Browne might have anticipated encountering special problems in this Deep South community still anguished by defeat in what local residents referred to as the “War of the Northern Aggression.” When he arrived, the Alabama capital, original capital of the Confederacy, was still under military rule and far from having healed its war wounds. Montgomery’s Jews, although largely residents of long standing ostensibly comfortable in their gentile environment, under the stress of war had become ever more sensitive to their neighbors’ view of them. Although economic disaster engendered by the war affected Jews and Christians alike, it aroused some envy of those Jews who noticeably prospered, one example of which was a Jewish shoe manufacturer appointed to supervise production of shoes for the Confederate army. This stirred previously dormant antisemitism, and among Jews dredged memories of enduring persecution in Europe which intensified their resolve to be acknowledged as fervent defenders of the Lost Cause. It was not unusual to see framed Confederate money and army discharge papers mounted on the walls of their homes.14
The post-bellum situation called for utmost discretion in public discourse, especially in regard to patriotism and social justice. Browne refrained from overt reference to these subjects in his first lecture in Montgomery, which he gave on Sunday morning, August 1, 1869. Because in those days lectures were a major source of entertainment and it was understood that some Christians would attend, he chose “Ethics of the Talmud,” an apparently nonpolitical subject to which he had given much thought over a long period of time and for which he held passionate convictions. As a devotee of the Talmud since childhood, he strongly disagreed with Einhorn and the radical reformers who decried it. Considering his congregants’ sensitivity to Christian scrutiny however, some of his ideas may nevertheless have caused them discomfort.
In his preamble Browne stated that Talmudic ethics could be understood only “in close alliance with modern sciences,” which clearly indicated that he viewed sacred texts from a scientific perspective. The latter, a relatively new and disputed form of study known as Biblical criticism, was being developed primarily by Christian scholars in Europe, some of whom were reputedly anti-Semitic. Browne contended that few people of either faith understood Talmudic ethics because “only a few gentlemen of the old European Hebrew school” were sufficiently trained to comprehend the text, and they had been taught to regard it as “a study claiming the implicit faith of the student, a work which should not pass the speculative processes of the mind . . .beyond the test of mental synthesis or analysis.” Christian scholars, in turn, while devoting “much of their time to the investigation... according to the means at their command” had even less possibility of understanding it because they were “confined to mere translations, frequently very defective, generally very unsystematically arranged, and nothing more than trifling fragments.”15
Browne followed with a brief definition of the Talmud, including the fact that it was written over a period of six centuries, “and perhaps much longer... .” Furthermore, he noted, current knowledge depended upon men who collected and compiled the traditions long after their authors had died.
In the body of his lecture Browne examined four divisions of Talmudic ethics: reverence toward father and mother, charity and benevolence, preservation and restoration of peace, and study and instruction above all. He illustrated its ethical superiority by contrasting such examples as Sophocles’ reprimand of his son for disrespecting his mother Xantippe, and the story of Cleobis and Biton according to Herodotus and Plutarch, with the Talmudic account of Rabbi Tarphon having placed his hands under his mother’s feet to protect her from stepping on barren ground.
Browne then cited Talmudic sections on charity and peace, referring to Bar Kaprah’s “glimpse into heaven” to demonstrate that angels harbored no hatred despite their differences. Underscoring ecumenism, he quoted the Talmudic passage, “All that are toiling for the restoration and preservation of peace, without religious distinction, shall inherit of the Lord peace and happiness here and hereafter,” adding the similar passage from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God.”16
Regarding the Talmudic injunction to study and teach, he reminded listeners that the Jewish tradition of public education dated from the time of Ezra, and described the zeal with which ancient rabbis pursued their own studies. To illustrate the excess of that zeal (and demonstrate his attitude toward the traditionalists) he noted that the rabbis of the Talmud, “like the ultra-orthodox of our days, carried everything to the extreme.” Scholars were so revered, he said, that they were exempted from such ordinary concerns as providing for their own sustenance. He cited as an example the story of Rabbi Simon Bar Yochai secluding himself in a cave for thirteen years, sustained by fruit from a tree that miraculously grew in the depths of the cave for that purpose. To emphasize such heavenly provision for poets and scholars, he translated and quoted Friedrich Schiller’s poem “Die Theilung der Erde” (The Division of Earth), its lesson being “that real devotion to knowledge cannot be coupled with the enjoyments of earthly pleasures.”
In closing, Browne apologized for inability to do full justice to the subject in the given time, and again referred with slight disparagement to the ultra-orthodox who continued to accept Scripture and Talmud literally. He noted that it was his intention “simply to remove part of the prejudice entertained against the Talmud” not only by outsiders, but also by “Israel’s own sons [who] add now to its misrepresentations.” In America, some of the blame for those misrepresentations could be attributed to its scarcity of trained rabbis.
Turning from the fundamentalists to their opposites, Browne then criticized radical reformers who rejected the Talmud:
the American Jewish pulpit, like all professions, has its parasites, being blessed (?) with a great number of so-called Rev. Drs.... [whose] titles consist in a dozen or two of white cravats and a waist-coat buttoned up to the chin.... Yet they wish to be reformers, and to be that, they believe it a contingency to decry the Talmud, which they cannot even read. But that is a great mistake. The Talmud is a treasure of learning, and Israel’s leading reformers quote it freely in their daily works and writings.
Although Browne’s Montgomery audience may have been impressed with his knowledge, overall approval of these remarks was questionable. Few Jews, regardless of their degree of reform, were ready to accept biblical criticism, even fewer to shed their long ingrained belief in divine revelation. Also, some listeners may have taken umbrage at his condemnation of “so-called” rabbis or of those radical reformers who thought that the Talmud was irrelevant. Still others, sensitive to the reaction of Christians in the audience, may have been disturbed by his candor in criticizing conditions within the “American Jewish pulpit.”
While this does not appear to have been a prudent discourse for Browne’s debut in Montgomery, it obviously pleased his mentor in Cincinnati, whose own beliefs he so devotedly reiterated. Wise published the lecture in its entirety, spreading it over his next three issues of the Israelite.
A few weeks later, Browne preached a sermon for Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, much milder and only a fraction as long as his lecture on the Talmud. The title, “Comparative Mythology - The Book of Life,” described it well, his premise being that we should not dismiss as myths the religious literature of other ancient peoples while continuing to accept as literal truth equally anthropomorphic imagery in our own. Citing the traditional Jewish New Year’s blessing “May you be inscribed in the book of life for a good year,” as a timely example, he contradicted the general assumption that it referred to an actual notation, presumably by the hand of God. He said that it was a metaphor which meant that we should inscribe ourselves for life metaphorically by the manner in which we live. Even this innocuous nod to the scientific approach, however, was apparently more radical than some of his Montgomery congregants could accept. Temple Beth Or dismissed Browne forthwith because of that sermon.17
Despite so short a tenure, the exposure of his scholarship, eloquence, and unorthodox views gained Browne recognition elsewhere. There were few rabbis in America then with a sufficient command of English for use on the pulpit, and an increasing number of congregations anxious to infuse more English into their services that were still conducted in Hebrew and German. Browne received an invitation from Philadelphia’s Reform congregation