This essay addresses the 'Maimonides Controversy' in the early 13th Century, which culminated in Rambam's works being burned in 1232 by the Dominicans in Montpellier. The Rambam was universally revered within the Jewish world in the 13th Century but his rationalist world-view was widely thought to pose a threat to classical Jewish perspectives and lead to apostasy. In this essay I argue that whilst most historians of the controversy have been quite apologetic regarding the concerns of the anti-Maimonist camp, a re-examination of the evidence shows that the problems that many of the great medieval scholars had with Rambam were far more fundamental: For them his world-view was an illegitimate way of understanding of Judaism and his attempts to achieve a synthesis with classical philosophy had no place in understanding God's Torah. One of the legacies of the controversy, I have suggested, is that Rambam came to be known in traditional circles purely as a halakhic giant, whose overall worldview was relegated to insignificance.
I think the various controversies of the 13th and 14th centuries have important ramifications when considering the attitudes of different contemporary groups regarding the legitimacy of secular studies, science, philosophy and integrative techniques in Jewish life and thought.
It's 4,500 words, enjoy ;-)
What were the real
reasons surrounding the Maimonides controversy in the 13th Century?
The burning of Mamonides’
Guide of the Perplexed and Sefer Ha Madah
by the Dominicans in Montpellier in 1232 sent shock waves throughout the
Jewish communities of Spain, Germany and France. A strong assumption existed
that it had been carried out on upon denunciation from the anti-Maimonist camp
who had banned the works and put them into herem.
The episode lived long in collective Jewish memory as being the cause of
the burning of the Talmud in Paris in 1240.[1] The Maimonides controversy,
as it became known, is widely understood as bringing to a head several
conflicts within Jewish thought such as reason and philosophy in their relation
to faith and tradition and what components are permitted and prohibited in the
education of an individual following the Torah.[2] Maimonides was a revered
yet controversial figure; even within his lifetime, Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah had attracted criticism
for its claim to have definitively codified the tradition of rabbinic law.
However, by the first few decades of the thirteenth Century it was his
philosophical works that were met with the greatest resistance.
This paper will
largely concern itself with exploring the dynamics of the late twelfth and
early thirteenth century leading to the ban in Montpellier. It is important to
emphasise that this controversy was largely rabbinic in making and as such the
prioritisation of rabbinic source material is entirely justified. Whilst fighting
broke out between different factions in the 1230s, the attack on the legitimacy
of Maimonides’ works was instigated and supported by rabbinic leaders. In fact,
few of the bans or attempted bans on Maimonides’ works ever received
significant popular support. Most of the studies which focus on the
controversies surrounding Maimonides were written between the late 19th
century and the 1970s and there has been little recent scholarship in this
particular area. In terms of historiography, whereas accounts by Graetz and
Baer discuss how the controversy came to be defined in terms of its theoretical
issues and Joseph Sarachek’s study focuses on the tension between classical
rabbinic thought and philosophy, Daniel Silver’s work is the most systematic in
analysing the context and issues affecting the controversy directly between
1180 and 1240. In this paper I will argue, however, that Silver’s conclusions
do not to correspond to his research in determining the ‘real issues’ behind
the controversy. Silver contests that the controversy had very little to do
with Maimonides himself or his approach towards religion. It was a controversy
borne of fear. As Christian persecution increased so did the threat of apostasy
and it is this that led to the extreme response of the herem. Yet in analysing the correspondence between R. Meir Abulafia
and the rabbis of Lunel, the contextual sociological factors and the discussions
of the anti-Maimonists in the 1230s I will argue that whilst fear of apostasy
was an important issue in the initial exchanges of the early thirteenth
century, by the time of the burnings it had been largely supplanted by
fundamental questions of Jewish thought. The anti-Maimonist camp rejected
Maimonides’ works not for their potential pitfalls but rather for their
non-Jewish nature. It was not a question of the legitimacy of studying of
philosophy per se but whether it could be legitimately synthesised into Jewish
thought. The contextual factors of persecution in Christian Spain and France
forced a more detailed examination of the religious boundaries of Jewish thought
and for many, Maimonidean rationalism with its universalistic elements was
found wanting.
I would like to present this analysis by showing how Silver’s
thesis is convincing if contextual and historiographical factors are given
priority as evidence, but not if close attention is paid to the correspondence
of the protagonists. Silver’s ‘de-personalised’ approach will be explored thoroughly
before I suggest my own counter thesis; Having analysed Silver’s source
material I will justify my own position, with particular attention to the
compilation of R. Meir Abulafia’s correspondence and how the halakhist attitude
evolved into a fundamental esoteric objection to Maimonides’ approach.
The ‘real issue’ in the
controversy, Silver argues, was the widespread rabbinic fear of apostasy
brought about by the increased interest in proselytising from the Catholic Church.[3] It is evident that
Maimonides’ rationalist philosophy could be misused to justify religious laxity.
The first issue was one of integration: Symbiosis had been a key feature of
twelfth century Spain, which had not only tolerated but encouraged
philosophical enquiry; the Jews of Castille and Aragon had been at home with
such speculations. The Jews of northern France and Germany, however, were not
given the time to integrate this new world into theirs. Their world was
dominated by Talmud study, and Greek systematics were unknown except through
occasional reflections based on Midrash and classical sources. The rabbis of Provence
feared that the doubts caused by philosophical speculation could lead many
astray.[4] Apologetically, Silver
suggests that philosophy was a volatile explosive and that Maimonides ‘could
not escape becoming the centre of this storm’.[5]
The letters between R.
Meir Abulafia and the rabbis of Lunel show the rabbinic fears that Maimonides’
works could lead to laxity in religious observance. The less than pious believed that they had found some support in
the Mishneh Torah for their denial of the traditional assumption of
resurrection. Whilst rabbinic tradition
itself was open ended regarding the reward of resurrection, a non-literal
interpretation opened the door for deviation.[6] What concerned the rabbis
associated with the anti-Maimonist camp was less the content of Maimonides’
works and more their potential for misuse.
In terms of context, there
is some evidence that indifference towards religious life, apostasy and intermarriage had become an increasing issue during
this period. According to Graetz, among Jews of Southern Spain this indifference
towards halakha went so far that intermarriage was occurring with Christians
and Muslims.[7]
The Guide was only translated into Hebrew two weeks before Maimonides’ death,[8] and upon its printing in
1211 it was widely disseminated and quoted. The translations gave understanding
of philosophical issues as well as the plain meaning of the text and increased
interest throughout Provence in secular philosophies. Its audience was not the
one that Maimonides had envisaged; whilst Maimonides assumed an audience with a
grounding in Aristotelian philosophy, the Guide was generally read by literate
non-experts. It never seemed to interest the intellectuals of Northern French
communities whose world was comprised solely of Talmudic study. It was seized
upon avidly by number of Aragonese, Catalan and Castilian sophisticates who
lacked the training to understand its depths but were eager to assume that
Maimonides defence of reason justified their rejection of laws that they had
discarded out of simple disinclination.[9]
Over thirty years after
his initial correspondence had failed to win the support of the Lunel rabbis, R.
Abulafia’s fears appears to have been confirmed, having before him an
aristocracy which cultivated philosophy not as a means to a higher spiritual
life, but as a convenient rationalisation for a life of pleasure.[10] The physician Judah ben
Joseph Alfakhar of Toledo, responded to the visit of Maimonist R. David Kimhe: ‘You
regard the Guide as your teacher and guide; but among us it serves as a pretext
for the wayward and defiant.’[11]
Silver argues that
rabbinic fear of apostasy was increased by the fact that Jews had begun to be
seen as theological opponents rather than occasional targets of oppression
during this period. Increasingly hostile measures were taken against mixing
between Christians and Jews in the Lateran council of 1215 and in papal
correspondence, including the introduction of the Jewish badge and a gradual segregation
of the Jewish inhabitants from the non-Jewish community.[12] Crucially, a shift had
occurred in how Jews were perceived: Instead of being seen as the remnants of
an antiquated faith based on the Old Testament, the dynamic and continuous
nature of the rabbinic tradition had been recognised. The focus turned to
conversion, with attacks on the Talmud and the oral law in particular. Jewish
apostates came forward denouncing the Talmud as heretical and anti-Christian.[13] It was not the new
scholasticism of the advanced philosophers that concerned the Christians but
the old Judaism of Talmud and tradition. Whilst traditional Judaism was under
attack, Maimonides and his works became controversial among Jews because he was
accused of misleading other Jews into heterodoxy and placing the integrity of
the community in danger.[14]
What emerges from this
context is that Maimonides was problematic as a symbol who legitimised deviant lifestyles
rather than for his particular views. He had written the Guide to bolster the
faith of pupils troubled by the incongruity of their religious and secular
training, but in Aragon, Castille and Provence many simply wished to abandon
their religious faith. They read the Guide
not as an apologetic for Judaism but as an apologetic for their
spiritual and religious disinterest.[15] Inadvertently, in the
words of Yitzhak Baer, Maimonides ‘started out to save Judaism from the
undermining effects of philosophic rationalism, and wound up by giving reason
primacy over tradition.'[16] Silver removes Maimonides
entirely from the controversy and presents him as tenuously linked to those who
had been led astray by their own religious apathy.
I contend that Silver is
far too apologetic on Maimonides’ behalf; it is true that apostasy was
considered an issue in the minds of several rabbinic leaders during this
period. It is nevertheless unconvincing to claim that this was the sole or even
the dominant cause of rabbinic animosity towards Maimonides. Firstly, the use
of polemics and counter polemics surrounding the religiosity of the Maimonist
group is unreliable to use as convincing historical evidence once tensions had erupted.
R. David Kimhe furiously attacked accusations of the lack of observance within
the Maimonist camp and the extreme response of the herem was not accepted uniformly by either communities or rabbinic
colleagues. If applied, excommunication was the most potent tool at rabbinic
disposal and would almost certainly lead to destitution and possible death. The
‘sword of apostasy’ may well have been felt in some circles but it is hard to
imagine that this was conceived of as a good solution to the problem,
particularly with the lack of other support. Additionally, the link between the
increased Christian interest in attacking the Jewish religion and the risk of apostasy
is unclear. Whilst it is plausible that Maimonidean rationalism might diminish
the loyalty of particular individuals, it is hard to know how much impact the papal
decrees actually had in this period: according Silver’s own analysis, Christian
missionary activity seems to have increased in intensity after not before 1240,
and peaked in the 1250s and 1260s. Book burning was a relative novelty of the thirteenth
century, and whilst the Dominicans burned some of Aristotle’s works in 1210 for
heresy, the concentration of anti-Jewish book burnings peaked from 1247 onwards
by this time the internal controversies had died down, probably as a result.[17]
Therefore, to argue that fear
of apostasy was the dominant issue of the controversy is to unnecessarily
minimise a conflict that had become far more fundamental. The controversy came
to be about the legitimacy of the synthesis between religion and philosophy.
This is not a simplistic appraisal of the situation; fear of apostasy and
social implications certainly triggered a deeper investigation into what could
be considered legitimate within Jewish thought, catalysed by the increased
Christian persecution which seemed to trivialise Maimonidean universalism. Baer’s
statement that philosophic rationalism ‘negated the very meaning and purpose of
the Galut by denying the value of the nation's suffering in exile and of its
survival in spite of its tribulations’ is particularly apt.[18] What I will seek to demonstrate is that it was
this problem that proved to be the most significant for the anti-Maimonideans
in the thirteenth century. Fear gave way to fundamental self-examination.
One of the first problems
that arose amongst prominent halakhists was Maimonides’ singular authority. Renouned
throughout the Jewish world, his philosophical works carried far more authority
and political weight than more far-reaching and controversial studies such as
that of R. Avraham ben Daud. The rabbis of Montpellier and Lunel commissioned
his works sight unseen because of his multifaceted brilliance. In R. Abulafia’s
compilation of correspondence, Maimonides is referred to as by R. Avraham b.
Natan ha Yarhi in the following way: ‘I saw the Ram trampling north south and
west, and no wild animals would stand before him, no one would stand up to
him.’[19] Revered and also feared,
Abulafia was heavily reprimanded for his attempts to criticise Maimonides and
R. Aharon of Lunel spends six pages reprimanding him. [20] Maimonides’ insistence on true Aggadic
understanding being based upon Aristotelian philosophy was particularly
problematic. Others accused him, furthermore, of ignoring accepted custom and
Talmudic methodology in presenting his Mishneh Torah as definitve. The Provencal
scholar Rabad of Posquierres wrote critical glosses on the Mishneh Torah; whilst
many of them deal with halakhic issues alone, he consistently disapproves of
Maimonides’ prioritisation of philosophy in halakhic issues e.g. Maimonides'
barring of excessive fasting due to the inability to understand or research the
sciences rather than cessation from Torah study.[21]
Rabad was suspicious of
philosophy and its validity, but only expressed outrage when Maimonides
referred to an anthropomorphic conception of God as heretical. Maimonides had
decided something conclusively based on something that did not appear to be self-evident
to great halakhic scholars. He is particularly critical of Maimonides for not
citing sources and argues that halakhic decision-making is based on living legal
decision-makers rather than a code.[22] Any decisions on Jewish
law or thought had to be based on chapter and verse in the Talmud. Rabad and
other rabbinic figures in the French centres of Torah study felt that halakhic
decision-making relied on proofs based on a clear understanding of Talmudic
passages and Maimonides’ great work seemed to threaten this procedure.
Importantly, this contextualises
the correspondence between R. Meir Abulafia and the other communal leaders of
Lunel in 1203-04 as it gives an insight into the mind of the halakhist when
approaching classical texts. It emerges, I will suggest, that amongst several concerns
was the fear that Maimonides’ authority subverted the halakhic process. Abulafia’s
correspondence begins as a critique of Maimonides’ responses to the questions
of the rabbis of Lunel, the most significant for this study being the response
pertaining to the world to come and the resurrection.
It is true that the topic
of apostasy prefaces the correspondence; Abulafia feared that Maimonides’ views
of both the resurrection and the world to come could lead to apostasy and calls
for his philosophical writings to be banned.[23] He felt that Maimonides’
insistence on non-corporeal understandings of resurrection and the world to
come undermined a fundamental part of the covenant between God and Israel.
Maimonides is accused of undermining the hope and faith of the people of Israel:
the land of Israel had been promised to the resurrected in the future and what
sense did this make if there were no bodies to return to? However, Maimonides
is equally attacked for misinterpreting and misconstruing Talmudic texts in the
manner that seemed to concern Rabad. Abulafia is particular to cite evidence that
this non-corporeal representation did not correspond with many Talmudic sources,
and that Maimonides’ objections to a literal understanding of the resurrection
were absurd objections for the infinite God. In going on to forthrightly
discuss his other objections to Maimonides’ legal positions, Abulafia demonstrates
his priorities as a halakhist, thinking along the same lines as Rabad;[24] Maimonides was a great
scholar but no different to any other halakhic authority; he could and should
be challenged on his positions in the classical manner using classical Talmudic
methodology. Maimonides’ very authority meant that in order to uphold this
position the points needed to be made in the most strident terms.
The question of
Maimonides’ Aggadic interpretation became paramount for R. Abulafia. In reference
to Maimonides’ insistence on using allegory in Aggadic interpretation, Abulafia
remarks that ‘there is no positive mitzvah to complicate the simple meaning,’ and
uses Talmudic logic to argue that the burden of proof is on those who claim
that Aggadah must be understood metaphorically.[25] He questions an attempt
to prove the need for allegory with a fascinating insight into conflicting attitudes
towards this world:
‘How can you judge the
life of the world to come, whose life has no death, whose light has no shade,
and whose good has not evil…to this life which ends in death, and whose light
is engulfed by shadow.’[26] The world to come is a
place of miraculous existence in complete contradistinction to this world.
Whilst rationalism and Maimonides’ whole world view is predicated on the glory
of God manifest in this world, Abulafia’s description assumes axiomatically
that this world is one of confusion and darkness. With increasing passion,
Abulafia exclaims that ‘Heaven forbid to deprive Midrash and Aggadah of its
literal meaning! Metaphorical interpretation is only valid when the sages permit
it.’[27] Abulafia spends three
pages providing textual sources for corporeal resurrection from Tanakh. It
becomes increasingly clear that the idea of the metaphor, such a crucial device
in Maimonidean thought, is seen as an inferior form of interpretation,
particularly when regarding rabbinic writings. Abulafia found an ally in R.
Samson of Sens, who argued for the need to bend human will to that of the
sages, agreeing that Aggadah couldn’t be taken lightly against its literal
meaning, citing Hullin 90b that there
were only three cases where the Aggadah was to be taken non-literally.[28] Faithfulness to the
literal nature of rabbinic writings was not merely a precautionary exercise but
was indicative of faith to the Torah itself. By insisting on the superiority of
philosophical and allegorical interpretation, Maimonides’ authority seemed to
be undermining trust in the sages and traditional piety. Whilst apostasy
remained a concern, it is clear that for many rabbinic thinkers in the early
thirteenth century Maimonides’ whole approach towards understanding the
spiritual world deviated from accepted tradition and was intrinsically
problematic.
Whilst Abulafia’s
correspondence warns against the danger of Maimonidean philosophy overpowering
halakhic norms and Talmudic Judaism, the second controversy repeatedly attacks any
attempt of a synthesis between religion and philosophy. I am careful to use the
word synthesis as this differs from Silver’s argument of a fear of the effects
of philosophy. It was not the fear of Maimonidean philosophy that worried the
anti-Maimonists but rather its synthesis into Jewish thought as a valid,
authentic and desirable means of interpretation.
When the controversy
reached its height in the 1230s it becomes evident that for the
anti-Maimonists, Maimonides’ philosophical interpretation of Jewish thought was
completely illegitimate. The increasingly aggressive Christian targeting of
Judaism as a religion seems to have increased the antipathy towards Maimonidean
universalism. R. Solomon of Montpellier, the main instigator of the ban in 1232,
found Maimonides’ works to be heretical and un-Jewish. Nahmanides initially supported
this and requested that the religious leaders of Castile and Aragon join hands
in supporting the cause. The content of the ban is particularly revealing; it
was pronounced in 1232 against anyone who read Maimonides’ compositions, and in
particular the Guide and Sefer ha-Madah.
It was also enacted against those who occupied themselves with any studies
except Bible and Talmud and anyone who explained the bible according to its
simple meaning other than Rashi’s understanding. It was generally supported by
the Tosafists, and Graetz describes it as a moment where ‘simple faith and philosophical apprehension of religion came to a
head’.[29]
Whilst anti-Maimonist protagonists
such as Nahmanides and Joseph b. Todros spoke of people who denied providence
to God and insisted that the Bible was entirely allegorical,[30] it is mistaken to attribute
this to simply misunderstanding the Guide. Maimonides had constructed a system
which many felt was alien to the spirit of Judaism. Sarachek summarises this point as follows:
'Although Maimonides retained the old nomenclature of Judaism, he seems to have
understood the terms very differently'.[31] To list a few examples,
Maimonides broke significantly with traditional thought on a number of crucial
issues: his Aristotelian concept of God; incorporation of philosophy into basic
tenets of faith; concept of providence; comparative research method and denial
of the existence of demons and spirits, as well as the aforementioned objection
to the literal meaning of Midrash and Aggadot.
These conceptions were
particularly problematic to the new group of Kabbalistic scholars who were
particularly prominent in the controversy. They saw the Kabbalah as the
authentic esoteric tradition and felt that a synthesis with secular philosophy
was an invalid way of understanding Jewish tradition. Central to this group’s identity
was an ideology of halakha, the idea that the religious commandments were not
allegories of a more or less profound idea or pedagogic measure, but rather
commands to perform secret rites or mysteries of cosmic significance.
Literalism was given greater prominence in the sense that the letters and words
of the biblical text were seen to have great esoteric significance; whilst some
studied philosophy and appreciated it to an extent, most saw it as dangerous. They
saw philosophy as reducing Torah to natural law.[32]
For example, in his poems
describing the controversy, the poet Meshullam denounces the Guide as heretical.
He scoffs the Maimonidean idea of rational reasons behind laws. To Meshullam,
Maimonides’ explanation of the commandments not only led to an attenuation of
practice, but denied the esoteric value of revealed tradition.[33] Maimonides denied God by
denying His attributes. Meshullam claims that miracles are the greatest
revelation of God, and that there is nothing in the natural world which is
causally controlled or operated according to natural law. This theme had
already been touched upon by Abulafia but the kabbalists extended its scope. Nahmanides
furthermore insisted that prophecy depends on divine will exclusively and had
little to do with the virtue of the prophet. The world as we know it is
illusionary and miraculous and anyone who believes otherwise is not part of the
people of Israel.[34] Maimonides’ mechanical
conception of Angelic power was similarly condemned. Silver seems to think that
this is an example of excessive condemnation in response to increasing heresy as
Maimonides had not violated any dogmatic prohibition. [35] This assumption of dogma
being the axiom of Jewish faith is ironically Maimonidean; for it appears that Nahmanides and Meshullam see
Maimonides’ whole system as heretical not in the technical sense of not
conforming to theological precepts but rather as simply not belonging to the
realm of Jewish thought.
Similarly, in Toledo,
Judah ibn Alfakhar’s response to R. David Kimhe’s attempt at securing reconciliation
between the opposing factions bitterly attacks Maimonides’ attempt to explain away
miracles and wondrous tales, combining Torah and Greek wisdom:
He imagined that one would live with the other
like two loving twin deer. In reality this has resulted in sorrow and
dissension, for they cannot live together on the earth and be like two sisters,
for the Hebrew women are not like the Egyptian ones. [36]
Like Nahmanides and
Meshullam, ibn Alfakhar attacks Maimonides’ system as one which was not only
dangerous but which was built on false foundations.
R. Abraham Maimonides published a response to
those who attacked his father. It is clear that he felt that it was his
father’s system and reputation at stake rather than its inherent dangers. The
elementary components of reason versus revelation are the core issues of this response.
R. Abraham defends not only his father’s reputation but also his father’s
method, claiming that ‘Reason was implanted in each and every one of the seed
of Israel before his knowledge of Torah.’[37] It seems that by 1240
when the Talmud was burned in Paris, the key issues surrounding Maimonides were
fundamental questions pertaining to his whole theological system.
My study has assessed the issues surrounding
the various controversies that erupted around Maimonides and his works in the
late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries, arguing that they became
increasingly fundamental and personal. Silver’s research, I have argued, does
not support his conclusions. The key issue in the Maimonides controversy was
that Maimonides’ philosophy appeared non-Jewish to many of his opponents. Both
the Kabbalists and the more orthodox halakhists of Germany and France could not
tolerate a theology that seemed so alien to the Jewish spirit. Yet Maimonides’
piety was never questioned nor was his halakhic greatness. Solomon of
Montpellier praises Maimonides greatly as a jurist and for the Mishneh Torah: ‘At
every lecture we refer to his decisions, we discuss his views and endeavour to
understand them.’[38] One of legacies of the
Maimonides controversy was that Maimonides’ reputation was recreated as a pure
halakhist. Maimonides was therefore protected personally whilst his religious
ideology was marginalised. It is simply not accurate to argue that the ‘real’
issue of the controversy can be reduced to a fear of apostasy. Caution is
always required when ascribing historical circumstance a direct causational
role and I would suggest that the effect of the increase in systematic
Christian targeting of Jewish faith was as much to create a mistrust of the Universalist
tendencies of rationalism as it was to increase fear of apostasy. The seeds of
this fundamental objection to Maimonides’ religious worldview had already been
sown over thirty years earlier in the correspondence between Meir and the
rabbis of Lunel, although the overt fears were of dissention and apostasy. By
the time of the burning of the Guide in Montpellier, Maimonides and his works
were viewed as dangerous both for what they contained and for the lifestyles
they appeared to legitimise.
|
Bibliography
|
Abulafia, Meir, Kitab Alrasʾayil, (1871).
Baer, Yitzhak, History of the Jews in Christian
Spain, vol.1 (New York, 1961).
Ben Sasson, Haim
Hillel, ‘The Maimonides Controversy’ in Encyclopedia
Judaica (1972), vol.11, 745-754.
Encyclopaedia
Judaica, 16 Vols. (Keter
Publishing House, Jerusalem 1972).
Graetz, H., History of the Jews, vol.3 (London, 1892).
Nahmanides,
Commentary on the Torah, (Chavel ed.
Jerusalem, 1959).
Sarachek, J. , Faith and
Reason, the Conflict over the Rationalism of Maimonides (Pennsylvania,
1935).
Silver, Daniel Jeremy. Maimonidean Criticism and
the Maimonidean Controversy 1180-1240
(London, 1965).
[1] Hillel of Girona,
writing in 1290, made the association between the two.
[2] Haim Hillel Ben Sasson, ‘The Maimonides Controversy’
in Encyclopedia Judaica (1972),
vol.11, 747.
[3] Daniel Silver, Maimonidean
Criticism and the Maimonidean Controversy 1180-1240 (London, 1965), 3.
[4] ibid, 2.
[5] ibid, 5.
[6] ibid, 196.
[7]
H. Graetz, History of the Jews,
vol.3 (London, 1892), 544.
[8] J. Sarachek , Faith and Reason, the Conflict over the
Rationalism of Maimonides (Pennsylvania, 1935),
49.
[10]ibid, 107.
[11] ibid, 107.
[14] ibid, 15.
[15] Silver, Maimonides Controversy, 196.
[16] Yitzhak Baer, History
of the Jews in Christian Spain, vol.1 (New York, 1961), 96.
[17] Silver, Maimonides Controversy, 13.
[18] ibid, 100.
[20] ibid, 30.
[21] Silver, Maimonides Controversy, 87.
[24] ibid, 14.
[26] ibid, 56.
[27] ibid, 56-57.
[28] Silver, Maimonides Controversy, 128.
[29] Graetz, History of the Jews, 548.
[30] Silver, Maimonides Controversy, 146-147.
[31] Sarachek, Faith, 14.
[34] Nahmanides, Commentary
on the Torah, (Chavel ed. Jerusalem, 1959), Exodus, 13:16.
[35] Silver, Maimonides Controversy, 196.
[36] Letter to Kimhi, Iggerot Kenaot in Kovez Teshuvot ha-Rambam (1859), 2a in EJ, 747.
[37] Milhamot ha-Shem, ed R. Margalioth
(1953) in EJ, 752.
