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| Cairo Geniza fragment of the writings of Maimonides' son, Avraham ben haRambam |
Introduction
This article—drawing extensively on research by Professor Paul Fenton—expands upon the previous discussion of six generations (Fenton 2025-)[1] of Maimonides’ Egyptian descendants who embraced and disseminated a synthesis of Jewish mysticism and Islamic Sufism, known as Judeo-Sufism. This movement, with large numbers of adherents known as Chassidim, followed a mystical path called Derech haChasidut (Fenton 2017:50). Its influence eventually reached Safed, transmitting Judeo-Sufi ideas and practices that arguably informed the Arizal’s sixteenth‑century Lurianic Kabbalah.
The Egyptian Judeo-Sufi Chassidim were not a marginal group. Chronologically, they paralleled the well-studied German Chassidim, known as Chassidei Ashkenaz, who flourished between the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The less-studied Egyptian Judeo-Sufi Chassidim, however—with Sufi roots that can be traced back to Saadia Gaon, who was born in Egypt in the ninth century—continued until the fifteenth century. Broadly speaking, this means that Judeo-Sufism was active for over five centuries, with its locus in Egypt, peaking between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries.
Strikingly—besides influencing sixteenth century Lurianic Kabbalah—this Egyptian Judeo-Sufi mystical tradition mirrored—albeit centuries in advance—the eighteenth century Chassidic revival of the Baal Shem Tov (d. 1760). Both Chassidic movements arose in response to spiritual stagnation and legalistic rigidity, offering a revitalised, experiential approach rather than technical, doctrinal and legal formulations. In the case of the Egyptian Chassidim, the addition of the Sufi component:
“imbued a new spirit into the Jewish soul, numbed by the ritual formalism resulting from the processes of legal codification, which, having begun in the Geonic period, culminated in the work of Maimonides” (Fenton 2017:50).
Judeo-Sufism was therefore a rebellion not only against the generation’s rigid codification and legalism beginning from the Gaonic period and materialising in the Maimonidean codification of the law (=Mishneh Torah), but also a rebellion against stark Maimonidean (=Aristotelian) philosophy. Furthermore, on a personal family level, Judeo-Sufism became a repudiation of the patriarchal legacy of Maimonides, which his direct descendants patently resisted for at least two centuries.
“[During this time] Sufism exercised the single greatest external impact on Jewish spirituality in the Islamic world. During this unique period, a wide variety of Jews from Iberia to North Africa to Egypt to Iraq and Iran exhibited an openness to learn from the mystics of Islam” (Routledge Handbook on Sufism).[2]
Background
Egyptian Judeo-Sufism emerged under the rabbinic leadership of Maimonides’s son, Avraham ben haRambam (1186-1237), coinciding politically with the Mamluk reign over Egypt. The Mamluks rose from captive slave-soldiers who defeated the Mongols and Crusaders and went on to establish their independent Sultanate over Egypt and Syria between 1250 and 1517, when they were eventually defeated by the Ottomans. During the Mamluk rule, Cairo became a major political, religious, and commercial hub of the Sunni Islamic world and an important Jewish centre as it was a crossover point between East and West. Historically, most Sufis belonged to the Suni tradition. The Mamluk Sultanate was officially a Sunni Muslim state. The Mamluks were untrusting of philosophy, and Sufism began to be more appealing to Muslims tired of institutionalised Islam. The Mamluk sultans, therefore, were well-disposed to Sufism and offered them a haven from persecution in Egypt. Muslim Sufis participated in all official state ceremonies, as did Jews, who brought Torah scrolls to such events. The Mamluks built lavish structures for the Sufis, which included lodges, hermitages and libraries, some of which were even in the heart of the Jewish quarter.
Culturally, Sufism was formalised and began to compete with the traditional Madrasa. Sufis were also considered a higher social class. All these developments would have been appealing to Egypt’s Jewish population, especially since they were already acquainted with Sufi mysticism as expressed earlier by rabbis like Saadia Gaon (d. 942) of Baghdad, and particularly Bachye Ibn Pakuda (Chovot haLevavot) from around 1080, in al-Andalus (Muslim Southern Spain). Evidence of Sufi beliefs can also be found in the writings of the Andalusian Hebrew poets of southern Spain, such as Solomon ibn Gabirol (d. 1054/8) and Judah Halevi (1075–1141) (Fenton 2003:203-4).
Judeo-Sufism, however, did not develop extensively in Spain because Sufis were often persecuted by other Muslims. A century or so later, Jewish refugees, having fled the Almohad persecutions in Spain, were free to absorb Sufism, as thirteenth-century Egypt ushered in “a period of profound transformation both for Muslim and Jewish religiousity” (Fenton 2017:46).
The Judeo-Sufis, under Avraham ben haRambam, were by no means a minor sect, as evidence from the Cairo Geniza attests. The Cairo Geniza also becomes an important repository of knowledge about Islamic Sufism, going back to their first Sufi masters in Baghdad, because “no equivalent Muslim archive has survived” (Fenton 2017:51).
Even during the lifetime of Maimonides (1138–1204), Jews had openly begun to adopt Sufi mysticism, and historical documents bear testimony that certain rabbinic scholars were identified as being Chassidim, and known by the title ‘heChasid.’ And this was not just an honorific title, “but designated an individual who followed a spiritual regime akin to that of the Sufis” (Fenton 2003:206).
“R. Hananel ben Samuel al-Amshati, who was not only a member of Abraham Maimonides’ rabbinical court but also his father-in-law. Several Geniza documents refer to him as ‘he-Hasid,’ the ‘pietist” (Fenton 2003:212).
Roots in Baghdad
The Kabbalists of Spain, as well as Chassidei Ashkenaz, agreed that their mystical roots were traceable back to the Gaonic period (589-1038 CE) and particularly to Baghdad, the capital of Babylonia (today Iraq). That mysticism, engaging typically in spiritual ascention, also bears a striking resemblance to Sufi mysticism, which similarly sees Baghdad as its spiritual home (Fenton 2003:201-2).
Judeo-Sufism in Egypt
The later Jewish Sufis of Egypt did not simply transfer Sufi mysticism from Islam to Judaism. Instead, their compiled, intricate and voluminous works carefully and creatively wove Sufi esotericism into the very fabric of rabbinic Judaism.
“Using an original exegetical method, they uncovered their teachings in the scriptural narrative where they often construed biblical figures as masters of the Sufi path” (Fenton 2017:52).
The influence, however, went beyond ideas, because Sufi modes of prayer, chanting, and ecstatic devotion were integrated into Jewish ritual practice. The Jews also adopted some clearly Muslim practices, such as the ritual ablution of hands and feet. They now stood in decorum, neatly in rows, bowed, kneeled, prostrated, and extended their hands outwards while all the time facing Jerusalem. Furthermore, they adopted the typical Sufi practice of quiet contemplation and physical retreat. These often took place in isolated and dark places. They even recited Dhikr (remembrance of God), where God’s name is recited over and over again. Sometimes, prayer beads were used to count the number of recitations, and these were accompanied by breathing exercises, music or chanting.
Chronology between Judaism and Sufism
According to Fenton, based directly on Avraham ben haRambam’s own views as presented in his writings, Judaism was the first to influence Sufism in Baghdad during Gaonic times.
“From a strictly chronological point of view, it was Judaism that initially influenced Sufism in its formative period in Baghdad… Among the great personalities attached to the talmudic academies of Baghdad were to be found certain charismatic figures who embodied the ancient rabbinic pietistic ideals of simplicity and saintliness, virtues cherished by nascent Sufism. Moreover, Sufi hagiography has preserved a number of edifying tales of ‘the pious men from among the children of Israel,’ known as israiliyyat (Fenton 2003:203).
To counter the charge that the Egyptian Chassidim were simply assimilating obvious Islamic forms of spirituality, they claimed (or emphasised) that these were all originally Jewish practices. According to them, over time, the Jews had lost these rituals, and the Sufis had rediscovered them, so they were just taking back a spirituality that was originally Jewish.
In his magnum opus titled Kifayat al-abidin (Compendium
of the servants of God), Avraham ben haRambam expounds on the mystical
significance of the commandments—in contradistinction to his father,
Maimonides, who had turned the commandments into a legal code, known as
the Mishneh Torah. In his Kifayat, Avraham ben haRambam claims
that the mysteries behind the commandments had been lost to Jews due to the
long exile, but the Sufis had retained many of those secrets.
Avraham ben haRambam seems to have adopted Sufi beliefs and practices even during the lifetime of his father, and boldly claims that Sufis were custodians of ancient Jewish mystical beliefs:
“Do not regard as unseemly our (comparison) of [the practices of ancient prophets] to the behaviour of the Sufis, because the Sufis imitate the prophets [of Israel] and walk in their footsteps, and not the prophets in theirs” (Avraham ben haRambam, Kifaya, vol II, 320).
These Chassidim may also be described as messianic, because they believed that with these new mysteries returning to Judaism through Sufism, they were now on the cusp of a prophetic or messianic revival.
Some teachings of Avraham ben haRambam
Avraham ben haRambam presents a new mystical code for the Jews, which he adopts from the Sufis, as we see in his writings:
“Also do the Sufis of Islam practice solitude in dark places and isolate themselves in them until the sensitive part of the soul becomes atrophied so that it is not even able to see the light [as in a form of blindness]. This, however, requires strong inner illumination wherewith the soul would be preoccupied so as not to be pained over external darkness” (Avraham ben haRambam, Kifaya, vol II, 418).
Avrahan ben haRambam goes even further and proposes the establishment of Jewish mystical convents or hermitages. Groups of at least ten worthy men had to be selected to practice reclusion and detachment from worldly affairs. This was not just an incidental suggestion by Avraham ben haRambam, but it was intended as a future working model for Jewish communities:
“Care must be taken to install these individuals in order that they might serve as a [model] of attraction and imitation” (Avraham ben haRambam, Kifaya, ch. 24).
Jewish Sufis were now to adopt the Muslim manner of dress:
“Thou knowest also (of the practice) that is (prevalent) among these Sufis of Islam…[and] of the ways of the early saints (awliya) of Israel…that the master attires the novice (murid) in the ragged coat (hirqa) as the latter is about to embark upon the mystical path (tariq) and pursue it…We, moreover, take over from them and emulate them in the wearing of the sleeveless undergarment (baqa’ir) and the like” (Avraham ben haRambam, Kifaya, vol II, 266).
Jewish Sufis were to go back to the ancient Jewish practice of sleep deprivation:
“We also see the Sufis of Islam…combatting…sleep, and perhaps [that practice] is derived from…’I will not give sleep to my eyes’ (Ps 132,4)... Observe then these wonderful traditions and sigh with regret over how they have been transferred from us and made their appearance among a nation other than ours, whereas they have disappeared among us” (Avraham ben haRambam, Kifaya, vol II, 322).
Avraham ben haRambam then bemoans how these practices fell into disuse amongst Jews by applying the following Talmudic expression, which he uses to support his hypothesis that Sufism is an ancient form of lost Judaism:
מִפְּנֵי גַּאֲווֹתָן שֶׁל יִשְׂרָאֵל
שֶׁנִּיטְּלָה מֵהֶם וְנִתְּנָה לַגּוֹיִם
“Because of the arrogance of Israel, [such practices] were taken from them and given over to non-Jews” (b. Chagiga 5b).
The idea of seeking guidance from a master or ŝayḫ (sheikh), as the only way to attain union (wuṣūl), was understood by Avraham ben haRambam as an extension of the ancient tradition of Jewish prophets, and later formalised in the Mishna, with “Provide yourself with a teacher” (Avot 1:6), reinforcing the necessity of mentorship in spiritual development. This ancient idea was embodied in Sufism by al-Ghazali, who wrote:
“The disciple (murid) must of necessity have recourse to a director to guide him aright. For the way of the Faith is obscure…Wherefore the disciple must cling to his ŝayḫ (sheikh) as a blind man on the edge of a river clings to his leader confiding himself to him entirely, opposing him in no matter whatsoever, and binding himself to follow him absolutely. Let him know that the advantage he gains from the errors of his ŝayḫ (sheikh), if he should err, is greater than the advantage he gains from his own rightness, if he should be right” (Al-Ghazali, Ihya ulum al-din, ed B. Tabana, vol III, Cairo, 1957, 150-1).
Relationships between Sufis and Jews
The flow of ideas between Jews and Muslim Sufis seemed to flow rapidly in all directions. In one astonishing case, the Jews of Damascus would gather in the home of Sufi al-Hasan ibn Hud (1235-1299), and he would teach them Moshe Maimonides’ rationalist Guide for the Perplexed, apparently in light of mystical Sufi teachings! (Fenton 2017:62, citing the biographer Ibn al-Imad).
It must be noted, however, that relationships between Sufis and Jews were not always cordial. Russ-Fishbane:
“addresses a paradox at the heart of the classical Sufi tradition. On the one hand, key Sufi writers express a radical universalism or ‘transconfessionalism’…This has led a variety of modern scholars to identify Sufism as an ecumenical and non-dogmatic tradition. On the other hand, in other writings the selfsame authors conduct a vigorous literary polemic and celebrate missionary efforts against unbelievers…with a notable emphasis on Jewish unbelievers” (Russ-Fishbane 2017:143).
In other instances, we find that:
“Islam, the very image of piety and faith, is pitted against Judaism, the epitome of corruption and disbelief“ (Russ-Fishbane 2017:146).
Niẓāmī Ganjavī (d.1209),
a Persian poet from Ganja (a city in today’s Azerbaijan), writes:
“On account of his faith, the Jew
was possessed of a spiteful nature, a serpent of sorcery, the dragon of the
synagogue” (Cited in Russ-Fishbane 2017:146).[3]
Maimonides’ grandsons Ovadia and David
Avraham ben haRambam’s son, Ovadia (1228-1265), followed the Sufi ethic still further and promoted the notion of celibacy, maintaining that marriage and families were not conducive to a spiritual life. In his Treatise of the Pool, Ovadia, evidently drawing on al-Ghazali, writes that after marriage:
“if opportunities for spiritual realisation present themselves, it is only rarely and at the price of multiple tribulations” (Ovadia Maimonides, al-Maqala al-hawdiya, Treatise of the Pool, 1981, 116).
Ovadia’s Treatise of the Pool reads like a Sufi manual replete with Sufi practices, spiritual techniques and teachings. He had perhaps moved Judaism as close to Sufism as it had ever been, and this alarmed his elder brother, David I[4] (1222-1300), to warn of the dangers of Sufism as he saw them:
“Religious discipline practised by the Gentiles [a reference to Sufism] imposes upon them [excessive] frustration…such as the torments they inflict upon the body…fasting, celibacy…[and] have an adverse effect on their possessions and their persons…The religion of Israel, however, does not require exertion or fatigue…No act was imposed that was damaging to our welfare and our bodies…[O]ur religion is superior and more majestic than the precepts of the nations…[Why] toil in a quest devoid of truth and a goal that presents no advantage?” (David Maimonides, Midrash R. David haNagid, Paris, MS BN Heb. 297, fol. 44a).
Some generations later, David II, or David ben Jehoshua (c.1335-1415), the last in the Maimonidean dynasty that we know of—unlike his earlier ancestor David I—persisted in promoting the Sufi path. His work, al-Mursid ila l-tafarrud (Guide to Detachment), represents “the most consummate synthesis of traditional rabbinic ethics and the stations of the Sufi way” (Fenton 2017:58). This becomes an important and significant characterisation as David II passed away in the fifteenth century, just before the emergence of the sixteenth-century Safed Kabbalaists and Lurianic Kabbalah. David II, thus, represents a probable Sufi link between the Egyptian Chassidim and the Kabbalah of the Arizal.
Between Egypt and Safed
Between the passing of David Maimonides II in 1415 and the birth of R. Yitzchak Luria (Arizal) in 1534, Sufism had been well-entrenched within Judaism already for centuries. So much so that despite David II’s attempts to mainstream Sufism within Judaism, there were periods of total adoption of Sufi practices where many Jews converted outright to Islam. Significantly, this was during the time of the Muslim mystic ‘Abd al-Wahhab al- Sarani (1492-1565)—who lived during the time of the Arizal—and who was very proud of his Jewish converts, writing that “this belongs to the totality of the inheritance of our father Abraham, the friend of God” (al-Sarani, Lataif al-minan, Cairo, 1976, 681).
“The historians of the extraordinary kabbalistic school of Safed have insufficiently taken into account the influence of the Islamic environment when dealing with the novel practices introduced by the disciples of R. Isaac Luria (1534–1572), himself a native of Egypt…The Turkish traveler Evliya Chelebi testifies that in the sixteenth century, that is during the very heyday of Lurianic kabbalah, Safed was a vibrant Sufi center which possessed its tekkiye, or Sufi convent, and spiritual retreats” (Fenton 2003:214).
Jews continued to copy Sufi texts well into the seventeenth century. Egypt and Safed had historical, political and spiritual connections going back to 1266, when the Mamluks made Safed the capital of one of its provinces. David I had already visited Safed around 1288. At that time, some of “the principal Sufi brotherhoods flourished” in Safed (Fenton 2017:62).
Also, around 1295, the important Kabbalistic work Shaarei Tzedek (Gates of Righteousness) was composed by an anonymous student of Avraham Abulafia (Abu l-Afiya) in the vicinity of the Galilee and Safed. This book gives an accurate account of the Dikr ritual, which was practised in that area. There are four manuscripts of Shaarei Tzedek that are extant. Two have been censored. In the uncensored versions, we read about:
“Moslem ascetics…[who] employ all manner of devices to shut out from their souls all ‘natural forms’… Then…when a spiritual form…enters their soul, it is isolated in their imagination to such a degree that they can determine beforehand that which is to happen to us….[T]hey summon the Name, ALLAH, as it is in the language of Ishmael…and the very letters ALLAH and their diverse powers work upon them. They are carried off into a trance without realizing how, since no Kabbalah has been transmitted to them” (uncensored Shaarei Tzedek cited in Scholem 1941:147).
This uncensored text indicates that there are substantial unexplored layers of historical evidence of Sufi connections to Safed—the seat of Lurianic Kabbalah—which is often presented as an original form of Jewish mysticism simply emerging organically from that area. Yet many Lurianic practices closely resemble those of Sufism:
“Among the most significant, mention can be made of saint worship [veneration?] and visitation of the tombs of saints and their invocation, which are similar to Muslim practices connected with the ziyarah rite, the gathering of spiritual brotherhoods (havurot) around the person of the saint, and spiritual concerts (baqashot), vigils consisting in the singing of devotional poems, similar to the Sufi sama ceremony. However, the most important ritual was that of hitbodedut, ‘solitary meditation’” (Fenton 2003:215).
Conclusion
To this day, many familiar Jewish mystical practices closely resemble Sufi rituals that were adapted into (or reunited with) Jewish devotional life during the Judeo-Sufi period. The extent to which the Judeo-Sufi currents flowed from the Nile to Safed (Arizal) and then onto the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, which is modern Ukraine (Baal Shem Tov), is worthy of further exploration.
Addendum
One might add that Sufi influence extended even beyond the classical Chassidic movement to the neo-Chassidic movement. As a young man, like so many of my contemporaries, I was drawn into the circle of R. Shlomo Carlebach. Many who had been involved in other well-known Chassidic movements regarded him as a kind of neo-Chassidic Rebbe. Once, on a visit to South Africa, one or two of his followers and I decided to record as many aspects of his fascinating life story as we could, as it had never been systematically done before, and save it for posterity, as he was getting on in years. I vividly remember going to his hotel room (in the Rosebank Hotel) for three full days, recording his anecdotes on my old-fashioned cassette recorder. At the end, we had a huge pile of priceless cassettes which we distributed amongst ourselves. One strange story he told made absolutely no sense at the time. I was so astounded by this story that I didn’t tell anyone about it. Unfortunately, those old tapes somehow got lost over time, but I remember the event he spoke of as if it were yesterday.
He described how he had spent some time in the desert with an Arab Muslim family. He would stay up at night, drink tea and look up at the stars. He begged the father of the family to perform Dhikr for him. At first, the man refused, saying it was not the religion of the rabbi. Carlebach persisted, and I remember him imploring, “Please do Dhikr for me.” In the end, the father consented and performed the ceremony in the dessert night. I recall Carlebach saying something about it being an ancient Jewish ceremony, but I never understood how that could have been possible…
Now I think I understand. Unfortunately, the evidence of
that encounter is lost.
Bibliography
Fenton, P. B., 2003, ‘Judaism and Sufism’ in The
Cambridge Companion to Medieval Jewish Philosophy, Cambridge University
Press.
Fenton, P. B., 2017, ’Sufis and Jews in Mamluk
Egypt’, in Muslim-Jewish Relations in the Middle Islamic Period, Jews in the
Ayyubid and Mamluk Sultanates (1171-1517), Edited by Stephan Conermann, Bonn
University Press, Bonn, 41-62.
Russ-Fishbane, E., 2017, ‘Jews and Judaism in
Classical Sufi Literature’, Journal of Sufi Studies, vol. 6, 143-164.
Scholem, G.G., 1941, Major Trends in Jewish
Mysticism, Schocken Books, New York.
[1]
Online Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKdVQXWnVZo.
Retrieved 15 March 2026. This interview offers a fascinating insight into the
great scholar, Professor Paul Fenton. His academic journey and scholarly
travels—if
not outright adventures—together with his exceedingly warm personality are nothing
less than inspirational. There is also a surprising South African connection to
the University of Stellenbosch.
[2]Online source: https://ebrary.net/261607/education/jewish_sufi_encounter_middle_ages#103. Retrieved 18 March 2026).
[3]
Niẓāmī, Haft paykar-i Niẓāmī Ganjavī, ed. Barāt Zanjānī (Tehran: Dānishgāh-i Ṭihrān,
1994), 114, l. 3004.
[4]
There were two Davids in the direct Maimonidean lineage, David I, David ben
Avraham (d.1300), and David II, or David ben Jehoshua (d.1415).
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