[Studies in Judaism: First Series]

XII. The Child in Jewish Literature

“I saw a Jewish lady only yesterday with a child at her knee, and from whose face towards the child there shone a sweetness so angelical that it seemed to form a sort of glory round both. I protest I could have knelt before her, too, and adored in her the divine beneficence in endowing us with the maternal storgé which began with our race and sanctifies the history of mankind.” These words, which are taken from Thackeray’s Pendennis, may serve as a starting-point for this paper. The fact that the great student of man perceived this glory just round the head of a Jewish lady rouses in me the hope that the small student of letters may, with a little search, be able to discover in the remains of our past many similar traces of this divine beneficence and sanctifying sentiment. Certainly the glimpses which we shall catch from the faded leaves of ancient volumes, dating from bygone times, will not be so bright as those which the novelist was so fortunate as to catch from the face of a lady whom he saw but the previous day. The mothers and fathers, about whom I am going to write in this essay, have gone long ago, and the objects of their anxiety and troubles have also long ago vanished. But what the subject will lose in brightness, it may perhaps gain in reality and intensity. A few moments of enraptured devotion do not make up the saint. It is a whole series of feelings and sentiments betrayed on different occasions, expressed in different ways, a whole life of sore troubles, of bitter disappointments, but also moments of most elevated joys and real happiness.

And surely these manifestations of the divine beneficence, which appear in their brightest glory in the literature of every nation when dealing with the child, shine strongest in the literature of the Jewish nation. In it, to possess a child was always considered as the greatest blessing God could bestow on man, and to miss it as the greatest curse. The patriarch Abraham, with whom Israel enters into history, complains—“Oh Lord, what wilt Thou give me, seeing I go childless!”

The Rabbis regarded the childless man as dead, whilst the Cabbalist in the Middle Ages thought of him who died without posterity as of one who had failed in his mission in this world, so that he would have to appear again on our planet to fulfil this duty. To trace out the feelings which accompanied the object of their greatest anxiety, to let them pass before the reader in some way approaching to a chronological order, to draw attention to some points more worthy of being emphasised than others, is the aim of this essay.

I said that I propose to treat the subject in chronological order. I meant by this that I shall follow the child in the different stages through which it has to pass from its birth until it ceases to be a child and attains its majority. This latter period is the beginning of the thirteenth year in the case of a female, and the beginning of the fourteenth year in the case of a male. I shall have occasion later on to examine this point more closely.

But there is the embryo-period which forms a kind of preliminary stage in the life of the child, and plays a very important part in the region of Jewish legends. Human imagination always occupies itself most with the things of which we know least. And so it got hold of this semi-existence of man, the least accessible to experience and observation, and surrounded it by a whole cycle of legends and stories. They are too numerous to be related here. But I shall hint at a few points which I regard as the most conspicuous features of these legends.

These legends are chiefly based on the notion of the pre-existence of the soul on the one hand, but on the other hand they are a vivid illustration of the saying of the Fathers, “Thou art born against thy will.” Thus the soul, when it is brought before the throne of God, and is commanded to enter into the body, pleads before Him: “O Lord, till now have I been holy and pure; bring me not into contact with what is common and unclean.” Thereupon the soul is given to understand that it was for this destiny alone that it was created. Another remarkable feature is the warning given to man before his birth that he will be responsible for his actions. He is regularly sworn in. The oath has the double purpose of impressing upon him the consciousness of his duty to lead a holy life, and of arming him against the danger of allowing a holy life to make him vain. As if to render this oath more impressive, the unborn hero is provided with two angels who, besides teaching him the whole of the Torah, take him every morning through paradise and show him the glory of the just ones who dwell there. In the evening he is taken to hell to witness the sufferings of the reprobate. But such a lesson would make free will impossible. His future conduct would only be dictated by the fear of punishment and hope of reward. And the moral value of his actions also depends, according to Jewish notions, upon the power to commit sin. Thus another legend records: “When God created the world, He produced on the second day the angels with their natural inclinations to do good, and the absolute inability to commit sin. On the following days again He created the beasts with their exclusively animal desires. But He was pleased with neither of these extremes. If the angels follow my will, said God, it is only on account of their impotence to act in the opposite direction. I shall therefore create man, who will be a combination of both angel and beast, so that he will be able to follow either the good or evil inclination. His evil deeds will place him beneath the level of animals, whilst his noble aspirations will enable him to obtain a higher position than angels.” Care is therefore taken to make the child forget all it has seen and heard in these upper regions. Before it enters the world an angel strikes it on the upper lip, and all his knowledge and wisdom disappear at once. The pit in the upper lip is a result of this stroke, which is also the cause why children cry when they are born.

As to the origin of these legends, the main features of which are already to be found in the Talmud, I must refer the reader to the researches of Löw and others.²³⁸ Here we have only to watch the effect which these legends had upon the minds of Jewish parents. The newly born child was in consequence looked upon by them as a higher being, which, but a few seconds before, had been conversing with angels and saints, and had now condescended into our profane world to make two ordinary mortals happy. The treatment which the child experienced from its parents, as well as from the whole of the community, was therefore a combination of love and veneration. One may go even further and say that the belief in these legends determines greatly the destination of the child. What other destination could a being of such a glorious past have than to be what an old German Jewish poem expressed in the following lines:—

Geboren soll es wehren

Zu Gottes Ehren.

“The child should be born to the honour of God.” The mission of the child is to glorify the name of God on earth. And the whole bringing up of the child in the old Jewish communities was more or less calculated to this end. The words of the Bible, “And ye shall be unto me a kingdom of priests,” were taken literally. Every man felt it his duty to bring up his children, or at least one member of his family, for this calling. How they carried out this programme we shall see later on.

Now, regarding almost every infant as a predestined priest, and thinking of it as having received a certain preparation for this calling before it came into this world, we cannot wonder that the child was supposed to show signs of piety from the days of its earliest existence, and even earlier. Thus we read that even the unborn children joined in with the chorus on the Red Sea and sang the Song (of Moses). David, again, composed Psalms before perceiving the face of this world. On the Day of Atonement they used to communicate to the unborn child, through the medium of its mother, that on this great day it had to be satisfied with the good it had received the day before. And when a certain child, afterwards named Shabbethai, refused to listen to such a request, R. Johanan applied to it the verse from the Psalm, “The wicked are estranged from the womb.” Indeed, Shabbethai turned out a great sinner. It will perhaps be interesting to hear what his sin was. It consisted in forestalling the corn in the market and afterwards selling it to the poor at a much higher price. Of a certain child the legend tells that it was born with the word emeth (truth) engraved on its fore-head. Its parents named it Amiti,²³⁹ and the child proved to be a great saint.

The priest, however, could not enter into his office without some consecration. As the first step in this consecration of the child we may consider the Covenant of Abraham. But this was prefaced by a few other solemn acts which I must mention. One of the oldest ceremonies connected with the birth of a child was that of tree-planting. In the case of a boy they planted a cedar, in that of a girl a pine; and on their marriage they cut branches from these trees to form the wedding-canopy. Other rites followed, but they were more of a medical character, and would be better appreciated by the physician. In the Middle Ages superstition played a great part. To be sure, I have spoken of saints; but we ought not to forget that saints, too, have their foolish moments, especially when they are fighting against hosts of demons, the existence of which is only guaranteed by their own over-excited brains. Jewish parents were for many centuries troubled by the fear of Lilith,²⁴⁰ the devil’s mother, who was suspected of stealing children and killing them. The precautions they took to prevent this atrocity were as foolish as the object of their fear. I do not intend to enumerate here all these various precautions. Every country almost has its own usages and charms, one more absurd than the other. It will suffice to refer here to the most popular of these charms, in which certain angels are invoked to protect the child against its dangerous enemy Lilith. But of whatever origin they may be, Judaism could do better without them. The only excuse for their existence among us is to my mind that they provoked the famous Dr. Erter to the composition of one of the finest satires in the Hebrew language.

Of a less revolting character was the so-called ceremony of the “Reading of the Shema.”²⁴¹ It consisted in taking all the little children of the community into the house of the newly-born child, where the teacher made them read the Shema, sometimes also the ninety-first Psalm. The fact that little children were the chief actors in this ceremony reconciles one a little to it despite its rather doubtful origin. In some communities these readings took place every evening up to the day when the child was brought into the covenant of Abraham. In other places they performed the ceremony only on the eve of the day of the Berith Milah²⁴² (Ceremony of the Circumcision). Indeed, this was the night during which Lilith was supposed to play her worst tricks, and the watch over the child was redoubled. Hence the name “Wachnacht,” or the “Night of Watching.” They remained awake for the whole night, and spent it in feasting and in studying certain portions of the Bible and the Talmud, mostly relating to the event which was to take place on the following day. This ceremony was already known to Jewish writers of the thirteenth century. Nevertheless, it is considered by the best authorities on the subject to be of foreign origin. Quite Jewish, as well as entirely free from superstitious taint, was the visit which was paid to the infant-boy on the first Sabbath of his existence. It was called “Shalom Zachar,”²⁴³ probably meaning “Peace-boy,” in allusion to a well-known passage in the Talmud to the effect that the advent of a boy in the family brings peace to the world.

At last the dawn of the great day of the Berith came. I shall, however, only touch here on the social aspects of this rite.

Its popularity began, as it seems, in very early times. The persecutions which Israel suffered for it in the times of Antiochus Epiphanes, “when the princes and elders mourned, the virgins and the young men were made feeble, and the beauty of women was changed, and when certain women were put to death for causing their children to be circumcised,” are the best proof of the attachment of the people to it. The repeated attempts against this law, both by heathen and by Christian hands, only served to increase its popularity. Indeed R. Simeon ben Eleazar characterised it as the law for which Israel brought the sacrifice of martyrdom, and therefore held firmly by it. In other words they suffered for it, and it became endeared to them. R. Simeon ben Gamaliel declares it to be the only law which Israel fulfils with joy and exultation. As a sign of this joy we may regard the eagerness and the lively interest which raised this ceremony from a strictly family affair to a matter in which the whole of the community participated. Thus we find that already in the times of the Gaonim the ceremony was transferred from the house of the parents to the synagogue. Here it took place after the prayers, in the presence of the whole congregation. The synagogue used to be specially illuminated in honour of the event. Certain pieces of the daily prayer, of a rather doleful nature, such as the confession of sins, were omitted, lest the harmony of the festival should be disturbed. As a substitute for these prayers, various hymns suitable for the occasion were composed and inserted in the liturgy for the day. As the most prominent members among those present figured the happy father of the child and the medical man who performed the ceremony, usually called the Mohel or Gozer,²⁴⁴ both wearing their festal garments and having certain privileges, such as being called up to the Reading of the Law and chanting certain portions of the prayers. It is not before the tenth century that a third member suddenly emerges to become almost as important as the father of the child. I refer to the Sandek or Godfather. In some countries he was also called the Baal Berith (Master of the Covenant). In Italy they seemed to have had two Sandeks. This word was for a long time supposed to be the Greek word σύνδικος. But it is now proved beyond doubt that it is a corruption of the word σύντεκνος used in the Greek church for godfather. In the church he was the man who lifted the neophyte from the baptismal waters. Among the Jews, the office of the Sandek was to keep the child on his knees during the performance of the rite. The Sandek’s place was, or is still, near the seat of honour, which is called the Throne of Elijah, who is supposed to be the angel of the covenant. Other angels, too, were believed to officiate at this rite. Thus the angel Gabriel is also said to have performed the office of Sandek to a certain child. According to other sources the archangel Metatron himself attended. Probably it was on this account that later Rabbis admonished the parents to take only a pious and good Jew as Sandek for their children. Christian theologians also declared that no good Christian must render such a service to a Jew. The famous Buxtorf had to pay a fine of 100 florins for having attended the Berith of a child, whose father he had employed as reader when editing the well-known Basel Bible. The poor reader himself, who was the cause of Buxtorf’s offence, was fined 400 florins. Of an opposite case in which a Jew served as godfather to a Christian child, we find a detailed account in Schudt’s Merkwürdigkeiten der Juden, a very learned and very foolish book. When the father was summoned before the magistrate, and was asked how he dared to charge a Jew with such a holy Christian ceremony, he coolly answered, because he knew that the Jew would present him with a silver cup. As to the present, I have to remark that with the Jews also the godfather was expected to bestow a gift on the child. In some communities he had to defray the expenses of the festival-dinner, of which I shall speak presently. In others, again, he had also to give a present to the mother of the child.

Much older than the institution of the Sandek is the festival-dinner just alluded to, which was held after the ceremony. Jewish legend supplies many particulars of the dinner the patriarch Abraham gave at the Berith of his son Isaac. This is a little too legendary, but there is ample historical evidence that such meals were already customary in the times of the Second Temple. The Talmud of Jerusalem gives us a detailed account of the proceedings which took place at the Berith dinner of Elisha ben Abuyah, who afterwards obtained a sad celebrity as Acher. Considering that Elisha’s birth must have fallen within the first decades after the destruction of the Temple, and that these sad times were most unsuitable for introducing new festivals, we may safely date the custom back to the times of the Temple. The way in which the guests entertained themselves is also to be gathered from the passage referred to. First came the dinner, in which all the guests participated; afterwards the great men of Jerusalem occupied one room, indulging there in singing, hand clapping, and dancing. The scholars again, who apparently did not belong to the great men, were confined to another room, where they employed themselves in discussing biblical subjects. In later times special hymns, composed for this festival, were inserted in the grace after dinner. After the dinner, sermons or speeches used also to be given, the contents of which were usually made up of reflections on biblical and Talmudical passages relating to the event of the day. Sometimes they consisted of a kind of learned puns on the name which the child received on this occasion.

With this meal the first consecration of the child-priest was concluded. In some places they used to come to the father’s house on the third day after the circumcision with the purpose of making inquiries after the child’s health. In the case when the child was the first-born the ceremony of “redeeming the child”²⁴⁵ in accordance with Exodus xiii. used to take place. The details of this ceremony are to be found in almost every prayer-book, and there is nothing fresh to add. But perhaps I may be allowed to draw attention to another distinction that the first-born received in the Middle Ages. I refer to an account given by the author of the book, The Ordinance of the Law,²⁴⁶ who flourished in the thirteenth century. He says: Our predecessors made the rule to destine every first-born to God, and before its birth the father had to say, “I take the vow that if my wife presents me with a son, he shall be holy unto the Lord, and in His Torah he shall meditate day and night.” On the eighth day after the Berith Milah they put the child on cushions, and a Bible on its head, and the elders of the community, or the principal of the college, imparted their blessings to it. These first-born sons formed, when grown up, the chief contingent of the Yeshiboth (Talmudical Colleges), where they devoted the greatest part of their lives to the study of the Torah. In later centuries the vow was dropped, but from the abundance of the Yeshiboth in Poland and elsewhere it seems as if almost every child was considered as having no other calling but the study of the Torah. Indeed, the growing persecutions required a strengthening of the religious force.

With these ceremonies the first act of consecration ended in the case where the new-born child was a boy. I will now refer to the ceremony of the name-giving, which was common to males and females. In the case of the former this ceremony was connected with the Berith Milah. The oldest formula, which is already to be found in the Ritual Rab Amram Gaon, is composed in Aramaic. It is, like many prayers in that language, a most beautiful composition, and very suitable for the occasion. Our present Hebrew prayer is far less beautiful, and dates from a much later age. In some countries the ceremony of naming was repeated in the house of the parents. It took place on the Sabbath, when the mother returned home from her first visit to the synagogue after her recovery. Here the friends and relatives of the family assembled, and after arranging themselves round the cradle of the child they lifted it three times, shouting the new name at every lifting. This name was the so-called “profane” name, whilst the name it received in the synagogue was the “sacred” or Hebrew name. The ceremony concluded with the usual festival-dinner. By the way, there was perhaps a little too much feasting in those days. The contemporary Rabbis tried indeed to suppress some of the banquets, and put all sorts of restrictions on dinner-hunting people. But considering the fact that, as Jews, they were excluded from every public amusement, we cannot grudge them the pleasure they drew from these semi-religious celebrations. For people of an ascetic disposition it was, perhaps, the only opportunity of enjoying a proper meal. In the same way, in our days, the most severe father would not deny his lively daughter the pleasure of dancing or singing charitably for the benefit of suffering humanity. The ceremony described was known to the authors of the Middle Ages by the name of Holle Kreish. These words are proved by Dr. Perles to be of German origin, and based on some Teutonic superstition into the explanation of which I cannot enter here.

Of much more importance was the ceremony of name-giving in the case of a girl, it being the only attention the female child received from the synagogue. The usages varied. In some countries the name was given on the first Sabbath after the birth of the child. The father was “called up to the Reading of the Law,” on which followed the formula, “He who blessed our ancestors Abraham,” etc., “may He also bless,” etc., including the blessing and announcement of the child’s name. After the prayer the congregation assembled in the house of the parents to congratulate them. In other countries the ceremony took place on the Sabbath when the mother attended the synagogue after the recovery. The ceremony of Holle Kreish seems to have been especially observed in the case of a girl.

Though the feasting was now over for the parents, the child still lived in a holiday atmosphere for a long time. In the legend of the “Ages of Man” the child is described in the first year of its existence as a little prince, adored and petted by all. The mother herself nourished and tended the child. Although the Bible already speaks of nurses, many passages in the later Jewish literature show a strong aversion to these substitutes for the mother. In the event of the father of the child dying, the mother was forbidden to marry before her suckling infant reached the age of two years, lest a new courtship might lead to the neglect of the child.

More difficult is it to say wherein the other signs of loyalty to the little prince consisted; as, for instance, whether Jews possessed anything like lullabies to soothe the little prince into happy and sweet slumber. At least I am not aware of the existence of such songs in the ancient Jewish literature, nor are they quoted by mediæval writers. The “Schlummerlied,” by an unknown Jewish bard, about which German scholars wrote so much, contains more heathen than Jewish elements. From the protest in The Book of the Pious, against using non-Jewish cradle-songs, it seems that little Moshechen was lulled to sleep by the same tunes and words as little Johnny. The only Jewish lullaby of which I know, is to be found in the work of a modern writer who lived in Russia. How far its popularity goes in that country I have no means of ascertaining. This jingle runs as follows:—

O! hush thee, my darling, sleep soundly my son,

Sleep soundly and sweetly till day has begun;

For under the bed of good children at night

There lies, till the morning, a kid snowy white.

We’ll send it to market to buy Sechora,²⁴⁷

While my little lad goes to study Torah.

Sleep soundly at night and learn Torah by day,

Then thou’lt be a Rabbi when I have grown gray.

But I’ll give thee to-morrow ripe nuts and a toy,

If thou’lt sleep as I bid thee, my own little boy.²⁴⁸

But naturally the holiday atmosphere I spoke of was very often darkened by clouds resulting from the illness of the child. Excepting small-pox, the child was subject to most of those diseases which so often prove fatal to our children. These diseases were known under the collective name of “the difficulties (or the pain) of bringing up children.” These difficulties seem to have been still greater in Palestine, where one of the old Rabbis exclaimed that it was easier to see a whole forest of young olive trees grow up than to rear one child.²⁴⁹ To avoid so mournful a subject, I refrain from repeating the touching stories relating to the death of children. The pain was the more keenly felt since there was no other way of explaining the misfortune which befell the innocent creature than that it had suffered for the sins of the parents; and the only comfort the latter had was that the child could not have lost much by its being removed from this vale of tears at such an early period. A remarkable legend describes God Himself as giving lessons so many hours a day to these prematurely deceased children.²⁵⁰ Indeed, to the mind of the old Rabbis, the only thing worth living for was the study of the Law. Consequently the child that suffered innocently could not have a better compensation than to learn Torah from the mouth of the Master of masters.

But even when the child was healthy, and food and climate proved congenial to its constitution, there still remained the troubles of its spiritual education. And to be sure it was not an easy matter to bring up a “priest.” The first condition for this calling was learning. But learning cannot be acquired without honest and hard industry. It is true that R. Akiba numbers wisdom among the virtues which are hereditary from father to son. Experience, however, has shown that it is seldom the case, and the Rabbis were already troubled with the question how it happens that children so little resemble their fathers in respect of learning.

Certainly Jewish legends can boast of a whole series of prodigies. Thus a certain Rabbi is said to have been so sharp as to have had a clear recollection of the mid-wife who made him a citizen of this world. Ben Sira again, instantly after his birth, entertains his terrified mother with many a wise and foolish saying, refuses the milk she offers him, and asks for solid food. A certain Nachman was born with a prophecy on his lips, predicting the fate of all nations on earth, as well as fixing the date for the advent of the Messiah. The youngest of seven sons of Hannah, who became martyrs under the reign of Antiochus Epiphanes, was according to one version aged two years, six months, six hours, and thirty minutes. But the way in which he defied the threats of the tyrant was really worthy of one of seventy. R. Judah de Modena is said to have read the lesson from the prophets in the synagogue at the age of two years and a half. A famous Cabbalist, Nahum, at the age of three, gave a lecture on the decalogue that lasted for three days. The Chassidim pretended of one of their Zaddikim that he remembered all that he had been taught by the angels before his birth, and thus excused their Zaddik’s utter neglect of studying anything. Perhaps I may mention in this place a sentence from Schudt, which may reconcile one to the harmless exaggerations of the Chassidim. It relates to a case where a Jewish girl of six was taken away by a Christian with the intention of baptising her, for he maintained that this was the wish and pleasure of the child. Probably the little girl received her instruction from the Christian servant of the house, as has happened many times. Schudt proves that this wish ought to be granted in spite of the minority of the child. He argues: As there is a maxim, “What is wanting in years may be supplied by wickedness,” why could not also the reverse be true that “What is wanting in years can be supplied by grace”? Of a certain R. Meshullam, again, we know that he preached in the synagogue at Brody, at the age of nine, and perplexed the chief Rabbi of the place by his deep Talmudical learning. As the Rabbi had a daughter of seven, the cleverness exhibited by the boy Rabbi did not end without very serious consequences for all his life.

Happily all these prodigies or children of grace are only exceptional. I say happily, for the Rabbis themselves disliked such creatures. They were more satisfied with those signs of intelligence that indicate future greatness. The following story may serve as an instance:—R. Joshua ben Hananiah once made a journey to Rome. Here he was told that amongst the captives from Jerusalem there was a child with bright eyes, its hair in ringlets, and its features strikingly beautiful. The Rabbi made up his mind to redeem the boy. He went to the prison and addressed the child with a verse from Isaiah, “Who gave Jacob for a spoil and Israel to the robbers?” On this the child answered by continuing the second half of the same verse, “Did not the Lord, He against whom we have sinned? For they would not walk in His ways, neither were they obedient unto His law” (Isaiah xlii. 24). The Rabbi was so delighted with this answer, that he said: “I am sure he will grow up to be a teacher in Israel. I take an oath to redeem him, cost what it may.” The child was afterwards known under the name of R. Ishmael ben Elisha. Such children were ideals of the Rabbis, but they hated the baby scholar, who very often grew impertinent and abused his elders. The Rabbis much preferred the majority of those tiny creatures, who are characterised by the already mentioned legends on the “Ages of Men” as little animals playing, laughing, crying, dancing, and committing all sorts of mischief.

But these children must be taught. Now, there is the well-known advice of Judah ben Tema, who used to say that the child at five years was to be taught Scripture, at ten years Mishnah, at thirteen to fulfil the Law, etc. This saying, incorporated in most editions in the fifth Chapter of the Sayings of the Fathers, is usually considered as the programme of Jewish education. But, like so many programmes, this tells us rather how things ought to have been than how they were. In the times of the Temple, the participation of the youth in religious actions began at the tenderest age. As soon as they were able to walk a certain distance with the support of their parents, the children had to accompany them on their pilgrimages to Jerusalem. In the Sabbatical year they were brought to the Temple, to be present at the reading of Deuteronomy by the king.²⁵¹ The period at which the child’s allegiance to the Synagogue began is still more distinctly described. Of the many Talmudical passages relating to this question, I shall select the following quotation from a later Midrash, because it is the most concise. In allusion to Leviticus xix. 23, 24, concerning the prohibition of eating the fruits of a tree in the first three years, this Midrash goes on to say: “And this is also the case with the Jewish child. In the first three years the child is unable to speak, and therefore is exempted from every religious duty, but in the fourth year all its fruits shall be holy to praise the Lord, and the father is obliged to initiate the child in religious works.” Accordingly the religious life of the child began as soon as it was able to speak distinctly, or with the fourth year of its life. As to the character of this initiation we learn from the same Midrash and also from other Talmudical passages, that it consisted in teaching the child the verses, “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God is One” (Deut. vi. 4), and “Moses commanded us a Torah, the inheritance of the congregation of Jacob” (Deut. xxxiii. 4). It was also in this year that the boys began to accompany their parents to the synagogue, carrying their prayer-books. At what age the girls first came out—not for their first party, but with the purpose of going to the synagogue—is difficult to decide with any degree of certainty. But if we were to trust a rather doubtful reading in Tractate Sopherim,²⁵² we might maintain that their first appearance in the synagogue was also at a very tender age. I hope that they behaved there more respectfully than their brothers, who played and cried instead of joining in the responses and singing with the congregation. In some communities they proved so great a nuisance that a certain Rabbi declared it would be better to leave them at home rather than to have the devotion of the whole congregation disturbed by these urchins. Another Rabbi recommended the praiseworthy custom of the Sephardim,²⁵³ who confined all the boys in the synagogue to one place, and set a special overseer by their side, with a whip in his hands, to compel them to keep quiet and to worship with due devotion.

A strange custom is known among the Arabian and Palestinian Jews under the name of Chalaka. It means the first hair-cutting of the boy after his fourth birthday. As on this occasion loyalty to the Scripture is shown by not touching the “corners” (Lev. xix. 17), the whole action is considered a religious ceremony of great importance. In Palestine it usually takes place on the second day of the Feast of the Passover when the counting of the seven weeks begins. On this day friends and relatives assemble at the house of the parents. Thither the boy is brought, dressed in his best garments, and every one of the assembly is entrusted with the duty of cutting a few hairs, which is considered a great privilege. The ceremony is as usual followed by a dinner given to the guests. The Jews in Safed and Tiberias perform the ceremony with great pomp in the courtyard surrounding the (supposed) grave of R. Simeon ben Yochai, in one of the neighbouring villages.

Another custom already mentioned in the Talmud, but which quite disappeared in later times, is that of weighing the child. It would be worth reviving if performed in the way in which the mother of Doeg ben Joseph did it. This tender-hearted mother weighed her only son every day, and distributed among the poor, in gold, the amount of the increased weight of her child.

I pass now to the second great consecration of the boy,—the rites performed on the day when the boy went to school for the first time. This day was celebrated by the Jews, especially in the Middle Ages, in such a way as to justify the high esteem in which they held the school. The school was looked upon as a second Mount Sinai, and the day on which the child entered it as the Feast of Revelation. Of the many different customs, I shall mention here that according to which this day was fixed for the Feast of Weeks. Early in the morning, while it was still dark, the child was washed and dressed carefully. In some places they dressed it in a “gown with fringes.” As soon as day dawned the boy was taken to the synagogue, either by his father or by some worthy member of the community. Arrived at their destination, the boy was put on the Almemor, or reading-dais, before the Scroll of the Law, from which the narrative of the Revelation (Exod. xx. 2-26) was read as the portion of the day. From the synagogue the boy was taken to the house of the teacher, who took him into his arms. Thereupon a slate was brought, containing the alphabet in various combinations, the verse, “Moses has commanded,” etc. in Deut. xxxiii. 4, the first verse of the Book of Leviticus, and the words, “The Torah will be my calling.” The teacher then read the names of the letters, which the boy repeated. After the reading, the slate was besmeared with honey, which the boy licked off. This was done in allusion to Ezekiel iii. 3, where it is said: “And it (the roll) was in my mouth as honey for sweetness.” The boy was also made to eat a sweet cake, on which were written passages from the Bible relating to the importance of the study of the Torah. The ceremony was concluded by invoking the names of certain angels, asking them to open the heart of the boy, and to strengthen his memory. By the way, I am very much afraid that this invocation was answerable for the abolition of this ceremony. The year in which this ceremony took place is uncertain, probably not before the fifth, nor later than the seventh, according to the good or bad health of the child.

The reverence for the child already hinted at was still further increased when the boy entered the school. “The children of the house (school) of the master” is a regular phrase in Jewish literature. It is on their pure breath that the existence of the world depends, and it is their merit that justifies us in appealing to the mercy of God. Words of Scripture, uttered by them quite innocently, were considered as oracles; and many a Rabbi gave up an undertaking on account of a verse pronounced by a schoolboy, who hardly understood its import. Take only one instance: R. Johanan was longing to see his friend Mar Samuel in Babylon. After many disturbances and delays, he at last undertook the journey. On the way he passed a school where the boys were reciting the verse from 1 Samuel xxviii. 3, “And Samuel died.” This was accepted by him as a hint given by Providence that all was over with his friend.

Especially famous for their wisdom and sharpness were the children of Jerusalem. Of the many illustrative stories given in the Midrash to Lamentations, let the following suffice: R. Joshua was one day riding on his donkey along the high road. As he passed a well, he saw a little girl there, and asked her to give him some water. She accordingly gave water to him and to his animal. The Rabbi thanked her with the words: “My daughter, you acted like Rebecca.” “To be sure,” she answered, “I acted like Rebecca; but you did not behave like Eleazar.” I must add that there are passages in Jewish literature from which, with a little ingenuity, it might be deduced that Jewish babies are the most beautiful of their kind. The assertion made by a monk that Jewish children are inferior to Christian children is a dreadful libel. The author of the Old Victory,²⁵⁴ in whose presence this assertion was made, was probably childless, or he would have simply scratched out the eyes of this malicious monk, instead of giving a mystical reason for the superior beauty of any other children than his own.

Another point to be emphasised is that the boys were not confined all day long to the close air of the schoolroom. They had also their hours of recreation. This recreation consisted chiefly, as one can imagine, in playing. Their favourite game was the ball, boys as well as girls being fond of this form of amusement. They did not deny themselves this pleasure even on festivals. They were also fond of the kite and games with nuts, in which their mothers also took part. Letter-games and riddles also occupied their minds in the recreation hours. The angel Sandalphon,²⁵⁵ who also bears in the Cabbalah the name of “Boy,” was considered by the children as their special patron, and they invoked him in their plays, addressing to him the words: “Sandalphon, Lord of the forest, protect us from pain.” Speaking generally, there are very few distinctively Jewish games. From the researches of Zunz, Güdemann, and Löw on this subject, it is clear that the Jews always adopted the pastimes of the peoples among whom they dwelt.

But it must not be thought that there was too much playing. Altogether, Jewish education was far from spoiling the children. And though it was recommended—if such recommendation were necessary—to love children more than one’s own soul, the Rabbis strongly condemned that blind partiality towards our own offspring, which ends in burdening our world with so many good-for-nothings. The sad experience of certain biblical personages served as a warning for posterity. Even from the quite natural behaviour of Jacob towards his son Joseph, which had the best possible results in the end, they drew the lesson that a man must never show to one of his children marks of greater favour than to the others. In later times they have been even anxious to conceal this love altogether, and some Rabbis went so far as to refrain from kissing their children. The severity of Akabya ben Mahalaleel is worth mentioning, if not imitating. When this Rabbi, only a few minutes before his death, was asked by his son to recommend him to his friends and colleagues, the answer the poor boy received was: “Thy conduct will recommend thee to my friends, or will estrange thee from them.” Another Rabbi declared (with reference to Prov. xxviii. 27) that it is life-giving to a youth to teach him temperance in his diet, and not to accustom him to meat and wine. R. Judah, the Pious, in the Middle Ages, gives the advice to rich parents to withdraw their resources from their sons if they lead a disorderly life. The struggle for their existence, and the hardship of life, would bring them back to God. When the old Rabbi said that poverty is a most becoming ornament for Israel, his remark was probably suggested by a similar thought. And many a passage in the Rabbinic literature gives expression to the same idea as that in Goethe’s divine lines:—

Wer nie sein Brot mit Thränen ass,

Wer nie die kummervollen Nächte

Auf seinem Bette weinend sass,

Der kennt Euch nicht, Ihr himmlischen Mächte.

I have spoken of a kingdom of priests, but there is one great disadvantage of such a polity. One or two priests in a community may be sustained by the liberality of the congregation. But if a community consisted of only priests, how could it then be maintained? Besides, the old Jewish ideal expected the teacher to be possessed of a divine goodness, imparting his benefits only as an act of grace. Salaries, therefore, either for teaching or preaching, or for giving ritual decisions, were strongly forbidden. The solution of the question put by the Bible, “And if ye shall say, What shall we eat?” is to be found in the law that every father was obliged to teach his son a handicraft, enabling him to obtain a living.

I have now to speak of the time when childhood is brought to a conclusion. It is, as I stated above, in the case of a girl at the beginning of the thirteenth year, and in that of a boy at the beginning of the fourteenth year. As a reason for this priority I will reproduce the words of R. Chisda, who said that God has endowed woman with a greater portion of intelligence than man, and therefore she obtains her maturity at an earlier period than man does. A very nice compliment, indeed; but like all compliments it is of no practical consequence whatever. It is not always the wiser who get the best of it in life. Whilst the day on which the girl obtained her majority passed unnoticed either by her or by her family, it was marked in the case of the boy as the day on which he became a Son of the Law,²⁵⁶ and was signalised by various rites and ceremonies, and by the bestowing on him of beautiful presents. I miss only the wig, which used to form the chief ornament of the boy on this happy day.

Less known, however, is the origin of this ceremony, and the reason for fixing its date. It cannot claim a very high antiquity. I may remark that in many cases centuries elapse before an idea or a notion takes practical shape and is crystallised into a custom or usage, and still longer before this custom is fossilised into a law or fixed institution. As far as the Bible goes, there is not the slightest indication of the existence of such a ceremony. From Lev. xxvii. 5, and Num. xiv. 29, it would rather seem that it was not before the twentieth year that the man was considered to have obtained his majority, and to be responsible for his actions. It was only in the times of the Rabbis, when Roman influence became prevalent in juristic matters at least, that the date of thirteen, or rather the pubertas, was fixed as giving the boy his majority. But it would be a mistake to think that before having obtained this majority the boy was considered as under age in every respect. Certainly the law made every possible effort to connect him with the synagogue, and to initiate him in his religious duties long before the age of thirteen.

We have seen that the boy’s first appearance in the synagogue was at the beginning of the fourth year. We have noticed the complaints about his troublesome behaviour. But how could we expect the poor child to be attentive to things which quite surpassed the intellectual powers of his tender age? There was no better reason for this attendance either in the Temple or in the synagogue than that the parents might be rewarded by God for the trouble of taking their children there. These cares, by the way, fell most heavily upon the women. The mother of R. Joshua enjoyed this burden so much that she carried her boy, when still in the cradle, to the “House of Study of the Law,” in order that his ears might be accustomed to the sound of the Torah. In later times there was another excuse for taking the little children to the synagogue. They were there allowed to sip the wine of the Sanctification Cup,²⁵⁷ which was the exclusive privilege of the children; an easy way of worshipping, but, as you can observe, it is a method that they enjoy and understand most excellently. They did not less enjoy and understand the service with which they were charged on the day of “The Rejoicing of the Law.”²⁵⁸ On this feast they were provided with flags, which they carried before the bearers of the Torah, who feasted them after the service with sweets. Another treat was that of being called up on this day to the Torah, a custom that is still extant. In the Middle Ages they went in some countries so far as to allow these little fellows who did not wear caps “to be called up” to say the blessings over the Law bare-headed. A beautiful custom was that every Sabbath, after finishing the weekly lesson and dressing the Scroll of the Law, the children used to come up to the Almemor and kiss the Torah. Leaving the synagogue they kissed the hands of the scholars. At home the initiation began with the blessing the child received on every eve of the Sabbath, and with its instruction in “Hear O Israel” and other verses as already mentioned. Short prayers, consisting of a single sentence, were also chosen for children of this age. The function of the child on the eve of the first day of Passover is well known. Besides the putting of the four questions for the meaning of the strange ceremony (Exod. xiii. 14), the boy had also to recite, or rather to sing, the “Praise.”²⁵⁹ But I am afraid that they enjoyed better the song of “One Kid,” which was composed or rather adapted for their special entertainment from an old German poem.

Within three or four years after entering the synagogue, and with the growth of intellect and strength, the religious duties of the boy increased, and became of a more serious character. He had not only to attend the school, which was troublesome enough, but he was also expected to attend the services more regularly, and to gain something by it. Yet the Rabbis were not so tyrannical as to put unjust demands on the patience of the child. The voice of God on Mount Sinai, the Rabbis said, was adapted to the intellect and powers of all who witnessed the Revelation—adapted, as the Midrash says, to the powers of old and young, children and women. It was in accordance with this sentiment that the Rabbis suited their language to the needs of the less educated classes. Thus we read in the Tractate Sopherim that according to the law the portion of the week, after having been recited in Hebrew, must be translated into the language of the vernacular for the benefit of the unlearned people, the women, and the children. Another consideration children experienced from the Rabbis was that at the age of nine or ten the boy was initiated into the observance of the Day of Atonement by fasting a few hours. Lest, however, this good work might be overdone, and thus endanger the child’s health, the sage R. Acha used to tell his congregation after the Addition-Prayer “My brethren, let every one of you who has a child go home and make it eat.” In later centuries, when the disease of small-pox became so fatal, some Rabbis declared it to be the duty of every father to leave the town with his children as soon as the plague showed itself. The joy with which the Rabbis hailed Dr. Jenner’s discovery deserves our recognition. None of them perceived in vaccination a defiance of Providence. R. Abraham Nansich, from London, wrote a pamphlet to prove its lawfulness. The Cabbalist Buzagli disputed Dr. Jenner’s priority, but nevertheless approved of vaccination. R. Israel Lipschütz declared that the Doctor acquired salvation by his new remedy.

With his advancing age, not only the boy’s duties but also his rights were increased. An enumeration of all these rights would lead me too far, but I shall mention the custom which allowed the boy the recital of “Magnified”²⁶⁰ and “Bless ye”²⁶¹ in the synagogue. Now this privilege is restricted to the orphan boy. It is interesting to hear that girls were also admitted to recite the Magnified in the synagogue, in cases where their parents left no male issue. I have myself witnessed such a case. In some countries the boy had the exclusive privilege of reading the prayers on the evenings of the festivals and Sabbaths. R. Samson ben Eleazar, in the fifteenth century, received his family name Baruch Sheamar²⁶² from the skill with which he recited this prayer when a boy. He chanted it so well that he was called by the members of the community Master Baruch Sheamar. As to the question whether the boy, while under age, might lawfully be considered as one of the Ten when such a quorum was required, or one of the three in the case of grace after meals, I can only say that the authorities never agreed in this respect. Whilst the one insisted upon his having obtained his majority, the other was satisfied with his showing such signs of intelligence as would enable him to participate in the ceremony in question. Here is an instance of such a sign. Abaye and Raba, the two celebrated heroes of the Babylonian Talmud, were sitting at the table of Rabbah. Before saying grace he asked them, “Do you know to whom these prayers are addressed?” Thereupon one boy pointed to the roof, whilst the other boy went out and pointed to the sky. The examiner was satisfied with their answer.

The privilege of putting on the phylacteries forms now in most countries the chief distinction of “The Son of the Law”; in olden times, however, every boy had claim to it as soon as he showed himself capable of behaving respectfully when wearing the holy symbol. It even happened that certain honours of the synagogue were bestowed on boys, though under age. We possess a copy of a Jewish epitaph dating from about the third century, which was written in Rome for a boy of eight years, who is there designated as archon. The fact is the more curious, as on the other hand the Palestinian R. Abuha, who lived in the same century, maintained that no man must be elected as Warden before he has achieved his fiftieth year. That boys were admitted to preach in the synagogue I have already mentioned.²⁶³

From all these remarks it will easily be seen that in olden times the boy enjoyed almost all the rights of majority long before the day of his being “The Son of the Law.” The condition of the novice is hardly distinguishable from that of the initiated priest. The Talmud, the Gaonim, and even R. Isaac Alfasi and Maimonides knew neither the term “The Son of the Law” (in our sense of the word) nor any ceremony connected with it. There is only one slight reference to such an institution, recorded in the Tractate Sopherim, with the quotation of which I shall conclude this paper. We read there: “In Jerusalem there was the godly custom to initiate the children at the beginning of the thirteenth year by fasting the whole Day of Atonement. During this year they took the boy to the priests and learned men that they might bless him, and pray for him that God might think him worthy of a life devoted to the study of the Torah and pious works.” For, this author says, “they were beautiful, and their lives harmonious and their hearts directed to God.”