisely the kind of comparisonsbetweenspiritualand materialrealmsthat the Guestshuns.Furthermore,somegenuinelyforcefulmetaphorandsimile emerges in the prose of the text; significantly, this occurs in dream sequences,momentswhen the narratordoes not exerciseconsciouscontrol over his thoughts.These episodespresentpivotal synthesesof innervision and externalreality in the novel, as the Guest internalizesand comes to terms with his encounterswith the townspeople.Consequentlythese are amongthe most vivid and absorbingsectionsof the novel. A primeexample is the dreamin chapter 19 in which an old man, representativeof the old ways of study and Torah,turnsto dust and his voice is "likethe sound of a key that has gone rusty"(p. 94). The figurativephrasederivesits fullness from the true pathos of the situation,from the vivid imageof deterioration accompanyingit, and from the strengthof the key motif which develops over the courseof the novel."3Whilein Szibuczthe Guest obtainsthe key to the Beit Midrash,an object which signifiesfor him his entryback into the spiritualworld of yesteryear.During his stay, though, the key is lost, and, until he succeedsin having a new one made, the Guest feels like an exile from the House of Study.Laterhe is preoccupiedover the questionof who will inheritthe key, and finallythe motif is furtherstrengthenedwhen the originalkey turnsup in the narrator'sluggagebackin Jerusalem- perhaps as a portentof renewedJewishreligiouslife in the Landof Israel.Withinthis frameworkof eventsthe similein the dreamsequencetakeson meaningand validity;the comparisonof the man's voice to a rustykey convincinglyreinforcesa movingsense of the Guest'syearningfor faith and his experience of spiritualloss. The Guestis not entirelyunawarethatin his dreamslies a truthescaping 13. The key motif has been discussed extensively by critics. See, e.g., Baruch Kurzweil's Masot 'al sippurei Sai 'Agnon (Jerusalem: Schocken, 1963) and Band's Nostalgia and Nightmare.

110

NAOMIB. SOKOLOFF

his own understanding. In chapter 9, a dream about a shipload of Jews on their way to Zion confirms this point. The narrator states: nn 'n •r ,n

,vin

Vn nKl ninmi

X 3K nnK -In,67 r .l'-'?, n,9'lKXi *IXDtrK3 vXK,'9

r6 ,191D? (41 .Y) .111XK' nIV'ffllK'2

'IV'f

r6I

Never in my life have I seen such beautifulpeople.I mightcomparethe men with the sun and the women with the moon, but the sun and the moon are coveredsometimesand their light cannot be seen, while these people shone withouta pause.Once on the Day of Atonement,nearthe hour of the Afternoon Service,I had seen a marvelouslight in our Beit Midrashand I believed that therecould be none to comparewith it, but now I suddenlysaw a light more marvelousstill. Moreover,the lightin our Beit Midrashwas inanimate, whileherethe lightwas alive- or, if you like, eloquent,for everysinglespark sang. Has light a voice?Can I speak or sing?This is a thing that cannotbe explained,and even if I wereable to explainit I would not do so - insteadI would enjoy the light. (p. 39) This passage points to the difference between simile and metaphor, as the Guest searches for a comparison that will conform precisely to the idea he wishes to convey about the light. He fails because this light has ineffable qualities that the full power of metaphor (i.e., the superposition of different semantic realms) comes closer to expressing than can any of his suggested analogies. The comparisons with the sun or moon cannot succeed, because they are not logically consistent; in contrast, the assertion that the light is alive and sings also defies reason, but stands in its own right. The narrator simply accepts the verbal metaphor and acknowledges that the phenomenon of the light is inexplicable. The moments of synthesis, of insight or revelation in the dream sequences do not imply fulfillment. The richness and plenitude of these occasions are self-contradictory, for the dreams concern a fundamental undermining of wholeness. This dream about the light, for example, ends with a series of disturbing events. The protagonist on the ship finds that his prayer shawl catches on fire and that he faces drowning. No one is there to save him but a man missing both hands. A light in the distance, which he takes as a sign of a Jewish community, is extinguished by a sudden wind.

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Thedreamindicatesthatmeaningful, Jewishlifeisgravely joyous,sanctified as the visionis, the depthof the Guest'srealizaimperiled,yet distressing tion in the dreamcontrastspositivelywith the superficialand annoying similestypicalof hiswakingthoughts.Herethemetaphor herehe conquers; is integrating whathe has seenaroundhimtogetherwithhis ownfeelings abouttraditionandthepast.Herethestoryof thetownspeople hasbecome his storyas well,and in this visionof heightenedintensitylies a germof Thisis the fulfillmentonly of a dreameror an artist,perunderstanding. haps,butat leastthatif nothingelse.It is atthesemomentsthatthenarrator mostcloselyapproaches and identitywiththeauthor,whohasa penetrating vision of collective crisis. comprehensive of Arizona University Tucson,Ariz.

Review: [untitled] Author(s): Yehoshua Gitay Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 113-116 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486441 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:18 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



BOOKREVIEWS

James L. Kugel. The Idea of Biblical Poetry: Parallelism and Its History. New York and London: Yale University Press, 1981. ix, 339 pp. The Idea of Biblical Poetry is divided into two parts. The first presents Kugel's reading of biblical verse, while the second is an historical-exegetical survey of the idea of biblical poetry. The two parts are quite distinct, and the reader who wants to grasp Kugel's interpretation is advised to read the book in reversed order starting with the chapter on rabbinic exegesis. The rabbis, noticing the phenomenon of repetition, nevertheless read a verse as an entity, part B supplementing, sharpening, and stressing part A. Such a reading went far beyond stylistic concerns, as Kugel explains: Now in this principleof biblicalomnisignificancethereis certainlya theological element.The wordsof the Pentateuchare, afterall, instructionsgivento a prophetwith whom God had spoken. It is inconceivablethat any of those wordsshouldowe theirexistencesolely to a chance,rhetoric,or for that matter some mechanicalprincipleof parallelism.The purposeof the Torahis to teach;if a statementis parallelisticin form, that statementmust be examined to revealits full meaning- everythingmustbe read .... And what is trueof the Torahcan hardlybe less trueof the prophets,the inspiredteacherswhom the Torah itself prescribesas the arbitersof the later age, nor even of the Hagiographa.(pp. 104-105) Kugel discusses modern biblical criticism in terms of these principles. The modern study of biblical poetry began with Bishop Lowth's monumental work, De sacra poesi Hebraeorum. Lowth argued that biblical verse is divided into two halves - parallelism - which are semantically related. He observed three types of verse: synonymous, antithetical, and synthetic. Although the last, synthetic parallelism, has been questioned, Lowth's types are nevertheless milestones in modern biblical criticism. The idea of parallelism has been strengthened by recent field studies of oral literature. The stress in oral literature is on the formula, that is, on a fixed set of semantic prosodic combinations that assist the performer in orally composing his poetry while facing his audience. Searching for the biblical formulae of composi113

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tion, scholarshave pointedto the phenomenonof pairedwords.The recitation of a certainword in the first half (A) is echoed by its "sister"word in the second half (B). The relationshipcan be synonymous:ha'azinushim'u, or antithetical: laylah -

yom.

The studyof biblicalverseby Lowthand the oralistshas focusedon the process of composition.However,compositionitself is only one aspect of the literaryprocess. As studentsof rhetoricemphasize,a work has three dimensions:the author, the text, and the audience.Until recently,biblical criticismconfineditself to the studyof the creativeprocess,that is, the relationshipbetweenthe text and the author.Kugel, however,concentrateson the relationshipbetweenthe text and the audience.Consequently,his argument does not share a common point of departurewith modern biblical scholarship,since each investigatesa differentissue. It is closer, instead,to such recentliteraryapproachesas speech-actand reader-response criticism, whichalso addressthe relationshipbetweenthe text andthe audience.These literarymovementshaveabandonedthe traditionalquestionof how the text was composedand ask instead:How does this text affectthe reader?One has to distinguish,however, between the study of classical rhetoricand reader-responsecriticism.Rhetoricis not limitedto the two dimensionsof work and reader,but seeks to discoverthe relationshipbetweenall three dimensionsof the work, focusing,therefore,on the processof creationas well as on the reader'sreaction.Hence,only studieswhichexploreall three dimensionsof a literarywork can deal effectivelywith and challengethe acceptednotions of composition. Kugel's readingof biblicalverse, focusing as it does on the reader,is remarkable.From this perspective,a verse in, for example, synonymous parallelismis not simplythe repetitionof the same idea in differentwords. Rather, the verse in its entiretycreatesthe notion of the whole, with the second half respondingto the first. Kugel writes:"All parallelismis really 'synthetic':it consistsof A, a pause,and A's continuation,B" (pp. 57-58). Kugel suggestsa new terminologyfor the phenomenonof repetition, calling it "seconding"instead of parallelism.He observesa tendencyfor variationin biblicalversein the changesthat occurbetweenthe two halves, such as the change in tense from perfectto imperfect,which createsthe notion of a unified whole. Kugel also calls attention to the techniqueof chiasmus,repetitionin reversedorder,a deviceusedto avoid a monotonous readingof the verse. Kugel nextconfrontsthe questionof biblicalproseand poetry,asking:Is

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betweenthetwo?SinceKugeldoesnotacceptthe therea formaldistinction parallelismas uniqueto poetry, pointingin fact to such a phenomenonin prose, he rejectsthe formalcriterionof parallelismas a stylisticdistinction betweenproseand poetry.He suggestsinsteadthatthe predominantcharacteristicof biblicalpoetryis the tersenessof the text. One can only regretthat Kugel has not developedhis ideas about biblicalpoetry,for we mighthope that a discussion of biblical poetry would deal with such characteristic phenomenaas figuresof speechand sounddevicesand how they combineto producepoetry. Kugel merelysuggestsan idea, but the poetics of biblical poetry is a chapterthat has not as yet been written. The second part of Kugel'sbook, which discussesthe "historyof ideas about parallelism,"is a significantcontributionto the study of biblical exegesis from antiquity,throughthe medievalperiodand the Renaissance, to the modernperiod.The chapteron rabbinicexegesisexploresthe principles of the rabbis' understandingof biblical texts and their resulting methodsof interpretation.The discussionof biblicalpoetryand the church outlinesthe principlesof interpretationand analyzesthe differencesbetween allegoricalexegesisin the Bible and the Midrash.Kugel sheds light on the implicationsof the theologicalprinciplesinvolvedand investigatesthe cultural and theologicalfoundationsof the interpretationof biblicalpoetryby the churchfathers.The book presentsa discussionof the medievalJewish commentators,dealsin detailwith Renaissancerhetoric,and illuminatesthe cultural-literarybackgroundof Lowth'sparallelism.Kugel emphasizesthe importanceof the Renaissancefor biblical literarycriticism as the time when the Bible was first seen as a human document.At this point, Kugel indicates,the notion of the Bibleas literaturebegins.He discussesEngland's contributionto the study of biblicalpoetry,correctlypointingout the significance of rhetoricfor the literarystudy of the Bible. Thereare indeeddifferencesbetweenclassicalrhetoricand biblicalpoetics, but the applicationof rhetoricto the study of biblical poetry is not erroneous,as Kugel states (p. 132).The principlesof rhetoric,that is, "the faculty of observingin any given case the availablemeans of persuasion" (Aristotle, Rhetoric 1355b), do not merely apply to the study of Greek oratory but present means for systematicinquiryinto the art of effective speech(Rhetoric1354a).Classicaloratoryshouldnot be ignoredby students of biblicalpoetry. Thus, ChristianSchoettgen,who precededLowth in the discovery of biblical parallelism,in fact utilized the rhetoricaldevice of exergasia,that is, rules of repetitiondesignedto producea specificeffect.

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REVIEWS BOOK

This technique enabled him to outline the rules of biblical parallelism. Kugel's surveyof the developmentof the idea of biblicalpoetryis a penetrating historical-culturalessay. Yehoshua Gitay WesleyanUniversity Conn. Middletown, Anthony J. Saldarini. Scholastic Rabbinism:A Literary Study of the Fathers

Accordingto Rabbi Nathan.Brown Judaic Studies, no. 14. Chico, Calif.: ScholarsPress, 1982. x + 161 pp. In 1975 ProfessorA. Saldarinipublisheda revisedversion of his Yale University doctoral dissertation, The Fathers According to Rabbi Nathan (Abot de Rabbi Natan): VersionB (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1975), which included

an introduction,translation,and commentaryto this text. In the present volume, Saldarinicontinueshis researchinto 'Avotde-RabbiNatanand its place in the rabbiniccorpus. After a brief introduction,he turns first to M. 'Avot,which he terms, somewhatanachronistically,"PirkeAbot" (p. 1). He intends to treat M. 'Avotalong with the two versionsof ADRN, since he sees these threedocumentsas essentiallythreeversionsof the samecorpus.He outlinesthe literary structureand themesof M. 'Avot.He sees it as belongingto the genre "sayingcollection"with affinitiesto biblicalWisdomliteratureand to the Greco-Roman"school" literature.He arguesfor second-centuryformulation, with furtherdevelopmentand consolidationin the third century. Saldarinisees ADRN A and B as havingessentiallythe same structure, with many differenceswithin the sections. The sections may be definedas follows:(1) the chainof tradition,(2) sayingsof YohananbenZakkai'sfive disciples,(3) four chapterson the destructionof the Temple,(4) the four who enteredthe "garden,"(5) additionalsages and sayings, and, finally, (6) enumerationsayings. The chain of traditionis subjectedto detailedscrutiny.Throughouthis book, Saldariniis carefulto studythe two versionsindependentlyand then to comparethem carefullyto one anotherand to M. 'Avot.His studyof the chain leads him to concludethat both versionsspeak to a school of rabbis and that both sharethe primaryemphasison Torahand its study.He agrees with J. Goldin that at times versionB stressesgood deedswhereA stresses

Review: [untitled] Author(s): Lawrence H. Schiffman Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 116-119 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486442 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:18 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



116

REVIEWS BOOK

This technique enabled him to outline the rules of biblical parallelism. Kugel's surveyof the developmentof the idea of biblicalpoetryis a penetrating historical-culturalessay. Yehoshua Gitay WesleyanUniversity Conn. Middletown, Anthony J. Saldarini. Scholastic Rabbinism:A Literary Study of the Fathers

Accordingto Rabbi Nathan.Brown Judaic Studies, no. 14. Chico, Calif.: ScholarsPress, 1982. x + 161 pp. In 1975 ProfessorA. Saldarinipublisheda revisedversion of his Yale University doctoral dissertation, The Fathers According to Rabbi Nathan (Abot de Rabbi Natan): VersionB (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1975), which included

an introduction,translation,and commentaryto this text. In the present volume, Saldarinicontinueshis researchinto 'Avotde-RabbiNatanand its place in the rabbiniccorpus. After a brief introduction,he turns first to M. 'Avot,which he terms, somewhatanachronistically,"PirkeAbot" (p. 1). He intends to treat M. 'Avotalong with the two versionsof ADRN, since he sees these threedocumentsas essentiallythreeversionsof the samecorpus.He outlinesthe literary structureand themesof M. 'Avot.He sees it as belongingto the genre "sayingcollection"with affinitiesto biblicalWisdomliteratureand to the Greco-Roman"school" literature.He arguesfor second-centuryformulation, with furtherdevelopmentand consolidationin the third century. Saldarinisees ADRN A and B as havingessentiallythe same structure, with many differenceswithin the sections. The sections may be definedas follows:(1) the chainof tradition,(2) sayingsof YohananbenZakkai'sfive disciples,(3) four chapterson the destructionof the Temple,(4) the four who enteredthe "garden,"(5) additionalsages and sayings, and, finally, (6) enumerationsayings. The chain of traditionis subjectedto detailedscrutiny.Throughouthis book, Saldariniis carefulto studythe two versionsindependentlyand then to comparethem carefullyto one anotherand to M. 'Avot.His studyof the chain leads him to concludethat both versionsspeak to a school of rabbis and that both sharethe primaryemphasison Torahand its study.He agrees with J. Goldin that at times versionB stressesgood deedswhereA stresses

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Torahstudy. Nonetheless,he concludesthat the chain, like similarGrecoRomantexts, "suggestsa school settingfor its originand the establishment of teaching authorityas its purpose"(p. 78). Saldarini'sinvestigationof the Yohananben Zakkaimaterialleads him to a similarconclusion.It is thesesayingswhichpertainmost directlyto the school setting and which betray the greatest evidence of Greco-Roman parallels.His investigationshows that the remainingsectionsof the ADRN display much looser organizationand editing than the first two. The two final chapters deal with literaryand historicalconclusions. Althoughwe have threefixedtexts now, M. 'Avot,ADRN A, and ADRN B, these texts are said by the authorto have been more fluid in antiquity.At some stage,the traditionswerepasseddown orally.For this reason,parallel materialsin the three texts do not exhibit verbal identity. Whereasthe text of M. 'Avotwas fixedas partof the historyof the redaction of the Mishnah,that of the two versionsof ADRN developedindependently.The threeworks,takenin theirpresentform,betraythe interestsand goals of scholasticgroups. A terminusante quemcan be establishedfor ADRN in that it appears,in Saldarini'sview, to be quoted in the Sheiltotin the mid-eighthcentury.It must be pointedout, however,that the fact that the Sheiltotquote a storyin a version closer to that of ADRN than to that of the BabylonianTalmud only meansthat such a versionof the story was in circulation.It in no way proves that it was part of a redactedtext or that the authorof the Sheiltot knewit as partof such a text. Indeed,the Sheiltotcontainmanyvariantversions of passagesin the BabylonianTalmud,and theseoften derivefromthe oral traditionsprevalentin differentyeshivot. Saldarinirightly rejectsA. Guttman'sdating of the mishnaictractate 'Avotto ca. 300. Rather,'Avot"took shape duringthe second century"(p. 140). Saldariniarguesfurtherthat since the recensionof 'Avotupon which the two versionsof ADRN are basedis differentfromthat of M. 'Avot,"it is probablethat all threevariationson the traditiondevelopedcontemporaneously in the secondcentury"(p. 140).He sees the processas continuinginto the third century. It was in this century that "substantialediting of the secondcenturymaterial"(p. 141)took place.In sum, then, Saldariniargues for the simultaneousdevelopmentof M. 'Avot and the two versions of ADRN. He sees it as impossibleto reconstructan Ur-text,even basingit on the common elements in all three traditions,because of the oral/literary characterof the material. Nonetheless, he claims that these documents attainedsubstantiallytheir presentform by the end of the second century.

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Significantadditionsin termsof stories,sayings,and exegeseswereaddedin the third century. We have summarizedhis discussionregardingthe datingin detail,since it seems that here Saldarinihas reachedconclusionswhich are not in fact borne out by close literaryanalysisof the text. It is certainlytrue that the materialin both versionsof ADRN is whatwe usuallydesignateas tannaitic. In usingthis designationwe meanthat it purportsto be from,or is attributed to sages of, the tannaiticperiod. Our text is then tannaiticin the same sense as are the so-calledtannaiticor halakhicmidrashim.Yet it is generally agreed that these texts were redactedin fifth-centuryPalestine.Put more simply, "tannaitic"works may have been edited in the amoraic period. Indeed, as H. Albeck argued,the Tosefta and the halakhicmidrashimin their present,redactedform were unknownto the Palestinianand Babylonian Talmuds.Rather,the materialin these collections,termedbaraitot, circulatedin other,preredactionalforms.Sinceevidencepointsto the redaction of these "tannaitic"works in late amoraictimes, the same possibility ought to be given seriousconsiderationregardingthe versionsof ADRN. The only way to test this suggestionis to undertakea close studyof the redactionalcharacteristicsof the versionsof ADRN. Basedon the study of selectedportionsof the work, it seems to this reviewerthat we are dealing here with a text whichshowsevidenceof late redaction.Often,we find that varying versions of the same baraita' are presentedtogether, one after another.It is not uncommonto find two versionsof the same statementin versionA and a thirdin versionB. Thetext showsevidenceof post-tannaitic redaction which goes way beyond that in the Tosefta and the halakhic midrashim.The redactorsof the versionsof ADRN have takenthe baraitot in their variousversions,found in the earliercollections,often redactedin the amoraic period, and combined them into longer and certainlymore loosely redactedtexts. Thissecondaryredaction,in our opinion,is typicalof late editing, which is far more extensiveand yet less sophisticatedfrom a literarypoint of view than that found in the so-calledtannaiticmidrashim. We would agreewith Saldarinithat ADRN is indeedbasedon a version of 'Avotwhichis contemporaneouswith the versionfound in the Mishnah. Indeed,sucha versionwouldprobablypredatethe redactionof the Mishnah by Rabbi Judah the Prince. Yet the collection of the materialin ADRN probablyoccurredprimarilyduringthe amoraicperiod,just as the halakhic midrashimand the Toseftawerecollectedat that time. Later,perhapseven post-talmudic,redactorswereresponsiblefor the loosely editedand poorly redactedadditionsto this material,whose literaryseamsare so clearlyand

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The final versions,then,wouldbe redactedin the readilydistinguished. same periodas such collectionsas PirkeRabbiEliezerand the posttalmudictractatesedited by Higger. Our disagreementwith ProfessorSaldariniregardingthe dating of the final redactionof this text, as well as of its relationto the 'Avotmaterial,in no way detractsfrom our appreciationof his excellentcontextualanalysisof the document.He has thoroughlydemonstratedits literarycharacteras well as its basic ideology. His studieswill help to advancegreatlythe necessary reevaluationand restudyof this importantand to a greatextentbewildering

text.

Lawrence H. Schiffman New YorkUniversity New York,N.Y.

Bernard Septimus. Hispano-Jewish Culture in Transition: The Career and

Controversiesof Ramah.HarvardJudaic Monographs,no. 4. Cambridge, Mass.: HarvardUniversityPress, 1982. xiv, 180 pp. Just as they did for WesternChristendom,the twelfth and thirteenth centuriesmarkeda periodof expansion,conflict,and consolidationfor the Jewish communitiesof medieval Europe. Paradoxically,as the brunt of Jewishculturalcreativitygraduallyshifted from the world of Islam to the Latin West, interactions between European Jews and Christians were becomingmoreintenseand morehostile.Transitionin highmedievalJewish civilizationyieldedvitalityand growthon the one hand, culturalalienation and disorientationon the other. How was Jewishsocietyto relateto a world which proffered(at least ostensibly)physicalsecurityand economic prosperity,but whose own evolvingworldview- by whichmedievalJewsnever ceasedto be influenced- underminedthe valuesand survivalof Judaism? Tosafistic scholarship,Ashkenazic pietism, and ProvenqalKabbalah all bearwitnessto this intriguingphenomenon.Yet nowhereweresuch tendencies as complexor as pronouncedas in Spain, much of whose largeJewish populationleft the Muslimworld andjoined the ranksof EuropeanChristian society, all withinthe span of severalgenerations.The resultingsocioreligiousturbulence,throughwhichthe geonic-Andalusiantraditionof the GoldenAge - crippledbut not extinguishedby the Berberpersecutionsand

Review: [untitled] Author(s): Jeremy Cohen Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 119-122 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486443 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:19 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



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The final versions,then,wouldbe redactedin the readilydistinguished. same periodas such collectionsas PirkeRabbiEliezerand the posttalmudictractatesedited by Higger. Our disagreementwith ProfessorSaldariniregardingthe dating of the final redactionof this text, as well as of its relationto the 'Avotmaterial,in no way detractsfrom our appreciationof his excellentcontextualanalysisof the document.He has thoroughlydemonstratedits literarycharacteras well as its basic ideology. His studieswill help to advancegreatlythe necessary reevaluationand restudyof this importantand to a greatextentbewildering

text.

Lawrence H. Schiffman New YorkUniversity New York,N.Y.

Bernard Septimus. Hispano-Jewish Culture in Transition: The Career and

Controversiesof Ramah.HarvardJudaic Monographs,no. 4. Cambridge, Mass.: HarvardUniversityPress, 1982. xiv, 180 pp. Just as they did for WesternChristendom,the twelfth and thirteenth centuriesmarkeda periodof expansion,conflict,and consolidationfor the Jewish communitiesof medieval Europe. Paradoxically,as the brunt of Jewishculturalcreativitygraduallyshifted from the world of Islam to the Latin West, interactions between European Jews and Christians were becomingmoreintenseand morehostile.Transitionin highmedievalJewish civilizationyieldedvitalityand growthon the one hand, culturalalienation and disorientationon the other. How was Jewishsocietyto relateto a world which proffered(at least ostensibly)physicalsecurityand economic prosperity,but whose own evolvingworldview- by whichmedievalJewsnever ceasedto be influenced- underminedthe valuesand survivalof Judaism? Tosafistic scholarship,Ashkenazic pietism, and ProvenqalKabbalah all bearwitnessto this intriguingphenomenon.Yet nowhereweresuch tendencies as complexor as pronouncedas in Spain, much of whose largeJewish populationleft the Muslimworld andjoined the ranksof EuropeanChristian society, all withinthe span of severalgenerations.The resultingsocioreligiousturbulence,throughwhichthe geonic-Andalusiantraditionof the GoldenAge - crippledbut not extinguishedby the Berberpersecutionsand

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the ChristianReconquest- struggledto adaptto a newmilieu,providesthe major focus of BernardSeptimus'snew book. ProfessorSeptimusinvestigatesthe characterof late-twelfth-and earlythirteenth-centuryHispano-Jewishculture through the window of the career of Rabbi Meir ben Todros ha-Levi Abulafia (=Ramah; ca. 1165-1244), halakhist,poet, nasi, and polemicistin the Castiliancapitalof Toledo. Ably intertwinedwith other bits of pertinenttextualevidence,the few known detailsconcerningthe life of Ramahare first presentedso as to illustratepressingproblemsof the contemporaryJewish community:the extentto whichthe CastilianJewshouldrightfullycultivatethe learningand life-styleof secular Iberianculture;the struggleto reestablishthe institutions and statureof talmudicscholarshipin Spain;the difficult,often painful, but ultimatelyfruitfulencounterwith Jewish communitiesnorth and east of the Pyrenees.Born and reared in a wealthy aristocraticfamily, Ramahmaintainedand exemplifiedthe paradigmof the elitist Andalusian Jewishcourtier;yet he himselfvociferouslydecriedthe moral and religious decadencethat frequentlyresultedfrom such a life-style.The most capable Spanishtalmudistof his day, Ramah defendedand promotedthe study of the "minutiae"of Halakhah, learningwhich had languishedin twelfthcenturyCastileand whicharousedscornand contemptamongmoreurbane elementsof the Jewisharistocracy.And Ramahwas the first Spanishrabbinic leaderto seek and maintaincontactswith the halakhicauthoritiesof Ashkenaz,communicationwhichcontributedto the new Europeanorientation of Iberian Jewry. From these general concerns of Ramah's career, Septimusturns to his involvementin the early stages of the Maimonidean controversy:his protest in 1202 to the rabbis of Lunel over Maimonides' seemingdenial of bodily resurrection,the hostile responsesof the Provenqal Aaron b. Meshullam and Sheshet Benveniste of Barcelona, and Ramah'sensuingappealto the tosafistsof NorthernFrance;Ramah'smore muted position followingthe death of Maimonidesand the appearanceof Ma'amarTehiyyatha-Metim;and his reluctanceto participateactivelyin the explosivepolemicaldisputesthatplaguedFrenchand SpanishJewriesin the 1230s.The book then concludeswith a penetratinganalysisof Ramah's antirationalism,categorizingit in relationto the other prominentintellectual and religiousorientationsof contemporaryEuropeanJews. Any appraisalof this book must begin with recognitionof its valuable contributionto the intellectualhistoriographyof the High Middle Ages; once again the HarvardJudaicMonographsseriesoffersus fresh, creative insight into the characterof rabbinic leadershipin medieval Christian

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Europe.Yet one ought also to take note of the singulardifficultiesand risks whichthe compositionof this particularmonographentailed,echoedin the veryjuxtapositionof its title and subtitle.Can the generallyobscurecareer of a singleindividuallike Ramahconstitutean effectivevehiclefor narrating and evaluatinga pivotal period in Jewishculturalhistory?Conversely,to what extent can a synthetic,mosaic-typepictureof the leadershipof that period- even with numerousreferencesto the subject'sfamily,friends,and students- compensatefor glaringlacunaein our knowledgeof the subject of an intellectualbiography?Despite ProfessorSeptimus'sadmirablecommand of the pertinenthalakhicand philosophicalliterature,as well as his straightforwardadmissionof the problem,the quasi-biographicalfocus of the book could at times prove troublesome.To "retrievesomethingof the living context of Ramah'scareer"(p. viii), this book often has recourseto conjectureand speculation,which, howeverreasonedand attractive,only underscore the reader's frustration over the inaccessibilityof the real Ramah. Unquestionablyworthwhilediscursiveanalyses of the ideas and writingsof other figures- e.g., those involvedin the "Spanish-Provencal halakhicdialectic"and in the Maimonideancontroversy- hint at the possibility that the focus on Ramah may actuallyhave restrictedthe author from expoundinghis theme more comprehensively,which he appearswell equippedto do. Despite the author'sunderstandablereluctanceto plunge into the technicalcomplexitiesof halakhicscholarshipwithin the present work, if "Ramahdoubtlessthoughtof himselffirstand foremostas a halakhist [and] talmudic studies receivedthe lion's share of his interest and literaryactivity"(p. 21), more extensivediscussionof his halakhicwritings might well have enhancedour appreciationof his careerand world view. In the final analysis, however, these reservationsare greatly overshadowedby the worth of ProfessorSeptimus'sendeavor.Hispano-Jewish Culturein Transitionembodiesa captivatingand illuminatingaccountof the culturalproblemsconfrontingSpanishJews at the beginningof the thirteenth century.The relationshipbetweenscientificand revealedtruththen posed a burningissuefor Christian,Muslim,andJewishthinkersalike.And Septimusconfrontsthe dramatispersonaeand agendaof the Maimonidean controversywith an unrivaledsensitivityto fine but crucialideologicaldistinctions which explain seeminginconsistenciesin earlieraccounts of the same events. How could a figurelike Ramah,nasi in Toledo, son-in-lawto the treasurerof Alfonso VIII of Castile, well-schooledin Arabic but evidently ignorantof Latin and Romance,have opposed Maimonides,champion of the Sephardictradition,to the extentof seekingan alliancewith the

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unsophisticated tosafists of Northern France? Granted that he did, why then did the pro-Maimonidean scholars of Provence wonder at Ramah's antirationalism decades later, after prolonged and sustained correspondence with him? Septimus convincingly demonstrates that for Provenqal and Ashkenazic scholars the Maimonidean controversy pitted the rationalism of the geonic-Andalusian tradition, which had evolved directly from Saadya to Maimonides, against the unworldly talmudic culture of Ashkenaz - a glaring, stark, and simple contrast. From such a perspective, Ramah, who engaged in nonliteralist aggadic exegesis, who adopted much of Maimonides' teaching on incorporeality, who agreed that the future reward would be entirely spiritual (despite his insistence that body and soul would enjoy it together), who engaged in and sanctioned the study of philosophy, but who opposed the Maimunist factions of Spain and Southern France, was anomalous indeed. Yet within Spain itself, rationalist and antirationalist recognized the radical Aristotelian naturalism implicit in Maimonidean thought and its departure from the conservative Saadyanic precedent. Fearing the threat that the logic of Aristotelian science leveled at divine omnipotence, providence, and the rationale for observing the commandments, Ramah joined the anti-Maimonidean camp with mixed feelings, for unlike most antirationalists of his day, his temperament was also profoundly antimystical. Along with kindred spirits like Abba Mari of Lunel, Ijasdai Crescas, Isaac Arama, and Isaac Abravanel, maintains Septimus, Ramah represents an urbane traditionalism which to his mind remained faithful to the geonic-Andalusian legacy, an outlook which called for "broad learning, conservative sensibility, exoteric spirituality, a tendency to disengage religion from nature, cautiously selective use of the esoteric sciences, and reluctance to enthrone theoretical knowledge or wholeheartedly embrace a contemplative ideal." One cannot but agree that "their determination to deny themselves the greatest of medieval passions is not without a touch of the heroic" (pp. 114-115). (A final technical note: This book would have benefited considerably from the addition of a bibliography or index auctorum; without either of these, the notes are of significant value only to the specialist already conversant with the relevant scholarly literature.) JeremyCohen Ohio State University Columbus,Ohio

Review: [untitled] Author(s): Norman A. Stillman Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 123-125 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486444 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:19 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



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Moshe Gil. The Tustaris:Familyand Sect [in Hebrew].Publicationsof the Diaspora ResearchInstitute,bk. 39. Tel-Aviv:Tel-AvivUniversityPress, 1981. 116 pp. Bibliographicaland generalindices, 15 plates, I table. Moshe Gil, one of the most interestingand original contemporary scholarsof Jewishhistoryin the medievalIslamicworld,has broughtout a short but pithy and thought-provokingbook on a famousPersianKaraite family, the Tustaris,that rose to the pinnaclesof financialand political power in Fatimid Egypt duringthe first half of the eleventhcentury.The book developedin part as an independentspin-offfrom a largerprojecton the land of Israelunderthe Muslimsduringthe periodextendingfrom the Arab conquestto the Crusadesthat has occupiedProfessorGil for several years and has resultedin a much largerbook that is scheduledto appear shortly. The book opens with a usefulsummaryof the scholarlyliteratureon the Tustaristhat has appearedoverthe pastcentury,withparticularreferenceto the writingsof Poznanski,Mann, Fischel, and Goitein (pp. 13-19). This historiographicintroductionis followed by a valuable historical backgroundsketchdepictingthe westwarddemographicshiftwithinthe Muslim world that brought both Rabbaniteand sectarianJews - together with membersof other faiths - from southwesternIran and southernIraq to Baghdadin the late eighthcenturyand to the Mediterraneanbasin during the tenth century.Gil emphasizesthe special role played by Jewish merchants from Ahwaz and Tustar(Shustar)in the internationalcommerceof the later Sasanianperiodand of earlyIslamictimes.He connectsthese merchants with the famous Radhanitesmentionedby the ninth-centurygeographerIbn Khurradadhbeh.Concerningthese merchants,Gil has already writtenan article that has providedthe freshestlook in more than half a centuryon a subjectthat has elicited the spillingof a goodly quantityof scholarlyink.' Turningto the Tustaristhemselves,Gil painstakinglytracesin chronological order the testimony concerningthe early generationof the family found in the Arabicliteraryand Geniza sources(pp. 23-29). He makesthe interestingand - to this reviewer'smind - not unreasonablesuggestion that the big Genizamerchantfamilies,suchas the Ibn 'Awkals,theTustaris, 1. "The Radhanite Merchants and the Land of Radhan," Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 17(1974): 299-328.

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the Tahertis,etc., may alreadyhavebeencooperatingin Iranand Iraqprior to their resettlementin Egyptand the Maghreb(p. 26). He also postulates some important family lines for the Bne Sunbat (Bne Sahlan), leading Jewish communal figures, business associates, and perhaps relations by marriageof the Tustaris. After reconstructingthe Tustaris'familialroots mainlyuponthe basisof Geniza documents,Gil turns to the sources dealing with their economic activities (pp. 29-37). It is interestingto note that the Tustaris'lucrative trade in luxuryitems, which is most commonlymentionedin the Islamic sources,appearsonly as a smallpart of theircommercialenterprisesin the Geniza records. Three principalareas of activity stand out: (1) overseas transportin unusuallylarge quantitiesby Geniza standards;(2) importexportties with the Abbasidterritories;(3) dealingin largesums of money, transferof funds, and the holding of deposits. The section dealingwith the politicalcareersof the brothersAbu NaSr Fadl (Hesed) and Abu Sa'd Ibrahim(Avraham)al-Tustariis based more than any other chapterupon medievalMuslimwritersand adheresto the picturethat was alreadywell known.Onlypassingmentionis given to Abu 'Ali-Hasan (Yefet),the son of Abu Sa'd, who for the final threemonthsof 1064held the vizierateof FatimidEgypt,and who - accordingto the Arab historianIbn Muyassar- convertedto Islam. In his searchthrough the jumbleddocumentsof the Geniza,Gil has discovereda possiblegrandsonof Abu 'Ali who was takenprisonerby the Franksand held for ransomat the time of the First Crusade(p. 65). The evidence,however,is by no means clear- as Gil readilypointsout. But evenif the youngprisonerwas indeed the vizier'sgrandson,this would not necessarilycontradict- as Gil seems to feel it would- the reportconcerningAbu 'Ali's defectionfromJudaism, since he may not have beenjoined by all the membersof his familyin apostasy, particularlyif he had grownsons at the time or convertedunderpressure or out of political expediency. The section dealingwith the family'sinvolvementin Jewishcommunal affairs both within the Fatimid realm and beyond is filled with new and more detailed information (pp. 44-57). Though Karaites, the Tustaris servedthe Rabbaniteyeshivotof Iraqand Palestineas wellas theirsectarian brethren. As the subtitle of the book indicates, Gil takes up the question of whetherthe Tustariswere regularKaraitesor belongedto a specialcurrent within the factious sect. The tenth-centuryKaraite encyclopedist al-

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Qirqisanimentionsa subsectcalledthe Dasatira("Tustaris"),who rejected the mainstreamKaraiteprincipleof ma'qul(individualexegesisof the biblical text). Gil answersthe questionby a highlyimpressiveline of reasoningin favorof a specialsubsecton the basisof the datesof a documentthat belong to an alternativeKaraitecalendricalreckoning. There is a valuable appendix at the end of the book comprisingsix Geniza documents in Arabic with accompanyingannotations, Hebrew translations,and facsimiles. The book is throughoutclear and well-written,both carefuland stimulating.Two veryminorphilologicalpoints with whichthis reviewerwas not in full agreement:(1) nazar, a technical term of kalamic vocabulary,is perhapsbetter translatedas "theologicalspeculation"than as halakha(p. 23), and (2) bullowas "an expensiveoutfit comprisingtwoor morearticles of clothing"2 ratherthan a single begedbagigi(p. 33). These minorpoints, however,in no way detractfrom the masteryof highlyvariedsources,languages, and scriptsexhibitedin this originaland valuablecontributionto medievalJewish history. NormanA. Stillman StateUniversity of New York at Binghamton

Stephen Sharot. Messianism, Mysticism, and Magic: A Sociological Analysis of Jewish Religious Movements. Studies in Religion. Chapel Hill: University

of North CarolinaPress, 1982. x, 306 pp.

The applicationof sociologicalmethodsto the historyof religionsmay offendsome of the faithful,but few scholarswoulddenythe contributionof these methods to the understandingof religious phenomena. From the pioneeringtheoreticalworkof Weberand Durkheimto recentstudies,such as Melford Spiro's Buddhismand Society and the numeroussociological analysesof Christianorigins,the disciplinehas challengedand stimulated the criticalinvestigationof religionin generaland of many great religious traditions. 2. See Y. K. Stillman, "Female Attire of Medieval Egypt" (doctoral diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1972), p. 73.

Review: [untitled] Author(s): Marc Saperstein Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 125-129 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486445 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:19 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



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Qirqisanimentionsa subsectcalledthe Dasatira("Tustaris"),who rejected the mainstreamKaraiteprincipleof ma'qul(individualexegesisof the biblical text). Gil answersthe questionby a highlyimpressiveline of reasoningin favorof a specialsubsecton the basisof the datesof a documentthat belong to an alternativeKaraitecalendricalreckoning. There is a valuable appendix at the end of the book comprisingsix Geniza documents in Arabic with accompanyingannotations, Hebrew translations,and facsimiles. The book is throughoutclear and well-written,both carefuland stimulating.Two veryminorphilologicalpoints with whichthis reviewerwas not in full agreement:(1) nazar, a technical term of kalamic vocabulary,is perhapsbetter translatedas "theologicalspeculation"than as halakha(p. 23), and (2) bullowas "an expensiveoutfit comprisingtwoor morearticles of clothing"2 ratherthan a single begedbagigi(p. 33). These minorpoints, however,in no way detractfrom the masteryof highlyvariedsources,languages, and scriptsexhibitedin this originaland valuablecontributionto medievalJewish history. NormanA. Stillman StateUniversity of New York at Binghamton

Stephen Sharot. Messianism, Mysticism, and Magic: A Sociological Analysis of Jewish Religious Movements. Studies in Religion. Chapel Hill: University

of North CarolinaPress, 1982. x, 306 pp.

The applicationof sociologicalmethodsto the historyof religionsmay offendsome of the faithful,but few scholarswoulddenythe contributionof these methods to the understandingof religious phenomena. From the pioneeringtheoreticalworkof Weberand Durkheimto recentstudies,such as Melford Spiro's Buddhismand Society and the numeroussociological analysesof Christianorigins,the disciplinehas challengedand stimulated the criticalinvestigationof religionin generaland of many great religious traditions. 2. See Y. K. Stillman, "Female Attire of Medieval Egypt" (doctoral diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1972), p. 73.

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Stephen Sharot argues that the absence of the sociological perspective is a serious lacuna in Jewish historiography, and his book is an attempt to fill this gap. Its subject matter is defined as "the religion of the Jewish folk or masses"; in its discussion of medieval millenarian movements, Sabbatianism, Hasidism, and Zionism, it is concerned with the religious doctrines of the intellectual elite not for their own intrinsic value, but for their impact upon popular expressions of Judaism. The approach is delineated by contrast with that of nineteenth-century Wissenschaft, Gershom Scholem, and Marxist historians such as Raphael Mahler (although curiously, the work of S. W. Baron and Jacob Katz is not mentioned in this context); the author's purpose is to "link the religious and social histories of the Jews within a sociological framework." The underlying assumption is that "religious beliefs, practices and movements originate and develop under certain social conditions, and a plausible link can be made between social conditions and religious phenomena." One limitation of the book should be stated at the outset. The author is by training a sociologist, not a historian. He has obviously read widely in contemporary Jewish historical writing available in Hebrew and English, and he summarizes this material with accuracy and intelligence. But the specialist in Jewish studies should not expect to find new discoveries in this book. There are no new documents, no new data, and little interpretation of source material. As far as I can tell, neither the book nor the bibliography reveals any use of primary sources, except for collections such as Aescoly on messianic movements and Hertzberg on Zionism. While the book begins with a critique of nineteenth- and twentieth-century historiography, it is totally dependent on the fruits of this historiography for its data. Sharot's contribution to Jewish studies must therefore lie in his method. What can be expected from the application of a sociological framework to familiar Jewish movements? The least productive result is the introduction of a new jargon: "The former marranos had gone through the experience of what Peter Berger has termed alternation: they had passed between logically contradictory meaning systems" (p. 108); "Following Weber's typology of religious leaders, the zaddik is best described as a mystagogue" (p. 158); "On the journey to the court and in the court itself the Hasidim created a form of society which Victor Turner has called communitas" (p. 167). The long chapter on the spread of Hasidism is subsumed under Weber's somewhat paradoxical phrase, "the routinization of charisma." Such assertions may not always avoid the pitfall of implying that once an unusual word has been applied, the phenomenon itself has been understood.

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More productiveis the attemptto applygeneralizationsfrom the sociological theoryof religionto issuesof medievaland modernJewishreligious history.In his final, theoreticalchapter,Sharotuses the Hasidicmovement to test MaryDouglas's hypothesesabout the relationshipbetweenreligious doctrineand levels of social organizationand control. For example,Douglas, followingDurkheim,suggestedthat the greaterthe degreeof alienation fromthe establishedsocial order,the greaterwill be the tendencyto emphasize the independenceand separation of the spiritual realm from the material.Sharot'sargumentthat earlyHasidismreflectspreciselythe opposite correlation,as the movementboth challengedthe establishedpatternof social organizationand proposeda greaterintegrationof the spiritualand materialrealmsthanwas usuallyassumed,shouldbe of interestto the sociologist of religion,and the formulationof the issue in these termsmay well stimulatethe student of Hasidic thought. Ideally, the sociological approach should provide a differentway of analyzingdata and explainingthem. The readerwhose backgroundis in Jewishstudieswill probablyjudge that the book devotesfar too muchspace to a descriptiverecountingof familiarevents,and too littleto interpretation and explanation.Yet even where this is attempted,the resultsare mixed. Sharotis too sophisticateda sociologistand too conscientiousa studentof modernJewishhistoricalwritingto be satisfiedwith a simplistic,reductionist approachthat wouldexplainall religiousphenomenaexclusivelyin social terms.Butby recognizingthe multiplicityof historicalcausation,he tendsto retreatfrom the very explanationshe proposes, therebyundercuttingthe significanceof his approach. After a survey of "normativeJewish millenarianism"and messianic movementsthroughthe periodof the Crusades,the authorconcludes,"no single explanationcan account for all the millennialinstancesin the diaspora," not the Crusadesthemselves,nor economic hardship,nor political subordination, nor disruption of social life. Regarding Sabbatianism, Sharotfollows those who have questionedthe Scholemthesis, arguingthat the influence of LurianicKabbalahmay be a contributingfactor in the movement'sspread, but not a "sufficientor even a major cause." In his judgment,the distinctivereligiouspsychologyof the formermarranosand the precipitouseconomicdeclinein the mid-seventeenthcenturyweremore significant.Again, the discussion"pointsnot to one cause but to a convergence of factors. . . . general cultural and psychological considerations,

especially those that affectedthe former marranos,as well as social and economic factors, were of great importance."

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Discussing the spread of Hasidism, Sharot endorses the conclusion of Raphael Mahler that the major "social carrier" remained the impoverished lower middle class, which was being undermined by the encroachment of modern capitalism, yet he immediately qualifies this by noting that in spreading from its original centers, Hasidism became considerably more heterogeneous in economic, social, and educational status. He reaches the not exactly earth-shattering conclusion that the "miracle-working zaddikim" appealed to the poor, unsophisticated lower middle class of the small towns, while the "scholarly zaddikim" appealed to the wealthiest and more educated strata, but immediately continues, "The variation in the dominant forms of Hasidism cannot, however, be explained simply by economic class differences." Such caution in the formulation of conclusions is, in a way, refreshing. But it also makes the special contribution of the sociological approach less clear. Sharot does commit himself unequivocally about the predominantly Sephardic character of medieval millenarianism. His explanation is that the Sephardim "felt secure in and strongly identified with the dominant culture" far more than did the Ashkenazic Jews. Therefore, when persecution occurred, it was perceived not as a normal characteristic of galut, but as a catastrophe that created serious disorientation. "It would appear, therefore, that millenarianism was a response to disaster among a people whose leaders had enjoyed wealth, status, and power, and who had been rejected by a society into which they had formerly been highly integrated, culturally and socially." Paradigmatic is the career of Abravanel. Many questions may be raised about this hypothesis, and historians may well find it not fully convincing, but at least it is a clear sociological explanation that can be tested against known historical data. The most solid sections of the book are those that treat contemporary material. The chapter on Hasidism in modern society contains some illuminating comparisons with Christian introversionist sects, such as the Amish and the Hutterites. And the treatment of Gush Emunim against the background both of historical Jewish millenarianism and of the particular social context of the 1970s brings the book's subject matter into focus on a topic of considerable contemporary importance. I would guess that this book should be of value to sociologists interested in religion and to students of comparative religion for whom the scholarly studies written in Hebrew are inaccessible. Specialists in the traditional disciplines of Jewish studies may indeed find familiar material occasionally

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placed in a provocative theoretical context, but they are not likely to conclude that important new ground has been broken. MarcSaperstein HarvardUniversity Cambridge,Mass.

Stanley Nash. In Search of Hebraism: Shai Hurwitz and His Polemics in the Hebrew Press. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1980. 410 pp. From the outset, Stanley Nash declares that he sees the subject of his monograph, the European Hebrew writer Shai Ish Hurwitz (1861-1922), as a "major minor figure" (p. 2). Nash does not claim that Hurwitz can be compared in depth of thought or influence on his period to such great Hebrew literary figures as Ahad Ha'am, H. N. Bialik, M. Y. Berdyczewski, or Y. H. Brenner. Instead, Nash asserts, the value of his study of Hurwitz's life is that it "provides an excellent prism through which to view the complex undertow of Hebrew belles-lettres" (p. 2), by which he means the polemical debates in the Hebrew press which expressed the intellectual and emotional trends that lay behind the fiction and poetry of Hurwitz's generation. By focusing on the role of Hurwitz in these polemical debates, Nash has made an important contribution to an area of study which is crucial to an understanding of modern Hebrew literature through all periods of its development to the present, "the interface in Hebrew letters between the didactic and the lyrical, the publicistic and the poetic, the scholarly and the 'literary'" (p. 1). Nash's account of Hurwitz's polemical positions is at times so detailed that the effectiveness of his argument is thereby diminished. Nevertheless, the author does present an instructive analysis of the essential direction of Hurwitz's polemics and the part they played in the polemics of European Hebrew literature in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Nash views the polemics of Hurwitz's day as "an embodiment of the search for a new Hebraic humanism, as the yearning to resolve and transcend the psychological and cultural conflicts of diaspora Judaism" (p. 1). This search is particularly evident in the series of polemical controversies aroused by articles written by Hurwitz during the years 1904-1913. Such titles of these articles as "Li-She'elat Qiyyum ha-Yahadut" ("On the Con-

Review: [untitled] Author(s): David C. Jacobson Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 129-132 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486446 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:19 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



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placed in a provocative theoretical context, but they are not likely to conclude that important new ground has been broken. MarcSaperstein HarvardUniversity Cambridge,Mass.

Stanley Nash. In Search of Hebraism: Shai Hurwitz and His Polemics in the Hebrew Press. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1980. 410 pp. From the outset, Stanley Nash declares that he sees the subject of his monograph, the European Hebrew writer Shai Ish Hurwitz (1861-1922), as a "major minor figure" (p. 2). Nash does not claim that Hurwitz can be compared in depth of thought or influence on his period to such great Hebrew literary figures as Ahad Ha'am, H. N. Bialik, M. Y. Berdyczewski, or Y. H. Brenner. Instead, Nash asserts, the value of his study of Hurwitz's life is that it "provides an excellent prism through which to view the complex undertow of Hebrew belles-lettres" (p. 2), by which he means the polemical debates in the Hebrew press which expressed the intellectual and emotional trends that lay behind the fiction and poetry of Hurwitz's generation. By focusing on the role of Hurwitz in these polemical debates, Nash has made an important contribution to an area of study which is crucial to an understanding of modern Hebrew literature through all periods of its development to the present, "the interface in Hebrew letters between the didactic and the lyrical, the publicistic and the poetic, the scholarly and the 'literary'" (p. 1). Nash's account of Hurwitz's polemical positions is at times so detailed that the effectiveness of his argument is thereby diminished. Nevertheless, the author does present an instructive analysis of the essential direction of Hurwitz's polemics and the part they played in the polemics of European Hebrew literature in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Nash views the polemics of Hurwitz's day as "an embodiment of the search for a new Hebraic humanism, as the yearning to resolve and transcend the psychological and cultural conflicts of diaspora Judaism" (p. 1). This search is particularly evident in the series of polemical controversies aroused by articles written by Hurwitz during the years 1904-1913. Such titles of these articles as "Li-She'elat Qiyyum ha-Yahadut" ("On the Con-

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tinuance of Judaism") (1904) and "Shete Derakhim" ("Two Paths") (1907) are characteristic of the urgent manner in which Hebrew writers of the period addressed questions of Jewish identity. In these articles Hurwitz chose to take extreme, unpopular positions, opposing the cultural and political paths taken by his contemporaries as solutions to the crises of Jewish existence in the early twentieth century: Dubnow's autonomism, Ahad Ha'am's cultural nationalism, the neoromantic writings of M. Z. Feierberg, Y. L. Peretz, and others. In one article, "Ha-Hasidut ve-ha-Haskalah" ("Hasidism and Haskalah") (1908), Hurwitz attacked the trend of turning to Hasidism as a source of cultural renewal inspired by such writers as Peretz, Berdyczewski, and Buber. As we learn from Nash's analysis, the central thread running through Hurwitz's critique of these solutions was his conviction that they were compromises with the cultural conditions of the galut. Hurwitz argued instead for a total negation of the galut. He wrote of two possible methods of such a negation: (1) a full Zionist solution, in which the Jewish people would be settled in the Land of Israel, where they would create a new Jewish culture, and (2) assimilation of the Jew into European society. Since Hurwitz did not declare his unequivocal faith in the success of the Zionist enterprise (in "On the Continuance of Judaism" he questioned whether it would ever succeed), some readers of his essays began to suspect that in the final analysis he was urging Jewish intellectuals to assimilate through conversion to Christianity. When Hurwitz declared in "Hasidism and Haskalah" that "the reaction of primitive Christianity to rabbinism contained more truly 'Jewish' ethical content than did Hasidism" (p. 189), he merely confirmed suspicions that he was secretly a missionary for Christianity. The main figure to accuse Hurwitz publicly of advocating Jewish apostasy was the Hebrew writer and editor S. M. Lazar, who made that accusation on two occasions, after the publication of "On the Continuance of Judaism" and again after the publication of "Hasidism and Haskalah." The second time the charge was made, Hurwitz sued Lazar for libel before what Nash refersto as "a 'Jewish court' comprised of local Galician leaders of the Zionist movement" (p. 192). More important than the outcome of the trial (Hurwitz emerged victorious) is the fact that Lazar's accusations set off an emotional controversy so intense that it culminated in the libel trial. Jewish attitudes toward Christianity were of great concern to the European Jewish intelligentsia of that time. As Nash points out, Hurwitz was only one of several European Jewish writers in the early twentieth century to become interested in early Chris-

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tianity: Y. Klausner, S. A. Horodetsky, M. Y. Berdyczewski, S. Asch, and others. At the same time, however, Jewish intellectuals had "a subconscious fear" (p. 211) that Jewish identity would be destroyed through intermarriage and assimilation into Christian culture. Nash makes clear that this fear was not without basis: Hurwitz and three writers who were his friends, Ahad Ha'am, S. Dubnow, and M. ben Hillel Hacohen, had children who intermarried. The suspicion that Hurwitz was a missionary continued to plague him after the libel trial with Lazar. It arose again when Hurwitz, as editor of the journal He-'Atid, devoted space in 1911 to articles on Christianity by Horodetsky and Klausner, and when he wrote in an article, "Shevarim (miYalquto shel Ben-Abuyah)" ("Fragments [from the Satchel of Ben Abuyah]") (1911), "of cultural redemption by 'messiahs' and 'heretics' " (p. 302). As a result of renewed charges of missionizing, Hurwitz was forced to resign as president of the Organization for Hebrew Language and Culture, which he had founded. Hurwitz's extreme stance of negation of the galut through Zionism or assimilation was, as Nash maintains, contradicted by his lifelong devotion to the development of Jewish culture in Europe. He founded two cultural foundations, Sinai and the above-mentioned Organization for Hebrew Language and Culture, and he continued to participate as a writer and editor in the European cultural life of his time. Indeed, Nash's study suggests that since Hurwitz did not have much faith in Zionism, the real choice for him was either to hope that it was possible to maintain some form of Jewish life in the galut or to conclude in despair that Jewish identity was doomed to extinction. This movement between the moods of hope and despair was most particularly pronounced, as Nash points out, in 1912-1913, with the publication in Hurwitz's He-'A tid of both a symposium of Jewish intellectuals, "'Al haYahadut ve-'al 'Atidotehah" ("On Judaism and Its Prospects"), and an article by Hurwitz titled "Ha-Sa'ar ha-Yehudi" ("The Jewish Sorrow"). The symposium was indicative of the side of Hurwitz's soul which kept searching for ways to keep the cultural activity of Jews alive by engaging with other Jewish intellectuals in the elucidation of issues related to Jewish existence in the twentieth century. The following year, however, the despairing side of Hurwitz's soul emerged. In response to the suicides of two young Hebrew writers, Ben Yisra'el (Y. L. Pupes) and M. M. Feitelson, Hurwitz published his article "The Jewish Sorrow," in which he dismissed, as he had in 1904, all the various attempts of Jewish intellectuals to find a way to con-

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tinue Jewish existencein the twentiethcentury.The article set off a new wave of reactionagainst Hurwitzin the Hebrewpress. Hurwitzclaimedthat he took extremepositions in order to shock his readers out of complacent acceptanceof the status quo. Nash asserts, however,that therewas moreto Hurwitz'sradicalcritiqueof the galutthan hyperbolicrhetoric:Hurwitzreallydid believe,"at leastsubconsciously"(p. 356), that in orderto renewJewishcultureit mightbe necessaryto assimilate into EuropeanChristianculture. Thus, ShabbetaiZevi, the Jewish messiah who converted to Islam, and the Haskalah movement, which sought to bring Jews closer to Europeanculture,were very attractiveto Hurwitz.Hurwitz'ssubconsciousattractionto assimilation,Nash suggests, may have stemmedfroma "deathwish"(p. 362) attemptto escapethe tensions betweenthe Jewishand Christianculturesby destroyingthe former and embracingthe latter. Why did Hurwitz,despite his active involvementin the Zionist movement, neverfully acceptZionismas the answerto the dilemmasof modern Jewish existence? Nash claims that Hurwitz's demurral from Zionism derivedfromhis beingtoo psychologicallycommittedto the tensionsof his galut existenceto give it up. "The man who most abhorredthe limbo existence of galut was loathe to surrenderits energizingpowers. Hurwitzwas contentto perpetuatethat creativetensionof perpetualmalaiseand restless striving ... upon which, one suspects, Hurwitz virtually thrived" (p. 243).

Throughthe life of Shai Ish Hurwitz,StanleyNash has presenteda portrait of a generation of Hebrew writers pulled between two extremes: (1) nationalrevivalin Zion, and (2) self-destructionby suicideor assimilation. Like Hurwitz,manywere unableto commit themselvesfully to either radicalsolutionand thereforeopted for a thirdcourse:the struggleto revive Jewishculturein Europe.In the periodshortlybefore and after Hurwitz's death,history- throughthe BolshevikRevolutionand the Nazi Holocaust - intervened,leavingthe revivalof Jewishcultureprimarilyin the handsof Hurwitz'sintellectualheirs in WesternEurope,America,and Israel. DavidC.Jacobson of Pennsylvania University Pa. Philadelphia, Else-Rahel Freund. Franz Rosenzweig's Philosophy of Existence: An Analysis of "The Star of Redemption." The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1979. 189

PP.

Review: [untitled] Author(s): Norbert Samuelson Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 132-137 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486447 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:19 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



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tinue Jewish existencein the twentiethcentury.The article set off a new wave of reactionagainst Hurwitzin the Hebrewpress. Hurwitzclaimedthat he took extremepositions in order to shock his readers out of complacent acceptanceof the status quo. Nash asserts, however,that therewas moreto Hurwitz'sradicalcritiqueof the galutthan hyperbolicrhetoric:Hurwitzreallydid believe,"at leastsubconsciously"(p. 356), that in orderto renewJewishcultureit mightbe necessaryto assimilate into EuropeanChristianculture. Thus, ShabbetaiZevi, the Jewish messiah who converted to Islam, and the Haskalah movement, which sought to bring Jews closer to Europeanculture,were very attractiveto Hurwitz.Hurwitz'ssubconsciousattractionto assimilation,Nash suggests, may have stemmedfroma "deathwish"(p. 362) attemptto escapethe tensions betweenthe Jewishand Christianculturesby destroyingthe former and embracingthe latter. Why did Hurwitz,despite his active involvementin the Zionist movement, neverfully acceptZionismas the answerto the dilemmasof modern Jewish existence? Nash claims that Hurwitz's demurral from Zionism derivedfromhis beingtoo psychologicallycommittedto the tensionsof his galut existenceto give it up. "The man who most abhorredthe limbo existence of galut was loathe to surrenderits energizingpowers. Hurwitzwas contentto perpetuatethat creativetensionof perpetualmalaiseand restless striving ... upon which, one suspects, Hurwitz virtually thrived" (p. 243).

Throughthe life of Shai Ish Hurwitz,StanleyNash has presenteda portrait of a generation of Hebrew writers pulled between two extremes: (1) nationalrevivalin Zion, and (2) self-destructionby suicideor assimilation. Like Hurwitz,manywere unableto commit themselvesfully to either radicalsolutionand thereforeopted for a thirdcourse:the struggleto revive Jewishculturein Europe.In the periodshortlybefore and after Hurwitz's death,history- throughthe BolshevikRevolutionand the Nazi Holocaust - intervened,leavingthe revivalof Jewishcultureprimarilyin the handsof Hurwitz'sintellectualheirs in WesternEurope,America,and Israel. DavidC.Jacobson of Pennsylvania University Pa. Philadelphia, Else-Rahel Freund. Franz Rosenzweig's Philosophy of Existence: An Analysis of "The Star of Redemption." The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1979. 189

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Accordingto its cover,this book "offersa lucid and systematicexegesis of Rosenzweig'sStar of Redemption,"and it is claimedthat the valueof the workis that it "servessimplyas a firstorientation,and thereby,at the same time, stimulatesmore comprehensiveand more thorough research."The exegesiscertainlyis systematic.Ms. Freund'splan for introducingnovices to the content of The Star of Redemption(henceforth referredto as The Star)

is sound. Rosenzweig'sclassicin modernJewishphilosophyminimallypresupposesfamiliaritywith the thoughtof Schelling,and it is unquestionably desirableto see TheStar withinthe frameworkof Rosenzweig'searlierand laterwritings.Hence, Freundprecedesher discussionof TheStar itself with an outlineof Schelling'sphilosophyand Rosenzweig'sotherwritings.Also, her decision to discuss each part of TheStar separatelywithin the framework of Rosenzweig'sdistinctiveuse of dialectic is sound. Certainlythe thirdpartdoes synthesizethe seeminglydistinctfirst two partseven though each of the threepartsexhibitsa unity of its own. However,at least to me, Ms. Freund'sexegesisdoes not seemto be lucid at all, and becauseit is not lucid the text does not succeedin either providingthe readerwith a first orientationor stimulatinga desire to learn anythingmore about Rosenzweig. Considerthe following examples: 1. Rememberthat this book is intended to introduce readersto The Star. Now, in the original German text it is possible to assume that the readerhas some backgroundand interestin modernGermanphilosophy(in which case a surveyof Schelling'spositive philosophymay not be necessary),but that assumptioncannotbe madein the case of the Englishtranslation, sinceits readersare morelikelyto be interestedin Rosenzweigbecause he is a majorfigurein modernJewishthoughtand probablyhavelittle background or interestin Germanphilosophyas such. In this context, particularly if English readershave had some slight exposure to The Star, the opening paragraphof the introductionis mystifying.For example, dealswiththeindividual's actualexistence,thatwhichis terminRosenzweig atedbydeath;he speaksof theindividual's hicet nunc,of hisactionsanddecisionsin therealmof concretereality.Thisphilosophy is not an expositionof theoretical It is notconcerned withmanin generalin abstract time, principles. butratherwiththeindividual humanbeing,designated bya propername,livtime.(p. 3) ing in his particular Now readersfamiliarwith Germanphilosophy(who, again, cannot be the intendedaudiencefor this Englishtranslation)and Rosenzweig'sthought can understandthe point that Ms. Freundis making,even though the lan-

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guage used to make this simple point (viz., that Rosenzweig bases his thoughton the life of particularindividualsin spaceand timeratherthanon an abstractspecies,man) is unjustifiablycomplex.But readerswho do not have this backgroundand who have alreadyattemptedto read TheStarwill be dismayed.They will note, for example,that while one third of the first part of TheStar is about man, the "man"discussedis completelyabstract. Furthermore,they will also note that while "man"in the secondand third parts does temporalthings like pray and eat, the individualsperforming theseacts are not membersof the humanspecies,like JohnSmiththe Christian and MorrisSilvermanthe Jew,but ratherare"theChristians"and"the Jews,"which seem to be nothingother than lower-orderabstractions,viz., subspeciesof the speciesman. Now, againstthe backgroundof what Hegel did, Rosenzweig's thought is concrete, but against the backgroundof Americanand Britishthought(i.e., the backgroundof the intendedreader of this book), Freund'sintroductionappearsto be wrong.It is not the kind of statementto beginher explanation;it is a possibleclaimonly as a conclusion to a descriptionof the use of categoriesin modernGermanphilosophy. 2. The passagequoted above containsa footnote that takes an obscure statementin the text and compoundsthe crime.Whatis required,minimally, is some kind of explanation(again,given the intendedaudience)of what kindof individualsRosenzweig'sindividualsare(i.e., in whatsenseandwith what justificationRosenzweigcan begin his work speakingabout individuals who are God, the world [ratherthan objects],and man [ratherthan men and women]), but what the note says is the following: Descartes alsoturnsagainsttheI of idealismin reproaching MartinHeidegger of the I am for not havinganalyzedthe natureof existence(dieSeinweise) MartinBuberrefersto theabstract (sum)in hiscogitoergosum.... Similarly, I as "theshameof theworldspiritthathasbeen andconsciously capitalized debasedto merespirituality." (p. 3) Now, you can distinguishbetweenIch and ich, but what would i be as a word as opposedto I? Clearlyin this case the Germanand not the English ought to be given. But it is not. On the other hand, we are given other foreignwords,e.g., sum,that add nothingto the meaningof the note except to excludereaderswho only readEnglish,namely,the intendedaudiencefor this Englishtranslation.This is a minorpoint, but it is representativeof the inconsistencyin pedagogy in a book whose raisond'"tre(to follow the

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Freundstyle)is to introduceRosenzweigto peoplewho standoutsideof his intellectualtradition in German culture and philosophy. More seriously, what do the commentsof Heideggerand Buberin this footnote to the very first paragraphof the text have to do with what Freundsaid?I have some guess about it, but it is only a guess. Furthermore,at this stage of the text thereis no reasonto assumethat the readerknowsanythingaboutidealism, let alone "the I of idealism,"or why Descartes'"I think;therefore,I am" has a specialrole to playin analyzing"thenatureof existence,"or whatsuch an analysishas to do with what Freundsays in the body of the text. 3. Whatis perhapsmost disturbingin readingthis book is thatto a great extentsentencesseemto be strungtogetherindependently,havinglittleconnectionwith each other.Oftenparagraphingseemsto be arbitrary,because each sentenceis a distinctparagraph.Considerthe followingexamplefrom the second paragraphof the book: Deathdisclosesthe end of creationandhenceforecastsits regeneration in revelation. Thedeathof creationdemandsthe loveof revelation whichis as theboundaries strongas deathandcanovercomeit. Deathalsodemarcates betweenrevelation andredemption, foronlythelattersignifiesthefinaldefeat of death.(p. 4) Now, thereis some relationshipbetweenthesesentences- each says something about death. But each sentencemakes an entirelydifferentkind of claim,each of whichneedsexplicationfor the poor initiateto the thoughtof Rosenzweig.Why does death disclose the end of creation?What does it mean to "disclosethe end of creation"?Whatdoes "hence"mean,i.e., how does it follow that becausedeathdisclosesthe end of creationit forecastsits regenerationin revelation?Whatdo creationand revelationhaveto do with death at all? What is "the death of creation"?Does creation,like people, die, or is the death of creationsome special kind of death as opposed to other kinds of death?How can death demandanything?People can make demands;God can make demands;how does death make a demand,and given that it does, why does it demandthe "love of revelation"?What has revelationto do with love?Whyis love associatedwith revelationand death with creation?Whatdoes it meanto overcomecreation?And so forth.Now all of these questionscan be answeredwith considerableexegesis,and all of these statementsshould be made at some point in the text. (In fact some of them are repeatedand discussedin the body of Freund'sbook.) But these

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statementsappearin the very firstpages of the book by way of introducing studentsunfamiliarwith Rosenzweigand his worldof thoughtto TheStar! The examplesI have taken are from the beginningof the book, but I could give examplesfrom practicallyany paragraphany place in the work. It is not the case that what is obscurein the beginningbecomescleareras you read on. On the contrary, with each paragraphand each chapter Rosenzweigappearsto be more obscure,and accordinglyinterestin him declines.The book simplyis uselessas it now standsto fulfill the function for which it was intended, viz., to be an introductionto the thought of Rosenzweig.I regretthisjudgmentfor two reasons:First,thereis a needfor such a book to be written.NahumN. Glatzerperformedan invaluablecontributionto the studyof modernJewishthoughtby acquaintingthe Englishspeakingworld with the life of Rosenzweig(N. N. Glatzer,FranzRosenzweig:His Lifeand Thought,New York, 1953).Throughhis writingEnglishspeaking readersdiscoveredthe .significanceof the man Rosenzweigand became open to learningwhat that man had to say. Next William Hallo madeit possiblefor Englishspeakersto studyRosenzweig'sbestthought(F. Rosenzweig, The Star of Redemption,W. Hallo English trans., Boston, 1964). But without considerablebackgroundin Germanculture it is not easy to understandwhat Rosenzweigsays. Now thereis greatneedfor some book to open this door for interestedstudents,but, unfortunately,Freund's book is not the right one. Second, the book shows that Ms. Freundhas considerableknowledgeof what Rosenzweigsays. The problemis not what she knows;the problemis how she has presentedit and how her presentation was translatedinto English.Hiddenin the depthsof this text, dispersed throughits pages,are severalmomentsof insightinto Rosenzweig'sthought that should be of value to those who alreadyare at home in Rosenzweig studies. A notable exampleof this is her discussionof how Rosenzweig's method of constructiondiffersfrom Hegel's use of dialectic. Accordingto Freund,to attemptto connectthe threepartsof TheStar as a dialecticin the way that Hegel and Schellingreasonedis a mistake.In theirlogic the antithesisflows fromthe thesis,and the synthesisresultsfrom the movmementback and forth betweenthe thesis and antithesis.Hence, the firsttwo majorstepsare mutuallydependenton each other.However,in Rosenzweig'smethod of reasoning,called "construction,"the relationship of thesis and antithesisis different.Rather,these are oppositesthat develop independentlyand not from each other. Thus, the Courseis not a consequence of the logic of the Elements;ratherthe Courseis an independent, given startingpoint, coequalwith the Elements(p. 97). Similarly,concern-

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ing Rosenzweig's most general logical terms, viz., "Yea," "Nay," and "And," the Nay does not flow from the Yea; ratherthey are coequal, primordial logical expressions(p. 105). This is an importantpoint. If Ms. Freund is right, she has isolated an importantlogical presuppositionof Rosenzweig'sthoughtas distinctfrom Hegel'sand Schelling'sthat is a key to understandingwhy and how Rosenzweig"securesthe sameprimordiality for Judaismand Christianity.They are no longerto be regardedas having emerged from each other, althoughthey are successivein time" (p. 106). Also of interestare multiplepassagesin the text whereMs. Freundinvokes HermannCohen's use of differentialequations in calculusto understand what Rosenzweigsays about God in parts 2 and 3 of The Star (e.g., pp. 89-90, 105). But these momentsof insightare too few to justify the enormous effort it takes to readthroughseeminglyendlesspagesof poorlywritten, unclear,and unconnectedsentences. NorbertSamuelson TempleUniversity Pa. Philadelphia,

William B. Helmreich. The World of the Yeshiva. An Intimate Portrait of

OrthodoxJewry. New York: Free Press, 1982.412 pp. This book is an effort to describeAmericanLithuanianor non-Hasidic type yeshivas (author's spelling) through participantobservation,interviews, and a surveyof alumni.The core of the book is concernedwith what is studiedwithin yeshivas,who the studentsare, life in the yeshiva,status and deviance,and choosing marriagepartnersand preparingfor a career while in the yeshiva. A reviewershould try to be kind to an authorwhose book he is reviewing. If he can't be kind he must be fair. I find it impossibleto be kind to an authorwho writes:"I was raisedas an OrthodoxJew and attendedseveral advanced yeshivas. . . . as a result I ... spoke Hebrew and Yiddish fluently"

(p. 332;emphasisadded);or saysof an unnamedyeshivathat "ideologically it is somewherebetweenBeth MedrashGovoha of Lakewoodand Yeshiva University'sRIETS division" (p. 334; a statementcomparableto saying that an Americanstate is located somewherebetweenNew York and California);or discussingthe literatureon Orthodoxyin Americasays, "in the

Review: [untitled] Author(s): Charles S. Liebman Source: AJS Review, Vol. 9, No. 1 (Spring, 1984), pp. 137-140 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486448 . Accessed: 28/06/2011 21:19 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].



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ing Rosenzweig's most general logical terms, viz., "Yea," "Nay," and "And," the Nay does not flow from the Yea; ratherthey are coequal, primordial logical expressions(p. 105). This is an importantpoint. If Ms. Freund is right, she has isolated an importantlogical presuppositionof Rosenzweig'sthoughtas distinctfrom Hegel'sand Schelling'sthat is a key to understandingwhy and how Rosenzweig"securesthe sameprimordiality for Judaismand Christianity.They are no longerto be regardedas having emerged from each other, althoughthey are successivein time" (p. 106). Also of interestare multiplepassagesin the text whereMs. Freundinvokes HermannCohen's use of differentialequations in calculusto understand what Rosenzweigsays about God in parts 2 and 3 of The Star (e.g., pp. 89-90, 105). But these momentsof insightare too few to justify the enormous effort it takes to readthroughseeminglyendlesspagesof poorlywritten, unclear,and unconnectedsentences. NorbertSamuelson TempleUniversity Pa. Philadelphia,

William B. Helmreich. The World of the Yeshiva. An Intimate Portrait of

OrthodoxJewry. New York: Free Press, 1982.412 pp. This book is an effort to describeAmericanLithuanianor non-Hasidic type yeshivas (author's spelling) through participantobservation,interviews, and a surveyof alumni.The core of the book is concernedwith what is studiedwithin yeshivas,who the studentsare, life in the yeshiva,status and deviance,and choosing marriagepartnersand preparingfor a career while in the yeshiva. A reviewershould try to be kind to an authorwhose book he is reviewing. If he can't be kind he must be fair. I find it impossibleto be kind to an authorwho writes:"I was raisedas an OrthodoxJew and attendedseveral advanced yeshivas. . . . as a result I ... spoke Hebrew and Yiddish fluently"

(p. 332;emphasisadded);or saysof an unnamedyeshivathat "ideologically it is somewherebetweenBeth MedrashGovoha of Lakewoodand Yeshiva University'sRIETS division" (p. 334; a statementcomparableto saying that an Americanstate is located somewherebetweenNew York and California);or discussingthe literatureon Orthodoxyin Americasays, "in the

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popularareathereis only one work,WilliamB. Helmreich.. . " (p. 360;citing a previousbook by himself);or misleadsthe readerwith the comment that "anyone who undertakesTalmudicstudy must be familiarwith the Bible,for this is the basisfor all discussionin the Talmud"(p. 99 and also p. 291). SinceI cannotbe kind I will tryveryhardto be fair.The book does have redeemingfeatures.Theydo not includethe historicalintroduction,whichis a grossoversimplification borderingon distortion.Thisis not a lightmatter. Overand beyondthe injuryto the uninformedreader- e.g., Johananben Zakkaiestablisheda yeshivaat Yavneh,accordingto Helmreich(p. 2) one cannot understandthe Lithuanianyeshivaworld-viewwithout understandingReb Haim of Volozhin'smetaphysicalconceptionof "learning," which dominatedthe Lithuanianyeshiva world. Lamm and Etkes, both missing from the footnotes, are most helpful in this regard. A second generalweaknessof the book is the absenceof an adequate basiswith whichto comparethe Americanyeshiva.If we areto understand the American yeshiva, we must understandit on its own terms, which means, at least in part, to see what is Americanabout it and how it has changed over the last few decades. The purpose of the exerciseis not to understand,for example,Israeliyeshivasor the history of yeshivasbut to find a handleby whichwe can understandthe Americanyeshivatoday. In the absence of such comparisonsthe reader will implicitlycompare the yeshivaand the worldwithwhichhe is familiar;e.g., othereducationalinstitutions and/or the non-yeshivaJewishworld, and/or even the home from whichthe yeshivastudentcomes. Helmreichmakesthesecomparisonsexplicit. Theyarelegitimate,but they aren'tenough.For example,the moststriking contrastbetweenIsraeliand Americanyeshivasis the latter'sopenness to all sorts of outside influences.(The term "open" is a deliberateone becausethat is the expressionused by manyin the yeshivaworlditself.)But one would never know this from Helmreich,wherethe Americanyeshiva world emerges as an essentiallyclosed institution,which, of course, it is when comparedto the non-yeshivaworld. This leads me to my next comment.I don't believeHelmreichis a very sensitive observer.The strengthof the book, and it does have strengths, stems from the author'sview from the inside. But he often doesn'task the right questions(a good many of his informantscould certainlyhave comparedAmericanandIsraeliyeshivasor Americanyeshivastoday and yesterday), and he isn't alwayssensitiveto his own data. For example,he reports in the responsesto his surveyof yeshivaalumnithat they have "an average

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139

of 4.0 childrenper familycomparedto an averagerateof 1.8 amongJewsin general"(p. 310). The figure4.0 has some significancein comparisonto 1.8 but far greatersignificancebecauseit suggestssome measureof familyplanning, a sore and sensitivesubjectwithinthe yeshivaworldwhichtouchesthe nitty-grittyof religious observanceand halakhic interpretationfrom the perspectiveof that world.In my opinion thereare a numberof other areas, such as wedding and funeral ceremoniesor holiday celebrations,which would have been worth examiningand from which a sensitive observer might formulatea more accurateimage of the yeshiva-worldperspective. I noted that the yeshiva must be understoodon its own terms. But I think that some issuesrequirepresentationfrom the perspectiveof an intellectual outsider, an objectivescholar. There are philosophicaland social questions about Orthodoxy and the yeshiva world which an intelligent readerwants posed and analyzedin the languageof intellectualdiscourse, not in the formulationsof the yeshivaworld. In otherwords,if the yeshiva world is to be understood,certainsets of questionsmust be raisedand the author must get beyond the formulationsof his respondentsin order to analyzewhat they reallybelieveor reallydo. I missedthis kind of analysis (sometimesI even missedthe question)with respectto suchissues as: How does the yeshiva world picture reality?How does it view non-Jews,nonOrthodox Jews, non-yeshiva-worldJews, and how do men view women? Are these elementscore componentsin its conceptionof reality,and if not, what are the core components?What is secularknowledge,and what does knowledgeindependentof Torah mean?What is the meaningand significanceof the Landof Israeland the Stateof Israel?How is the Talmudtaught and studied,and in what way is the yeshiva-worldmethoddistinctivefrom that applied in universities?Why has there been a proliferationin the numberof yeshivasratherthan absolutegrowth in the size of a few major yeshivas?Whatis the dynamicthat impedesthe growthin size of virtuallyall but not quite all the yeshivas? With all its faultsthe book does offerthe readerentreeinto the worldof the yeshiva.The authoris at his best in his portrayalof the beginningstudent and weakest in his examinationof the life of the advancedstudents, those "learning"in Kollelim(which,by the way, didn'treachtheir"zenithin this country" [p. 259], as anyone familiarwith the Israeli yeshiva world knows). The final chapter,"Why Has the YeshivaSurvived?"is also of interest. Helmreichprovides a checklist of factors, which include leadership,the characterof the immigrantgeneration,changingattitudestowardcultural

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identification, the role of the American Jewish community, the day school movement, socioeconomic and demographic factors, and such socialpsychological explanations as intellectual satisfaction and spiritual happiness. I don't think all these factors are relevant, and those that are ought to be organized in some kind of framework, since they are of different orders of explanation. But the discussion of each factor itself is of interest and helpful in understanding American Orthodoxy. If I were asked to summarize concisely the attraction of the yeshiva, I would point to its charisma. In elitist Orthodox Lithuanian conceptions, the yeshiva is where the real source and center of Judaism is to be found, where one comes in touch with the real Power and with what is really meaningful in life. The yeshiva is not only an institution or an instrument through which one finds Torah (meaning God and authentic Judaism), it is the locus of Torah. If I am correct, then this is the message that should have come through sharply and clearly in a book described as an effort to explain the drawing power of the yeshiva. I found the message blurred. A number of excellent studies of new religious groups have recently appeared. They require participant observation and overcoming suspicion. Their theoretical formulations rely primarily on the sociology of religion and sometimes on organizational theory. They tap historical sources. At their best they not only analyze the social and religious behavior of the participants but tie their observations into the broader cultural patterns of the societies out of which the new religions emerge and the ethos that informs them. They enrich our understanding of the group studied and of our own culture. We should insist on no less from students of contemporary Judaism. CharlesS. Liebman Brown University Providence,R.I.

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AJS REVIEW The Journal of the Association for Jewish Studies Vol. IX, No. 1 Spring 1984

AJS Review (The Journal of the Association for Jewish Studies), Vol 19, No. 1 1994

AJS Review (The Journal of the Association for Jewish Studies), Vol 18, No. 2 1993

AJS Review (The Journal of the Association for Jewish Studies), Vol 19 No. 2 1994

Ajs Review: Spring, No 1

AJS REVIEW. VOL. 6. 1981. VI ASSOCIATION FOR JEWISH STUDIES

Ajs Review 1987: Spring, No 1

Ajs Review 1986: Spring, No 1

AJS Review 1985: Spring, No. 1

Ajs Review, 1984 No 2

AJS Review: The Journal of the Association for Jewish Studies (Volume 24) 2

AJS Review: Vol. XXI, No. 1, 1996

Ajs Review, Spring 1990

AJS Review 17, 1 (Spring, 1992)

Association for Jewish studies 2004-28(1)

Association for Jewish studies 2010- 34(1)

Association for Jewish studies 2003-27(1)

Association for Jewish studies 2009- 33(1)

Association for Jewish studies 1997- 22(1)

Association for Jewish studies 1999- 24(1)

Association for Jewish studies 2002-26(1)

Association for Jewish studies 1998- 23(1)

Association for Jewish studies 2005-29(1)

AJS Review: Vol. XXI, No. 2, 1996

Ajs Review 1995: Fall, No 1

Journal of Biblical Literature, Vol. 126, No. 1 (Spring 2007)

Journal of Biblical Literature, Vol. 127, No. 1 (Spring 2008)

Journal of Biblical Literature, Vol. 129, no. 1 (Spring 2010)

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