Mosaic religion that is best represented by Protestant Christianity.93 This can be contrasted with other works, such as August Rohling’s (1839–1931) The Talmud Jew (Münster, 1871), which was an indictment of Jews and Judaism as a primitive religion that mandated attacking Christians. This was also a popular book, and Soloveitchik could have been aware of its existence, especially given its title.
McCaul, in line with missionaries such as Franz Delitzsch and Hermann Strack, had a deep and abiding respect for both the Jews and Judaism, even as he maintained the superiority of Christianity. McCaul even received accolades from prominent Jews such as the important historian Isaak Markus Jost (1793–1860). The Old Paths was popular during Soloveitchik’s lifetime. When it first appeared in 1837, it sold ten thousand copies in its first year and was reissued in a second edition in 1846.94 While it may be unlikely that Soloveitchik read McCaul’s Old Paths in the original, as we do not know his command of English, more likely he knew of the Hebrew translation, Netivot shalom, translated by the Jewish apostate and member of the London Society Stanislaus Hoga.95 Hoga, who died in 1860, is another fascinating personality of this period whom we will discuss below.
I suggest that Soloveitchik likely knew of Netivot shalom because it was a widely disseminated text on a topic that was clearly important to him. Moreover, it was covered in the Hebrew press and was the topic of numerous critical responses by well-known Jewish writers.96 Four lengthy responses to McCaul’s work came from the pens of Isaac ber Levenson (1788–1860), Samuel Joseph Fuenn (1819–1881), Eliezer Zweifel (1818–1871), and Raphael ben Elijah Kazin (1818–1871). Levenson, Fuenn, and Zweifel were prominent maskilic figures in Russia. Kazin was a rabbi in Syria. While these responses may not have been particularly well-known, they were covered in the Jewish press and illustrate the seriousness with which Jews in Russia took to McCaul’s work.97
The work of these maskilic figures was focused on the emancipation of the Jews in Russia and on civil rights. McCaul claimed that adherence to the Talmud prevented Jews from being trusted members of Russian society. This represents a nonracial kind of anti-Semitism, quite different from the hateful work of people such as Houston Stuart Chamberlain (1855–1927), Wagner’s son-in-law, whose Foundations of the Nineteenth Century is the classic anti-Semitic work of that period; or Johann Eisenmenger (1654–1704).98 McCaul seemed to have wanted Jews to retain a sense of their Mosaic tradition and to become “Hebrew Christians.”
Relevant to our concerns is the chosen path of Levenson’s and Fuenn’s critiques. As opposed to arguing for the essential truth of Judaism over the falsity of Christianity, each claimed in different ways that McCaul misunderstood the status of the Talmud in Judaism. Eliyahu Stern summarizes Levenson’s and Fuenn’s positions succinctly: “Levenson and Fuenn differed in important respects regarding the nature of Christianity and Judaism, but they proffered a similar basic line of defense against the charges issued by McCaul against the Talmud. Namely, they both argued that—like Catholic teachings—the Talmud was but one expression of the Jewish tradition, which was based on reason and constantly rearticulated and transmitted anew in each generation. In contrast to McCaul, who misunderstood the Talmud as a piece of sacred scripture, Levenson and Fuenn both employed the Latin word ‘tradition’ to explain the Talmud and the development of the Oral law.”99 These responses had in mind framing the Talmud not unlike the Russian Orthodox notion of “tradition” to argue that if Orthodox Christians can be trusted citizens of the empire, so can believing Jews. That is, as Stern notes, “by arguing that each religion possessed its own independent tradition Levenson hoped to persuade Russian officials that supporting the Talmud was in line with the government’s general support of ‘orthodoxy’ within each faith.” In addition, these traditions are malleable and can be altered to conform to state policies.100
While these concerns were largely political and intended for the Russian regime, Fuenn also delved into more theological reflection; he claimed that “the majority of Christian beliefs and positions were in no way opposed to Jewish beliefs and those that were, could be traced back to what was espoused in the New Testament.”101 This sounds close to Soloveitchik, although Soloveitchik would likely argue that divergences between rabbinic law and Christian doctrine are likely the result of an error in our understanding of one or the other, or both. While it is not clear that Soloveitchik had seen Levenson’s, Fuenn’s, or Zweifel’s responses to McCaul (although he certainly could have), his approach is different, perhaps toward similar ends. Soloveitchik, who was not a maskil or reformer, would agree with McCaul on one point and disagree on another. He would agree that the Talmud is an authoritative text and that Jews are bound to it (here he would disagree with Levenson and Fuenn). That is, he would reject the reformist diminution of the Talmud to deflect McCaul’s claim that it stands in the way of an enlightened Jewish polity. But he would disagree with McCaul that the Talmud is an impediment to good citizenry. Soloveitchik’s commentary is devoted precisely to show the symmetry and not the dissonance between the Talmud and the Gospel. From one perspective, Soloveitchik presents his case as a staunch traditionalist; and from another perspective, as someone open to the truth of Christian claims, albeit from a traditionalist perspective. In this sense, and when contrasted with the likes of Levenson, Fuenn, and Zweifel, he seemed to be a distinctive, even dissonant, voice among the Jews, even as his goals may have been idiosyncratically close to the maskilic position.
Stanislaus Hoga, the Jewish apostate and collaborator with McCaul, is closest to Soloveitchik.102 This seems odd because Hoga was a convert to Christianity, albeit one who later seemed to return to the Jewish fold (although that is far from certain) and then defended Judaism against McCaul’s missionizing. Hoga was born as Yehezkel ben Aryeh Leib in Kuzmir, Poland, in 1791. His father, a maggid named Aryeh Leib, was a disciple of the celebrated Hasidic master R. Jacob Isaac Hurwitz (1745–1815), known as the Seer of Lublin. Like Soloveitchik, Hoga was raised in an ultra-traditional world of extreme piety and Talmud study. His prodigious talents resulted in attracting the attention of Polish prince Adam Czartoryski, who took the adolescent (who was already married) with him to Palawy, not far from Casimir, to study modern languages. Through a series of bizarre events, including abandoning his wife and family and running off with a local woman named Yitta, with whom he eventually had another family, Hoga converted to Christianity (with Yitta and his two daughters) and took the name Stanislaus Hoga (in his home region, he was referred to as Ḥaskel Hameshumad—Ezekiel the apostate).103 He likely met McCaul during one of McCaul’s residences in Warsaw and, according to David Ruderman, Hoga likely followed McCaul back to England and became involved with the London Society and McCaul, translating McCaul’s Old Paths into Hebrew as Netivot shalom, which became popular in Eastern Europe.104 The remaining details of Hoga’s bizarre, colorful, and tragic life are fascinating but not relevant except for the fact that he returned to Judaism later in life—although that, too, is a matter of debate—and published two works relevant to our topic. The first is The Controversy of Zion: A Meditation on Judaism and Christianity, in 1845; the second is Zir Ne’eman: The Faithful Missionary, published in 1847.105
The Controversy of Zion is a scathing critique of missionaries who attack Jewish law and practice as antithetical to Christianity (this may be driven partly by McCaul’s Old Paths, which Hoga knew better than anyone). Ruderman suggests that the message of this later work is clear: “It is possible for a Jew to believe in Jesus without abrogating his observance of Jewish law”; thus, undermining what both religions share, by criticizing the very ritual acts that “remind Jews of their belief in one God,” is a grave error. “Christ is the crown and perfection of the law. But a Jew can only believe in him through his observance of the mitzvot, his natural covenant with God.”106 Hoga’s attack is not only against Christians but also Jewish converts who functioned as missionaries, such as Moses Margoliouth (1820–1881) whose The Fundamental Principles of Modern Judaism Investigated (1843) promoted McCaul’s anti-Talmudic agenda.107 Hoga argued that being a believing and practicing Jew was the only way for the Jew to be a good Christian. Jews need to know that. And Christians need to know that. Whether this is a repudiation
