This new paperback edition brings together volumes one and two of Buber's classic work Tales of the Hasidim, with a new foreword by Chaim Potok. Martin Buber devoted forty years of his life to collecting and retelling the legends of Hasidim. Nowhere in the last centuries, wrote Buber in Hasidim and Modern Man, has the soul-force of Judaism so manifested itself as in Hasidim... Without an iota being altered in the law, in the ritual, in the traditional life-norms, the long-accustomed arose in a fresh light and meaning.
These marvelous tales--terse, vigorous, often cryptic--are the true texts of Hasidim. The hasidic masters, of whom these tales are told, are full-bodied personalities, yet their lives seem almost symbolic. Through them is expressed the intensity and holy joy whereby God becomes visible in everything.
Martin Buber was an Austrian-born Jewish philosopher best known for his philosophy of dialogue, a religious existentialism centered on the distinction between the I-Thou relationship and the I-It relationship.
Buber came from a family of observant Jews, but broke with Jewish custom to pursue secular studies in philosophy. In 1902, Buber became the editor of the weekly Die Welt, the central organ of the Zionist movement, although he later withdrew from organizational work in Zionism. In 1923 Buber wrote his famous essay on existence, Ich und Du (later translated into English as I and Thou), and in 1925 he began translating the Hebrew Bible into the German language.
In 1930 Buber became an honorary professor at the University of Frankfurt am Main, and resigned in protest from his professorship immediately after Adolf Hitler came to power in 1933. He then founded the Central Office for Jewish Adult Education, which became an increasingly important body as the German government forbade Jews to attend public education. In 1938, Buber left Germany and settled in Jerusalem, in the British Mandate of Palestine, receiving a professorship at Hebrew University and lecturing in anthropology and introductory sociology.
When I read this book at age 17, it came close to making me want to convert to Judaism, enter a Yeshiva and study Torah all day. My Jew-fandom has since waned considerably, but this is still one of the most romantic, evocative, picturesque, insightful, and downright readable pieces of so-called "religious literature" I know of.
I became curious about Hasidic legends and folklore after reading one or two in a different book about Jewish culture. While they don't represent Judaism exclusively, these stories have endured as a significant part of its heritage. For gentiles, Hasidic Jews are often the most visible members of this religious and ethnic community, and this book is an extensive collection of the anecdotes, quips, and aphorisms they used to define themselves over the last few centuries.
The Hasidic tradition is historically traced to the early 18th century, although like most mystic orders, it lays claim to a deeper spiritual ancestry. Its "founder," the Baal Shem Tov, embodied the qualities and traits that Hasidism is known for--things like emphasizing joy and community over sober religious study and an elite spiritual hierarchy. At the core of his teaching was the idea that knowledge of God, the divine, etc., is mysterious, but also accessible. Like the Eastern masters might say though, piercing this mystery is only as easy as you allow it to be.
Consider this lesson taught by a zaddik (Hasidic teacher) known as the Great Maggid: "The maggid once said to his disciples: 'I shall teach you the best way to say Torah. You must cease to be aware of yourselves. You must be nothing but an ear which hears what the universe of the word is constantly saying within you. The moment you start hearing what you yourself are saying, you must stop." This bears a strong resemblance to other mystical teachings and philosophies around the world and across different times. The ability to learn and grow wisely is already within you, but "you" have to get out of the way. It's like how deceptively simple meditation is: all you have to do is think about nothing. Only when you try do you realize how hard that is! And only when you cease trying do you realize how well within your grasp it always was.
Another recurring feature within Hasidic tales is the importance of spiritual tutelage, directly under a master. Known as "zaddiks," these men claimed authority via their own teacher, and so on, often going back to the Baal Shem himself. This may seem contradictory to what I said earlier about the lack of spiritual hierarchy, but a zaddik did not just rule because he knew another zaddik, or was the son of one. He had to inspire his Hasidim in a profoundly personal way. The devotion this invoked in some Hasidic followers bordered on a personality cult, and explains the many legendary tales of zaddiks conversing directly with the spirit world, or being able to read minds. It is not unlike the tradition of "silsila" in Sufi Islam. Fakirs connected themselves with a spiritual lineage, but this was only the foundation for the intense bond between teacher and student (like the famous relationship between Rumi and his master, Shams Tabrizi). This kind of mentoring cannot be taught or learned from a book; it has to be lived and experienced. This is also why many of the Hasidic tales ridicule those who sacrifice these personal connections in favor of intellectual isolation.
Even with a tendency toward skepticism, I think there is something to admire about a religious community that develops in this way. Legends and stories about impossible events generally arise after someone has already been moved by something much less spectacular, but nonetheless important. The Seer of Lublin probably didn't have the ability to look at a man and instantly know his past, present, and future. But he didn't have to when a troubled disciple came to him in one tale: "A hasid complained to the rabbi of Lublin that he was tormented with evil desire and had become despondent over it. The rabbi said to him: 'Guard yourself from despondency above all, for it is worse and more harmful than sin. When the Evil Urge wakens desires in man, he is not concerned with plunging him into sin, but with plunging him into despondency by way of his sinning." The release from fear, shame, and self-hatred contained in such an answer is palpable. You don't need to be Jewish, or even religious, to appreciate it. In another story, a Hasid asks his teacher what he should do when he committed evil. His response was to forget about it and do good to counteract it.
This kind of counter-intuitive approach to what we normally associate with religion today demonstrates that ancient thinkers often knew more than we credit them for. They were at their best when they stood outside established dogmas, bucking mainstream wisdom and the cynicism that often accompanies it. The Hasidim were often bitterly opposed by more traditional Jewish leaders (who are just collectively referred to as the Mitnagdim, or "opponents") because they frequently did the opposite of what was considered "good sense"--praying only when they felt like it, or praising and honoring those deemed ignorant and simple by the haughty. Sometimes they even praise what appears to be irredeemable from a religious perspective--in one tale a zaddik essentially says even atheism can be valuable, because an atheist would want to help as many people as he can, since there is no God to help them instead. It says something that an argument normally made only by atheists now was being made centuries ago by a rabbi.
As with anything from an older time, there are unjust and outdated ideas mixed in with the good. Women in particular often receive a less than dignified role in some of the stories (though to be fair, a couple defend them in an almost proto-feminist way). Even removing these negative examples, women just disappear into the background. The Hasidic way is almost the exclusive domain of men, a strange gap considering its strong insistence on the immediacy of experiencing God. This is not a misplaced modern critique; other well-known mystic traditions have been open to and even highly inclusive of both genders. The Sufis can be cited here again, having some all-female tariqas and prominent female saints like Rabia al-Adawiyya. If there is anything comparable in Hasidism, Buber did not include them.
In addition to the tales, Buber includes a glossary of Jewish terms, along with notes on certain Talmudic beliefs that help give greater literary context. The "Evil Urge" mentioned above, for example, is not a term for Satan, or even a "sin nature" as Christians would put it. It is a natural inclination to do bad deeds in situations where it is difficult to avoid. The Hebrew term is "Yetzer hara," and all humans have it. While the difference between this and "original sin" may seem subtle, it becomes much more significant as you read the tales. While sinful acts are not excused, there is an understanding that sin is more than just humans being inherently depraved. Certain circumstances can change how much responsibility a person bears for what they do.
Overall I was struck by the many similarities between the Hasidim and other spiritual traditions like Buddhism, Taoism, Sufism, or mystic Christianity. The revered masters of these Ways were included in Huxley's picture of the "Perennial Philosophy," and the Hasidim have a place here too. Like these other paths, the zaddiks had an intuition about life that most of us miss in the humdrum activity of the everyday. A zaddik was a"holy fool," or as Buber put it: "...a human being who, because of his undamaged direct relationship with God, has quitted the rules and regulations of the social order, though he continues to participate in the life of his fellowmen. He does not sequester himself; he is only detached. His loneliness in the face of the eternal 'Thou' is not the loneliness of the recluse, but of one who is composed and true to the world, a loneliness which includes intrinsic oneness with all living creatures."
My mother was a student of Martin Buber, so his teachings and presence, if only by osmosis, were in my life from an early age. It's said that he felt strongly that the soul of Judaism was to be found in these stories of orthodox Jews in the shtetls of Europe. I'm not equipped to comment on that, but for a look inside the culture that led to modern Jewish orthodoxy, as well as a general peek at Jewish life in centuries past, this book is a treasure.
This book is a classic. It includes the sayings and acts of the early Hasidim. Scholars refer to it when they speak about the Hasidim. Buber's collection of tales is a joy to read and prompt us to think. For example: "Before his death, Rabbi Zusya said 'In the coming world, they will not ask me: 'Why were you not Moses?' They will ask me: 'Why were you not Zusya.'" Also, "Rabbi Uri said: 'David could compose the psalms, and what can I do? I can recite the psalms.'"
Dovunque io vada Tu; Dovunque io sosti, Tu; solo Tu; ancora Tu; sempre Tu; cielo, Tu; terra, Tu; dovunque io mi giro e miro e contemplo, Tu, solo Tu, sempre Tu.
Martin Buber is an outstanding author, though not always one who is easy to follow. In this book, he retells tales of Hasidim, which are both magical and enlightening at the same time.
I love reading these tales, they showcase the incredible spiritual wisdom of the Hasidic tradition! They are very short, a page at most, so you can read a few before bed each night.
"They say once, when all souls were gathered in Adam's soul, at the hour he stood beside the Tree of Knowledge, the soul of the Baal Shem Tove went away, and did not eat of the fruit of the tree."
"Rabbi Barukh's grandson Yehiel was once playing hide and seek with another boy. He hid himself well and waited for his playmate to find him. When he had waited for a long time, he came out of his hiding place, but the other was nowhere to be seen. Now Yehiel realized that he had not looked for him from the very beginning. This made him cry, and crying he ran to his grandfather and complained of his faithless friend. Then tears brimmed in Rabbi Barukh's eyes and he said: 'God says the same thing: I hide, but no one wants to seek me.'"
Fascinating and enlightening. I read this book because it was mentioned in a Leonard Cohen biography. In reading it, I discovered that I can understand more of the Bible as a result! Whether you’re a Jew or a Christian, or have no beliefs at all, this book will entertain and educate. The Tales consist of a mixture of homilies, folk tales and expounding of Scripture. A delightful read and one that I will return to again.
I can't believe it! I needed 6 months to finish this book, that's not my record, but close to it. I'm sure people more interested in Chassidism or more religious than I will find a lot to like. Still, it's good to learn something about long gone people from the former Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth lands and the culture that is no longer present in Poland.
Buber’s rambling and unstructured introductions made for difficult beginning and insufficient context for the Tales. But the broader problem is that translation to English likely greatly diminished the tales themselves. The altered rhythms, punchlines, and double meanings are palpable.
There are gems to be mined within the hundreds of Tales. But with great effort.
One of my New Year's resolutions was to finally finish this book in 2016. Tales of the Hasidim is Martin Buber's fastidious compilation of oral tradition about every Hasidic master he could find that lived in Eastern Europe during the 18th century. It me took so long because it's written kind of like an encyclopedia, with 700 pages of one-paragraph stories. Given that I am not terribly familiar with Eastern European names and places (many of which don't even exist anymore because they were totally destroyed in the Holocaust or the pogroms before that), I even had to check sometimes to see if proper names were people, places, or organizations. The stories themselves are full of wisdom, as one would expect from a bunch of teachers, and I am glad I made the effort to finish them. I also did learn a lot about all the destroyed towns and villages in Poland, for example, and the irony and sadness there was not lost on me, given where I currently live. All in all, even if it did take ten years to make it all the way through, I'm glad I read this. #nevergiveup #endofanera
A Master Scholar this work shares the exuberant and joyous celebration of the Hasidim expression of Judiasm. I learned a great deal I did not know about what lies or did lie at the core of this amazing group. Buber points out that personal celebration of the divine need not be dogmatic or follow "the norm."
With people breaking into dance or song during worship... You may discover powerful and amazing Hebrew words like "Hitlahavut" or the burning ecstasy of God..
Fascinating, challenging, delightful and profound stories told by the great lovers of G-d, collected by Buber, who himself qualifies as an embodiment of Chesed (lovingkindness) or a Hasid.
I am never finished with this book. And it reappears in some very good company. Noteably, in "The Spirituality of Imperfection, Storytelling and the Search for Meaning, by Ernest Kurtz and Katherine Ketcham
I first read Buber's tales for a seminary course and have returned to this book often over the years. It was an important part of my book, God in Our Relationships: Spirituality between People from the Teachings of Martin Buber. Some of the tales are a challnege to understand, but a good number are gems.
Lots of stories about the founding rabbis of Chassidim. Some as short as a few sentences, the longest are perhaps a page, well over 1,000 in total. Somewhat similar to the P'rkei Avot. Some leave more of an imprint than others. Some make you laugh (yes, there is humor in their anecdotes), others make you think.