I’d wager that Abraham Joshua Heschel (1907-1972) is the most well-known Jewish theologian of the 20th century, among both Jews and non-Jews. I won’t say too much about his biography here, because unlike most of this newsletter’s subjects, good, English-language resources about Heschel are widely accessible. In books like The Sabbath, God in Search of Man, Man in Search of God, and The Prophets, as well as through his outspoken civil rights activism, Heschel became one of the most influential figures in recent Jewish intellectual history.
If you’ve read any of Heschel’s prose, you’ve probably been struck by how poetic it is. (It’s always remarkable to me when someone can write so beautifully in multiple languages—in Heschel’s case, English, Hebrew, German, and Yiddish.) But it’s less known that Heschel was himself a poet, and that his first book was a collection of Yiddish poetry, published in Warsaw in 1933. Heschel’s poems have already had two book-length translations, one by Morton Leifman and one (notably, if you’re into modern Jewish mysticism) by Zalman Schachter-Shalomi.
A great photo, from the collection of Duke University
As a young Hasidic rabbi, Heschel acquainted himself with the decidedly secular Warsaw Yiddish literary community, which helped him to publish some of his first poems, and connected him to resources for non-Jewish education when he resolved to pursue a university doctorate.
Our friend Melech Ravitch recalled meeting Heschel for the first time around 1926, in the halls of Warsaw’s Yiddish Writer’s Union:
I raise my eyes and for a moment I am startled. In a corner by my green door stands a tall and slender young lad, in Warsaw Hasidic attire. A long, black garment, almost to the ground, scarcely showing his boots, a round hat on his head with a small, pinched peak. A severe face, though he looks at me very gently and guiltily, he also looks gruff. His eyes are black, deep, large; his skin brownish, with the first, young sprouts of a dark beard. . .
(This quote, the quote below, and all of the surrounding biographical information come from the excellent biography, Abraham Joshua Heschel: A Life of Radical Amazement, by Julian Zeliner.)
And when Heschel enrolled in the Vilna Gymnasium, in preparation for entering the University of Berlin, he studied there with Moyshe Kulbak, who told him, “You will never be a great poet, but you will become an excellent philosopher.” I wonder what Kulbak’s intention was with this backhanded compliment.
Regardless, Heschel’s sole poetry collection is a lovely and powerful book. It doesn’t revel in the revolutionary modernism of Ravitch and Kulbak and many of their peers, but it shows a brilliant young writer and theologian grappling with his place, and his religious commitments, in a rapidly changing world. Many of the ideas Heschel would express in his prose are present here in a lyric form, sometimes nascent and sometimes already fully developed. There is a stark social consciousness, indistinguishable from a profound religious awareness. There is anger and awe and grief and ecstasy.
The book has one of my favorite poetry book titles of all time: Der Shem HaMeforash: Mentsh (The Ineffable Name of God: Human). Below are four poems from different places in this 1933 collection.
My Seal
Why am I not a flower,
a man-flower?
Bless me, my soul,
with gentleness instead of power!
To possess smiles, not words,
and always to shine on the world.
To always offer love and joy
with my hair, like orchids.
And let my path through rooms be
like the tread of fingers on a keyboard.
Gentleness, you ineffable divine name,
be my image of God!
God’s Tears
God’s tears lie on the cheeks
of weak, humiliated people.
Let me wipe away His weeping.
If in your veins a silent shiver
shimmers before God,
you should kiss a pauper's fingernails.
To the worm crushed beneath shoes,
God calls: "My holy martyr!"
And the sins of the poor are lovelier
than the good deeds of the rich.
***
Only God still believes in God.
People love no one but themselves.
Creatures take their lives,
and everyone derides forgiveness and humility.
Then is a poem even possible?
Millions of workers rust in mines--and persevere.
Psalms--nobody browses them. Boxers are worshiped.
Humans sentence humans to death.
Murderers murder, children suffer in poverty.
Then is a poem even possible?
God, it's so depressing-cruel!
--Generations passed before us,
sowing the seeds of straying in our paths.
Now we don't know what is good, is right....
Brother God
God is incarcerated
in mazes of infinity.
You flee and pass through every street,
but Your divinity disguises you, God!
You are not only Lord, All-Powerful, no!
You can also be poor, melancholy.
You act like a child sometimes,
as if I were bigger than You.
Our brother, God!
Lower Yourself to us
from the last, endless altitude
and kiss, gently and clearly,
every creature.
I’m experimenting with something a little bit different for today’s post. In lieu of a mini-essay here, I’ve shared more poems than normal, and want to try inviting a chat discussion. I’m not sure what to expect from this, but I’d really love to hear your thoughts. What did you think of these poems? Were you familiar with Heschel’s poetry already? If you’re familiar with his later prose, do you recognize his theology here? Any favorites or particularly striking moments? Thanks, as always, for reading, and for being a part of this project!
Today’s art pairing: Tim N. Gidal’s 1935 photograph, “Night of the Cabbalist”
(And in a remarkable coincidence, reader and substacker tzemach points out his recent post at mentalblog about this same photo - check out the beautiful writing about it here.)
Thanks for the Heschel poems, Danny—I had no idea he was a poet. I’m certainly not qualified to talk about how his poems relate to his theology, since I’ve only read “Sabbath,” but they certainly relate to his activism. Two lines particularly struck me—“Gentleness, you ineffable divine name, be my image of God.” Gentleness is not an attribute that we frequently ascribe to God, but it’s such an important part of his character and worthy of our deeper reflection. “Our brother, God!/Lower Yourself to us/from the last, endless, altitude/and kiss, gently and clearly,/every creature.” From my perspective as a Christian, this is such a beautiful description of the incarnation—Jesus emptying himself to be found in the likeness of humans. As always, your shared poems have enriched my day. Jim
Wow, what a treat. I had no idea Heschel was a poet, and am struck by the beauty and depth of these poems. He actually strikes me as pretty modern, though not in a flashy, experimental way. These could be contemporary! Poem as seed for philosophy? Poem as vessel for…divine?