Rambam, Maimonides, Abu Imran, or the Ra”m ba”r Maza”l, as he was variously known, was not just a legal scholar and judge, not just a doctor and a philosopher, but a contemplative mystic on the path of prophecy, not just practicing conceptual-emotional quietude through meditative prayer but actively living a life of self-abnegation, service, and the disciplined cultivation of virtue.
In short, it would be safe to say that Rambam was a Hasid.
It is hard to define what exactly Hasidism is.
The simple, popular definition is “piety.”
But piety tends to carry a rather narrow, religious meaning, that fails to capture or convey either the breadth or depth of Hasidism or things identifiable as Hasidic.
What can we say about Hasidism?
It is related to human development, to the balancing of psycho-somatic forces and the realization of human psycho-spiritual potential. It is related to the revelatory construction of the divine image in the human being and its attunement to the divine pathos in the world. It is related to the integration of heaven and earth, the perfection of the individual human and the entirety of creation as micro- and macrocosms of each other, the orbital harmony of souls dancing and singing praises of the Creator who loves all. It is related to love and to the transformation of a scared, savage animal into a compassionate being in love with humanity, the creation, and the Creator.
Within and beyond the stabilizing framework of the text and law, Hasidism exists as an active reading of the signs of divine love in the daily and mortal stories of our lives. The material of Hasidism can take any form but is often comprised of songs and stories and shocking intellectual-emotional prods to reconsider, reinvigorate, and reconstruct the world we live in. Its flavor, melody, and intoxicating scent come from the unique conditions in which Hasidism arises anew in every generation and in every community, adapting to the specific psycho-spiritual (but also socio-political!) needs of every time, place, and people. Hasidism reaches every person on their level and slowly lures them into different ways of feeling, thinking, speaking, and acting.
Every Hasid follows the same path to truly knowing their Creator – yet each Hasid travels the path differently, according to their own condition and the condition of their community.
Rambam, having absorbed the cultural and spiritual heritage of Andalus, was well-equipped not just to develop his own private practice as a Hasid but to guide the Jewish community of Egypt in his day (and much of the Jewish world) in the ways of Hasidism.
It is well-known but perhaps often overlooked that Rambam named the first three books of his magnum opus, the books of Knowledge, Love, and Times. The significance of setting these themes as the starting point for Maimonidean halakhic study and practice is profound: the entire system of law is cast as a path towards the Hasidic goals of True Knowledge and Love of God, structured by and filtered through the shifting conditions of the time cycles we inhabit in this earthly existence. It is of further note that in recording as settled law in the Book of Love the prayer practices of the ancient rabbis – including the full washing of face, hands of feet in preparation for prayer, meditating before prayer, kneeling and prostrating during prayer, among other things – Rambam was directing all those who sought his guidance to pray in a way that was decidedly Hasidic.
In his Guide (Signpost) for the Perplexed (Facing Diverging Paths), Rambam functions as a guide for the Hasid facing the limitations not just of his worldview but his mode of thinking, and seeking True Knowledge of his Creator. Addressing himself to the rational reader standing on the cusp of the transrational, Rambam drew on the terminology, ideas, writings, and contemplative practices of not just rabbinic Hasidim but Hasidim of the nations (known generally as Sufis), such as Ibn al-Arabi and Ibn Sina (who also transmitted many of the Neoaristotelian ideas and concepts Rambam saw as aligned with the rabbinic tradition), in slowly deconstructing the reader’s way of thinking about God, religion, language, truth, and power, and leading the attentive reader, by means of signs and hints and prods, to a new of thinking and practicing religion authentically, virtuously, and meditatively, setting them on the path to prophecy.
Once again, in this most well-known of Rambam’s works, his approach and guidance can be seen as decidedly Hasidic.
Unfortunately, as academics have methodological trouble studying and writing about phenomena that lack precise labels and definitions, little has been written about Rambam, Hasidism, and Sufism. Much more has been written about Rambam’s son, R Abraham Maimuni, and his (supposedly innovative) ideas and practices that are more easily identifiable as (and explicitly labeled) “Hasidic/Sufi.”
Starting with Rambam’s own son, generations of Maimonidean Hasidim studied, practiced, and taught the legal path of Rambam alongside what they likewise represented as his Hasidic path – expressing and elaborating on that path in an idiom shared with Sufis – without experiencing any form of conflict within their practice. It is highly unlikely that this intergenerational Hasidism originates in a rupture with Rambam’s teachings and practice – but rather, especially in light of the above, was a continuation of his work.
My hope is that this exceedingly short description of Hasidism and some Hasidic aspects of Rambam’s work will provide both greater understanding of the psycho-spiritual mode and aims of Maimonideanism as well as the roots, context, and ideas behind the Maimuni family’s Hasidism.
May our service and our love only be enhanced by our ever-deepening awareness of our service and our love.