How was Rambam viewed by Mediaeval rationalists?

The nature of Rambam’s religious and philosophical views is something which has long been debated – and will continue to be a matter of controversy for the foreseeable future. Moshe ben Maimon has been claimed as one of their own by pretty much every sect of Judaism – from Hassidim to Reform; Orthodox to atheists. Overwhelmingly, however, he is categorised as belonging to the rationalist wing of Judaism, and understood to have been attempting to reorientate Jewish thought towards a more Aristotelian point of view. 

It is certainly true that Rambam sought to establish a version of Judaism which emphasised the importance of an intellectual relationship with God. In doing so he saw the physical world and laws of nature as a manifestation of God’s wisdom through which we can reach knowledge, fear and love of God – and therefore minimised the role of miracles within Judaism and the existence of mystical or magical forces which interfered with nature.

Nevertheless, before casually labelling Rambam a “rationalist” or “Aristotelian”, it is valuable to examine exactly how his religious and philosophical teachings were received by others in the rational camp of medieval Jewish thinkers. This allows us to reach a more nuanced understanding of Rambam’s own theology and his stated purpose in writing A Guide for the Perplexed– for those who were struggling to reconcile Jewish and Aristotelian teachings.

One notable medieval Jewish rationalist was Samuel ibn Tibbon, who translated the Guide into Hebrew, thereby allowing it to reach a broader Jewish audience. Ibn Tibbon was critical of Rambam’s work in several places, all of them in connection with his apparent departure from an intellectualist Aristotelian template in order to embrace a warmer Judaism which engaged with the entire nation – not just a “philosophical elite”.

We read in yesterday’s parashah of Moshe’s extensive dedication to the people whom he led, making himself available to assist them “from morning to evening”, and thereby causing his father-in-law to be concerned for his wellbeing. But was Moshe’s selflessness altogether positive? Or is it better regarded as a “necessary evil” through which he sacrificed his own spiritual development for the greater good? It depends who you ask.

In Guide 3:51, Rambam describes how Moshe and the Avot reached the highest level of human perfection, for they were in constant communion with God and also fully involved in the creation and governance of a religious community. Ibn Tibbon, however, does not accept Rambam’s approach, arguing instead in his Ma’amar Yikavu HaMayim that these praiseworthy figures could have reached an even higher state had they engaged in a life of pure contemplation, free from the hindrances of the physical and political world.

Ibn Tibbon’s position forms part of his greater critique of Rambam’s Jewish worldview which he considered to be an unjustifiable departure from Aristotelian philosophy.

The concluding passages of the Guide present a brief discussion of the purpose of human existence. Building upon his celebration of the virtues of philosophical contemplation, Rambam introduces a biblical text (Jeremiah 9:22–23) which he says presents the same ideas of the philosophers, but with one vital addition: “exercising lovingkindness, judgment, and righteousness, in the earth”. Thus knowledge of God, Maimonides implies, should lead to action; the contemplative should serve a practical end.

In the preface to the translation of Maimonides on Avot, Ibn Tibbon discusses these same verses from Jeremiah in detail, explains and criticizes Maimonides’ interpretation of them, then presents his own novel explication. According to Ibn Tibbon, the final human perfection is knowledge and understanding of God, without qualification. Thus the verse should be understood differently, with the final clause relating to God rather than man; man should understand and know God, full stop.

Perhaps the most explicit and instructive critique which Ibn Tibbon makes of Rambam relates to his interpretation (Guide 1:15) of Ya’akov’s dream involving angels ascending and descending a ladder. According to Rambam, these angels symbolise prophets. As I present it in Judaism Reclaimed:

“While Rambam understands prophecy to be the preserve of those who have greatly developed their intellect, Ya'akov's dream teaches that the prophet, having scaled the heights and gained a great intellectual insight, must return down to the masses to lead and be involved with their affairs. With this message, the Torah rejects the stereotype of the prophet as a reclusive 'Man of God', who is removed from and unconcerned with the fate of those around him.”

Once again, Ibn Tibbon’s Aristotelian frame of reference could not accept Rambam’s inclusion of altruism as a key requirement for a fully-functioning prophet, writing instead that the angels are the philosophers, who ascend the ladder of wisdom toward metaphysics, the final subject of the curriculum.

In all three of these examples, Ibn Tibbon emphasizes the contemplative over the practical. He works with the same biblical texts singled out by Rambam, but arrives at a different philosophical position.

It is not only Ibn Tibbon who criticised Rambam for insufficiently adhering to Aristotelian principles. Ralbag (Gersonides), in his exploration of the nature of divine knowledge in Milchamot Hashem (3:3) struggles to comprehend how Rambam considers that God has knowledge of particulars as well as generalities writing:

“It seems that Maimonides’ position on this question of Divine cognition is not implied by any philosophical principles; indeed, reason denies this view, as I will show. It seems rather that theological considerations have forced him to this view.”

It is against this backdrop that we can begin to appreciate quite how radical Rambam’s position on the matter was, remaining faithful to the clear implications of the biblical texts despite the theological challenges that these created when viewed from the prevalent Aristotelian perspective (see more on Rambam’s understanding of divine knowledge here).

Assessing Rambam from our modern-day point of view, he defies easy pigeon-holing and does not fit into any of our over-simplified categories of religious thought. While his embrace of a non-kabbalistic Judaism which respects the laws of nature as manifestations of God’s eternal wisdom understandably causes him to be labelled a “rationalist” in the spectrum of today’s Jewish world, this should not mislead people to believe that he did not possess a powerful religious – even mystical dimension (a matter that I have explored elsewhere).

Is it radical to suggest that our assessment of Rambam’s rationalist credentials should take into the account the reactions he received from card-carrying Aristotelians from his own era?

First posted on Facebook 12 February 2023, here.

Drunken Maimonideans and a sobering reality

In his description of the mitzvot of Purim, Rambam obligates a person to “drink wine until he becomes intoxicated and falls asleep in a stupor”. While this requirement stands out as a startlingly unusual religious command – I recall a non-Jewish teacher reacting in utter disbelief to the very idea of it – inebriation would appear particularly harmful to the entire religious enterprise as understood by Rambam, who places so much emphasis on a constantly rational frame of mind. As Maharal, who follows Rambam’s approach in this area, puts it: “Intellect is the connection between man and God, and through intoxication this connection is severed”. What possible religious benefit could such a non-salubrious celebration offer?

An early chapter of Judaism Reclaimed explores a fundamental dichotomy in Rambam’s thought. On the one hand, he idealises intellectual comprehension of rational divine truths as the ultimate religious achievement but at the same time he openly recognises that the human mind is not naturally conditioned for such comprehension. This recognition of the realities of the human condition forms the basis of Rambam’s explanation of the role of Torah and mitzvot as preparatory tools for enabling the intellect to comprehend divine truths. The existence of worldly barriers to intellectual achievement also prompts Rambam to advise that the majority of people must, at least initially, be made aware of God through received tradition rather than rational speculation.

Commenting upon a cryptic passage from this week’s parashah, Rambam (Shemoneh Perakim) takes this idea further. In the aftermath of the Golden Calf, Moshe asks: “Give me a true understanding of Your essence”, to which God responds: “No man can see Me and live.” Rambam explains that even Moshe, who had perfected his intellect and traits to the ‘ultimate’ level in order to perceive objective divine truths, still had one significant barrier preventing him from truly perceiving God: “that the human intellect is not separated [from the body] … his aspiration [objective knowledge of God] was unattainable because he was a physical being”. This principle, that the human intellect is inhibited by its connection to the physical body, appears again in Mishneh Torah where Rambam writes that the soul in the World to Come is able to comprehend God and divine truths to an extent that had previously been impossible when attached to its physical body.

Intoxication can thus serve to remind fervent Maimonideans, who worship at the altar of rational theorising, to be mindful of the outer limits of the human intellect and not place more confidence in the fruit of their rational deliberations than Rambam himself was prepared to. To quote Maimonidean scholar, Prof Marvin Fox: “The widespread failure to recognise Maimonides’ rigorous awareness of the limits of reason continues to be one of the mysteries of the history of Jewish philosophy”.

On a separate note, there is an additional Purim teaching in which Rambam summons his students to cast their glances beyond the walls of their study halls and embrace the needs of the wider community:

It is preferable for a person to be more liberal with his donations to the poor than to be lavish in his preparation of the Purim feast or in sending portions to his friends. For there is no greater and more splendid happiness than to gladden the hearts of the poor, the orphans, the widows, and the converts. One who brings happiness to the hearts of these unfortunate individuals resembles the Divine Presence, which Isaiah describes as having the tendency "to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive those with broken hearts."

As Rambam powerfully affirms in his conclusion to the Moreh, the sort of refined intellectual connection to God which his Judaism so greatly emphasises is one which goes hand-in-hand with personal refinement and empathy for the feelings of others. At the peak of his religious philosophy, Rambam appears to view these areas of endeavour as representing complementary rather than contradictory approaches towards achieving a connection to God.

This post combines ideas from various chapters of Judaism Reclaimed: Philosophy and Theology in the Torah. 

First posted to Facebook on 8 March 2020, here.

Rationalism and mysticism: polar opposites or mutual benefits?

One of the most hotly debated topics on this group – and indeed on many other Facebook forums devoted to Jewish thought – is the much-touted clash between rationalism and mysticism. A core focal point in such discussions tends to be the position of Rambam, an untiring figurehead for the online rationalists. 

The conventional academic approach is perhaps most effectively presented by Professor Menachem Kellner in Maimonides’ Confrontation With Mysticism, a book which clearly set out the areas of conflict between Rambam’s Aristotelian rationalism and his mystical opponents. Kellner’s prominent disciple in this area, Rabbi Natan Slifkin, has just released a new book (pictured) which covers similar points.

One of the projects of Judaism Reclaimed was to challenge and offer alternatives to what I felt was often an oversimplified dichotomy between Maimonidean rationalism and mysticism by those who seek to portray them as polar opposites. Judaism Reclaimed’s introduction (which can be read here) draws on rabbinic sources to argue that the rational and mystical elements of Judaism can and indeed must both be operative in each individual’s religious journey.

My chapters on Rambam’s worldview probe the extent to which we can effectively detach Rambam’s religious teachings from their obsolete Aristotelian packaging and apply them in order to tackle challenges facing the perplexed of the twenty-first century. From Rambam’s treatment of divine providence, resurrection, creation and miracles I try to show how he profoundly and consistently transcends the rigid Aristotelian system of thought. Perhaps the clearest example of this is regarding prophecy, where Rambam describes how both the nature and content of prophetic knowledge go well beyond what can be attained through natural means.

In keeping with this approach, there is an eye-opening book that I have recently been enjoying on this topic: Homo Mysticus: A Guide to Maimonides’s Guide for the Perplexed, by the late Rabbi José Faur, a Rabbi of the Syrian Jewish community and professor of Judaic Studies. While I continue to struggle with some of Faur’s other writings that relate to the functioning of the halachic system and its sages, his analysis of Rambam’s rationalism is fascinating and often very convincing.

The central theme of Faur’s thesis in Homo Mysticus is that the primary intent of the Torah, as explained by Rambam, is to negate idolatry in all of its manifestations. While this notion obviously targets actions such as worshipping pagan deities, it also includes a far more surreptitious and pernicious danger – the uncontrolled human imagination. When man approaches Judaism, God and the world initially through his imagination rather than reason, this leads him to conjure up a God in his own image, which in turn produces strange rites and rituals which accord with his personal thoughts and values. Rambam’s embrace of rationalism is based upon this crucial need to relate to the world through the ‘’tselem Elokim’’ of reason rather than the imagination.

Faur strongly cautions however against those who allow themselves to get too carried away with neatly classifying Rambam as a simple Aristotelian rationalist. On several occasions Rambam appears strongly critical of Aristotle’s arguments and conclusions. In particular, anything which Aristotle writes of matters ‘’beyond the lunar sphere”, i.e. which transcend the physical world, is generally a matter of “guesswork and conjecture”. Rambam typically endorses Aristotelian science only where he considers Aristotle’s conclusions to represent proven scientific principles. In this area (and in many others) Faur’s expertise in the Judeo-Arabic employed by Rambam allows him to identify linguistic nuances concerning Rambam’s critical and sometimes sarcastic attitude towards Aristotle that are not detected by other commentators.

The most important aspect of Faur’s analysis of Moreh Nevuchim is that the ability to approach the world through reason is not the ultimate objective of the Torah. Having successfully trained one’s mind (and character traits) so as to allow oneself to relate to God and the world through reason rather than imagination, a person is then prepared to embark upon the second, esoteric, stage of his or her religious journey. Crucially, Jewish esoterics and mysticism are not some secretive collection of magical codes and spells through which the world can be manipulated. Rather it involves using one’s reason to train one’s imaginative faculty and thereby gain a new and profound perspective on the nature and functioning of the entire world.

It is impossible to record and teach true Jewish mysticism, writes Faur, is because it transcends human terminology and regular experience. In this sense, as Rambam emphasises, “the highest praise of God is silence” – the most profound perspective and relationship with God that a person can attain cannot be meaningfully expressed in words. Faur accompanies his readers through Talmudic accounts and descriptions of esoteric experiences – together with Rambam’s commentary on these passages. Most fascinating is his scholarly interpretation of the aggadic allusions and imagery relating to the four rabbis’ passage through the Pardes.

In conclusion, the works of Prof. Kellner and R’ Slifkin are useful in their ability to highlight the initial areas of conflict between those who approach Judaism through reason and those who are limited and distorted by their own imagination (as well as some of the dangers often involved in the latter). Where I feel they fall short, however, is their insistence on placing rationalism and mysticism as two irreconcilable extremes, as well as their failure to recognise the frequency and extent to which Rambam rejected Aristotelian conclusions. What Rambam’s Judaism ultimately aspires towards is not dressed-up Aristotelian rationalism. But rather, Faur argues, the Torah guides a person to use the rational faculty as a stepping-stone from which to attain a profound perspective on the world and develop a genuine personal relationship with God--a goal which ultimately lay beyond Aristotle and his rational speculations.

First posted on Facebook 14 February 2021, here.