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| Ben Ezra Synagogue in Cairo |
This article seeks to explore how thirteenth-century Jews often sought Fatwas (religious edicts) from Islamic courts to intervene during the intense period of Maimonidean Conflicts. These Conflicts—also known as the Maimonidean Controversies—erupted after Maimonides’ passing in 1204, and were more like Jewish civil wars between the Maimonidean rationalists and the emerging mystics, with the Zohar first published eighty-six years later in 1290, in Christian Spain. The mystical opponents of Maimonides were often backed by Christian authorities such as the Dominicans, Franciscans and even King James I of Aragon [see: Kotzk Blog: 263) THE POLITICS BEHIND THE PIETY - BRINGING THE BATTLE INTO THE SIDDUR:].
However, what is less known is that Jews in Islamic lands—both rationalists and mystics—frequently appealed to Muslim leaders for Fatwas in support of and against Maimonides. This way, all three Abrahamic faiths were drawn into the conflict that started as an internal Jewish split, essentially between Maimonidean (=Aristotelian) rationalists, and their opponents, the mystics. Something about this conflict seems to have also resonated with the internal traditions of both Christianity and Islam. Based on documents discovered in the Cairo Geniza, this study examines apparent Jewish efforts from both its rationalist and mystical quarters to solicit Islamic intervention in the Maimonidean Controversies. I thank my friend and colleague, Moulana Dr Ashraf Dockrat, for alerting me to this collection of Arabic documents in the Cairo Geniza.
[See: Kotzk Blog: 091) CAIRO GENIZA - 1000 YEARS OF TORAH ON AFRICAN SOIL:].
Background
Judaism and Islam shared many developmental parallels. Judaism had an early oral tradition that fermented into a written tradition with the Mishnah and Gemara—together forming the Talmud—which developed between the third and seventh centuries. Islam, emerging around the end of the Talmudic period, similarly began with the Sunnah (tradition) being transmitted orally from teacher to student, by recitations of the Hadith (reports about the teachings and deeds of the Prophet Muhammad).[1] This oral transmission continued until around the tenth century, when Islamic scholars authenticated what they deemed the most accurate versions from the complex body of previous traditions (Pill 2014:3, n.4).
13th century Judeao-Islamic culture
While it is popular to speak of a shared Judeo-Christian
tradition, the term only emerged around the nineteenth century. Historically,
it is more accurate to speak of a Judeo-Islamic tradition, although today,
unfortunately, that long history has yielded little traction. The mystical Jewish
opponents of rationalism often found inspiration in Islamic mysticism: Bachya
Ibn Pakuda (d. 1120), author of Chovot haLevavot, quoted Sufi texts verbatim,
and he begins his book, written in Judeo-Arabic, with the Islamic greeting bismillāh
al‑raḥmān al‑raḥīm, the opening phrase of the Qur’an. This was later
changed to “Baruch Hashem Elokei Yisrael,” in the Hebrew translation by
Yehudah Ibn Tibbon during the twelfth century. sources. Bachye Ibn Pakuda
acknowledges that he quotes from:
מִן הַחֲסִידִים וְהַחֲכָמִים שֶׁבְּכָל אֻמָּה
שֶׁהִגִּיעוּ דִּבְרֵיהֶם אֵלֵינוּ
“the Chassidim and Sages of other nations whose words have come down to us” (Chovot haLevavot, Introduction).
In particular, the influence and “stylistic peculiarities” of al-Ghazali—who integrated Sufism into mainstream Islam—are “demonstrable” in Bachye’s writings (Mansoor 1973:83). [See: Kotzk Blog: 151) ‘CHOVOT HALEVAVOT’ – A SUFI CONNECTION?]
Maimonides’ son, Avraham Ibn Maimon (Avraham ben haRambam) (d. 1237), openly embraced a form of Sufism, and thus began five generations of Egyptian Jewry practicing Jewish Sufism. This turn to Sufi mysticism, after Maimonides’ descendents moved to Aleppo, Syria (with Maimonides Aleppo Codex), seems to have later influenced the sixteenth century Lurianic Kabbalah of Safed [see: Kotzk Blog: 152) RAMBAM'S ONLY SON – ANOTHER SUFI CONNECTION?, and Kotzk Blog: 073) THE ALEPPO CODEX - The Mystery Surrounding the Most Important Manuscript in Jewish History:].
On the rationalist side, rabbis like Avraham Ubn Daud and
Maimonides (d. 1204) absorbed Greek Aristotelian rationalist philosophy through
secondary Arabic sources such as Alfarabi (d. 950), Avicenna (d. 1037) and
Averroes (d.1198) [2] (Husik 1958:xx). [See: Kotzk
Blog: 529) Avraham Ibn Daud: Maimonides’ unspoken mentor?].
Jewish Halacha and Islamic Fiqh
An intriguing dynamic of nomocentrism emerged among Jews living in Islamic lands. Both Judaism and Islam are nomocentric traditions, meaning that besides theology and faith, each is additionally structured around a system of religious law: Halacha for Jews and Fiqh for Muslims. In Judaism, only Jews have to abide by Halacha, and similarly in Islam, only Muslims must abide by Fiqh. The interplay among these systems—especially when they meet in the public arena of civil law—can be profoundly complex. In such contexts, questions of identity like ‘who is a Jew’ and ‘who is a Muslim’ become significant—because what become the determinator of identity, practice or faith?
Parallel shifts from Orthopraxy to Orthodoxy
Originally, both Islam and Judaism defined ‘Muslim’ and ‘Jew’ primarily by outward observance of their respective laws. However, from around the ninth century, the notion of dogma, or internal systematic theology, started becomming an important additional factor in both traditions. In Judaism, redirection from practice to theology began with Rav Saadia Gaon (d. 942). He was the head of the Talmudic Academy at Sura, who produced his Kitāb al-ʾamānāt wal-iʿtiqādāt (The Book of the Articles of Faith and Doctrines of Dogma), which was later translated into Hebrew by Yehudah ibn Tibbon (d. 1186) under the title Sefer Emunot veDeot (The Book of Beliefs and Knowledge). This work was Judaism’s first notable effort to introduce and deal with theology systematically, and the title of the work—emphasising Faith, Dogma and Belief—captures the first stirring of a new theological shift [see: Kotzk Blog: 202) RAV SAADIA GAON AND HIS 'ROAD TO MECCA':].
Later, Maimonides built on this and introduced his famous Thirteen Principles of Faith. Around this same period, Islam similarly shifted to systematic theology under Imam al-Shafi’ (d. 820) and Abu Hamid , al-Ghazali's (d. 1111).
In Judaism, the Torah—while it does speak on what we might call theological issues—does not demand adherence to articles of faith or theological dogmas to be considered a Jew. Menachem Kellner characterises Talmudic Judaism as emphasising “belief in” rather than “belief that” (Kellner 2006:45), as it offered only sparse detail and lacked the nuanced theological distinctions later traditions developed. When the Talmud (b. Shabbat 31a) describes a non-Jew converting to Judaism, it makes no mention at all of beliefs or dogmas, but simply emphasises behaviour.[3] Talmudic Judaism was a system of “deed and not creed” (Broyde 1999:54).
One of the reasons why Islam turned its focus towards systematic theology was in response to an early Islamic sect known as the Khawarij, a violent group that emphasised practice over theology and belief. The Khawarij were the result of the first fitna, or Islamic civil war, which focused exclusively on the practice of the law and fundamental adherence to the Quran, without human interpretation. Accordingly, “a sinning Muslim [through lack of observance] was not a Muslim but an apostate from Islam and liable to be killed by any good Muslim” (Pill 2014:6). In the eighth century, the Khawarij’s tendency toward fundamentalism was challenged by a scholarly elite, who began to develop more theoretical, theological, and doctrinal frameworks to counter the reductionist view that equated material sin with outright unbelief.
From the thirteenth century onward, outward religious practice alone was no longer deemed sufficient, as “both Judaism and Islam were evaluating religiosity largely in terms of individuals’ theological beliefs” (Pill 2014:2). Orthodoxy, with its now authorised beliefs—rather than earlier orthopraxy, with its simple observance of the law— now emerged as the decisive marker of identity. Because there was intense interaction between Jews and Muslims, apostasy—the abandonment of one’s faith and acceptance of another faith—became a heightened matter of concern in both faiths. This shift to orthodox beliefs also carried in its wake significant legal ramifications for individuals judged to adhere to incorrect beliefs.
With its increased focus on orthodoxy and doctrinal beliefs, the Mutakallimun, or Islamic scholars of Kalam (rational and dialectical theology often drawing on Greek philosophy), systematised the necessary beliefs even further (Pill 2014:9). In the tenth-century, in his Book of Beliefs, Rav Saadia Gaon, had already drawn on the methodical theology as practiced by the Mutakallimun, and he focused on one particularly rationalist school of the Kalam, known as the Mutazilites.[4] This indicates that:
“Mutazilite theological literature…may have enjoyed wide appeal and influence among the Jewish public of that period” (Pill 2014:21).
Immersed within Islamic culture, notably as the shift from orthopraxy to orthodoxy was developing further, Maimonides often cited the Mutakallimun and the Kalam. This influence from Islam must have been significant enough to prompt fifteenth century Don Yitzchak Abravanell to criticise Maimonides, who he claimed had been:
“brought to postulate [theological] principles in the divine Torah only because they [the Jews] were drawn after the custom of gentile scholars [i.e., engaging in systematic Islamic theology] as described in their books” (Abravanel, Rosh Amana: Principles of Faith 194).
The fact, however, remains that it was within this Islamic context that Maimonides developed his thirteen necessary dogmas that went on to define a Jew and profoundly reshaped Judaism by elevating creed to a central role in religious identity to this day. Maimonides wrote that Judaism is indeed defined by dogma and creed:
“Even were he to commit every possible transgression…he will be punished according to his rebelliousness, but he has a portion [of the world to come]; he is one of the sinners [yet still part] of Israel. But if a man doubts any of these [theological dogmas and] foundations, he leaves the community…and is called a min, [and an] apikores…” (Maimonides, Commentary on the Mishnah, Sanhedrin 10:1).
Maimonides’ innovation was that the denial of these Principles of Faith excluded one from the Jewish community—even if one still practised the law! The classical Talmudic separation between Jewish law and belief was now merged as a result of the dogmas of faith as codified by Maimonides. Belief became as important as practice (if not more so), and apostasy was no longer defined merely by neglect of the law but was instead understood within fixed and technical theological structures.
Even conversion to Judaism no longer hinged primarily on observance as in the past, but incorporated the acceptance of the Principles of Faith, which “should be discussed in great detail”—while practical Halacha “should not be at great length” (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Isurei Biah 14:2—מוֹדִיעִין אוֹתוֹ עִיקָרֵי הַדָּת...וּמַאֲרִיכִין בְּדָבָר זֶה. וּמוֹדִיעִין אוֹתוֹ מִקְצַת מִצְווֹת קַלּוֹת וּמִקְצַת מִצְווֹת חֲמוּרוֹת, וְאֵין מַאֲרִיכִין, בְּדָבָר זֶה).
This primary view of dogma and belief is reinforced in Maimonides’ Guide for the Perplexed, where he stipulates that although the law is necessary for “the state of our societies…this can come about only after the adoption of [correct] intellectual beliefs” (Pines, Guide of the Perplexed, 8-9).
Documents from the Cairo Geniza
Documents from the Cairo Geniza show profound interaction
between Jews and the ruling Muslims during that period. An official Jewish
leader, or Nagid, was appointed to:
“administer justice, be responsible for marriage, circumcision, alms and payment of dues” (cited in Khan 2006:566).
One document issued by aI-Malik al-'Afdal 'Ali, the eldest son of Saladin, shows how the Muslims went out of their way to accommodate all sects of Judaism at the time, including Rabbanites, Karaites and Samaritans.
Jewish religious disputes mediated by Muslim authorities
One document dating from 1040 concerns the closing of a synagogue of Palestinian Jews in Fostat (Old Cairo) due to a dispute regarding its rabbinic leadership. The contesting rabbis were the local Shlomo ben Yehuda versus Natan ben Avraham, who had recently arrived from North Africa. There were violent clashes between the followers of these two leaders, but the majority favoured Shlomo ben Yehudah as the rabbi. The problem was that Natan ben Avraham had influence in the government, and he managed to get the Fatimid caliph al-Mustansir to close the synagogue down. The synagogue, which later became known as the Ben Ezra synagogue, remained closed between 1039 and 1041 (Khan 2006:326-9). Some accounts maintain that the synagogue was closed for “reconstruction” work between 1039 and 1040.[5]
In any case, the Jews living in Egypt are often characterised as “Arabized Jews” and:
“[l]est we forget, from the time of antiquity until around 1200, over 90 percent of the world’s Jewish population lived in the East and, after the Muslim conquest [around the seventh century], under the rule of Islam” (Hoffman and Cole 2011:18).
We now turn to two specific thirteenth‑century Cairo Geniza documents that highlight Judaism’s integration into Islamic culture, even to the extent, I argue, of appealing to Fatwas to resolve deep theological disputes between Jewish rationalists and mystics.
Two 13th century documents from the Cairo
Geniza
These documents must be read within the context of thirteenth-century Jewish Egypt. This was around the time when the head, or Nagid, of the Egyptian Jews was Avraham, the son of Maimonides (Avraham ben haRambam). Ironically, the Father of Jewish rationalism—Maimonides—had a son who became a Jewish Sufi and mystic. In fact, five successive generations after Maimonides were Jewish Sufis, and the Egyptian Jewish community largely followed a path of Jewish Sufism. One document testifies that the circle of Jewish pietists and mystics introduced changes to the old established Maimonidean liturgy and bowed down during prayer. This full bowing (prostration) was historically reserved for Temple ritual practices alone, and the Amidah—standing prayer—had been substituted in its place. Now the followers of Avraham ben haRambam reinstituted the ancient practice of prostration during prayer. A further innovation that these mystics also introduced was the bending of the knee (genuflection or curtsy), apparently as a sign of respect, probably for religious leaders.
Soon after the passing of Avraham ben haRambam in 1237, there emerged some opposition to these recently innovated practices of both forms of bowing, and appeals were made to the Muslim authorities to have these mystical practices abolished. Another irony emerges—and it should not be lost—as the Jews were requesting an Islamic edict, or Fatwa, to uphold the classical law of no bowing, as practised under Maimonides’ former leadership.
The following document seems to be a letter in support of
the old Maimonidean traditions that did not include the innovative mystical bowing
that had recently become popular under Avraham ben haRambam:
A) A 13th century Document in support
of Maimonides
This letter appears to have been
written by those favouring the preservation of the older, non‑mystical
Maimonidean tradition. By alluding to the synagogue’s age and established
status, they appeal for a return to and maintenance of the traditional, rationalist
practices appropriate to such a venerable institution. The writers request that
the Muslim authorities not allow the innovations of genuflection and
prostration to continue in the new mystical community now led by Avraham ben
haRambam. They appealed in writing to the Muslim authorities to issue a Fatwa,
thus preventing the conservative prayer leader from being forced to change the
old Maimonidean status quo and go along with the innovative mystical
bowing practices? Acknowledgement is made of the innovative group being “pious,”
which seems to support the mystical nature of the pietist innovators (by the
same token, Chassidei Ashkenaz, also active during that time, were
similarly referred to as German pietists). Note the Islamic
greeting bismillāh al‑raḥmān al‑raḥīm.
Here is the text in the original Arabic, followed by a translation:
1) In the name of God, the
merciful and compassionate.
2) What do our lords, the
jurisconsults, the 'imams of the religion and guides of the Muslims, may God
grant the success of wise men, say concerning the following.
3) A community of Rabbanite Jews
have a synagogue of great age that still stands after many years standing with
the structure and form with which its builders built it.
4) It still continues the
customs, rites and traditional procedures regarding the readings and prayers
throughout the year,
5) on weekdays, Sabbaths and
festivals. It has a prayer leader administering its affairs who has followed [the
Maimonidean customs of] his predecessors and the community is content
6) with this. People [i.e., the new
mystical followers of Avraham ben haRambam] have worked in concert to change
its customs, stop its traditions, alter its prayers and coerce the prayer
leader,
7) so that an unprecedented
innovation be made, while the community and the prayer leader wish to continue
the status quo. Is
8) it permissible for
unprecedented changes to be made to their traditions and for the prayer leader
to be forced to abandon what is customary.
9) Is it permissible for change
and innovation to be made in the days of Islam, may God cause them to endure,
even if those who effect the change are pious [i.e., mystical pietists].
10) What action should be taken with regard to them [i.e., the mystics]. Grant us your opinion, may God have mercy upon you (T-S Ar. 41.105, translation by Khan 2006:291-2).
The following document, composed
some time later, reflects a continuation of this debate and offers further
insight into the evolving dynamics between rationalist and mystical traditions.
A) A 13th century Document in support
of Avraham ben haRambam
A second document, written some years later, in 1240, appears to be of a similar nature and relating to the same case discussed above. The previous letter seems to have been written by those in favour of perpetuating a Maimonidean legacy, disfavouring the innovative mystical practices of Avraham ben haRambam.
In the previous letter the question was “What action should be taken with regard to them [i.e., the innovative community of mystics]?” The writers seem to feel confident that the conservative restorers of orthodox Sunni Islam, the Ayyubids, would find the mystical innovations reprehensible not only in Islam but also in the religion of their Jewish subjects (Khan 2006:292).
In the letter that follows, however, the writers now seem to support Avraham ben haRambam’s mystical legacy, as they ask “What action should be taken with regard to him [i.e., a new prayer leader],” who seemed to be of the older and relatively conservative Maimonidean school, who remained opposed to the mystical bowing. The prayer leader is condescendingly described as “a man who is not a sage.” Now, the way I understand this is that either the new official prayer leader was indeed someone elected by the laity and a non-scholar (which I doubt would have occurred in a mystically orientated community), or he may (more likely) simply have not been part of the dominant mystical and pietist Jewish Sufi circle under Avrahan ben haRambam—although still a scholar, but not acknowledged as such, being from the older Maimonidean order.[6] If the second option is correct (and it better fits the historical and polemical context), then we have here another fascinating example of an Islamic Fatwa being requested as an urgent intervention in the internal Jewish conflict between the rationalist followers of Maimonides and the mystic followers of his son, Avraham ben ha Rambam.
1. In the name of God, the merciful and compassionate.
2. What do our lords, the
jurisconsults, the 'imams, 'imams of the religion and model
3. of the Muslims, may God grant
them success for their obedience and assist them to gain his satisfaction, say
concerning the following.
4) A group of Jews whose word is
authoritative, namely
5) the head of the Jews and those
of their sages who are his [namely, Avraham ben haRambam’s] followers, have
established the practice of genuflection and prostration
6) in their worship. They have
stated that this was an ancient [Temple] practice and that they have revived
7) an aspect of worship that had
fallen into disuse. They [re-]established and practised it over a long period,
8) amounting to approximately
twenty years. When their head [namely, Avraham ben haRambam] died [in 1237],
9) a man who was not a sage took
office. He spoke against the earlier (opinion) of
10) their sages [i.e., of the recent
circle of Avraham ben haRambam] and disapproved of genuflection and
prostration. What action should be taken with regard to
him
11) on account of his opposition, if he opposes (the practice). Grant us your opinion, may God have mercy upon you (T-S AS 182.291, translation by Khan 2006:293).
Conclusion
We have examined two rather unusual letters in the Cairo
Geniza: the first, most likely authored by rationalist supporters of
Maimonides, and the second by mystic followers of his son, Avraham ben
haRambam. Written only a few years apart by opposing factions during the early
stages of the Maimonidean Controversies, these texts illuminate the theological
tensions within the Jewish community of thirteenth‑century Egypt. On this
reading, these two Arabic documents may take
on a heightened sense of historical significance hitherto unnoticed. What is
most remarkable, however, is that both factions sought recourse not within
their own rabbinic structures but from Muslim authorities. Strikingly, both
groups appealed to Islamic jurists who could issue Fatwas and binding
rulings that carried both civic and religious authority in the wider society,
thereby attempting to unilaterally settle internal Jewish theological disputes.
Bibliography
Broyde, M.J., 1999, ‘Proselytism and Jewish Law:
Inreach, Outreach, and Jewish Tradition’, in John Witte, and Richard C. Martin,
eds., Sharing the Book: Religious Perspectives on the Rights and Wrongs of
Proselytism, Orbis Books, 45-60.
Hoffman, A., and Cole, P., 2011, Sacred Trash: The
Lost and Found World of the Cairo Geniza, Nextbook.
Husik, I., 1958, A History of Mediaeval Jewish
Philosophy, Jewish Publication Society of America, Philadelphia.
Kellner, M., 2006, Must a Jew Believe Anything?,
The Littman Library of Jewish Civilization (Second Edition).
Khan, G., 2006, Arabic Legal and Administrative Documents in the Cambridge Genizah Collections, Cambridge University Press.
Mansoor, M., 1973, ‘Arabic sources in Ibn Pakuda’s
“Duties of the Heart”’, Proceedings of the World Congress of Jewish Studies,
vol, 3, C.
Pill, S.C., ‘Law as Faith, Faith as Law: The
Legalization of Theology in Islam and Judaism in the Thought of Al-Ghazali and
Maimonides’, Berkeley Journal of Middle Eastern & Islamic Law, vol.
6, no. 1.
[1]
Most of Islamic law stems from the hadith, and not the Quran. Online source:
https://books.google.co.za/books/about/Hadith.html?id=0B69DwAAQBAJ&source=kp_book_description&redir_esc=y.
Retrieved 9 March 2006.
[2]
These Arabic writers were predominantly rationalists, although they sometimes
included mystical ideas as well. Averroes, however, stands out as being the
most rational.
[3]
Hillel simply tells a convert “That which is hateful to you do not do to
another; that is the entire Torah.” There is no mention of a belief system
or dogma or principles of faith, only an emphasis on practical behaviour.
[4]
The Mutakallimun, or general scholars of the Kalam, although of a
more rationalist bent, were divided over the status of the Qur’an. The
school of Asharites (which informed Sunni orthodoxy), for
example, believed in the eternity of the Qur’an, while the more
rationalist Mutazilites maintained that the Qur’an was created in
time. The Mutazilites also believd in the more dominant role of freedom
of choice over predestination. Maimonides, on the other hand, did not align
himself neatly with any one school of the Kalam. He did make use of Kalam
methodology (dialectical reasoning, systematic dogma) but often critiqued them
as speculative and insufficient compared to Aristotelian demonstration.
[5]
On line source: https://egypttoursgroup.com/ben-ezra-synagogue/?srsltid=AfmBOoojqw2fXo8fsuD1oswK1VmkE8td0O6OH-aijA1OGDmOxqMPsjyE.
Retrieved 14 March 2026.
[6]
It seems to me that Khan may have intended this interpretation as he states “Note
the description of the opponent to the innovations as man laysa huwa min'
ahl al-'ilm (line 9).”
I thank Dr Avi Harel for these sources:
