R.Yehudah ha Levi and the fight against box-ticking.

R. Yehudah ha Levi is widely regarded as the medieval thinker who most clearly encapsulates the religious spirit of the Jewish people. In his travels and wanderings he composed songs, poems and liturgical prayers as well as his magnificent work on Jewish philosophy and thought, the Kuzari. What stands out about the Kuzari in particular is its emphasis on the importance of Mitzvoth and actions, the particular importance of the Jewish people, divine revelation as the axis around which all else revolves and the land of Israel. 

When I first read it in translation a couple of years ago I was struck by how readable it was in terms of structure and subject matter, and its lack of apologetic tone or excessive emphasis on medieval philosophic speculation gives it an enduring relevance to the contemporary reader. Although I have never formally studied his writings beyond this casual perusal, I have decided to devote a number of posts to R. Yehudah ha Levi and the Kuzari due to my interest in him as a character and the important and interesting themes his writings raise.

 Born in Toledo in central Spain in 1075, R.Yehudah ha-Levi was educated in Lucena, Southern Spain, becoming acquainted with various branches of Jewish learning at the school of Rabbi Isaac Alfasi and forming close relationships with some of the Rif's outstanding pupils such as R' Joseph ibn Migash. He chose medicine as his profession but showed a particular fondness for poetry early on and became familiar with the world of Graeco-Arabic philosophy. His talents as a poet earned him the admiration of his senior, Moses ibn Ezra. He married in Toledo and appears to have had one daughter.

It is particularly striking how prominent a place the land of Israel plays in the life of R.Yehudah ha-Levi. His life is marked by a strong desire to return there as the focal point for a Jew's relationship with God. This yearning, expressed in poetry and synagogue liturgy, finally found full fruition  in his decision to move there after the death of his wife. I saw a particularly nice quote that he wished to "do away with the contradiction of daily confessing a longing and of never attempting to realise it" - Oh Had I eagle's wings, I'd fly to thee. And with my falling tears, make moist thine earth.

His journey was turbulent, however, and it is unclear if he ever arrived at his destination. In Egypt, he had to struggle against the protesters and pleadings of friends to remain there to persevere on the route trodden by his ancestors in the desert. It is reported that he was greeted in Tyre and Damascus by local communities. After this, however, the chronological record ends, although the story is told that upon coming to Jerusalem and seeing the holy city he sang his beautiful elegy Zion ha-lo Tish'ali whereupon he was ridden down and killed by an Arab horseman who had dashed forth from a gate.

His life's works are marked by their yearning for God and to be near to Him, as well as an uncommon religious passion and fervour. In a sense they are windows into the religious personality. For me, there is one particular fascinating and recurring theme in his works that I think is worth commenting on, namely, the very striking contrast between living for an ideal and paying lip service to it.  

In a striking passage of Moreh Nevuchim that I recently studied, the Rambam describes how for most people, faith is just something they talk about as a social norm, a bit like associating with a particular football club. Real Emunah leaves an imprint of G-d on the soul like the a recollection of a true friend, representing a reality that is truly alive. Similarly, in the Kuzari, the Rabbi confesses his shame that despite the land of Israel playing such a prominent role in the relationship between G-d and His people, very few actively tried to return. 
There comes a point in life where sometimes you stare into the abyss that separates what you say you want from life and what you actually want from it. Throughout all his writings, Yehudah ha Levi vividly portrays the restless torment he feels at trying to cross this divide and epitomises a startlingly profound quest for authenticity.

Whilst I mentioned this when I discussed the post-Yeshiva resignation, even in the unlikely scenario where the similarities will be noticed, the point needs reiterating. For many, the world of ideals finishes in their early twenties. 'Discoveries', 'quests' and 'journeys' end in a comfortable box or social category which is easily defined and slots us into a particular system and that is that. Endurance and consistency are usually the limits of idealism after that. 

Reading the writings of R. Yehudah ha Levi is an exposure to a single-handed critique of this monotony. Restlessness, turbulence and ultimately the glorious soaring of the religious soul come to the fore in sometimes breathtaking style. I am struck by how  tirelessly he strives for religious meaning in all areas of life, in the personal, national and universal sense. It also affirms for me the importance of developing the individual within religious society and the value of the endless quest. Yes, not everyone has the passionate soul of arguably Jewish history's greatest poet but there is a great deal to be learned from the very spirit of his writing, as well as the idea of the inherent worth of every Jew and the importance of their contribution to the world.

The very idea of his perseverance to reach the land of Israel against all odds is an excellent example of being real with religious ideals. It reminds me of something that struck me when doing research last year on the phenomenon of Shabbatai Tzvi's mass following in the 1660s. It wasn't only surprising that people followed a false messiah, it was also that they followed a messiah at all. The memoirs of Gluckl of Hameln poignantly express the feelings of the ordinary Jews who sincerely dreamt of the arrival of the Moshiach and genuinely anticipated his arrival any day. 

This heartfelt yearning which seems to come from the roots of the Jewish consciousness and historical memory, I feel ashamed to say, seems like such an elusive concept in the post-Modern world. R. Yehudah ha Levi asks of us whether the Jewish people still long for their creator, for a return to the land of Israel, for that mind-set whereby spiritual and religious ideals are something more than things that we write down to further our chances in, shall we say, other areas in life? These are all powerful questions that reading the Kuzari raised for me and I will endeavour to start looking at different themes in the upcoming weeks. 
For those who remember, my post with some of the medieval poems in them has been delayed and I will hope to get round to it soon.

The obligatory Dylan:

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Make everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It’s easy to see without looking too far
That not much is really sacred