Season 1: Episode 19 - Call of the Spirit, Call of the Flesh

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My fault, my failure says, Jack Kerouac, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them. Now I'm trying to control myself in order to tell a story of the past that can invoke in you a passion for the present, which then can carry us to the future of which we dream. Because I'm Rav Mike Foyer, and this is The Jewish Story. Episode 19 Call of the Spirit, Call of the Flesh We're at a very important point of embodiment for the Jewish people. Because, you know, you can think of the Torah as the spiritual DNA of the Jewish people. The genotype, if you will. And while the DNA in an entity is more or less always the same, barring major mutation, the phenotype, the express form, is going to depend almost entirely on the environment of formation.

And that's why you can plant the Torah in Babylon, North Africa, Italy, Spain, or Poland, and the way in which it is lived can look radically different. Just like an acorn, planted in rocky soils, dropped in sandy deserts, or in deep loam, will produce astonishingly different oak trees. not to mention what happens during the tree's lifetime as the wind blows and the rain comes or doesn't so the Jewish people in any given time or place are actually the living form of the Torah and this is another way of expressing that theory of cultural evolution which we've mentioned so many times before the particular form which Am Yisrael takes in a specific socio-historical context will be expressive both of its inner truth, its genotype, or source code if you're more the tech type, and the influence of the environmental formation.

And in this respect, it's beyond question that Spain was a true flowering. You should know, there's a deep debate about whether the notion of a golden age of the Jews in Spain is to be trusted. There are those historians who claim that the rosy picture that they like to paint, about Spain of the 10th and 11th centuries, the Convivencia, that period of toleration for the three monotheistic faiths, began as wishful thinking and ended as political correctness. They point to the origin in the Jewish historians of the 19th century, who were embittered over a thousand years of history in Christian Europe. And furthermore, in their own day, they felt that they had found the promise of the emancipation to be a complete failure, and therefore particularly galling.

And it was they, claimed the revisionist historians, who propagated this myth of a golden past in a specifically Islamic society, which they labeled as inherently more tolerant of and compatible with Judaism than Christian society could ever be. The idea of the Golden Age grew as the Zionist project actually progressed and took on an uglier color. Life was good for the Jews under Islam until these pesky Zionists upset the apple cart. And now, in our day, it's politically incorrect to say anything bad about Islam, and therefore it's essential to assert that when it had power over the Jews, life was golden. Now, these revisionists, in turn, paint a grim picture of an oppressed people familiar to the Jews in Christian society in what's known as the lacrimose theory of history, one long veil of tears.

I'm not here to settle such a battle between rival camps of historiography. I suspect that the truth, as it generally does, lies somewhere closer to the middle. What I can say for sure is that there are elements of this story which will have a profound effect on our vision of the future, depending on how it's told. And furthermore, it's without doubt that if we look at the literature that we have inherited from early medieval Spain, it is worth its weight in gold. Not only that, the historical record demonstrates that the degree of fusion which the Jews achieved with Muslim society allowed for certain personalities to rise to the heights of power in a way in which was unimagined in Christian society.

No matter what second-class citizenship, they were actually relegated to by the technicalities of Islamic law. And amongst those personalities, without question, the greatest was Shmuel ibn Nagrila, known more as Shmuel Hanagid. Born in the year 993 of the Common Era, dies in 1056. And here's a little bit of his life story. Now you recall that the Caliphate of Cordoba, founded by Abed al-Rahman III, actually comes to an end in around the year 1031. But that's the technical end. there were several decades of war between the Berbers and their rival factions that led up to it. And in 1009, a civil war broke out against the Amerid kingdom. The Berbers took the city in 1013, the city of Kotba, and Shmuel was forced to flee.

He fled to a different city, known as Malaga, where he opened up a spice shop near the palace of the vizier of Granada, Abu Al-Khasim ibn Arif. now the Sefer HaKabalah that so important work by Rabbi Avan Ibn Da'ud says that Shemul was not only a spice merchant not only a Talmud Chacham a wise man in the Torah he was a master of Arabic calligraphy and in a society which valued the power of writing perhaps above all else this gave him a particular position one which he quickly filled because, says Rabbi Ibn Da'ud that the maid servant for the vizier was in the habit of going to the spice shop to supply her master's kitchen. And furthermore she quickly discovered that this merchant was a learned man and was able to write letters on her behalf to her employer.

And when her employer began to receive these letters, he immediately said you didn't write them and I want to meet the man who did. And through her agency Shmuel soon to be Hanagid, Ibn Nagrila became the advisor to Abu Qasim to the vizier now, on Al-Arif's deathbed the vizier admitted to King Hebes of Granada that almost the entirety of his political successes and decisions were a result of consulting with his Jewish secretary and Al-Arif confessed that he had actually been telling the king exactly what Shmuel had been saying all along. The vizier spoke so highly of this Jew, that King Habes put aside all of Islamic law and perhaps his own personal prejudice against Jews, and on the recommendation of the dying of the vizier, took Shmuel under his wing and appointed him to Al-Ari's position.

And in his day, Shmuel became the tax collector, the secretary, and ultimately the vizier to the Berber king of Granada. I'll give you a story that demonstrates both his piety and perhaps the delicacy of his position as a Jewish courtier in a Muslim kingdom. The story is that a fanatical Muslim spice merchant once grossly offended Shmuel as he was accompanying his master through the streets. The king was so incensed at the offense to his loyal servant, and of course his own honor, that he commanded Shmuel to punish the man by cutting out his tongue. Now, the king went away, but rather than cutting out his tongue, Shmuel made a present to his offender and appeased him with kind words. When the king later was riding once again past the merchant's shop, he was astonished to hear the man speaking, and he immediately questioned his vizier, Shmuel, about why he had not fulfilled the king's command.

But I have, answered Shmuel, I tore out his angry tongue and gave him a kind one in return. the year 1037 was the turning point in Shmuel life because in that year King Havis died and two parties in Granada rallied around his two sons The majority of Berber nobles, and a significant portion of the influential Jews, actually sided with the younger brother, while Shmuel headed a smaller party which supported the elder son, Beres. Now this was a big risk, not only of losing a position, but even of his own head. But in an unexpected turn of events, the younger son actually abdicated in favor of his elder brother, and Betis became king. When he did, Shmuel not only retained his foreign position of vizier, but became practically king of Grenada himself, because Betis was far more interested in a life of pleasure than he was in the affairs of state.

And at the same time, Shmuel became the authorized chief of the Jews, the Nagid, which is why we know him as Shmuel HaNagid. This term actually has quite ancient roots and a deep resonance for the Jews of Spanish exile. You can find it in the first book of Shmuel and the ninth chapter in the 16th line. At this time tomorrow, says God to the prophet Samuel, I shall send you a man from the land of Benjamin, and you shall anoint him to be Nagid of my people Israel, their ruler, and he will save my people from the hands of the Philistines. I have looked upon my people for their cry has come to me. Throughout the history of the Jews, in medieval Iberia, that people are going to look to these nobles that attain high places in the courts of power, be they the Islamic courts in our phase, or the Christian courts in the phase to come.

They'll look to them as the saviors, whether it's from the Philistines, the Muslims, or the Christians. And they will attribute to them a status which is like that of the House of David. Now, in addition to being a powerful politician, and obviously quite a crafty advisor, Shmuel Nagid was also one of the most important of the early medieval poets. And his verse, religious war poems and love songs, will set the mold for much of the subsequent Andalusian poetry, which is one of the great treasures of Jewish history. It's important to sense the sensuous call of life that runs through all of these poems. In his Shirey of Milchama, his Poems of War, Shmuel describes over 20 expeditions which he undertook between the years 1038 and 1056, because he was likely the only Jew ever to march at the head of a Muslim army.

And when he defeats the allied armies of Seville, Malaga, and the Berbers in 1047, on the behalf of his master, King of Granada, at the Battle of Ronda, he writes a poem of gratitude for his deliverance, which echoes the song of the sea that Israel sang when they came up out of the Red Sea. Now, for someone like me, who grew up being told that Jews don't play football, which I didn't said, the image of this poet warrior riding at the hand of conquering armies is all but intoxicating. And it's clear that he felt the intoxication of life as well, which is quite apparent in the imagery of love, war, and wine that runs through all of his works. The only scholarly work of Shmuel and Nagi that has survived for us is what's called the Mevo HaTamud, It's a two-part introduction to the entire Gemara, the first half of which is a list of scholars from the men of the Great Assembly, go back and listen to the previous episodes, all the way down to his own teacher, Rabbi Enoch.

And the other half is actually a methodology of learning the Talmud, which is included in every edition of the Talmud today. Now, he wasn't just a poet himself, or even a great scholar or a politician. Shmuel Nagib was also an incredible patron. Moshe ibn Ezra writes that the kingdom of science was raised from its loneliness and the star of knowledge once more shone forth. God gave unto him to Shmuel a great mind which reached to the spheres and touched the heavens so that he might love knowledge and those that pursued her he might glorify religion and her followers. Now one of those he glorified in his person and through his person religion was Rabbi Bachya ibn Pakuda, the author of Chovot HaLivavot, The Duties of the Heart, which was published in approximately 1080 of the Common Era.

Chovot HaLivavot is actually the first systematic presentation of the ethical moral teachings of the Torah. There are ten sections of the work, and in them, Rabbeinu Bachya takes on the technical specialists of the law, the halachasists, who he sees as focused on purely outward observance and ignoring the inner duties of the heart, and he also takes aim at the Jewish aristocracy of his day, because it's clear that though they maintain a nominal adherence to the law, in Rabbeinu Bache's eyes, these wealthy men had gone astray after the world of the flesh. Apparently, Rabbeinu Bache had been reading the poetry of his day, which was intensely sensuous, in ways that we're going to discuss shortly, and the elevation of pleasure to divine heights was not to the liking of a moralist, be he Jewish or Muslim.

Now, in one respect, Rebbeinu Bachir was treading firmly along the path which had been laid for him by Rebbe Sadia Gaon a centrally earlier, as we've discussed. Because he not only assumes that philosophy and tradition can be integrated, he believes that they must be. The opening chapter of Chovot HaLevo, Duties of the Heart, deals with the unity of God. And he asserts there that there can be no sincerity in religious observance which is not grounded in a theologically sound understanding of God. That's going to break down in the long run, but just appreciate, for now, it's the assumption. Rabbi Nebuchadnezzar then, as he progresses, incorporates all science into the pursuit of divine, because he says that one must contemplate systematically the ways in which God is revealed throughout all the details of creation.

Only once all this has been clarified can the seeker after God move on to trust, sincerity, humility and repentance, and ultimately the true goal, which is the love of God. Because only such a union could provide satisfaction for the desires of the pious. Or at least for the pious desires, because there are other forms of love and satisfaction that the world offers. Now, Rabbeinu Bache not only tread on the path laid for him by his rabbinic forbearers, but he was actually completely absorbed in the spirit of his day. in particular he was deeply influenced by the Sufi pietism the Sufis are a subset the mystic subset of the Islamic culture their pietism and mysticism was widely popular amongst Muslim thinkers and though they differed from Rebain Abakhia in their rejection of philosophy nevertheless his work shows significant parallels to their thought and even in content in many places he borrows heavily from Islamic spiritual moralist works of his day in a way which was obvious to his contemporaries.

But Rebbeinu Bachir was not simply a passive product of his time. He harnessed this Sufi spirit, and he bound it to biblical and rabbinic sources. And in doing so, Rebbeinu Bachir brought out a previously unarticulated face of the inheritance of Am Yisrael. He was driven by his desire to revive the true spirit of Torah, which he feared was actually fading in his day. another contemporary and protege of Shmuel and Agid was Rabbi Shlomo Ibn Gabirol now his story is a little bit confusing in its details since the documentation is sparse nevertheless, the sources agree he was born in Malaga in 1021 or 1022 the year of his death is a matter of huge dispute some accounts say he died before the age of 30 some at age 48, no matter, we'll speak about how he died in a moment.

There's no argument, however, about his character. When describing him, Rabbi Moshe and Ibn Azra actually speaks about an angry spirit which held sway over reason, and his demon within, which he couldn't control. He actually describes himself in his poems as short and ugly. All in all, a difficult person by most accounts. Many people believe he was afflicted with perhaps tuberculosis of the skin Painful Nevertheless Rabbi Ibn Gibril was known in his day for his greatness as a poet and he was held up down through the ages for his power as a philosopher as well. In philosophy, the role and stature of Rabbi Ibn Gibril has actually been compared to that of Philo. You can go back and listen to the previous episode, but just to remind you, both serve as cultural bridges, philo bridge between Hellenistic philosophy of his day and the Hebrew soul, and Ibn Gabirol would bridge between the Greco-Arabic philosophy and all of Western religion, Jewish and non.

Furthermore, both were largely ignored by their fellow Jews in their own day, but in the end exercised significant influence on non-Jewish culture, philo on early Christianity, as we discussed, and Rabbi Shlomo on medieval Christian scholasticism in a way which is quite surprising. His great work of philosophy was Mekor Hachayim, the source of life, which is known as Fons Vital in Latin. It was a treatise on form and matter in the Neoplatonic style. It's worth it actually to give a word of explanation on what exactly Neoplatonism is, seeing as it's going to be the dominant stream of Jewish and some Islamic philosophical thought until around the mid-12th century, when the Aristotelian thought takes over, and even then it will reappear in a somewhat altered form within the Kabbalistic tradition.

Neoplatonic philosophy involves a systematic description of the emergence of the whole of reality from a single principle, the one. Single, undifferentiated, perfect, unchanging. These are phrases that may sound familiar. It therefore sees the world as a process of emanation, and specifically describing them as hierarchical spheres of being which begin with the one and descend down to levels filled with multiplicity, imperfection, and a deterministic nature. But, since even the lowest physical form is reflective of some higher intelligible world in that classic manner of the Platonic ideal, this is more than just philosophy. Because one who attains ethical and intellectual perfection, he teaches, and then engages in proper contemplation, can re-ascend the ladder of emanation, releasing the soul from the body through spiritual ecstasy, or in the long run, through death.

Because ecstasy and death are the equivalent to salvation. Now, I want you to remember that access to the Greek literature of Neoplatonic thought for Rabbi Ibn Gabirol actually came through the Arabic translation of the Greek sources. So his very basis of contemplation was by definition rooted in cultural amalgamation. And furthermore, the Makor Haim, his source of life, doesn't cite any biblical verses or rabbinic sources, making it somewhat unique for Jewish thought of its day. Further, Rabbi Ibn Gabirol wrote his philosophical works in Arabic. He says actually in one of his poems that there were 20 philosophical works he wrote, although this is the only which we have. And of course, all of his contemporaries wrote in Arabic as well, his Jewish contemporaries.

At some point, the Makura Chaim was translated from Arabic into Latin, perhaps in the great Toledo school of translators that we'll discuss in a coming episode. And it became the Franz Vital, and the product of one Aviseberon, who was assumed by the Christians which received it to be a Christian himself, or perhaps an Islamic scholar in the Neoplatonic school. But as such, as the Fonz Vitao, his work became a primary text for Catholic scholasticism of the 13th and 14th century. It would only be in the 19th century that researchers would discover that Rabbi Ibn Gabriel's true identity was a rabbi living in medieval Spain. Meanwhile, he'd become quite well known in the history of philosophy. only under a false name in culture.

Now, though the language of philosophy in his day was Arabic, the Jewish poets of medieval Spain wrote their verse in Hebrew, in a rich, referential, powerful Hebrew. And Rebbe Ibn Gavirol was as famous for his poetry as his philosophy. As I said, truth is, more so. He wrote Shir HaKavod, the Song of Glory, the Shir HaYichud, the Song of Unity. These are religious poems which are part of the liturgy that will be familiar to any regular shulgoer. Just to give you a taste, my thoughts astounded ask me why. Toward the whirling wheels on high, in ecstasy I rush and fly. The living God is my desire. It carries me on wings of fire, body and soul to him as fire. God is at once my joy and fate. This yearning me he did create.

At thought of him I palpitate. Unquestionably, his greatest religious poem was Keter Malchut. The Crown of Kingship. A few hundred stanzas long. The poem is an awesome description. It's actually a philosophical treatise in verse on God, man, Am Yisrael, and the Torah. And it's still recited by many Sfardim on Yom Kippur night. And in a slightly different angle, Ibn Gabiro wrote a large amount of secular love poetry as well. And here, the draw of sensual life appears extremely strong. and the question of ecstasy a bit more complicated. I will be a ransom for the gazelle of love, in whom all who grieve find happiness, whose cheeks are like white marble, and ruddy as though anointed with the blood of lovers.

The fruit of his lips are like swords, and his eyes like arrows to the heart. You need to know that poetry, whose primary themes were love and wine-drinking, were central aspects of Islamic culture in Al-Andalus, as was the passion for young men. Because if you were listening, you may have noticed the masculine pronoun in the poem I just quoted, the fruit of his lips, his eyes like arrows to the heart. There is an incredible wealth of homoerotic poetry from Al-Andalus, written by both Islamic and Jewish poets. And though the Jewish poets are more restrained in their imagery, never really passing the point of passionate kissing, and they mostly focus on the unhappiness of love, there is Arabic poetry of the same genre at the same time which is downright pornographic.

Now my goal here is not to shock, or even to enter into the scholarly debate about whether such poetry was purely an exercise in erotic fantasy, or whether it was reflective of actual practice, though I do believe it's critical to note the mass of contemporary documentation of widespread physical love between grown men and boys at this period in Al-Ange Luce. But what's important to me is to ask, what does this mean for the Jewish consciousness of its day? How is it that the same men who wrote the most passionate religious poetry Am Yisrael has ever produced, some of which serves as the backbone of our liturgy, even the penitential prayers which we say in our synagogues to this very day, were consumed by desire for something which their halachic mind, their legal mind, viewed as completely forbidden.

Remember, both the Torah and the Quran view same-sex intercourse between men as forbidden, and the Jewish and Islamic legal traditions understand it as an act punishable by death. Now, it needs to be stated that this question has nothing to do with passionate love between men. On the contrary, I believe that the entire structure of the Torah over time was built on the foundation of men who shared passion for God, Torah, and one another. For anyone who's familiar with the story, just think about how Rabbi Yochanan pined away and eventually died when he lost his chavrut to his study partner Resh Lakish Or really the classic example of David and Yonatan in the Bible In his lament for his lost friend which is found at the beginning of the second book of Samuel, David cries, your love was more wonderful to me than the love of women.

Nevertheless, there's also the law. And, as I said, I can't weigh in on whether this poetry is reflective of actual sexual intimacy, which some of the great men of Jewish Al-Andalus engaged in. But I don't believe that such a possibility should be ignored, because I think it can help us understand the nature of passion which overflows all boundaries. And that is the hallmark of Andalusian culture. Now the standard term for the young boy who is the object of the poet's desire is a gazelle, a tzvi. And of course, the biblical source for the use of this term as an object of passion is found in the Song of Songs, in Shir Shirim, second chapter, ninth line. My beloved is like a gazelle, or a fawn of the hinds.

Behold, he is standing behind our wall, looking from the windows, peering from the lattices. Notice, it's he. And one of the truly astounding aspects of the homoerotic poetry written by Shmuel and Nagid, Ibn Gabirol, Moshe and Ibn Ezra, and others, is that it's often difficult to distinguish from their religious poetry. Now, the subject of some of the poems is clearly a young boy. The subject of others is clearly God. And he's the beloved gazelle sought by the lovers. In others, God is the lover, and the people of Israel are the beloved. In some, the beloved is the Messiah. But the yearning, whether for God, Messiah, or other, is expressed in the exact same terms as those used in the secular love poetry, often frankly erotic.

And, to add the element of tragedy, let's not forget that at this point, Am Yisrael has been waiting for the return of his beloved for over a thousand years. Because as I said, often the chief element of this erotic poetry was not the joys of love, but quite the opposite. It was the pain caused by love, the unrequited love, the deceitful boy who abandons his lover for another. And it's precisely this imagery which is borrowed and used in the religious poetry. Now, I do want to emphasize that while there are some frank allusions, none of the Hebrew poetry so far discovered has any actual references to sexual activity other than passionate kissing. While on the other hand, Arabic poetry from the same period, country, and general social environment is full of explicit sexual acts.

And so, we can wonder about the behavior of these men, but we need to learn from their life of unbridled passion. and I'll end this thought with a quote from the Rambam from Moshe Ben Maimon who probably speaking belongs to the next phase of our story and we'll discuss him at its right time nevertheless I think that this discussion and the question of how we hold what appears to be a dichotomy between passionate love which the law defines as forbidden and the passionate overflowing love which these poets held for God I think we can use that to help us understand why it is that the closing image of the Rambam's work on tshuva, on repentance, is the following description of the love of God. And what is the proper degree of love, he asks?

That a person should love God with a very great and exceeding love until his soul is bound up in the love of God. Thus, he will always be obsessed with this love as if he is lovesick. A lovesick person, says the Rambam, their thoughts are never diverted from the love of that woman he is always obsessed with her when he sits down, when he gets up, when he eats and drinks with an even greater love the love for God should be implanted in the hearts of those who love him and are obsessed with him at all times as we are commanded to love God with all your heart and with all your soul now legend says the Rabbi Ibn Gabirol was actually murdered by a rival Muslim poet who is jealous of his gifts and who secretly buried him between the roots of a fig tree.

When the tree bore fruit of an abundant quality and an extraordinary sweetness, its uniqueness drew people's attention and provoked an investigation. The resulting dig uncovered Ibn Gabirol's remains and led to the identification and execution of his murderer. it's clear that hot blood and the passions of the flesh are as much part of the story of the golden age as poetry philosophy and piety and so I want to end with one last event which in a sense exposes the tarnish which was hidden by the gold and which many historians mark as the end of the golden era Shmuel and Nagid, the grand vizier of Granada and great protector and patron of the Jews, died, as I said, in the year 1056. And he was succeeded in both offices by his eldest son, Yosef.

Now, Rabbi Avram ibn Da'ud describes Yosef in the Sefer HaKabalah, saying that he was a great man, who had all of his father's positive qualities, except for one, his humility, having been raised in luxury. and during his life, his high-handedness made Yosef many bitter enemies because he preferred the use of power to suppress opposition as opposed to the tact of his father and in particular, the Berber tribes who made up the majority of the populace of Granada and who were in the process of tearing apart the unified Muslim kingdom of Al-Andalus they despised him In December of the year 1066, a rumor spread throughout Granada that Yosef intended to kill King Vadis, who his father had placed on the throne, and seized the throne for himself.

At the end of the month, an enraged Muslim mob stormed the royal palace where he lived, seized Yosef, and crucified him, hanging his body from the walls. And then, the first major pogrom of the Middle Ages began. In the ensuing massacre, many of the Jews of Granada were killed. By some estimates, more than 4,000 died in a single day. And once again, poetry played its part in inciting passion. The Jew-hating Arabic poet Abu Ishaq composed the following verse in the lead-up to the Granada massacre. And some historians actually see it as propaganda which was meant to incite to Yosef's murder. Do not consider it a breach of faith to kill them. The breach of faith would be to let them carry on. They have violated our covenant with them, so how can you be held guilty against the violators?

How can they have any pact when we are obscure and they are prominent? Now we are humble beside them, as if we were wrong and they were right. The power of poetry is indisputable, and passion which overflows all bounds can lead to a transcendence of the world and a cleaving to God, and it can lead to the draw of the flesh. But as we can see, all historical debates decide, not everything was golden in this age. I just want to thank a few people. First of all, those amazing people who give their hard-earned money to make this project possible. If you want to join them, you should go to www.patreon.com right now, You can find my M. Foyer page and hit the donate button for a little per-podcast support. I also want to thank the folks at the Land of Israel Network for giving me a platform that allows me to reach such a wonderful cross-section of the world.

And I want to thank Pardes Institute for its support and giving me an opportunity to touch the hearts of so many Jews. That's pardes.org.il. And I want to thank Suleyakou because it's my home. You can find me. I'm Rav Mike Ford. You can find me on Rav Mike on Facebook. Reach out, send me your thoughts. I want to thank you for listening. I'm Rav Mike Foyer, and this is The Jewish Story.