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By
the Rev. S. M. Isaacs.
In an age like the present, when the most startling
theories are mooted, the most pernicious doctrines disseminated, and the
strangest systems propagated regarding our religious polity, it becomes
every man in whom the latent spark of religion is not extinct, to employ
all the means in his power to prevent the theorist from putting his
visionary schemes into practice, to thwart the worldling in his
dangerous doctrines, and to counteract the copyist in his onward course.
Carrying out this principle to its fullest extent, I take up my pen, not
to exhibit the “cacoethes scribendi,” nor to cater to the taste of
the innovator, not for self-aggrandizement, nor for fleeting popularity;
but for the sole aim and purpose of demonstrating to the Judaic world,
that the system we have followed in our dark days, and our brighter
ones, has performed all it was destined to accomplish; and to adduce
evidence to prove that reforming our system of worship as regards its
spiritual affairs, will entail danger on our nationality, and mainly
tend to remove the landmarks which were erected by prudence and caution,
and which hitherto have been sufficient to guide the pilgrim of hope to
the regions of immortality.
In order that I may be properly understood, I will
first define my position, lest on the one hand I be accused of
Rabbinism, or on the other hand of innovation. My object is neither to
defend the saints of antiquity, nor to hurl down their appointment; but
to prove, from facts, that our system of worship, apart from its temporalities,
is the best of all systems; and to adduce evidence that adding or
diminishing, abrogating or altering our form of prayers, handed down to
us from the Men of the Great Synod, אנשי
כנסת הגדולה
and other saints of a later date, at the will or caprice of men, who,
however well-intentioned, are yet tinctured with the spirit of the age,
and not capable of judging correctly or dispassionately—that reforms
so instituted—will lead to inevitable ruin on our polity, and tend to
unfetter the chain by which we have ever been riveted in union and in
love.
Our system, tested by experience, ripened by age,
was, in its primary nature, intended to be distinct from that of other
nations in its every form. Our records testify that whenever we retained
its distinctive features we prospered, whenever we were unmindful of the
distinction, we became enthralled in misery and ruin. We were destined
to be “a peculiar people;” and this peculiarity was to manifest
itself in the Israelite wherever he might be located, and it was to be
apparent to the naked eye.—Like the prophets of the Lord, who became
the instruments of his will, selected for that purpose, so the Jew was
to be the living witness of the unity of God. Trained for that destiny,
the Jew, as taught by Moses and the prophets, was to be traced in his
appearance, in his moral and social duties, and mainly through his
religious obligations.
Respecting
his appearance, it may be averred, without the fear of contradiction,
that the Jew may at once be recognized by the “distinctive” feature.
It cannot be considered Asiatic, or the more fanciful term orientalist,
it is strictly Jewish. Hence our sages have aptly said אף
על פי שחטא
ישראל הוא “Although he
sins he is still an Israelite.” Let him eat forbidden viands, the
remark will be, “the Jew eats that which his law forbids;” let him
intermarry among strangers to his creed, the Jew still clings to him;
let him renounce his faith, the “converted Jew” becomes his name;
the features may lose something of the expression of benevolence, but
the Jew is there, to haunt him to his dying hour; it is the monitor
which troubles him in all his paths; it is the shadow which darkens his
course. We will not enter into so complex a subject as the cause of this
peculiarity; it is sufficient that the cause exists; and, as Jews, we
feel grateful to the Omniscient that He has so distinguished us. Let us
meet each other, either in the torrid or frigid zone, no introduction is
required, no ceremony is requisite; simultaneously we are impressed with
the conviction that we are Jews, that we serve one God; from that moment
we become one, we cheer each other, we inquire respecting our nation,
and direct each other’s mental gaze to the land of promise.—Socially
we have also our peculiarity, a distinctive feature; our domestic hearth
is indescribable, it is an Eden of this world. The marriage of a Jew and
Jewess becomes the harbinger of bliss; aware of the awful responsibility
that state enjoins, all its weighty matters have erst been calculated,
and it is a phenomenon to see the home of peace swept by a blast of war.
A divorced woman is a subject spoken of in the Law; but scarcely found
in practice. Our children become the counterpart of ourselves, their
entrance into the world is heralded forth in prayer, and, whilst yet
lisping their first infantile words, they are taught that there is one
God and no other. It is spoken to them at dawn of day, repeated at noon,
and reiterated at close of evening. We train them for this world and the
next, and the “distinctive” mark stamps its immortal impress on
their minds. We recount to them that we are the chosen people, that the
law given to our forefathers is the book of life to the world; we detail
to them our golden age, and our iron pilgrimage; we inform them that the
greatest men of antiquity were Israelites, and we train them to emulate
each other in virtuous deeds.—Extending our remarks as to our social
condition, we refer to the term “friend,”
as understood by us, and find in it all that can render man dear to man.
To serve a friend, we surrender every selfish feeling. Animated by
similar principles we, in heart-stirring emulation, sharpen each
other’s understanding as “iron sharpens iron” ברזל בברזל
יחד׃ When we behold a friend in distress, we
disregard time, distance or purse, but offer every thing on
friendship’s shrine. We allow no Israelite to become mendicant; but
think it only a portion of our duty to wipe the eye moistened by tears,
to remove distress from the heir of grief, and to use all energetic
means to prevent a few being poor. Morally we have likewise our
peculiarity, “a distinctive feature.” Our moral eye looks at a
glance through the world, and analytically surveys the condition of
Israel throughout its dispersion. We smile with approval when we read of
any thing that may tend to the credit of our nation, we become sad when
we peruse any subject that may degrade our people. Schooled by adversity
we have been taught the lessen of unity; it matters not where the wrong
is performed, the Jew feels the smart wheresoever he may dwell; it is of
no impart where the good is done, the Israelite takes the credit,
wheresoever he may be located. The state of Jewish morals will bear the
strictest scrutiny. Wherever a Jewish family take up their residence, it
is a safe guarantee that they become good neighbours, excellent
citizens, and deeply anxious for the prosperity of the land they adopt.
This is not confined to the present era: but in the darkest ages, where
superstition and bigotry inflicted their dreadful wounds, the Jew, in
affliction, remained loyal to the land that oppressed him; and it is but
reasonable to suppose that increased liberality tends to increased
loyalty.
Having
thus cursorily glanced at our social and moral condition, and
demonstrated that it is peculiar and distinctive, we become impressed
with the soundness of the system, the excellence of its working, and, as
a natural consequence, it must be a matter of regret that any thing
should occur which may mar our happiness, counteract our destiny, or
destroy our unity. It may perhaps be asked, why speculate on a theme
which is visionary? If your system has been tried by affliction, and
stood the test, why fear for it when the liberality of the world has
manifested itself in every way? To be candid, this is my fear: I fear
not the world. I fear Israel, lest they should lose the
“distinctive,” since יפה
עניות
לישראל “Adversity has ever been
good for Israel.” When the iron entered their soul, they looked to God
and became consoled in affliction; but when they prospered, unmindful of
their destiny, they mingled with the nations and became ensnared in
their system. Morally and socially this might perhaps be no barrier to
their happiness; but religiously it ever has and ever must tend to
Israel’s ruin. Our religious system is peculiar and distinct; those
landmarks removed, we become engulfed in the abyss of deism or
infidelity, and the vine (Israel) which was brought from Egypt, whose
low-hanging tendrils now sweep the earth, will deteriorate—its
branches will become engrafted with those of others; and, although it
might continue to flourish and Israel remain a people, yet a branch
might be snapped from the tree of Judaism which never can be replaced.
It
may, however, be urged, that what has been advanced does not meet the
question, that all which has been stated has reference to our moral and
social condition, whilst the religious system remains untouched. This is
precisely as intended; having adduced sufficient to show that the
superstructure is good, we need scarcely look at the foundation. But, as
some Israelite, with new ideas, may argue that we shrink from the
question, we will, even at the expense of being considered tedious,
extend our remarks, to demonstrate that our religious system is
calculated for all times and seasons, and that, in reforming that
system, we shall become copyists, in lieu of being original, and the
ultimate result will be a total loss of nationality, an extinction of
that distinctive condition which should ever mark our course, and an
overthrow of that polity which has been our consolation in adversity,
and which should continue our boast in prosperity. Our religious system
is calculated for all times and seasons. It consists of a code of
prayers, selections from the learned of antiquity, and a compendium of
all that is required from the earthworm wherewith to address his
heavenly Father. The synagogue is the shrine, where the mind embued with
grief, the heart overflowing with gratitude, should in unison of feeling
address the living God. It is the fane where spirit should commune with
spirit; it is the school in which Ezra taught Israel their law and its
requirements. And to this theme should the eye of the soul be directed;
the law and its obligations have ever been its ruling star, hence its
perpetuity. But, say the men of the new world, “The system was suited
for by-gone days, we live in an enlightened era, we want to be impressed
with the prayers, we wish our place of worship to have a more modern
appearance, we require music to arouse the soul; in fine, we want to
surpass our neighbours in all that appertains to religious worship.”
The first proposition is certainly such as no one can deny; we should be
impressed with the prayers. But may it not be asked where the fault
lies: is it in the prayers or in ourselves? It is in the latter; we have
been unmindful of our duty, unimpressed with our highborn destiny; the
remnant of our departed greatness has been forsaken, we have despised
the child of Heaven (the Hebrew language) deriding her delightful,
energetic and philosophical worth. Unbefriended and contemned, we have
committed our charge in a frail bark to the streams of time, to the
mercy of its waves; we have left our heirloom to strangers, our language
to be sedulously cultivated by the biblical student of every sect,
whilst we, as Hebrews, are alienated from its language. Instead then of
censuring a system, let us be humiliated ourselves, let our energies be
directed to suit ourselves to the system, not to measure the system by
our own incapability, let our reforming Hazanim, instead of wasting
their time in traducing the Rabbins, exert their latent talent in having
the Hebrew language cultivated by every son of Israel.—But there are
other theories. “Why should not an organ form a part of the system?
was it not employed in the temple worship? does it not arouse the soul
to duty?” This is all special pleading. The organ is not desired
because its notes reverberated in the East, but because it is employed
in the churches of the West; because our neighbours of other creeds have
an organ, we are desirous of assimilating our system to theirs. And here
is the danger; it is not the last stroke that fells the tree, but the
slow sapping means which accelerate its fall. It is an innovation on the
distinctive feature which characterizes our system.
Our
religious system is one of humility; the primitive Hebrews in singleness
of purpose and ardency of attachment, made the law their guide, and in
its pages they found והצנע
לכת עם אלהיך
“thou shalt walk humbly with thy God;” but those who desire these
changes, however sincere their profession and earnest their intention,
with regret be it said, they are not influenced by humility, but by
religious pride, which has proved the stumbling-block of thousands.
Goaded on by its influence, they become the obsequious slaves to a host
of erring and blind impulses, and call fashion religion, religion
fashion. They would have the most sacred rites disregarded; and they
call that religion which meets their views. They would have a system of
Judaism unknown to the ancients, and even now unacceptable to
ninety-nine out of every hundred Hebrews with whom the world abounds. It
is this pride which carries men to the most violent extremes; in the
excess of folly, causing them to rush where angels scarcely tread. They
would change this, and alter that, and proceed in their career, until
sanctity, in its most venerable associations, becomes desecrated by the
sacrilegious hand of pride; till the whole fabric of our religious
polity becomes a mutilated structure soon to fall; till Judaism, as
characterized by its distinctive feature, be entirely destroyed, and
give place to a chameleon state; till the elder brother of the family of
worshippers squanders away the substance which primogeniture had given
him, and borrows from his younger brethren a few miserable rags,
wherewith to deck out his person, in the hope that he may, thus attired,
enter the portals of heaven. From the dread moment this spirit gains an
entrance into the human heart, it will seek to extend its influence; in
its overwhelming self-sufficiency, it will enlarge or contract, build up
or pluck down, unite or sever. In a word, this turbulent, ungovernable
spirit will be satisfied with nothing short of a total renunciation of
every thing that bears a Jewish appearance.—They will first ask for an
organ; and, in order to give stability to their doctrine, they will
consult their oracle, their minister; he, desirous of bringing his
people to worship, readily makes the required concession, vainly
imagining that this musical religion will be the summum bonum of their
desire. But, alas! it is but the means to an end. When once we surrender
a point to the worldling, the citadel will soon be stormed; all that is
sanctified by age will be destroyed; and a new system will spring forth,
suited to true taste of those who have no respect for age. To avoid this
dangerous declivity, it has been aptly said by our expositors on the 3d
c. 7th v. of Zachariah, עשו
משמרת
למשמרתי “Make ye a fence to
my fence,” that no inroad be made on the really sacred and inviolable.
This bears particular reference to our system of worship; and its
abrogation would endanger our whole religious polity.
Extending
our remarks respecting the organ, we shall have additional reasons for rejecting it as an adjunct to prayer.
Looking retrospectively at the time it was mooted in Hamburgh, some
twenty-five years since, we find that all the theologians of that day
rejected it, not alone as an innovation, but as a direct prohibition, as
a system unknown to the ancients, in their Synagogues, and as opposed to
the spirit in which we should address the Deity, who requires no
mediator of wood, but accepts the prayer of the meek and lowly. It is,
however, urged that an organ was employed in the Temple. With safety I
could reject this as visionary, and assert that עגב
(Psalm 150. 4.) anglicised organ, is in no way applicable to the organ
as used in churches, but that its proper meaning is yet enshrouded in
mystery. But by acting thus we should concede a point against our
inclination. We have no Temple, nor should we imitate Temple worship;
this will be time enough when the “sheep return to their fold.” At
present we have Synagogues, and the object should be to hold on to the
religious system as practised in days of yore. In referring to Nehemiah and Ezra we perceive that their energies were
directed to collect and compose the prayers in the pure original form of
language; but music was no part of their polity; “We had hung our
harps upon the willows.”—Our system must retain its distinctive
feature; we have one God, one law, one system, and should have one code
of prayers. But the moment an inroad is made on the latter, it matters
not what reasoning is employed, it is replete with danger, and its
tendency will be to subvert all that the ravages of time have spared. To
illustrate the force of this argument we will use words employed by men
who, unmindful of their origin and former avocation, ask us, “Who were
the Rabbins that they should make laws to bind us?” It would be easy
to assert, that they were men whose lives were devoted to prayer and to
piety, whose energies were employed for the salvation of Israel, and
whose mental eyes looked deeply into the future. But, for the sake of
argument, let us allow that they were narrow-minded, superstitious, and
cynical: can we then be safe in rejecting a system, which they did not
establish, but merely fortified? Can we proceed without our rabbinical
code? How can we celebrate feast or fast, joy or sorrow? How perform any
of the religious rites the Mosaic code enjoins? Are the reformers ready
to become Caraites קראים?—or
shall we be left to the guidance of those who think self-denial forms no
part of religion? No, our system has outlived all others, and its sun will continue to illumine the house of
Israel when we shall be forgot as the “dead from the heart.” Let us,
in the words of Mendelssohn, continue to hold on to our system, until a
power equal to that which enjoined it shall order its abrogation. We
have gone too far already, there is a moral cowardice pervading our
polity sufficient to stunt the growth of every plant of Judaism; we have
become unmindful of our high-born destiny, our patriarchs’ names adorn
the head of Christian families, whilst we name our children after modern
heroes; we have copied the manners of those among whom we have the
happiness to dwell beyond the bounds of prudence; we leave no
מזוזה on our doors lest our neighbours
should see them, we lay no תפלין on our
arms lest our Christian friends should think our religion a mystery; we
partake of their viands lest they should think us unsocial; we visit
their churches lest they should deem us irreligious. Heaven forbid that
we should make this sweeping assertion against the collective body: it
is intended against individuals; and to demonstrate that Judaism has
borrowed from those it was destined to supply. Let us, then, shun the
meshes of reform, but continue true to the system as practised in days
of yore; let us cling to our God, who supported us under the severest
trials, who conducted us safely through numberless perils, smoothed our
passage through the most tempestuous paths, and be impressed with the
radiant message, that the beauties of nature shall fade, the whole
visible world sink in endless night, but Israel shall survive, and be
“saved an everlasting salvation.”
New
York, August, 5604.
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