RABBI. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
A rabbi named Ben Israel, full of bravado, boasts about his extensive knowledge of Jewish sacred texts.
The poem
I am the Rabbi Ben Israel, Throughout this village known full well, And, as my scholars all will tell, Learned in things divine; The Cabala and Talmud hoar Than all the prophets prize I more, For water is all Bible lore, But Mishna is strong wine. My fame extends from West to East, And always, at the Purim feast, I am as drunk as any beast That wallows in his sty; The wine it so elateth me, That I no difference can see Between "Accursed Haman be!" And "Blessed be Mordecai!" Come hither, Judas Iscariot; Say, if thy lesson thou hast got From the Rabbinical Book or not. Why howl the dogs at night?
A rabbi named Ben Israel, full of bravado, boasts about his extensive knowledge of Jewish sacred texts. However, he confesses that he gets so drunk during the Purim festival that he struggles to distinguish between a hero and a villain. The poem concludes abruptly when he turns to a student named Judas Iscariot and poses a peculiar, riddle-like question about why dogs howl at night. It has the feel of a comic sketch that takes an unsettling turn at the end.
Line-by-line
I am the Rabbi Ben Israel, / Throughout this village known full well,
The Cabala and Talmud hoar / Than all the prophets prize I more,
My fame extends from West to East, / And always, at the Purim feast,
The wine it so elateth me, / That I no difference can see
Come hither, Judas Iscariot; / Say, if thy lesson thou hast got
Tone & mood
Comic and self-deprecating for most of the poem, it takes a sudden eerie turn at the end. The rabbi's voice is pompous and blustering, enhancing the humor of his drunken confession. In the final stanza, the humor fades, giving way to a sense of unease — the mention of Judas Iscariot and the unresolved riddle about howling dogs create an abrupt, slightly sinister conclusion to the piece.
Symbols & metaphors
- Wine — Wine operates on two levels in this context. The rabbi employs it as a metaphor, illustrating the depth of the Mishna compared to plain scripture. Then it turns literal — the Purim wine that blurs his scholarly distinctions. It embodies both the pinnacle of religious tradition and the force that humbles the learned individual.
- The Purim feast — Purim is an authentic Jewish holiday that commemorates the story of Esther, and the custom of drinking until one can no longer distinguish between Haman and Mordecai is indeed real. Longfellow highlights that even sacred rituals have a humorous, human aspect — and that the rabbi's impaired judgment is, interestingly enough, accepted within the religious context.
- Judas Iscariot — The name holds significant weight in Western culture, representing the ultimate symbol of betrayal. Introducing it into a scene of Jewish scholarship creates a striking clash of traditions. This choice might indicate that the poem belongs to a larger dramatic or narrative piece, or it could be Longfellow intentionally disrupting the comic mood just as it reaches its conclusion.
- Howling dogs — Dogs howling at night is a common folk omen linked to death, the supernatural, or hidden knowledge. The rabbi's last question to his student implies that even with extensive Talmudic learning, there remains a realm of superstition and mystery that scholarship cannot fully explain.
Historical context
Longfellow wrote this poem as part of his interest in dramatic monologues and character sketches — a form he explored throughout his career alongside his more well-known narrative poems like *Evangeline* and *The Song of Hiawatha*. By the mid-19th century, American readers were captivated by Jewish religious traditions, primarily through the lens of Christian biblical education, and Longfellow tapped into that curiosity here. The Purim drinking custom he mentions is genuine: the Talmud indeed instructs participants to drink until they can't tell "Cursed be Haman" from "Blessed be Mordecai." The poem's humorous portrayal of a pompous scholar brought low by wine follows a long tradition of clerical satire that dates back to Chaucer. The unfinished nature of the final stanza — a question left unanswered — hints that the poem could be a fragment or an early draft of a more extensive dramatic work.
FAQ
The Mishna is the written account of Jewish oral law, put together around 200 CE. It's complex and rich, requiring in-depth study to fully understand — which is why the rabbi refers to it as "strong wine" compared to the Bible's "water." He suggests that the Mishna challenges scholars and offers greater rewards for those who delve deeper. While it's a nod to his own expertise, it also sets up the irony that real wine will diminish that expertise by the end of stanza two.
Yes. The Talmud (Megillah 7b) notes that on Purim, one should drink to the point of not being able to distinguish between "Cursed be Haman" and "Blessed be Mordecai" — the antagonist and protagonist of the Book of Esther. Longfellow was well aware of his source material. The humor lies in the rabbi's scholarly failure to make distinctions, which ironically aligns with the requirements of religious law.
Both are key characters in the Book of Esther. Haman is the Persian official who schemes to annihilate the Jewish people and is eventually put to death. Mordecai is the Jewish hero who, alongside Queen Esther, thwarts this plot. They represent moral opposites—this contrast is precisely why the rabbi’s punchline hinges on the danger of losing the ability to distinguish between them.
That's the biggest puzzle of the poem. Judas Iscariot, the New Testament disciple who betrayed Jesus, brings with him a heavy burden of negativity in Western culture. Putting him in a Jewish rabbi's classroom feels like an awkward historical mismatch. Longfellow might have been planning a larger dramatic piece where the name served a particular narrative purpose, or he could have aimed to finish the comic poem with an unexpected sense of discomfort.
The poem leaves us hanging without an answer, adding to its fragmented feel. Dogs howling at night is a well-known folk omen, often linked to death, spirits, or supernatural warnings in various cultures. The rabbi posing this as a lesson question indicates that his "divine" learning encompasses folk superstition in addition to Talmudic scholarship, subtly undermining his earlier pretentiousness.
The poem is satirical, targeting the archetype of the self-important scholar — someone whose academic knowledge doesn’t shield them from common human flaws. Longfellow opts for a Jewish setting and incorporates genuine religious details instead of relying on crude stereotypes. However, readers in the 19th century had their own biases, which colored their perception of any Jewish character. The name Judas Iscariot at the end would likely evoke anti-Semitic connotations for many, regardless of Longfellow's intentions.
It feels like a fragment. The final stanza changes tone, brings in a new character, and finishes with an unanswered question. Longfellow had several dramatic sketches and unfinished character studies in his notebooks, and this poem has the vibe of an opening scene that never got finished.
Each of the first two stanzas uses an AAABCCCB rhyme scheme and maintains a lively rhythm, mostly in anapestic and iambic tetrameter. This sing-song quality enhances the comic tone, giving the impression that the rabbi is performing rather than simply confessing. The third stanza deviates from the pattern a bit, reflecting a tonal shift toward something stranger and more unsettling.