Prophet in a Time of Priests. Janice Rothschild Blumberg

time of Leeser’s death in 1868, Wise had become the recognized leader of “Western” Jewry—Jews living west of the Alleghenies. Congregations in need of a rabbi typically asked him for recommendations, which gave him increasing power and influence, putting younger rabbis in his debt as their benefactor. Knowing how fluid these positions were, such rabbis were reluctant to risk Wise’s disapproval even after achieving their immediate goals.

      Leading Wise’s competition in the East were the cutting-edge liberals, David Einhorn, who by that time had moved from Baltimore to Philadelphia and then to Adath Israel (now Temple Beth El) of New York, and Samuel Adler of New York’s prestigious Temple Emanu-El, the wealthiest congregation in America. Unlike Wise, who immigrated as an unknown, they had attracted attention in Europe arriving in America as recognized scholars and ardent reformers. They were older than Wise, and despite being more traditionally educated than he, were even more determined to break with tradition. In 1869, they published a weekly newspaper, the Jewish Times, to promote their views.4

      Wise had already established his two weekly newspapers, the Israelite (English) and Die Devorah (German), as well as a publishing house for Jewish books. Having little formal education but a mind quick to absorb and retain, he was, in Browne’s words, “a self-made man, [who] had much business enterprise....” He organized the so-called Western Jews “on a business-like basis, and... continually [went] for his opponents so that they became mortal enemies.”5

      A major point of controversy was competition over the selection of prayer books. With few exceptions, congregations in post-colonial America used either the traditional Minhag Ashkenaz to which they were accustomed, or a liturgy composed by their rabbi in response to members’ request for more modernization. The earliest of these was Leo Mersbacher’s Order of Prayer, published in 1855, then quickly followed by Wise’s Minhag America in 1856, which reflected his purpose of uniting American Jewry, thus being seen as “middle of the road.” Einhorn, who had no desire to compromise or Americanize, competed the same year as Wise by publishing his Olat Tamid in German as an appeal for intellectualized radical Reform in the German tradition. Among others who published later according to their own precepts were Adolph Huebsch of New York, Raphael da Cordova Lewin of Brooklyn, David Levy of Charleston, Max Landsburg of Rochester, Aaron Hahn of Cleveland, Solomon Sonneschein of St. Louis, and Browne himself in New York. Not only did the purchase of these books produce income for their authors, it also indicated the degree to which congregations approved a particular rabbi’s views on liturgy. They served as weapons in the rabbis’ war for control of American Judaism, a conflict frequently marked by unbridled accusations in the Jewish press, notably in journals published by the rabbis themselves.6

      Wise and Einhorn divided on more basic, inherent differences, however. The latter, an ideologue and uncompromising revolutionary, refused to bend his convictions even temporarily in order to gain wider support. He was an intellectual; Wise was not. Wise was a politician whose great appeal lay in his popular style and affable approach, his ability to relate to the public. His most compelling issue was uniting American Jewry in order to support a seminary for the training of rabbis who would then spread his interpretation of Reform across America. He often bent his tactics to further his progress, but never deviated from his goal of establishing a seminary.

      In this spirit of compromise Wise spearheaded a conference in Cleveland in 1855. It was a third attempt to unite all American Jewish congregations. This infuriated Einhorn, who arrived in America just as the conference was about to begin and refused to attend. Although its adopted platform failed when traditional leaders recognized it as a tactic for establishing Reform, its most virulent opponents were Einhorn’s supporters at the opposite pole. They abhorred compromise, however temporary or practical it may have been.

      Einhorn responded by immediately producing yet another competing prayer book, Olat Tamid, and establishing Sinai, a monthly German language periodical. The journal lasted only six years, whereas Wise’s weekly, The Israelite, in publication before Einhorn’s began, is still being published today and enjoyed a wide circulation during Wise’s lifetime, especially across the mid-west and the south. Ironically, although Wise’s views prevailed at the time, Einhorn’s, known as radical reform, ultimately emerged as the winner, becoming the foundation of Classical Reform through the leadership of his distinguished sons-in-law, Rabbi Emil G. Hirsch of Chicago and Rabbi Kaufmann Kohler who, after Wise died, became president of the Hebrew Union College.7

      Browne was drawn into the Wise versus Einhorn (moderate versus radical Reform) controversy in September 1868, when Wise took him to New York for the dedication of Temple Emanu-El’s outstanding new synagogue. The congregation’s rabbi, Samuel Adler, pulled Browne aside to advise him that the occasion presented “a very favorable opportunity” for reconciling the conflict between Einhorn and Wise. Believing that their “entire enmity comes from their prayer books,” Adler thought that they might be persuaded to collaborate on a new minhag as replacement for their existing ones. He offered to bring Einhorn to the table if Browne could bring Wise. Wise agreed. Einhorn refused.8

      Competition among rabbis over philosophy and control, fueled by their overarching egos, exacerbated differences between Wise and his opponents. Freed from the restraints of censorship as in Europe, they publicly insulted each other in vitriolic terms that would be unacceptable today. Einhorn, for example, memorably referred to Wise’s lowly position in Europe and questionable ordination as rabbi with the statement that he, “would not set with that Bohemian ex-schochet [ritual slaughterer] ‘Rev. Dr.’ under one roof.” He called Wise “the Barnum of the Jewish pulpit” who “arrogates to himself the role of dictator,” and declared Wise’s Minhag America “an abortion.” Wise responded in The Israelite, calling Einhorn and his friends a pack of “unprincipled nobodies.”9

      One of those friends was the revered scholar Marcus Jastrow, who after earning a rabbinical degree and doctorate of philosophy, had been jailed in Poland for speaking out on human rights. In 1866, Congregation Rodeph Shalom of Philadelphia brought Jastrow to America with a generous life contract and salary of $4000 a year, thus assuring his status as a “celebrity” rabbi. In contrast to his east coast colleagues Einhorn and Adler, Jastrow was a more temperate reformer who immediately enabled his congregation “to feel the pulse of the times in Judaism in America,” and was later instrumental in establishing Conservative Judaism. His opposition to Wise stemmed from theological differences and the fact that he viewed the Cincinnati rabbi as a radical reformer without principle or learning. He opposed Wise’s idea of a Union of American Hebrew Congregations and the seminary that it would support.10

      Jastrow apparently called Wise a liar in a published pamphlet, whereupon Browne recalled having gone to Philadelphia “with the sole purpose of cowhiding Dr. Jastrow.” Fortunately the hot-headed acolyte reconsidered, but not without having called attention to himself as a quick-triggered spokesperson for Wise.11

      Montgomery, 1868

      With this already dubious reputation, Browne entered his career as a rabbi. Steering him clear of the volatile east coast communities, Wise sent him to a pulpit safely within the protective confines of his own “western” influence. In 1869, when the turbulence of Reconstruction gave Southern Jews more pressing issues to contend with than disputes over differing views of Judaism, Wise sent his protégé to the “Cradle of the Confederacy,” Montgomery, Alabama.

      Congregation Kahl Montgomery (now Temple Beth Or) although incorporated in 1852, had actually been in existence for twenty years and its membership—mostly German, Alsatian, and Polish in origin—had increased far beyond its original thirty founders. In 1862, the congregation acquired a synagogue building, largely through a bequest from New Orleans philanthropist Judah Touro.12

      The congregation had been served by numerous readers, whose duty it was to lead the services and sometimes to teach the children. They had to know Hebrew, but were neither ordained rabbis nor necessarily scholars. Only one actual rabbi, James K. Gutheim, served in Montgomery before Browne. A staunch Confederate, distinguished scholar and advocate of moderate Reform, Gutheim left New Orleans rather than sign a pledge of allegiance to the United States when the city fell to Federal forces. He survived the war by settling his family with his wife’s parents in Mobile and earned a minuscule income by serving the congregations both of Montgomery, Alabama, and Columbus,