Rubin, Noga: Kovesh ha-levavot : Sefer Lev Tov le-R. Yitsḥaḳ ben Eliyaḳum mi-Pozna, Prag ; sh"p (1620), sefer musar merkazi be-Yidish. Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz hameuchad , 2013 . 374 S. (Sifriyat "Hilel Ben-Ḥayim" ) (Conqueror of Hearts – Sefer Lev Tov by Isaac ben Eliakum of Posen, Prague 1620 – A Central Ethical Book in Yiddish.)(Hebrew).

JID-257

By Thomas Soxberger

The monograph by Noga Rubin, literary scholar and teacher at the Kaye Academic College in Beer-Sheva, on the ethical work Sefer Lev Tov by Isaac Eliakum of Posen is based on her 2006 dissertation on the subject at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. The aims of her research are to describe in detail one of the most popular works in the genre of Yiddish ethical, or mussar, literature, and to define its place in the tradition of mussar writing in general and Yiddish mussar in particular. As Rubin points out in her introduction, mussar literature was popular in different Jewish languages from the 10th century up to the modern age. In Yiddish literature, it has a special place because mussar books constituted the main genre of Yiddish literature between the 16th and the 18th centuries. 

Rubin’s account starts with a general overview of Yiddish mussar writing and the various literary forms it took. They range from long, quasi “encyclopaedic”, treatises in prose on all aspects of Jewish life to rhymed pamphlets, which deal with a more limited number of topics. What all those works have in common is that they focus on the perceived shortcomings in the morals and behaviour of their contemporaries. Furthermore, the writers of Yiddish mussar took care to meet their readership’s interest in practical guidelines of behaviour rather than in abstract ethical principles.  

Rubin points out that, while the central importance of Yiddish mussar writing in popular Ashkenazi culture is generally recognised, systematic research of it is still scarce; very few of the main works have so far been subject to thorough analysis. Until today, the views of the Soviet Yiddish literary critic Maks Erik (1898-1937), who was the first to formulate a systematic approach to this vast body of literature, shape general scientific opinion on the genre. While Rubin acknowledges Erik’s pioneering efforts, she is also careful to point out where his statements are, in her opinion, too schematic and off the mark. In this vein, she tries to correct some traditional, sweeping, generalisations about Yiddish mussar literature and its authors. For example, she takes issue with Erik’s view that mussar-writers must have been in some way second rate scholars in the field of rabbinical learning and were on the whole simpleminded, or even naïve, personalities. A closer look at the text of Sefer Lev Tov, for example, leads her to the conclusion that its author was a sophisticated and accomplished writer as well as a first grade scholar of rabbinical literature. He also was somebody with a good grasp of contemporary Jewish life and its problems – something that can be said of other mussar writers as well (p. 59). 

The author goes on to note that, although Yiddish mussar literature is certainly based on Hebrew mussar as its main source and inspiration, it represents much more than epigonic imitation. Rather, its authors found original and innovative ways of treating their source material. Therefore, a big part of the monograph is dedicated to an analysis of how Isaac ben Eliakum, the author of Sefer Lev Tov, dealt with his sources as well as of the literary devices he used. Concerning language, Rubin argues that the author made very conscious use of the Yiddish vernacular in achieving the aims of his book (p. 194).  

According to Rubin, what makes Yiddish mussar literature especially interesting for researchers of cultural history is its heightened focus, compared to Hebrew mussar, on practical issues. Those books had to answer to a wide range of practical needs amongst its potential readership, which typically consisted of men and women who could read Yiddish, but not Hebrew – in other words, the majority of Ashkenazi society in the early modern age. The sheer popularity of the genre indicates its success in answering those requirements. Through mussar reading, people became acquainted not only with the basic concepts of Judaism, but also with theosophical and mystical concepts that otherwise would have been inaccessible to them. Another factor for the popularity of Yiddish mussar was that in an environment where secular reading material was scarce, this type of literature played a role comparable to belles lettres in contemporary non-Jewish societies, seeing as it incorporated and reworked large tracts from the Jewish narrative tradition in a popular manner.  

Sefer Lev Tov has always been one of the most popular works of its genre and has seen many reprints since the first known edition in Prague 1620. In Charedi circles, Sefer Lev Tov has remained a highly regarded text even today, as is proven by the fact that its latest reprint came out in Brooklyn not earlier than in 1999. 

As is the case with many of the best known works of Yiddish mussar, next to nothing is known about the author apart from what is told in the work itself. Therefore, Rubin attempts to establish some biographical facts about the author by carefully sifting through the hints in the text. Here is what can be said with some certainty, according to Rubin: Israel ben Eliakum seems to have spent time in Posen (Poznan) or at least had familial connections to the city. A significant part of his life must have been spent in Prague, since this is where his book was printed, and normally authors supervised the printing of their texts. Another indication of a strong connection with Prague is that the texts hint at a personal connection to Rabbi Judah ben Betsalel Löw (the famous MaHaRa”L). References to Rabbi Moses Isserles show that Cracow was also part of the cultural horizon of the writer.  

As for the time of writing, intratextual evidence allows Rubin to conclude that the writing of Lev Tov must have been taking place between 1572 and 1600 (p. 50). She also sees hints to Isaac ben Eliakum having been deceased when his book was printed in 1620; at least he did not follow up the success of his work with another book. She points out, moreover, that the text, as it is extant today, shows evidence of having gone through two different editorial stages. Her presumption is supported, among other things, by the fact that some later editions of Lev Tov contain only the first six chapters, which were apparently considered a self-contained work in themselves. Rubin argues that there seem to have been two parallel versions of the book in circulation. If this were the case, it could point to the existence of a partial edition of the book prior to 1620. However, there is not enough evidence to confirm this hypothesis (p. 58).

What the 1620 full edition, which contains 20 chapters, does show, according to Rubin, is a shift of focus in the writer’s outlook on the possible impact of his ethics on his readership. The first six chapters are mostly concerned with the proper behaviour in Synagogue, the right devotion in prayer, and derekh erets (common ethics). It seems that the rest of the chapters, which deal primarily with communal and personal relationships, were added at a later stage. Pointing out changes in style and language, Rubin concludes that, while he was composing his work, the author’s outlook underwent changes. Her impression is that at some point Isaac became less optimistic concerning the influence of his work on Jewish society at large. At the same time, he began to address the circle of his potential readers in a more intimate and personal language (p.62). 

It is this personal aspect of the writing which opens up a window into late-17th-century Jewish communal life. The work tells us a lot not only about Jewish life itself, but also about relations between Jews and Non-Jews. As Rubin explains, the 16th and 17th centuries were a time of strong social tensions inside and outside of the Jewish communities. The author seems to have been convinced that earlier generations had better manners (or, in Rabbinical terms, more derekh erets), than the present one. He also shows a quite negative attitude towards the goyim.

Noga Rubin’s analysis of Sefer Lev Tov represents a fine example of what literary analysis of texts can achieve, while never forgetting the limits of the method. One of the most important aspects of her approach is her attempt to integrate different strands of scholarship into a coherent whole. This ambitious agenda, together with the wide scope of topics discussed, does not make the book an easy read. But on the whole, readers prepared to follow her textual and linguistic analysis are rewarded for their effort with interesting insights into a central text of old Yiddish literature and, consequently, into Ashkenazi popular culture in the early modern age. As Rubin (rightly, in my view) argues, a careful analysis of mussar books, and especially of the stories which their authors used to illustrate their views on ethical questions, allows us to discover the attitudes and beliefs of their social environment. Her book is therefore a significant contribution to the research of the culture and society of pre-modern readers of Yiddish. 

Dr. Thomas Soxberger, born 1965, is a scholar of Jewish and Yiddish Studies. He currently works for the Press Service of the Austrian Parliament.