The diversity of subjects dealt with by Elie Wiesel in his numerous publications is well known, and writing about specific historical or mythological figures that played an important role in Jewish culture is not something new for him. Thus, he has written about several hasidic masters, biblical figures, and talmudic rabbis. In his most recent book, Rashi: A Portrait, published in the series Jewish Encounters, edited by Jonathan Rosen, Wiesel takes us to yet another encounter with a famous Jewish person, Rabbi Salomon ben Isaac. One of the most famous Jewish figures of our time introduces us to one of the most famous Jews of all times.
The series Jewish Encounters does not always seem to try to provide cutting-edge works on events and figures in Jewish history, but rather features enjoyable, yet relatively exact discussions of the matter in question. Just like many other authors who have written in this series, Wiesel is not known as an academic expert on the specific topic of this book, but his beautiful style, and his love and awe for the subject of this small volume, make it a very pleasant read: “I decided … to sketch this portrait of Rashi … because I feel the need to tell him … everything I owe to him,” Wiesel tells us in the preface. “He is my first destination. My first aid. A veiled reference from him … and everything lights up and becomes clearer.”
The book consists of a preface, four chapters, and three appendices. The first chapter, “Impressions,” is, truly, a poetic masterpiece. “We need imagination in order to write about him,” says Wiesel, in what seems to be both an acknowledgment of the major difficulties in closing all the gaps in our knowledge about Rashi, as well as a declaration that, at times, historical imagination is appropriate and fruitful. The chapter includes background information about Jewish life in Europe around the eleventh century, which is, for the most part, more or less accurate, even though it tends still to highlight bad times more than good ones.
Wiesel is somehow ambivalent about Rashi's famous commentary on the first verse of the Bible. Many thought, and in some traditional circles people still think, that the “Rabbi Isaac” mentioned in that opening sentence is Rashi's father. However, scholars have shown this not to be the case: The commentary provided, and its attribution to a certain Rabbi Isaac, has midrashic origin. Wiesel seems to know the scholarly opinion on the matter, just as he seems to have read all major scholarly works on the subject. Nevertheless, he still wants to benefit from the biographical information the traditional assertion provides: “For some exegetes, this Rabbi Yitzhak is none other than the author's father. Generally, it is believed to be a talmudic scholar. If this assumption is correct, it would mean that we know at least one thing about Rashi's father: He was himself a rabbi who posed questions worthy of contemplation” (11). But perhaps we should not blame Wiesel: After all, he has already told us that in order to tell Rashi's story, we need imagination. While bringing forth many legends about Rashi, Wiesel is also able to maintain a good sense of humor. He acknowledges that one might doubt the stories that Rashi lodged, fed, and even paid for the weddings of all his students. At the same time, he says that we also do not have any proof that this was not the case given that “there is no evidence in any source of anyone [among Rashi's students] complaining” (18).
The second chapter, “Biblical Commentaries,” is devoted to Rashi's biblical exegesis. In fact, it deals solely with Rashi's commentaries on the book of Genesis. The chapter is less charming and imaginative than the first, possibly because it mainly comprises a series of retellings of Rashi's commentaries. Still, for a teacher, who, for example, does not plan to actually teach Rashi's commentary, and would like to provide students some of the flavors of Rashi's exegesis, this chapter can prove useful.
The third chapter, “Israel, the People, and the Land,” is, in some way, an exploration of Rashi's theological concepts. Wiesel is honest in not avoiding ideas that some might regard as problematic. He states that for Rashi, “the people of Israel live and act at the center of history of men and of nations.” At the same time, he explains these problematic concepts in a way that, while certainly typical of Wiesel's own thought, might not most accurately present Rashi's thinking. Does the statement above denote “a feeling of superiority?” ask Wiesel. “No, of singularity,” he affirms (63). Wiesel explores Rashi's concepts about the Jewish people, the value of peace, the importance of study, of compassion, justice, and true leadership. He then briefly describes two areas of Rashi's output that might be less familiar even to those who know something about Rashi: his legal responsa, and his small body of liturgical compositions.
The last chapter, “Sadness and Memory, intends to provide some historical context for Rashi's life, particularly about his later years: the political and religious turmoil among Christians themselves, and Christians and Muslims, including the first crusade of 1096, and its impact on the Jewish communities of the Rhine area. The scant mention of these events in the works of Rashi, who died about a decade later, is a well-known enigma. Wiesel tries to imagine, therefore, the impact of this event on Rashi and his writings. The story thus ends, on the one hand, with sadness, but on the other hand, with joy that the memory of Rashi and his works survived.
The chronology that follows the last chapter is relatively extensive, beginning with the destruction of the first temple in 586 bce. It can be useful for many readers, although it includes some very minor imperfections (for example, regarding the location of the city of Yavneh (92), the attribution of certain decrees to Rabbenu Gershom Meor Hagolah (94), or the fact that upon conquering Jerusalem, Godfrey not only killed “Jews and Karaites,” but also, and probably even more so, Muslims (96). It seems reasonable that Wiesel himself wrote, or at least was involved in the composition of this chronology, as it includes two authors of questionable relevance to the subject at hand: Yom Tov Lipmann Heller and Isaiah ha-Levi Horowitz, whom Wiesel claims as personal ancestors according to his family's tradition, as well as descendants of Rashi according to other sources (99). The chronology includes other entries influenced by Wiesel's own personal history and important events in the history of French Jewry. The small glossary at the end of the book is well done, clear, and trustworthy. The bibliography, in English, French, and Hebrew, although far from exhaustive, includes a significant portion of the most important works on the topic.
While teaching a recent course on medieval Jewish and Christian biblical exegesis I asked students to read excerpts of this book, and their reactions were very positive. The book cannot, of course, replace academic studies of Rashi's life, context, and work. If this text were to be used in an undergraduate-level class, I would suggest highlighting this fact, and even mentioning some of Wiesel's problematic assertions. Yet, the book, in particular its first wonderful chapter, can expose both those who know something about Rashi, and those who do not, to Rashi the man, his work, and his place in Jewish imagination. Scholars of Rashi or medieval Ashkenazi Jewry are unlikely to learn new things from this book, but even they will surely have enjoyable moments with it.
