II THE PEOPLE OF THE BOOK |
NOW the Lord said unto Abram: ‘... Iwill make of thee a great nation, and Iwill bless thee, and make thy name great; and be thou a blessing: And Iwill bless them that bless thee, and him that curseth thee will Icurse; and in thee shall all the families of the earth be blessed.’ GENESIS 12. 1–3. THUS saith God the Lord ... Ithe Lord have called thee in righteousness and have taken hold of thine hand, and kept thee, and set thee for a covenant of the people, for a light of the nations; to open the blind eyes, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, and them that sit in darkness out of the prison house. ISAIAH 42. 5–7. ISRAEL IMMORTAL THUS saith the Lord, Who giveth the sun for a light by day, and the ordinances of the moon and of the stars for a light by night, Who stirreth up the sea, that the waves thereof roar; the Lord of hosts is His name: If these ordinances depart from before Me, saith the Lord, then the seed of Israel also shall cease from being a nation before Me for ever. JEREMIAH 31. 35, 36. THE sun and moon for ever shine—by day And night they mark the Eternal’s high design. Changeless and tireless, speeding on their way, The sun and moon for ever shine. Symbols are they of Israel’s chosen line, A nation still, though countless foes combine; Smitten by God and healed by God are they: They shall not fear, safe ’neath the Rock divine, Nor cease to be, until men cease to say, The sun and moon for ever shine. YEHUDAH HALEVI, 1150. (Trans. Alice Lucas.) THE life of man is numbered by days, The days of Israel are innumerable. ECCLESIASTICUS 37. 25. KINGDOMS arise and kingdoms pass away, but Israel endureth for evermore. MIDRASH. THE ETERNAL RIDDLE13 ISRAEL, my people, God’s greatest riddle, Will thy solution Ever be told? Fought—never conquered, Bent—never broken, Mortal—immortal, Youthful, though old. Egypt enslaved thee, Babylon crushed thee, Rome led thee captive, Homeless thy head. Where are those nations Mighty and fearsome? Thou hast survived them, They are long dead. Nations keep coming, Nations keep going, Passing like shadows, Wiped off the earth. Thou an eternal Witness remainest, Watching their burial, Watching their birth. Pray, who revealed thee Heavens great secret: Death and destruction Thus to defy? Suffering torture, Stake, inquisition— Prithee, who taught thee Never to die? Ay, and who gave thee Faith, deep as ocean, Strong as the rock-hills, Fierce as the sun? Hated and hunted, Ever thou wand’rest, Bearing a message: God is but one! Pray, has thy saga Likewise an ending, As its beginning Glorious of old? Israel, my people, God’s greatest riddle, Will thy solution Ever be told? P. M. RASKIN, 1914. THE SECRET OF ISRAEL’S IMMORTALITY14 WHAT has prevented this constantly migrating people, this veritable Wandering Jew, from degenerating into brutalized vagabonds, into vagrant hordes of gipsies? The answer is at hand. In its journey through the desert of life, for eighteen centuries, the Jewish people carried along the Ark of the Covenant, which breathed into its heart ideal aspirations, and even illumined the badge of disgrace affixed to its garment with an apostolic glory. The proscribed, outlawed, universally persecuted Jew felt a sublime, noble pride in being singled out to perpetuate and to suffer for a religion which reflects eternity, by which the nations of the earth were gradually educated to a knowledge of God and morality, and from which is to spring the salvation and redemption of the world. Such a people, which disdains its present but has the eye steadily fixed on its future, which lives as it were on hope, is on that very account eternal, like hope. H. GRAETZ, 1853. THE BOOK OF BOOKS THE Bible, what a book! Large and wide as the world, based on the abysses of creation, and towering aloft into the blue secrets of heaven. Sunrise and sunset, promise and fulfilment, birth and death—the whole drama of humanity—are contained in this one book. It is the Book of Books. The Jews may readily be consoled at the loss of Jerusalem, and the Temple, and the Ark of the Covenant, and all the crown jewels of King Solomon. Such forfeiture is as naught when weighed against the Bible, the imperishable treasure that they have saved. If Ido not err, it was Mahomet who named the Jews the ‘People of the Book’, a name which in Eastern countries has remained theirs to the present day, and is deeply significant. That one book is to the Jews their country. Within the well-fenced boundaries of that book they live and have their being; they enjoy their inalienable citizenship, are strong to admiration; thence none can dislodge them. Absorbed in the perusal of their sacred book they little heeded the changes that were wrought in the real world around them. Nations rose and vanished, States flourished and decayed, revolutions raged throughout the earth—but they, the Jews, sat poring over this book, unconscious of the wild chase of time that rushed on above their heads. H. HEINE, 1830. THE BIBLE15 AS to an ancient temple Whose vast proportions tower With summit inaccessible Among the stars of heaven; While the resistless ocean Of peoples and of cities Breaks at its feet in foam, Work that a hundred ages Hallow: I bow to thee. From out thy mighty bosom Rise hymns sublime, and melodies Like to the heavens singing Praises to their Creator; While at the sound, an ecstasy, A trance, fills all my being With terror and with awe— I feel my proud heart thrilling With throbs of holy pride. Oh! come, thou high beneficent Heritage of my fathers; Our country, altar, prophet, Our life, our all, art thou! In doubt, in woe, in outrage, In pangs of dissolution That wring our tortured hearts, Come, ope the rosy portals Of Hope to us once more. Ah me! what countless miseries, What tears all unregarded. Hast thou consoled and softened With gentle voice and holy! How many hearts that struggle With doubt, remorse, anxiety, With all the woes of ages, Dost thou, on ample pinions, Lift purified to Heaven! Listen! the world is rising, Seeking, unquiet, thrilling, Awakens the new century To new hopes and new visions. Men hear upon the mountains Strange and life-giving voices; Every soul seems to wait, And from that Book the signal For the new day shall come. DAVID LEVI, 1846. (Trans. Mary A. Craig.) FROM century to century, even unto this day, through the fairest regions of civilization, the Bible dominates existence. Its vision of life moulds states and societies. Its Psalms are more popular in every country than the poems of the nation’s own poets. Beside this one book with its infinite editions ... all other literatures seem ‘trifles light as air’. ISRAEL ZANGWILL, 1895. A JEWISH VERSION OF THE BIBLE I OUR great claim to the gratitude of mankind is that we gave to the world the word of God, the Bible. We have stormed heaven to snatch down this heavenly gift, as the Paitan16 puts it. We threw ourselves into the breach, and covered it with our bodies against every attack. We allowed ourselves to be slain in hundreds and thousands rather than become unfaithful to it, and we bore witness to its truth, and watched over its purity, in the face of a hostile world. The Bible is our sole raison d’Être; and it is just this which the Higher Anti-Semitism, both within and without our ranks, is seeking to destroy, denying all our claims for the past and leaving us without hope for the future. This intellectual persecution can only be fought with intellectual weapons, and unless we make an effort to recover our Bible we are irrevocably lost from both worlds. S. SCHECHTER, 1903. II THERE is an old tradition that the day on which, for the first time, the Pentateuch was translated into a foreign language—into Greek—was considered by Jews as a day of great national calamity. It was feared that the translation, being incorrect, might become the source of error instead of being the fountain of divine truths. The fear felt and expressed about two thousand years ago has been fully justified by the history of the several versions that have since been undertaken, and by the large number of false doctrines, supposed to be founded on the authority of Holy Writ, whilst really originating in mistakes made by translators. M. FRIEDLÄNDER, 1886. NEW translations of the Bible have appeared and are appearing in various languages; but none of them has made, or intends to make, a complete and exhaustive use of Jewish contributions to the subject. Great university professors who know much, very much, but who do not know Jewish literature, unconsciously assume that they do not know it because it is not worth knowing—a judgement that no man has a right to pronounce until he has studied it—and this they have not done. M. SULZBERGER, 1898. THE book, commonly known as the Authorized, or King James’s Version, has been so long looked upon with a deep veneration almost bordering on superstitious dread, that, to most persons, the very thought of furnishing an improved translation of the Divine records will be viewed as an impious assumption and a contempt of the wisdom of former ages. Since the time of King James, however, the world has progressed in biblical knowledge no less than in all other branches of science; and giant minds have laboured to make clear what formerly was obscure. ISAAC LEESER, 1855. I FULLY admit the great merits of the Revised Version of the Bible. It corrects many faults, amends many mistranslations of the so-called King James’s Version, without impairing the antique charm of the English Bible, without putting out of tune the music so dear to our ears. Yet even that great work, compiled by the most eminent scholars and learned theologians in the land, is disfigured by errors due to dogmatic preconceptions. HERMANN ADLER, 1896. III THE present translation17 has a character of its own. It aims to combine the spirit of Jewish tradition with the results of biblical scholarship, ancient, mediaeval, and modern. It gives to the Jewish world a translation of the Scriptures done by men imbued with the Jewish consciousness, while the non-Jewish world, it is hoped, will welcome a translation that presents many passages from the Jewish traditional point of view. The Jew cannot afford to have his own Bible translation prepared for him by others. He cannot have it as a gift, even as he cannot borrow his soul from others. If a new country and a new language metamorphose him into a new man, the duty of this new man is to prepare a new garb and a new method of expression for what is most sacred and most dear to him. From TRANSLATORS’ PREFACE, Jewish Version of the Bible, 1916. IV SCRIPTURE must be interpreted according to its plain, natural sense, each word according to the context. Traditional exposition, however, may also be taken to heart, as it is said: ‘Is not My word like as fire?’—consisting of many sparks—‘and like a hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces?’—and therefore capable of various explanations. RASHI, 1080. V THERE is none that hath ever made an end of learning it, and there is none that will ever find out all its mysteries. For its wisdom is richer than any sea, and its word deeper than any abyss. ECCLESIASTICUS 24. 28, 29. ISRAEL THE PEOPLE OF REVELATION HAD there been no Israelites there would be no Torah. Israel’s pre-eminence is not derived from Moses, it is Moses whose pre-eminence is due to Israel. The Divine love went out towards the multitude of the children of the Patriarchs, the Congregation of Jacob. Moses was merely the divinely chosen instrument through whom God’s Blessing was to be assured unto them. We are called not the people of Moses, but the people of God. YEHUDAH HALEVI, 1141. THE Greeks were not all artists, but the Greek nation was alone capable of producing a Phidias or a Praxiteles. The same was the case with Judaism. It is certain that not all Jews were prophets; the exclamation, ‘Would that all the people of the Lord were prophets!’ was a pious wish. Nevertheless, Israel is the people of Revelation. It must have had a native endowment that could produce, that could rear, such men. Nor does Judaism claim to be the work of single individuals; it does not speak of the God of Moses, nor of the God of the Prophets, but of the God of Israel. The fact that the greatest prophet left his work unfinished contains a profound truth. No man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day. Thereon our ancient teachers remark: ‘His grave should not serve as a place of pilgrimage whither men go to do honour to one man, and thus raise him above the level of man’. A. GEIGER, 1865. THERE IS NO GOD BUT GOD AND ISRAEL IS HIS PROPHET18 WHEN one thinks how this earliest of theistic creeds has persisted through the ages, by what wonderful constructive statecraft it has built up a race of which the lowest unit is no atom in a ‘submerged tenth’, but an equal member of a great historic brotherhood, a scion of the oldest of surviving civilizations, a student of sacred books, a lover of home and peace; when one remembers how he has agonized—the great misunderstood of history—how his ‘pestilent heresy’ has been chastised and rebuked by Popes and Crusaders, Inquisitors and Missionaries, how he has remained sublimely protestant, imperturbable amid marvellous cathedrals and all the splendid shows of Christendom, and how despite all and after all he is living to see the world turning slowly back to his vision of life; then one seems to see the ‘finger of God’, the hand of the Master-Artist, behind the comedy-tragedy of existence, to believe that Israel is veritably a nation with a mission, that there is no God but God and Israel is His prophet. ISRAEL ZANGWILL. MOSES19 HOW small Sinai appears when Moses stands upon it! This mountain is only the pedestal for the feet of the man whose head reaches up to the heavens, where he speaks with God.... Formerly Icould not pardon the legislator of the Jews his hatred against the plastic arts. Idid not see that, notwithstanding his hostility to art, Moses was a great artist, and possessed the true artistic spirit. But this spirit was directed by him, as by his Egyptian compatriots, to colossal and indestructible undertakings. He built human pyramids, carved human obelisks; he took a poor shepherd family and created a nation from it—a great, eternal, holy people; a people of God, destined to outlive the centuries, and to serve as a pattern to all other nations, even as a prototype to the whole of mankind. He created Israel. As of the master-builder, so of his work—the Hebrew people—I did not speak with sufficient reverence. Isee now that the Greeks were only handsome youths, whilst the Jews were always men—powerful, indomitable men—who have fought and suffered on every battlefield of human thought. H. HEINE, 1854. THE PROPHETS20 I ’TIS a little people, but it has done great things. It had but a precarious hold on a few crags and highlands between the desert and the deep sea, yet its thinkers and sages with eagle vision took into their thought the destinies of all humanity, and rang out in clarion voice a message of hope to the downtrodden of all races. Claiming for themselves and their people the duty and obligations of a true aristocracy, they held forth to the peoples ideals of a true democracy founded on right and justice. Their voices have never ceased to re-echo around the world, and the greatest things that have been done to raise men’s lot have been always in the spirit, often in the name, of the Hebrew prophets. JOSEPH JACOBS, 1919. THE mere foretelling of future events is the lowest stage of prophecy, and in the eyes of the great Prophets of Israel it was of quite secondary importance. Their aim was to fathom the secrets of holiness; and their striving, by means of admonition and moral suasion, to guide the peoples in the paths which lead mankind to spiritual and political well-being. SHEMTOB IBN SHEMTOB, 1489. II IT was part of the spirit of Prophecy to be dumb-founded at human ferocity as at something against nature and reason. In the presence of the iniquities of the world, the heart of the Prophets bled as though from a wound of the Divine Spirit, and their cry of indignation re-echoed the wrath of the Deity. Greece and Rome had their rich and poor, just as Israel had in the days of Jeroboam II, and the various classes continued to slaughter one another for centuries; but no voice of justice and pity arose from the fierce tumult. Therefore the words of the Prophets have more vitality at the present time, and answer better to the needs of modern souls, than all the classic masterpieces of antiquity. JAMES DARMESTETER, 1891. IN Hebrew prophecy we have no crumbling monument of perishable stone, the silent witness of a past that is dead and gone, but the quickening breath of the spirit itself. In the ardent souls of the Prophets the thought of Deity was centred as in a burning-glass—a fire that consumed them, a shining light for men. Theirs was the abiding sense of an eternal Will and Purpose underlying human transient schemes, an eternal Presence, transfusing all of life as with a hidden flame; so that love of country, love of right, love of man, were not alone human things, but also divine, because they were embraced and focussed in a single living unity—the love of God. JOSEPHINE LAZARUS, 1893. THE TALMUD21 THE Talmud is the work which embodies the civil and canonical law of the Jewish people, forming a kind of supplement to the Pentateuch—a supplement such as took 1,000 years of a nation’s life to produce. It is not merely a dull treatise, but it appeals to the imagination and the feelings, and to all that is noblest and purest. Between the rugged boulders of the law which bestrew the path of the Talmud there grow the blue flowers of romance—parable, tale, gnome, saga; its elements are taken from heaven and earth, but chiefly and most lovingly from the human heart and from Scripture, for every verse and every word in this latter became, as it were, a golden nail upon which it hung its gorgeous tapestries. The fundamental law of all human and social economy in the Talmud was the absolute equality of men. It was pointed out that man was created alone—lest one should say to another, ‘Iam of the better or earlier stock’. In a discussion that arose among the Masters as to which was the most important passage in the whole Bible, one pointed to the verse ‘And thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself’. The other contradicted him and pointed to the words ‘This is the book of the generations of man’ (Gen. 5. 1)—not black, not white, not great, not small, but man. ‘The law given on Mount Sinai’, the Masters said, ‘though emphatically addressed to one people, belongs to all humanity. It was not given in any king’s land, not in any city or inhabited spot—it was given on God’s own highway, in the desert—not in the darkness and stillness of night, but in plain day, amid thunder and lightning. And why was it given on Sinai? Because it is the lowliest of mountains—to show that God’s spirit rests only upon them that are meek and lowly in their hearts.’ The Talmud taught that religion was not a thing of creed or dogma or faith merely, but of active goodness. Scripture said, ‘Ye shall walk in the ways of the Lord’. ‘But the Lord is a consuming fire; how can men walk in His ways?’ ‘By being’, the rabbis answered, ‘as He is—merciful, loving, long-suffering. Mark how on the first page of the Pentateuch God clothed the naked—Adam; and on the last he buried the dead—Moses. He heals the sick, frees the captives, does good to His enemies, and is merciful both to the living and to the dead.’ The most transcendental love of the rabbis was lavished on children. All the verses of Scripture that spoke of flowers and gardens were applied to children and schools. The highest and most exalted title which they bestowed in their poetical flights upon God Himself was that of ‘Pedagogue of Man’. Indeed, the relationship of man to God they could not express more pregnantly than by the most familiar words which occur from one end of the Talmud to the other, ‘Our Father in Heaven’. I have been able to bring before you what proves, as it were, but a drop in the vast ocean of Talmud—that strange, wild, weird ocean, with its leviathans, and its wrecks of golden argosies, and with its forlorn bells that send up their dreamy sounds ever and anon, while the fisherman bends upon his oar, and starts and listens, and perchance the tears may come into his eyes. EMANUEL DEUTSCH, 1868. JEWISH LITERATURE RABBINISM was a sequel to the Bible, and if, like all sequels, it was unequal to its original, it nevertheless shared its greatness. The works of all Jews up to the modern period were the sequel to this sequel. Through them all may be detected the unifying principle that literature in its truest sense includes life itself; that intellect is the handmaid to conscience; and that the best books are those which best teach men how to live. This underlying unity gave more harmony to Jewish literature than is possessed by many literatures more distinctively national. The maxim ‘Righteousness delivers from death’ applies to books as well as to men. Aliterature whose consistent theme is Righteousness, is immortal. I. ABRAHAMS, 1899. THE WORK OF THE RABBIS22 JUDAISM and the Bible are by no means identical; the Bible is only one constituent part of Judaism, though the most fundamental one. Who taught the average Jew to understand his Judaism, to love his religion and his God? Without the zeal of the Rabbis, the Bible would never have become the guide of every Jew. They translated it into the vernacular for the people, and expounded it to the masses. They taught them not to despair under the tortures of the present, but to look forward to the future. At the same time they developed the spirit of the Bible and never lost sight of the lofty teachings of the Prophets. It is the immortal merit of the unknown Rabbis of the centuries immediately before and after the common era that they found and applied the proper ‘fences’ for the preservation of Judaism, and that they succeeded in rescuing real morality and pure monotheism for the ages that were to follow. A. BÜCHLER, 1908. ISRAEL’S HISTORY NEVER-ENDING ISRAEL’S ‘Heroic History’, as Manasseh ben Israel called it, is in truth never-ending. Line upon line is still being added, and finis will never be written on the page of Jewish history till the Light which shineth more and more unto the Perfect Day shall fall upon it, and illumine the whole beautiful world. Each Jew and each Jewess is making his or her mark, or his or her stain, upon the wonderful unfinished history of the Jews, the history which Herder called the greatest poem of all time. ‘Ye are my witnesses’, saith the Lord. Loyal and steadfast witnesses is it, or self-seeking and suborned ones? Awitness of some sort every Jew born is bound to be. He must fulfil his mission, and through good report and through evil report, and though it be only writ in water, he must add his item of evidence to the record that all who run may read. LADY MAGNUS, 1886. THE story of this little sect—the most remarkable survival of the fittest known to humanity—in no way corresponds with its numbers; it is not a tale of majorities. It is a story that begins very near the beginning of history, and shows little sign of drawing to a conclusion. It is a story that has chapters in every country on earth, that has borne the impress of every period. All men and all ages pass through it in unending procession. ISRAEL ZANGWILL, 1895. THE MEANING OF JEWISH HISTORY MAN is made man by history. It is history that causes the men of historic nations to be more civilized than the savage. The Jew recognizes that he is made what he is by the history of his fathers, and feels he is losing his better self so far as he loses his hold on his past history. JOSEPH JACOBS, 1889. ISRAEL is the heart of mankind. YEHUDAH HALEVI. THE high-road of Jewish history leads to wide outlooks. That which is great and lasting in Jewish history is the spiritual wealth accumulated through the ages; the description of the fierce battles fought between the powers of darkness and light, of freedom and persecution, of knowledge and ignorance. Our great men are the heroes of the school and the sages of the synagogue, not the knights of the sanguinary battlefield. No widow was left to mourn through our victory, no mother for her lost son, no orphan for the lost father. M. GASTER, 1906. THE HALLOWING OF JEWISH HISTORY THE first part of Jewish history, the Biblical part, is a source from which, for many centuries, millions of human beings belonging to the most diverse denominations have derived instruction, solace, and inspiration. Its heroes have long ago become types, incarnations, of great ideas. The events it relates serve as living ethical formulas. But a time will come—perhaps it is not very far off—when the second half of Jewish history, the record of the two thousand years of the Jewish people’s life after the Biblical period, will be accorded the same treatment. The thousand years’ martyrdom of the Jewish people, its unbroken pilgrimage, its tragic fate, its teachers of religion, its martyrs, philosophers, champions—this whole epic will in days to come sink deep into the memory of men. It will speak to the heart and conscience of men, not merely to their curious mind. It will secure respect for the silvery hair of the Jewish people, a people of thinkers and sufferers. It is our firm conviction that the time is approaching in which the second half of Jewish history will be to the noblest part of thinking humanity what its first half has long been to believing humanity, a source of sublime moral truths. S. M. DUBNOW, 1893. ISRAEL’S MARTYRDOM IF there are ranks in suffering, Israel takes precedence of all the nations; if the duration of sorrows and the patience with which they are borne ennoble, the Jews can challenge the aristocracy of every land; if a literature is called rich in the possession of a few classic tragedies—what shall we say to a National Tragedy lasting for fifteen hundred years, in which the poets and the actors were also the heroes? LEOPOLD ZUNZ, 1855. COMBINE all the woes that temporal and ecclesiastical tyrannies have ever inflicted on men or nations, and you will not have reached the full measure of suffering which this martyr people was called upon to endure century upon century. It was as if all the powers of earth had conspired—and they did so conspire—to exterminate the Jewish people, or at least to transform it into a brutalized horde. History dare not pass over in silence these scenes of wellnigh unutterable misery. It is her duty to give a true and vivid account of them; to evoke due admiration for the superhuman endurance of this suffering people, and to testify that Israel, like his ancestor in the days of old, has striven with gods and with men, and has prevailed. H. GRAETZ. UNDER THE ROMAN EMPERORS THERE had now a tumult arisen in Alexandria between the Jewish inhabitants and the Greeks, and three ambassadors were chosen out of each party that were at variance who came to Caius (Caligula). Now, one of the Greek ambassadors was Apion, who uttered many blasphemies against the Jews; and among other things he said that while all who were subject to the Roman Empire built altars and temples to Caesar, and in other regards universally received him as they received the gods, these Jews alone thought it a dishonourable thing for them to erect statues in honour of him, as well as to swear by his name. Hereupon Caligula, taking it very heinously that he should be thus despised by the Jews alone, gave orders to make an invasion of Judea with a great body of troops, and, if they were obstinate, to conquer them by war, and then to erect the statues. Accordingly Petronius, the Governor of Syria, got together as great a number of auxiliaries as he possibly could, and took with him two legions of the Roman army. But there came many ten thousands of the Jews to Petronius, to offer their petitions to him, that he would not compel them to transgress and violate the law of their forefathers. ‘If’, said they, ‘thou art entirely resolved to bring this statue, and erect it, do thou first kill us, and then do what thou hast resolved on; for, while we are alive, we cannot permit such things as are forbidden us to be done by the authority of our Legislator.’ Petronius then hasted to Tiberias; and many thousands of the Jews met Petronius again, when he was come to Tiberias. Then Petronius said to them: ‘Will you then make war with Caesar without considering his great preparations for war and your own weakness?’ They replied: ‘We will not by any means make war with him, but still we will die before we see our laws transgressed’. So they threw themselves down upon their faces, and stretched out their throats, and said they were ready to be slain. Thus they continued in their resolution, and proposed to themselves to die willingly rather than to see the dedication of the statue23. FLAVIUS JOSEPHUS, 1st cent. IN the world-wide Roman Empire it was the Jews alone who refused the erection of statues and the paying of divine honours to Caligula, and thereby saved the honour of the human race when all the other peoples slavishly obeyed the decree of the Imperial madman. J. FUERST, 1890. IN MEDIAEVAL ROME IN the whole history of heroism there is nothing finer than the example of the Jews of the Roman Ghetto, a handful of men who for 1,500 years and longer remained true to their own ideals—unmoved and undazzled by the triumphant world-power of the dominant faith; and undaunted By the torture prolonged from age to age, By the infamy, Israel’s heritage, By the Ghetto’s plague, by the garb’s disgrace, By the badge of shame, by the felon’s place, By the branding tool, by the bloody whip, And the summons to Christian fellowship. Helpless victims of all the horrors enumerated in these burning lines of Robert Browning, these Jews were yet free men. Not a trace of what a modern Jewish thinker—Achad Ha’am—has called ‘spiritual slavery’ was theirs. In all fundamental matters they were totally indifferent to the opinion of those who might torture the body but could never crush the soul. J. H. HERTZ, 1915. THE history of the daughter religions of Judaism is one uninterrupted series of attempts to commit matricide. M. STEINSCHNEIDER, 1893. THE FIRST CRUSADE (1096)24 YEA, they slay us and they smite, Vex our souls with sore affright; All the closer cleave we, Lord, To Thine everlasting word. Not a word of all their Mass Shall our lips in homage pass; Though they curse, and bind, and kill, The living God is with us still. We still are Thine, though limbs are torn; Better death than life forsworn. Noblest matrons seek for death, Rob their children of their breath; Fathers, in their fiery zeal, Slay their sons with murderous steel, And in heat of holiest strife, For love of Thee, spare not their life. The fair and young lie down to die In witness of Thy Unity; From dying lips the accents swell, ‘Thy God is One, O Israel’; And bridegroom answers unto bride, ‘The Lord is God, and none beside’, And, knit with bonds of holiest faith, They pass to endless life through death. KALONYMOS BEN YEHUDAH. (Trans. E. H. Plumptre.) THE SECOND CRUSADE IN the year 1146 Israel’s communities were terror-stricken. The monk Rudolph who shamefully persecuted Israel, arose against the people of God, in order, like Haman of old, to destroy, to slay, and to cause to perish. He travelled throughout Germany to bestow the cross of the crusaders upon all who consented to set out for Jerusalem to fight against the Moslems. In every place where he came he aroused the people, crying, ‘Avenge ye first the vengeance of our God on His enemies who are here before us, and then we will go forward’. When the Jews heard this, their courage failed them by reason of the rage of their oppressor who sought their destruction. They cried to God, saying: ‘Alas, OLord God! Behold fifty years, like the period of a jubilee, have not yet elapsed since we shed our blood like water to sanctify Thy holy, great, and revered Name, on the day of the great slaughter. Wilt Thou indeed forsake us for ever and extend Thy wrath against us unto all generations? Shall misery follow misery?’ The Lord heard our supplications, and turned unto us, and had pity upon us, according to His abundant loving-kindness. He sent one of their greatest and respected teachers, the abbot Bernard, from the town Clairvaux in France, after this evil monk. And he also preached to his people according to their custom, crying ‘It is good that you are ready to go forth against the Moslems; but whosoever uses violence against the Jews commits a deadly sin’. All honoured this monk as one of their saints, neither has it ever been said that he received a bribe for his good service to us. Many desisted from any further murderous attacks against us. We gladly gave our possessions as a ransom for our lives. Whatever was asked of us, silver or gold, we withheld not. If our Creator in His great compassion had not sent us this abbot, there would have been none in Israel that would have escaped or remained alive. Blessed be He who saves and delivers. Praised be His Name. EPHRAIM OF BONN, 1180. JEWISH SUFFERING BREAK forth in lamentation, My agonizing song, That like a lava-torrent Has boiled within me long. My song shall thrill each hearer, And none so deaf but hears, For the burden of my ditty Is the pain of a thousand years. It melts both gentle and simple, Even hearts of stone are riven— Sets women and flowers weeping; They weep, the stars of heaven. And all these tears are flowing By channels still and wide, Homeward they are all flowing To meet in Jordan’s tide. H. HEINE, 1824. WHEN Richard I ascended the throne, the Jews, to conciliate the Royal protection, brought their tributes. Many had hastened from remote parts of England, and, appearing at Westminster, the Court and the mob imagined that they had leagued to bewitch His Majesty. Arumour spread rapidly through the city that in honour of the festival the Jews were to be massacred. The populace, at once eager of Royalty and riot, pillaged and burnt their houses and murdered the devoted Jews. The people of York soon gathered to imitate the people of London. The alarmed Jews hastened to Jocenus, the most opulent of the Jews, who conducted them to the Governor of York Castle, and prevailed on him to afford them an asylum for their persons and effects. The castle had sufficient strength for their defence; but a suspicion arising that the Governor, who often went out, intended to betray them, they one day refused him entrance. He complained to the sheriff of the county; and the chiefs of the violent party, who stood deeply indebted to the Jews, uniting with him, orders were issued to attack the castle. The cruel multitude, united with the soldiery, felt such a desire of slaughtering those they intended to despoil, that the sheriff, repenting of the order, revoked it; but in vain: fanaticism and robbery once set loose will satiate their appetency for blood and plunder. The attacks continued, till at length the Jews perceived they could hold out no longer, and a council was called to consider what remained to be done in the extremity of danger. When the Jewish council was assembled, the Haham25 rose, and addressed them in this manner: ‘Men of Israel! the God of our ancestors is omniscient, and there is no one who can say, Why doest Thou this? This day He commands us to die for His Law; for that Law which we have cherished from the first hour it was given, which we have preserved pure throughout our captivity in all nations; and for which, because of the many consolations it has given us and the eternal hope it communicates, can we do less than die? Death is before our eyes; and we have only to choose an honourable and easy one. If we fall into the hands of our enemies, which you know we cannot escape, our death will be ignominious and cruel. It is therefore my advice that we elude their tortures; that we ourselves should be our own executioners; and that we voluntarily surrender our lives to our Creator. God seems to call for us, but let us not be unworthy of that call.’ Having said this, the old man sat down and wept. The assembly was divided in its opinions. Again the Rabbin rose, and spoke these few words in a firm and decisive tone. ‘My children! since we are not unanimous in our opinions, let those who do not approve of my advice depart from this assembly!’ Some departed, but the greater number attached themselves to their venerable priest. They now employed themselves in consuming their valuables by fire; and every man, fearful of trusting to the timid and irresolute hand of the women, first destroyed his wife and children, and then himself. Jocenus and the Rabbin alone remained. Their life was protracted to the last, that they might see everything performed according to their orders. Jocenus, being the chief Jew, was distinguished by the last mark of human respect in receiving his death from the consecrated hand of the aged Rabbin, who immediately after performed the melancholy duty on himself. All this was transacted in the depth of the night. In the morning the walls of the castle were seen wrapt in flames, and only a few miserable and pusillanimous beings, unworthy of the sword, were viewed on the battlements pointing to their extinct brethren. When they opened the gates of the castle, these men verified the prediction of their late Rabbin; for the multitude, bursting through the solitary courts, found themselves defrauded of their hopes, and in a moment avenged themselves on the feeble wretches who knew not to die with honour. ISAAC D’ISRAELI, 1793. THE EXPULSION FROM SPAIN, 1492 LOOK, they move! No comrades near but curses; Tears gleam in beards of men sore with reverses; Flowers from fields abandoned, loving nurses, Fondly deck the women’s raven hair. Faded, scentless flowers that shall remind them Of their precious homes and graves behind them; Old men, clasping Torah-scrolls, unbind them, Lift the parchment flags and silent lead. Mock not with thy light, Osun, our morrow; Cease not, cease not, Oye songs of sorrow; From what land a refuge can we borrow, Weary, thrust out, God-forsaken we? Could ye, suff’ring souls, peer through the Future, From despair ye would awake to rapture; Lo! The Genoese boldly steers to capture Freedom’s realm beyond an unsailed sea!26 L. A. FRANKL. (Trans. by M. D. Louis.) THE EXODUS (AUGUST 3, 1492) THE Spanish noon is a blaze of azure fire, and the dusty pilgrims crawl like an endless serpent along treeless plains and bleached high-roads, through rock-split ravines and castellated, cathedral-shadowed towns. 2. The hoary patriarch, wrinkled as an almond shell, bows painfully upon his staff. The beautiful young mother, ivory-pale, wellnigh swoons beneath her burden; in her large enfolding arms nestles her sleeping babe, round her knees flock her little ones with bruised and bleeding feet. ‘Mother, shall we soon be there?’ 3. The halt, the blind, are amid the train. Sturdy pack-horses laboriously drag the tented wagons wherein lie the sick athirst with fever. 4. The panting mules are urged forward by spur and goad; stuffed are the heavy saddle-bags with the wreckage of ruined homes. 5. Hark to the tinkling silver bells that adorn the tenderly carried silken scrolls. 6. Noble and abject, learned and simple, illustrious and obscure, plod side by side, all brothers now, all merged in one routed army of misfortune. 7. Woe to the straggler who falls by the wayside! No friend shall close his eyes. 8. They leave behind the grape, the olive, and the fig; the vines they planted, the corn they sowed, the garden-cities of Andalusia and Aragon, Estremadura and La Mancha, of Granada and Castile; the altar, the hearth, and the grave of their fathers. 9. The townsman spits at their garments, the shepherd quits his flock, the peasant his plough, to pelt with curses and stones; the villager sets on their trail his yelping cur. 10. Oh, the weary march! oh, the uptorn roots of home! oh, the blankness of the receding goal! 11. Listen to their lamentations. They that ate dainty food are desolate in the streets; they were reared in scarlet embrace dunghills. They flee away and wander about. Men say among the nations, They shall no more sojourn there; our end is near, our days are full, our doom is come. (Lam. 4.5, 15,18.) 12. Whither shall they turn? for the West hath cast them out, and the East refuseth to receive. EMMA LAZARUS, 1883. A SONG OF REDEMPTION SURELY a limit boundeth every woe, But mine enduring anguish hath no end; My grievous years are spent in ceaseless flow, My wound hath no amend. O’erwhelmed, my helm doth fail, no hand is strong To steer the bark to port, her longed-for aim. How long, OLord, wilt Thou my doom prolong? When shall be heard the Dove’s27 sweet voice of song? O leave us not to perish for our wrong, Who bear Thy Name! Wherefore wilt Thou forget us, Lord, for aye? Mercy we crave! O Lord, we hope in Thee alway, Our King will save! Wounded and crushed beneath my load Isigh, Despised and abject, outcast, trampled low; How long, OLord, shall Iof violence cry, My heart dissolve with woe? How many years without a gleam of light Has thraldom been our lot, our portion pain? With Ishmael28 as a lion in his might, And Persia as an owl of darksome night, Beset on either side, behold our plight Betwixt the twain. Wherefore wilt Thou forget us, Lord, for aye? Mercy we crave! O Lord, we hope in Thee alway, Our King will save! SOLOMON IBN GABIROL, 1050. (Trans. Nina Salaman.) SHYLOCK SHYLOCK is ‘the Jew that Shakespeare drew’. He is not the Jew of real life, even in the Middle Ages, stained as their story is with the hot tears—nay, the very heart’s blood—of the martyred race. The mediaeval Jew did not take vengeance on his cruel foes. Nay, more than this: with a sublime magnanimity he could actually preach and practise widest benevolence towards his oppressors. Throughout the Middle Ages, when Jews were daily plundered and tortured, and done to death ‘for the glory of God’, not a word was breathed against the morality of the victims. They suffered because they were heretics, because they would not juggle with their conscience and profess a belief that did not live in their souls. But Jewish ethics soared to still nobler heights. The Jew preserved his integrity in spite of his suffering; but more than this, he forgave—ay, even blessed—its authors. The Jews hunted out of Spain in 1492 were in turn cruelly expelled from Portugal. Some took refuge on the African coast. Eighty years later the descendants of the men who had committed or allowed these enormities were defeated in Africa, whither they had been led by their king, Dom Sebastian. Those who were not slain were offered as slaves at Fez to the descendants of the Jewish exiles from Portugal. ‘The humbled Portuguese nobles’, the historian narrates, ‘were comforted when their purchasers proved to be Jews, for they knew that they had humane hearts.’ MORRIS JOSEPH, 1891. ON THE EVE OF THE RE-SETTLEMENT INENGLAND THE Lord, blessed for ever, by His prophet Jeremiah (chap. 29. 7) gives it in command to the captive Israelites that were dispersed among the heathens, that they should continually pray for and endeavour the peace, welfare, and prosperity of the city wherein they dwelt and the inhabitants thereof. This the Jews have always done, and continue to this day in all their synagogues, with a particular blessing of the prince or magistrate under whose protection they live. And this the Right Honourable my Lord St.John can testify, who, when he was ambassador to the Lords the States of the United Provinces, was pleased to honour our synagogue at Amsterdam with his presence, where our nation entertained him with music and all expressions of joy and gladness, and also pronounced a blessing, not only upon His Honour then present, but upon the whole Commonwealth of England, for that they were a people in league and amity, and because we conceived some hopes that they would manifest towards us what we ever bare towards them, viz. all love and affection. MANASSEH BEN ISRAEL, 1656. JEWISH EMANCIPATION THE whole question of emancipation, as it concerns only our external condition, is in Judaism but of secondary interest. Sooner or later the nations will decide the question between right and wrong, between humanity and inhumanity; and the first awakening of a higher calling than the mere lust for possession and enjoyment, the first expression of a nobler recognition of God as the only Lord and Father, and of the earth as a Holy Land assigned by Him to all men for the fulfilment of their human calling—will find its expression everywhere in the emancipation of all who are oppressed, including the Jews. We have a higher object to attain, and this is entirely in our own hands—the ennobling of ourselves, the realization of Judaism by Jews. SAMSON RAPHAEL HIRSCH, 1836. (Trans. B. Drachmann.) IF the political privileges we have gained could in any way weaken our Jewish sympathies, they would have been purchased at a terrible cost, and would signally defeat the intentions of those who aided and laboured for the movement. BARON LIONEL DE ROTHSCHILD, 1869. THE JEWISH QUESTION TO approach the Jewish question is to be confronted with every great question of the day—social, political, financial, humanitarian, national, and religious. Each phase should be treated by an expert; but however discussed or dealt with, there is one point of view which should never be lost sight of, namely, the point of view of humanity. First and foremost we must be human if we would raise our voice on so human a theme. JOSEPHINE LAZARUS, 1892. EVERY country has the Jews it deserves. K. E. FRANZOS, 1875. TO base the appeal for justice to present-day Jewry upon the cultural services of ancient Israel would be treason to the inalienable rights of man. Apeople may for a time be robbed of these rights, but—whatever the alleged political reason for such a crime—it cannot be legally or equitably deprived of them. M. STEINSCHNEIDER, 1893. IN a free State, it is not the Christian that rules the Jew, neither is it the Jew that rules the Christian; it is Justice that rules. LEOPOLD ZUNZ, 1859. THE JEWS OF ENGLAND29 (1290–1902) AN Edward’s England spat us out—a band Foredoomed to redden Vistula or Rhine, And leaf-like toss with every wind malign. All mocked the faith they could not understand. Six centuries have passed. The yellow brand On shoulder nor on soul has left a sign, And on our brows must Edward’s England twine Her civic laurels with an equal hand. Thick-clustered stars of fierce supremacy Upon the martial breast of England glance! She seems of War the very Deity. Could aught remain her glory to enhance? Yea, for Icount her noblest victory Her triumph o’er her own intolerance. ISRAEL ZANGWILL, 1902. WELCOME OF THE HEBREW CONGREGATION, NEWPORT,30 RHODE ISLAND, U.S.A., TO GEORGE WASHINGTON SIR, Permit the Children of the Stock of Abraham to approach you with the most cordial affection and esteem for your person and merits, and to join with your fellow citizens in welcoming you to Newport. Deprived as we heretofore have been of the invaluable rights of free citizens, we now (with a deep sense of gratitude to the Almighty Disposer of all events) behold a Government erected by the Majesty of the people—a Government which to bigotry gives no sanction, to persecution no assistance, but generously affording to all, liberty of conscience, and immunities of citizenship, deeming every one, of whatever Nation, tongue, or language, equal parts of the great Government Machine. This so ample and extensive Federal Union, whose basis is Philanthropy, Mutual Confidence, and Public Virtue, we cannot but acknowledge to be the work of the great God, Who ruleth in the Armies of Heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth, doing whatever seemeth Him good. For all the blessings of civil and religious liberty which we enjoy under an equal and benign administration, we desire to send up our thanks to the Ancient of Days, the great Preserver of men, beseeching Him that the Angel who conducted our forefathers through the Wilderness into the Promised Land may graciously conduct you through all the difficulties and dangers of this mortal life. And when, like Joshua, full of days and full of honour, you are gathered to your Fathers, may you be admitted into the Heavenly Paradise to partake of the water of life and the tree of immortality. Done and signed by order of the Hebrew Congregation in Newport, Rhode Island, August 17th, 1790. MOSES SEIXAS. BRITISH CITIZENSHIP BRITISH patriotism is not the mediaeval demand that the citizens of any one country all think alike, that they be of the same blood, or that they even speak the same language. Britain’s mild sovereignty respects the personality of the ethnic groups found within the borders of its world-wide dominion; nay, it fosters the linguistic heritage, the national individuality even, of Irishman and Welshman, of French Canadian and Afrikander Boer, and encourages them all to develop along their own lines. Any one, therefore, who deems that patriotism exacts from him the purposeless sacrifice of his religious tradition and historic memory—that man is an alien in spirit to the Anglo-Saxon genius, and is unworthy of his British citizenship. J. H. HERTZ, 1915. THE RUSSIAN JEW31 SCIENTISTS tell us that coal is nothing but concentrated sunlight. Primeval forests that for years out of number had been drinking in the rays of the sun, having been buried beneath the ground and excluded from the reviving touch of light and air, were gradually turned into coal—black, rugged, shapeless, yet retaining all its pristine energy, which, when released, provides us with light and heat. The story of the Russian Jew is the story of the coal. Under a surface marred by oppression and persecution he has accumulated immense stores of energy, in which we may find an unlimited supply of light and heat for our minds and our hearts. All we need is to discover the process, long known in the case of coal, of transforming latent strength into living power. I. FRIEDLANDER, 1915. YIDDISH32 I HAVE never been able to understand how it is that a language spoken by perhaps more than half of the Jewish race should be regarded with such horror, as though it were a crime. Six million speakers are sufficient to give historic dignity to any language! One great writer alone is enough to make it holy and immortal. Take Norwegian. It is the language of only two million people. But it has become immortal through the great literary achievements of Ibsen. And even though Yiddish cannot boast of so great a writer as Ibsen, it has reason to be proud of numerous smaller men—poets, romancers, satirists, dramatists. The main point is that Yiddish incorporates the essence of a life which is distinctive and unlike any other. There is nothing of holiness in any of the outer expressions of life. The one and only thing holy is the human soul, which is the source and fount of all human effort. ISRAEL ZANGWILL, 1906. THERE is probably no other language in existence on which so much opprobrium has been heaped as on Yiddish. Such a bias can be explained only as a manifestation of a general prejudice against everything Jewish. LEO WIENER, 1899. RUSSO-JEWISH EDUCATION AMONG the Jews of Poland and Russia there was no learned estate, not because there were no scholars, but because the people itself was a nation of students. The ideal type for the Russian Jew was the Lamdan, the scholar. The highest ambition of the Russian Jew was that his sons, and if he had only daughters, that his sons-in-law should be Lomdim; and the greatest achievement of a man’s life was his ability to provide sufficiently for them, so that, relieved from economic cares, they might devote themselves unrestrictedly to Jewish learning. To be sure, this learning was one-sided. Yet it was both wide and deep, for it embraced the almost boundless domain of religious Hebrew literature, and involved the knowledge of one of the most complicated systems of law. The knowledge of the Hebrew prayers and the Five Books of Moses would not have been sufficient to save the Russian Jew from the most terrible opprobrium—that of being an Am-Haaretz, an ignoramus. The ability to understand a Talmudic text, which demands years of preparation, was the minimum requirement for one who wanted to be of any consequence in the community. I. FRIEDLANDER, 1913. PASSOVER IN OLD RUSSIA33 THE Passover season, when we celebrated our deliverance from the land of Egypt, and felt so glad and thankful as if it had only just happened, was the time our Gentile neighbours chose to remind us that Russia was another Egypt. It was not so bad within the Pale; but in Russian cities, and even more in the country districts, where Jewish families lived scattered by special permission of the police, who were always changing their minds about letting them stay, the Gentiles made the Passover a time of horror for the Jews. Somebody would start up that lie about murdering Christian children, and the stupid peasants would get mad about it, and fill themselves with vodka, and set out to kill the Jews. They attacked them with knives and clubs, and scythes and axes, killed them or tortured them, and burned their houses. This was called a ‘pogrom’. Jews who escaped the pogroms came with wounds on them, and horrible, horrible stories of little babies torn limb from limb before their mother’s eyes. Only to hear these things made one sob and sob and choke with pain. People who saw such things never smiled any more, no matter how long they lived; and sometimes their hair turned white in a day, and some people became insane on the spot. MARY ANTIN, 1911. THE POGROM OCTOBER, 1905 IT had already lasted two days. But as nobody dined, nobody exchanged greetings, and nobody thought of winding up the clock for the night (for people slept dressed, anywhere, on lofts, in sheds, or in empty railway carriages), all notion of time had disappeared. People only heard the incessant jingling of broken glass-panes. At this terrible sound, the arms stiffened and the eyes became distended with fright. Some distant houses were burning. Along the red-tinted street with the red pavement, there ran by a red man, whilst another red man stretched his arm, and from the tips of his fingers there broke forth quickly a sharp, snapping, cracking sound—and the running man dropped down. A strange, sharp cry, ‘They are shoo-ooting!’ passed along the street. Invisible and inexorable demons made their appearance. Houses and nurseries were broken in. Old men had their arms fractured; women’s white bosoms were trampled upon by heavy, dirty heels. Many were perishing by torture; others were burnt alive. Two persons were hiding in a dark cellar; an old man with his son, a schoolboy. The old man went up and opened the outer door again, to make the place look deserted by the owners. Amerchant had run in. He wept, not from fear but from feeling himself in security. ‘I have a son like you’, he said, tearfully. He then breathed heavily and nervously, and added reflectively, ‘Like you, my boy, yes!’ The master of the house caught the merchant by his elbow, pulled him close to himself, and whispered into his ear: ‘Hush! They might hear us!’ There they stood, expectant. Now and then, a rustling; an even, sleepless breathing could be heard. The brain cannot familiarize itself with these sounds in the darkness and silence. Perhaps they were asleep, none could tell. At night—it must have been late at night—another two stole in quietly. ‘Is it you?’ asked one of them, without seeing anybody, and the sudden sound of his voice seemed to light up the darkness for a moment. ‘Yes’, answered the schoolboy. ‘It’s all right!’ ‘Hush! They might hear you’, said the owner of the cellar, catching each of them by the arm and pulling them down. The new-comers placed themselves by the wall, while one of them was rubbing his forehead with his hand. ‘What is the matter?’ asked the schoolboy in a whisper. ‘It is blood.’ Then they grew silent. The injured man applied a handkerchief to his wound, and became quiet. There followed again a thick silence, untroubled by time. Again a sleepless breathing! On the top, underneath the ceiling, a very faint whiteness appeared. The schoolboy was asleep, but the other four raised their heads and looked up. They looked long, for about half an hour, so that their muscles were aching through the protracted craning of their necks. At last it became clear that it was a tiny little window through which dawn peeped in. Then hasty, frightened steps were heard, and there appeared a tall, coatless man, followed by a woman with a baby in her arms. The dawn was advancing, and one could read the expression of wild fear that stamped itself upon their faces. ‘This way! This way!’ whispered the man. ‘They are running after us, they are looking out for us’, said the woman. Her shoes were put on her bare feet, and her young body displayed strange, white, malignant spots, reminding one of a corpse. ‘They won’t find us; but, for God’s sake, be quiet!’ ‘They are close by in the courtyard. Oh! be quiet, be quiet....’ The wounded man got hold of the merchant and the owner by the hand, while the merchant seized the man who had no coat. There they stood, forming a live chain, looking on at the mother with her baby. All of a sudden there broke out a strange though familiar sound, so close and doomful. What doom it foreboded they felt at once, but their brains were loath to believe it. The sound was repeated. It was the cry of the infant. The merchant made a kindly face and said: ‘Baby is crying....’ ‘Lull him, my dear’, said he, rushing to the mother. ‘You will cause the death of us all.’ Everybody’s chest and throat gasped with faintness. The mother marched up and down the cellar lulling and coaxing. ‘You must not cry; sleep, my golden one ... It is I, your mother ... my heart....’ But the child cried on obstinately, wildly. There must have been something in the mother’s face that was not calculated to produce a tranquilizing effect. And now, in this warm and strange underground atmosphere, the woman’s brain wrenched out a wild, mad, idea. It seemed to her that she had read it in the eyes, in the suffering silence of these unknown people. And these unhappy, frightened men understood that she was thinking of them. They understood it by the unutterably mournful tenderness with which she chanted, while drinking in the infant’s eyes with her own. ‘He will soon fall asleep. Iknow. It is always like that; he cries for a moment, then he falls asleep at once. He is a very quiet boy.’ She addressed the tall man with a painful, insinuating smile. From outside there broke in a distant noise. Then came a thud, and a crack, shaking the air. ‘They are searching’, whispered the schoolboy. But the infant went on crying hopelessly. ‘He will undo us all’, blurted out the tall man. ‘I shall not give him away ... no, never!’ ejaculated the distracted mother. ‘O God’, whispered the merchant, and covered his face with his hands. His hair was unkempt after a sleepless night. The tall man stared at the infant with fixed, protruding eyes.... ‘I don’t know you’, the woman uttered, low and crossly, on catching that fixed look. ‘Who are you? What do you want of me?’ She rushed to the other men, but everybody drew back from her with fear. The infant was crying on, piercing the brain with its shouting. ‘Give it to me’, said the merchant, his right eyebrow trembling. ‘Children like me.’ All of a sudden it grew dark in the cellar; somebody had approached the little window and was listening. At this shadow, breaking in so suddenly, they all grew quiet. They felt that it was coming, it was near, and that not another second must be lost. The mother turned round. She stood up on her toes, and with high, uplifted arms she handed over her child to the merchant. It seemed to her that by this gesture she was committing a terrible crime ... that hissing voices were cursing her, rejecting her from heaven for ever and ever.... Strange to say, finding itself in the thick, clumsy, but loving hands of the merchant, the child grew silent. But the mother interpreted this silence differently. In sight of everybody the woman grew grey in a single moment, as if they had poured some acid over her hair. And as soon as the child’s cry died away, there resounded another cry, more awful, more shattering and heart-rending. The mother rose up on her toes; and grey, terrible, like the goddess of justice herself, she howled in a desperate, inhuman voice that brought destruction with it.... Nobody had expected that sudden madness. The schoolboy fell in a swoon. Afterwards, the newspapers reported details of the killing of six men and an infant by the mob; for none had dared to touch the mad old woman of twenty-six. OSSIP DYMOV, 1906. UNDER THE ROMANOFFS THE plaything of a heartless bureaucracy, the natural prey of all the savage elements of society, loaded with fetters in one place, and in another driven out like some wild beast, the Russian Jew finds that for him, at least, life is composed of little else than bitterness, suffering, and degradation. For magnitude and gloom the tragical situation has no parallel in history. Some six millions of human beings are unceasingly subjected to a State-directed torture which is both destructive and demoralizing, and constitutes at once a crime against humanity and an international perplexity. LUCIEN WOLF, 1912. EACH crime that wakes in man the beast, Is visited upon his kind. The lust of mobs, the greed of priest, The tyranny of kings, combined To root his seed from earth again, His record is one cry of pain. Coward? Not he, who faces death, Who singly against worlds has fought, For what? A name he may not breathe, For liberty of prayer and thought. EMMA LAZARUS, 1882. ‘SOLDIERS OF NICHOLAS’34 THERE was one thing the Gentiles might do to me worse than burning or rending. It was what was done to unprotected Jewish children who fell into the hands of priests or nuns. They might baptize me. That would be worse than death by torture. Every Jewish child had that feeling. There were stories by the dozen of Jewish boys who were kidnapped by the Czar’s agents and brought up in Gentile families till they were old enough to enter the army, where they served until forty years of age; and all those years the priests tried, by bribes and daily tortures, to force them to accept baptism, but in vain. This was the time of Nicholas I. Some of these ‘soldiers of Nicholas’, as they were called, were taken as little boys of seven or eight—snatched from their mothers’ laps. They were carried to distant villages, where their friends could never trace them, and turned over to some dirty, brutal peasant, who used them like slaves, and kept them with the pigs. No two were ever left together; and they were given false names, so that they were entirely cut off from their own world. And then the lonely child was turned over to the priests, and he was flogged and starved and terrified—a little helpless boy who cried for his mother; but still he refused to be baptized. The priests promised him good things to eat, fine clothes, and freedom from labour; but the boy turned away, and said his prayers secretly—the Hebrew prayers. As he grew older, severer tortures were invented for him; still he refused baptism. By this time he had forgotten his mother’s face, and of his prayers perhaps only the ‘Shema’ remained in his memory; but he was a Jew, and nothing would make him change. After he entered the army, he was bribed with promises of promotions and honours. He remained a private, and endured the cruellest discipline. When he was discharged, at the age of forty, he was a broken man, without a home, without a clue to his origin, and he spent the rest of his life wandering among Jewish settlements, searching for his family, hiding the scars of torture under his rags, begging his way from door to door. There were men in our town whose faces made you old in a minute. They had served Nicholas I, and come back, unbaptized. MARY ANTIN, 1911. DOWN here, in this world, Silent Bontzye’s death made no impression at all. Ask any one you like who Bontzye was, how he lived, and what he died of; whether of heart failure, or whether his strength gave out, or whether his back broke under a heavy load, and they won’t know. Perhaps, after all, he died of hunger. Bontzye lived quietly and died quietly. He passed through our world like a shadow. He lived like a little dun-coloured grain of sand on the sea-shore, among millions of his kind; and when the wind lifted him and blew him over to the other side of the sea, nobody noticed it. When he was alive, the mud in the street preserved no impression of his feet; after his death the wind overturned the little board on his grave. The grave-digger’s wife found it a long way off from the spot, and boiled a potful of potatoes over it. Three days after that, the grave-digger had forgotten where he had laid him. A shadow! His likeness remained photographed in nobody’s brain, in nobody’s heart; not a trace of him remained. ‘No kith, no kin!’ He lived and died alone. Had the world been less busy, some one might have remarked that Bontzye (also a human being) went about with two extinguished eyes and fearfully hollow cheeks; that even when he had no load on his shoulders his head drooped earthward as though, while yet alive, he were looking for his grave. When they carried Bontzye into the hospital, his corner in the underground lodging was soon filled—there were ten of his like waiting for it, and they put it up for auction among themselves. When they carried him from the hospital bed to the dead-house, there were twenty poor sick persons waiting for the bed. When he had been taken out of the dead-house, they brought in twenty bodies from under a building that had fallen in. Who knows how long he will rest in his grave? Who knows how many are waiting for the little plot of ground? A quiet birth, a quiet life, a quiet death, and a quieter burial. But it was not so in the Other World. There Bontzye’s death made a great impression. The blast of the great Messianic Shofar sounded through all the seven heavens; Bontzye Shweig has left the earth! The largest angels with the broadest wings flew about and told one another; Bontzye Shweig is to take his seat in the Heavenly Academy! In Paradise there was a noise and a joyful tumult: Bontzye Shweig! Just fancy! Bontzye Shweig! Little child-angels with sparkling eyes, gold thread-work wings, and silver slippers, ran delightedly to meet him. The rustle of the wings, the clatter of the little slippers, and the merry laughter of the fresh, rosy mouths, filled all the heavens and reached to the Throne of Glory. Abraham our father stood in the gate, his right hand stretched out with a hearty greeting, and a sweet smile lit up his old face. What are they wheeling through heaven? Two angels are pushing a golden arm-chair into Paradise for Bontzye Shweig. What flashed so brightly? They were carrying past a gold crown set with precious stones all for Bontzye Shweig. ‘Before the decision of the Heavenly Court has been given?’ ask the saints, not quite without jealousy. ‘Oh’, reply the angels, ‘that will be a mere formality. Even the prosecutor won’t say a word against Bontzye Shweig. The case will not last five minutes.’ Just consider! Bontzye Shweig! All this time, Bontzye, just as in the other world, was too frightened to speak. He is sure it is all a dream, or else simply a mistake. He dared not raise his eyes, lest the dream should vanish, lest he should wake up in some cave full of snakes and lizards. He was afraid to speak, afraid to move, lest he should be recognized and flung into the pit. He trembles and does not hear the angels’ compliments, does not see how they dance round him, makes no answer to the greeting of Abraham our father, and when he is led into the presence of the Heavenly Court he does not even wish it ‘Good morning!’ He is beside himself with terror. ‘Who knows what rich man, what rabbi, what saint, they take me for? He will come—and that will be the end of me!’ His terror is such, he never even hears the president call out: ‘The case of Bontzye Shweig!’ adding, as he hands the deeds to the advocate, ‘Read, but make haste!’ The whole hall goes round and round in Bontzye’s eyes; there is a rushing in his ears. And through the rushing he hears more and more clearly the voice of the advocate, speaking sweetly as a violin. ‘His name’, he hears, ‘fitted him like the dress made for a slender figure by the hand of an artist-tailor.’ ‘What is he talking about?’ wondered Bontzye, and he heard an impatient voice break in with: ‘No similes, please!’ ‘He never’, continued the advocate, ‘was heard to complain of either God or man; there was never a flash of hatred in his eye; he never lifted it with a claim on heaven.’ Still Bontzye does not understand, and once again the hard voice interrupts: ‘No rhetoric, please!’ ‘Job gave way—this one was more unfortunate.’ ‘Facts, dry facts.’ ‘He kept silent’, the advocate went on, ‘even when his mother died and he was given a stepmother at thirteen years old—a serpent, a vixen.’ ‘Can they mean me after all?’ thought Bontzye. ‘No insinuations against a third party’, said the president, angrily. ‘She grudged him every mouthful—stale, mouldy bread, tendons instead of meat—and she drank coffee with cream.’ ‘Keep to the subject’, ordered the president. ‘She grudged him everything but her finger-nails, and his black and blue body showed through the holes in his torn and fusty clothes. Winter time, in the hardest frost, he had to chop wood for her, barefoot in the yard; and his hands were too young and too weak, the logs too thick, the hatchet too blunt. But he kept silent, even to his father.’ ‘To that drunkard?’ laughs the accuser, and Bontzye feels cold in every limb. ‘And always alone’, he continued; ‘no playmates, no school, nor teaching of any kind—never a whole garment—never a free moment.’ ‘Facts, please!’ reminded the president. ‘He kept silent even later, when his father seized him by the hair in a fit of drunkenness and flung him out into the street on a snowy winter’s night. He quietly picked himself up out of the snow and ran whither his feet carried him. He kept silent all the way to the great town—however hungry he might be, he only begged with his eyes. Bathed in a cold sweat, crushed under heavy loads, his empty stomach convulsed with hunger—he kept silent. Bespattered with mud, spat at, driven with his load off the pavement and into the road among the cabs, carts, and tramways, looking death in the eyes every moment. He never calculated the difference between other people’s lot and his own—he kept silent. And he never insisted loudly on his pay; he stood in the doorway like a beggar, with a dog-like pleading in his eyes—‘Come again later!’ and he went like a shadow to come again later, and beg for his wage more humbly than before. He kept silent even when they cheated him of part, or threw in a false coin. ‘He took everything in silence.’ ‘They mean me after all’, thought Bontzye. ‘Once’, continued the advocate, after a sip of water, ‘a change came into his life: there came flying along a carriage on rubber tires, drawn by two runaway horses. The driver already lay some distance off on the pavement with a cracked skull, the terrified horses foamed at the mouth, sparks shot from their hoofs, their eyes shone like fiery lamps on a winter’s night—and in the carriage, more dead than alive, sat a man. ‘And Bontzye stopped the horses. And the man he had saved was a charitable Jew who was not ungrateful. He put the dead man’s whip into Bontzye’s hands, and Bontzye became a coachman. More than that, he was provided with a wife. And Bontzye kept silent!’ ‘Me, they mean me!’ Bontzye assured himself again, and yet had not the courage to give a glance at the Heavenly Court. He listens to the advocate further: ‘He kept silent also when his protector became bankrupt and did not pay him his wages. He kept silent when his wife ran away from him.’ ‘Me, they mean me!’ Now he is sure of it. ‘He kept silent even’, began the angelic advocate once more in a still softer and sadder voice, ‘when the same philanthropist paid all his creditors their due but him—and even when (riding once again in a carriage with rubber tires and fiery horses) he knocked Bontzye down and drove over him. He kept silent even in the hospital, where one may cry out. He kept silent when the doctor would not come to his bedside without being paid fifteen kopeks, and when the attendant demanded another five—for changing his linen. ‘He kept silent in the death struggle—silent in death. ‘Not a word against God; not a word against men! ‘Dixi!’ Once more Bontzye trembled all over. He knew that after the advocate comes the prosecutor. Who knows what he will say? Bontzye himself remembered nothing of his life. Even in the other world he forgot every moment what had happened in the one before. The advocate had recalled everything to his mind. Who knows what the prosecutor will not remind him of? ‘Gentlemen’, begins the prosecutor, in a voice biting and acid as vinegar—but he breaks off. ‘Gentlemen’, he begins again, but his voice is milder, and a second time he breaks off. Then from out the same throat comes in a voice that is almost gentle: ‘Gentlemen! He was silent! Iwill be silent too!’ There is a hush—and there sounds in front a new, soft, trembling voice: ‘Bontzye, my child!’ It speaks like a harp. ‘My dear child, Bontzye!’ And Bontzye’s heart melts within him. Now he would lift up his eyes, but they are blinded with tears; he never felt such sweet emotion before. ‘My child! Bontzye!’—no one, since his mother died, had spoken to him with such words in such a voice. ‘My child’, continues the presiding judge, ‘you have suffered and kept silent; there is no whole limb, no whole bone in your body without a scar, without a wound, not a fibre of your soul that has not bled—and you kept silent. There they did not understand. Perhaps you yourself did not know that you might have cried out, and that at your cry the walls of Jericho would have shaken and fallen. You yourself knew nothing of your hidden power. ‘In the other world your silence was not understood, but that is the World of Delusion; in the World of Truth you will receive your reward. The Heavenly Court will not judge you; the Heavenly Court will not pass sentence on you; they will not apportion you a reward. Take what you will! Everything is yours.’ Bontzye looks up for the first time. He is dazzled; everything shines and flashes and streams with light. ‘Taki—really?’ he asks, shyly. ‘Yes, really!’ answers the presiding judge, with decision; ‘really, Itell you, everything is yours; everything in heaven belongs to you. Because all that shines and sparkles is only the reflection of your hidden goodness, a reflection of your soul. You only take of what is yours.’ ‘Taki?’ asks Bontzye again, this time in a firmer voice. ‘Taki! taki! taki!’ they answer from all sides. ‘Well, if it is so’, Bontzye smiles, ‘Iwould like to have every day, for breakfast, a hot roll with fresh butter.’ The Court and the angels looked down, a little ashamed; the prosecutor laughed. J. L. PERETZ, 1894. (Trans. Helena Frank.) THE WATCH ON THE JORDAN36 (ZIONIST HYMN) LIKE the crash of the thunder Which splitteth asunder The flame of the cloud, On our ears ever falling A voice is heard calling From Zion aloud. ‘Let your spirits’ desires For the land of your sires Eternally burn; From the foe to deliver Our own holy river, To Jordan return.’ Where the soft-flowing stream Murmurs low as in dream There set we our watch! Our watchword, ‘The sword Of our land and our Lord’; By Jordan then set we our watch. Rest in peace, lovÉd land, For we rest not, but stand, Off-shaken our sloth. When the bolts of war rattle, To shirk not the battle We make thee our oath. As we hope for a heaven, Thy chains shall be riven, Thine ensign unfurled. And in pride of our race We will fearlessly face The might of the world. When our trumpet is blown, And our standard is flown, Then set we our watch! Our watchword, ‘The sword Of our land and our Lord’; By Jordan then set we our watch. Yea, as long as there be Birds in air, fish in sea, And blood in our veins; And the lions in might, Leaping down from the height, Shaking, roaring, their manes; And the dew nightly laves, The forgotten old graves Where Judah’s sires sleep; We swear, who are living, To rest not in striving, To pause not to weep. Let the trumpet be blown, Let the standard be flown, Now set we our watch; Our watchword, ‘The sword Of our land and our Lord’; In Jordan now set we our watch. N. H. IMBER. (Trans. I. Zangwill.) THE TRAGEDY OF ASSIMILATION WHAT I understand by assimilation is loss of identity. It is this kind of assimilation, with the terrible consequences indicated, that I dread most—even more than pogroms. It is a tragedy to see a great, ancient people, distinguished for its loyalty to its religion, and its devotion to its sacred Law, losing thousands every day by the mere process of attrition. It is a tragedy to see a language held sacred by all the world, in which Holy Writ was composed, which served as the depository of Israel’s greatest and best thoughts, doomed to oblivion. It is a tragedy to see the descendants of those who revealed religion to the world, and who developed the greatest religious literature in existence, so little familiar with real Jewish thought that they have no other interpretation to offer of Israel’s Scriptures, Israel’s religion, and Israel’s ideals and aspirations and hopes, than those suggested by their natural opponents, slavishly following their opinions, copying their phrases, and repeating their catchwords. Iam not accusing anybody. Iam only stating facts. We are helpless spectators of the Jewish soul wasting away before our very eyes. Now, the rebirth of Israel’s national consciousness and the revival of Judaism are inseparable. When Israel found itself, it found its God. When Israel lost itself, or began to work at its self-effacement, it was sure to deny its God. The selection of Israel, the indestructibility of God’s covenant with Israel, the immortality of Israel as a nation, and the final restoration of Israel to Palestine, where the nation will live a holy life, on holy ground, with all the wide-reaching consequences of the conversion of humanity, and the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth—all these are the common ideals and the common ideas that permeate the whole of Jewish literature extending over nearly four thousand years. S. SCHECHTER, 1906. THERE has been one short period in modern Jewish history when Israel grew utterly weary of toil and trouble, and began to take pleasure in the fleeting hour, as other nations do. But this was a mere passing phase, a temporary loss of consciousness. The prophetic spirit cannot be crushed, except for a time. It comes to life again, and masters the Prophet in his own despite. So, too, the prophetic People regained consciousness in its own despite. The Spirit that called Moses thousands of years ago and sent him on his mission, against his own will, now calls again the generation of to-day, saying, ‘And that which cometh into your mind shall not be at all; in that ye say, We will be as the nations ... As Ilive, saith the Lord God, surely with a mighty hand ... will Ibe king over you.’ ACHAD HA’AM, 1904. (Trans. Leon Simon.) THE VALLEY OF DRY BONES THE hand of the Lord was upon me, and the Lord carried me out in a spirit, and set me down in the midst of the valley, and it was full of bones; and He caused me to pass by them round about, and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; and, lo, they were very dry. And He said unto me: ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ And Ianswered: ‘OLord God, Thou knowest’. Then he said unto me: ‘Prophesy over these bones, and say unto them: Oye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord: Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones: Behold, Iwill cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live. And Iwill lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live; and ye shall know that Iam the Lord.’ So Iprophesied as Iwas commanded; and as Iprophesied, there was a noise, and behold a commotion, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. And Ibeheld, and, lo, there were sinews upon them, and flesh came up, and skin covered them above; but there was no breath in them. Then said He unto me: ‘Prophesy unto the breath, prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath: Thus saith the Lord God: Come from the four winds, Obreath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.’ So Iprophesied as He commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood up upon their feet, an exceeding great host. Then He said unto me: ‘Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel; behold, they say: Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost: we are clean cut off. Therefore prophesy, and say unto them: Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, Iwill open your graves, and cause you to come up out of your graves, OMy people; and Iwill bring you into the Land of Israel. And ye shall know that Iam the Lord, when Ihave opened your graves, and caused you to come up out of your graves, OMy people. And Iwill put My spirit in you, and ye shall live, and Iwill place you in your own land; and ye shall know that Ithe Lord have spoken, and performed it, saith the Lord.’ EZEKIEL 37. 1–14. PALESTINE THE very name Palestine stirs within us the most elevated sentiments. There is no country, no matter how important in itself, to which such sublime memories attach themselves. From our earliest youth, our imagination, nourished on the sacred traditions of the Hebrew Scriptures, loves to transport itself to those heights where of old pious souls heard in each echo the voice of God, where each stone is a symbol of divine revelation, each ruin a monument of divine anger. The followers of three religions turn with veneration towards these ruins of 2,000 years. All find consolation in that land, some by its memories, others by its hopes. Even sceptics are ready to render historic justice to the great events of which it was the theatre: thus the description of this land and its story have a palpitating interest for all. S. MUNK, 1863. THE LAST CORPSES IN THE DESERT UP, wanderers in the wild, and come away! Long is the journey yet and long the fray. Enough of roving now in desert places— There lies a great, wide road before your faces. But forty years of wandering have sped, And yet we leave six hundred thousand dead. Dishonoured let them lie, across the pack They bore from out of Egypt on their back. Sweet be their dreams of garlic and of leek, Of flesh-pots wide, of fatty steam and reek. Around the last dead slave, maybe to-night, The desert wind with desert beast shall fight, And joyously to-morrow’s dawning shine Upon the firstlings of a mighty line, And lest the sands with all their sleepers start, Let each man’s footfall sound but in his heart. Let each man in his heart hear God’s voice say: ‘A new land’s border shalt thou cross to-day! ‘No more the quails from heav’n, no more light bread— The bread of toil, fruit of the hands, instead. ‘No more wild tents pitched under heaven’s dome— Another kind shall ye set up for home. ‘Beneath His sky, the wilderness outside, God has another world that reaches wide, ‘Beyond the howling desert with its sand, There waits beneath His stars the Promised Land.’ CH. N. BYALIK, 1896. (Trans. Helena Frank.) ZIONISM ONE thing is to me certain, high above any doubt: the movement will continue. Iknow not when Ishall die, but Zionism will never die. THEODOR HERZL, 1898. ZIONISM is the lineal heir of the attachment to Zion which led the Babylonian exiles under Zerubbabel to rebuild the Temple, and which flamed up in the heroic struggle of the Maccabees against Antiochus Epiphanes. The idea that it is a set-back of Jewish history is a controversial fiction. The great bulk of the Jewish people have throughout their history remained faithful to the dream of a restoration of their national life in Judea. The Zionist movement is to-day the greatest popular movement that Jewish history has ever known. LUCIEN WOLF, 1910, in Encyclopaedia Britannica. ALL over the world Jews are resolved that our common Judaism shall not be crushed out by short-sighted fanatics for local patriotism; and, in so far as Zionism strengthens this sense of the solidarity of our common Judaism, we are all Zionists. I. ABRAHAMS, 1905. THE BRITISH DECLARATION ON PALESTINE37 NOVEMBER 2, 1917—APRIL 24, 1920 ENGLAND, great England, whose gaze sweeps over all the seas—free England—will understand and sympathize with the aims and aspirations of Zionism. THEODOR HERZL, 1900. FOR the first time since the days of Cyrus, a great Government has hailed the Jews as one among the family of nations. This is much more than a Jewish triumph. It is a triumph for civilization and for humanity. It will mean releasing for mankind, as a great spiritual force, the soul of our people. JEWISH CHRONICLE, NOVEMBER 9, 1917. A LAND focuses a people, and calls forth, as nothing else can, its spiritual potentialities. The resurrection of the Jewish nation on its own soil will reopen its sacred fountains of creative energy. Remember the days of old. After the proclamation issued by Cyrus, the mass of the Jewish people still remained in Babylon. All told only 42,000 men, women, and children took advantage of the king’s proclamation and followed Ezra back to Zion, the land of their fathers. But compare the contribution to civilization made by these men with that of their brethren who remained in the Dispersion. The handful of ‘Zionists’ and their descendants, because living on their own soil, changed the entire future of mankind. They edited and collected the Prophets, wrote some of the fairest portions of the Scriptures, formed the canon of the Bible, and gave the world its monotheistic religions. As in the days of Cyrus, the overwhelming majority of Jews of to-day will continue to live where they now are, praying and working in absolute loyalty for the land of their birth or adoption, and ever beholding their peace in its welfare. Only a remnant shall return. But it is the national rejuvenation of that remnant that will open a new chapter in the annals of the human spirit. J. H. HERTZ, 1917. FOR millions of poor and hundreds of thousands of prosperous Jews Mr.Balfour’s announcement had the serene sound of a long-expected Messianic message. The day that witnessed Great Britain’s decision to stake the whole of the Empire’s power in the Jewish cause is one which can never be blotted out from the world’s history. MAXIMILIAN HARDEN, 1917. JUDAISM AND THE NEW JUDEA I THE return to Zion must be preceded by our return to Judaism. THEODOR HERZL, 1897. ISRAEL is a nation by reason only of his religion, by his possession of the Torah. SAADYAH GAON, 933. ISRAEL, to the Rabbis at least, is not a nation by virtue of race or of certain peculiar political combinations. The brutal Torah-less nationalism promulgated in certain quarters would have been to them just as hateful as the suicidal Torah-less universalism preached in other quarters. And if we could imagine for a moment Israel giving up its allegiance to God, its Torah, and its divine institution, the Rabbis would be the first to sign its death warrant as a nation. S. SCHECHTER, 1909. WE will return to Zion as we went forth, bringing back the faith we carried away with us. MORDECAI M. NOAH, 1824. II ISRAEL’S contribution to the common treasure of humanity will ever be primarily religious. Wide sympathy, ready help, and absolute self-determination must therefore be accorded in the New Judea to Jewish religious learning, Jewish religious institutions, and Jewish religious life. They alone contain the secret of Israel’s immortality. The story of Israel’s ancient kinsmen—Moab, Ammon, Edom—though these remained on their own soil, loses itself in the sands of the desert, while the story of Israel issues in eternity. Why? Israel alone had the Torah, and it is that which endowed him with deathlessness. And Israel will remain deathless—as long as Israel continues to cling to the Torah. Without the Torah, Israel’s story will also lose itself in the sands of the desert, even on its own soil. The New Judea must be the spiritual descendant of old Judea, and the mission of Judea, new or old, is first of all to be Judea. J. H. HERTZ, 1918. I LIKE to think of Jewish History as standing ever at the centre point of its path—having as much to look forward to as to look back upon; and the events of to-day, with their special message to Israel, must surely fortify us in this view, and speed us to make good our efforts for our people and for the nations. A. EICHHOLZ, 1917.
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