Moses of Coucy succeeded in bringing many thousands who had neglected several rites (Tephillin), or had never observed them, to repentance and atonement, and in persuading them to remain constant in their practice. In Spain he even succeeded in influencing those who had contracted mixed marriages with Christian or Mahometan women, to divorce themselves from their strange wives (1236). It was, of course, not only his sermons which brought about this sudden conversion, but the superstitious fear of evil dreams and extraordinary celestial phenomena, by which at that time Jews and Christians were seized. Moses of Coucy, in the meantime, preached to his brethren not only to observe the ceremonies, but also to be truthful and upright in their dealings with non-Jews. In his pulpit he laid stress upon the virtue of humility, which was all the more becoming to the children of Israel, seeing that they had God ever present before them, who hates the proud, and loves the meek. Far from kindling fanatical zeal, Moses ever took peace and friendliness as his text. He helped to conciliate many by acknowledging Maimuni's greatness, and putting him on a level with the Geonim.
Evil consequences now began to develop within Judaism from this controversy in regard to the value or worthlessness of free inquiry, the effects of which lasted for centuries, and have not yet died away. Maimuni aimed at unifying Judaism, and produced division; he had sought to give it transparent clearness and general simplicity, and only caused misunderstanding and complication. It was his ambition to establish peace, but he kindled war – so little can even the greatest of mortals calculate the consequences of his actions. His system of philosophy had divided Judaism, separated the simple believers from thinking men, and aroused a commotion, which in its violence far overstepped the borders of moderation. Through the rupture that arose from the conflict for and against Maimuni, there insinuated itself into the general life of the Jews a false doctrine which, although new, styled itself a primitive inspiration; although un-Jewish, called itself a genuine teaching of Israel; and although springing from error, entitled itself the only truth. The rise of this secret lore, which was called Kabbala (tradition), coincides with the time of the Maimunistic controversy, through which it was launched into existence. Discord was the mother of this monstrosity, which has ever been the cause of schism. The Kabbala, in its earliest systematic development, is a child of the first quarter of the thirteenth century. The early adherents of this occult lore, when asked to confess honestly from whom they had first received it, answered in plain terms: "From Rabbi Isaac the Blind, or perhaps from his father, Abraham ben David, of Posquières, the antagonist of Maimuni." They frankly confessed that the Kabbalistic doctrine does not appear either in the Pentateuch or in the Prophets, in the Hagiographa, or in the Talmud, but rests on scarcely perceptible indications. Of the Kabbalistic utterances of the founder of the Kabbala, Isaac the Blind (flourished about 1190–1210), there are only fragments extant, from which but little can be inferred. The darkness of his physical vision was said to have been illuminated by an inner light. He adopted as an article of faith the doctrine of Metempsychosis, which had been condemned and ridiculed by Jewish thinkers. His disciples said that he had the power of discerning whether men possessed a new and fresh soul, coming directly from the world of heavenly spirits, or an old soul which was migrating from body to body, trying to recover its purity. Two of his disciples, Azriel and Ezra, were the first who reduced the Kabbala to a coherent system. They were so like-minded, that they have often been confounded, and certain writings and doctrines have at times been ascribed to the one, and again, to the other. These twins in thought, perhaps brothers in blood, are consequently reckoned in the history of the Kabbala as only one person; they complement one another.
But little is known of the life of this pair, and it is reported of one of them (it is uncertain whether Ezra or Azriel) that he died at the age at least of seventy, a few years after the commencement of the Maimunist schism. Of Azriel, rather more is known. He relates how, from his earliest youth, he traveled about from place to place, in search of a secret art, which could give satisfactory conclusions about God and creation. Certain men, who were in possession of this lore, had taught it to him, and he was firmly convinced of its truth. He had, therefore, himself spread this Kabbalistic doctrine among the congregations which he visited during his wanderings; but was laughed to scorn by the philosophical scholars in Spain (Sevilla?). Thus, one of the earliest mystics confessed that the Kabbala had met with opposition at the very outset of its career, and that the antiquity of its subject-matter was emphatically denied. Azriel and Ezra, however, were not disturbed by this opposition, but labored to make good their position and spread their doctrines. They developed their peculiar theory in their explanations of passages in the Agada, the prayers, and the Song of Solomon, which is a mine for every kind of mysticism. Azriel endeavored to convince also philosophical scholars of the truth of the Kabbala, and clothed its doctrines in the language of logic. But as soon as this secret lore steps out of its obscurity into the light of the sun, it shows its nakedness and deformity. It is certain that the Kabbala was intended as a counterpoise to the growing shallowness of the Maimunists' philosophy. That Judaism should teach nothing more than Aristotelian philosophy was an abomination to those whose deep piety regarded every word of the Bible and the Talmud as a divine truth. There is a way of escape from the philosophical consideration of God and Judaism, i. e. to receive everything in naïve faith. This was the method of the Jews of Germany and northern France; it was the rigid Tossafist tendency. But the pious Jews of southern France and of Spain, who, as it were, breathed everywhere an atmosphere of philosophy, could not be satisfied with dull literalness. Judaism appeared to them without meaning, if not permeated with deep thought. The religious injunctions of the Law, the ceremonies, must have a higher, ideal meaning. The anti-Maimunists themselves had admitted, that the precepts of Judaism could on no account be accepted as arbitrary decrees of a despot, but, being divine ordinances, must have an intelligent basis; and as the apparently meaningless laws of the Bible, and the obscure verses of Scripture, so also the Agadic utterances of the Talmud must contain a higher sense, otherwise they would be without rhyme or reason. The Kabbala is a daughter of embarrassment; its system was the way of escape from the dilemma between the simple, anthropomorphic interpretation of the Bible and the shallowness of the Maimunist philosophy.
The secret doctrine, first completely developed by Ezra and Azriel, established not a new, but at any rate a peculiar philosophy of religion, or, more correctly, theosophy, which, advancing from one inconceivable statement to another, finally soared into the misty region where all thinking ceases, and even imagination droops its wings. It started from a basis which at that time was considered unimpeachable, but made bold deductions from it, which clashed with its underlying principle. Unity was transformed, by sleight-of-hand, into a plurality, spirituality into a coarse materialism, and refined belief into extravagant superstition. The original Kabbala established the following principles: the Deity is elevated above everything, even above existence and thought. Consequently, we have no right to say of Him that He speaks or acts, and still less that He thinks, wills and designs. All these qualities, which are human, imply some limitation, and God is unlimited, because perfect. Only one attribute can be assigned to Him – He is unconditioned or infinite. The Kabbala accordingly confers on God the title of Eternal (Hebrew, En-Sof). This was its first innovation. In His unthinkable universality, God, or the En-Sof, is hidden and inconceivable, and consequently, in a manner, non-existent; for that which cannot be recognized and conceived by the thinking mind does not exist for it. The universal existence, the En-Sof, consequently is identical with the non-existent (Ayin). Hence in order to make His existence known, Deity was obliged or wished to make Himself visible and recognizable; He had to become active and creative, so that His existence might be perceived.
But the lower world in its depravity and decrepitude could not have been produced or created by the En-Sof, for the Infinite and Perfect cannot directly bring into existence the finite and imperfect. The Deity, therefore, is not to be regarded as the immediate Creator of the world; the process of creation must be conceived in quite a different manner. The En-Sof, by means of His infinite wealth of light, radiated from Himself a spiritual substance, a force, or whatever it is to be called, which, flowing directly from Himself, partakes of His perfection and infinity. On the other hand, this radiation or emanation cannot be like the En-Sof, its creator, in all points, for it is not absolutely original, but derivative. This power, springing from the En-Sof, is, therefore, not identical with Him, but only similar to Him, i. e., it has besides an infinite, also a finite side. The Kabbala calls this first spiritual child of the En-Sof the first Sefira, a name possibly adopted as suggestive at once of number and of sphere. This first spiritual power radiates from itself a second force, and this latter a third, and so on, so that altogether ten spiritual substances, or forces, or intermediate entities, or organs (as they are in turn called), were successively revealed, and became active. These ten powers the Kabbala calls the Ten Sefiroth.
The ten substances are parts of one another and of the En-sof, and only represent different sides (or phases) of the same being, as fire produces both flame and sparks, which, although appearing different to the eye, nevertheless indicate the same thing. The Ten Sefiroth, which are distinguished from one another like different colors of the same light, being emanations of the Deity, are dependent on one another, and consequently are conditioned. Only in the degree in which the En-Sof endows them with force, can they continue to act. Their action is shown in the creation of the material and spiritual world in their own image, in their eternal support of the world with which they are in union, and in their ever communicating to it the gracious gift of divine life.
The Kabbala divides the ten Sefiroth into three groups of three each, and these nine Sefiroth would have been sufficient to exhaust all the powers needed by the system, but the Kabbala could not forego the number ten, it was too important. The Ten Commandments, the Ten Declarations, by means of which the Agada explains the creation of the universe, the Ten Spheres, what a world of meaning is therein hidden! The Kabbala was bent on keeping the tenth power, but could not consistently introduce it into its scheme, however it might eschew strict logic; hence it floundered about amidst a variety of conceptions. Close thinking is no concern of the Kabbala; it is satisfied with fantastic pictures and symbols, however unsubstantial. With this number ten the Kabbala sported in a most capricious manner. By means of the Sefiroth, God can make Himself visible, and even invest Himself with a body. When it is said in Holy Writ: God spoke, descended to the earth, or ascended, it is not to be understood, as the strict literalists or the Agadists take it, as referring to the Deity Himself, or to the sublime En-Sof, but to the Sefiroth. The incense which mounted from the altar, and became sweet savor, was not inhaled or absorbed by the Deity Himself, but by the intermediate beings. In this manner the Kabbala thought that it had overcome the difficulties which the notion of the absolute spirituality of God and the Biblical method of representation of God offer. The Deity is incorporeal and infinite, has no corporeal functions, and is not affected by anything corporeal. But the Sefiroth, which in addition to their infinite side, have also a finite, and as it were, a corporeal side, can also perform corporeal functions, and enter into relation with corporeal things.
The Kabbalistic theory of the creation is equally fantastic. God, or the En-Sof, did not create the visible world immediately, but entirely by means of the Sefiroth. All things in the lower world, both classes and individuals, have their original form (types) in the higher worlds, so that there is nothing without a purpose, but everything has a higher significance. The universe resembles a giant tree with a wealth of branches and leaves, whose roots are the Sefiroth; or, it is a closely wrought chain, the last link of which hangs on to the higher world; or, a great sea, which is constantly filled from an eternally flowing source. The human soul in particular is a privileged citizen of the higher world, is in immediate connection with all the Sefiroth, and consequently it can exert some influence on them, and even on the Deity. By virtue of its moral and religious conduct the soul can increase or diminish the flow of grace from the Deity, through the channel of the intermediary beings, its good actions causing an uninterrupted flow, and its evil conduct occasioning its discontinuance.
The people of Israel were specially chosen to promote the fulness of grace, and therefore the preservation of the world. For that purpose, they received the Revelation and the Law, with its 613 religious ordinances, in order to act on the Sefiroth through every religious act, and, so to speak, compel the dispensing of their bounty. The ceremonies consequently have a deeply mystical meaning and imperishable importance: they constitute the magic means whereby the whole universe is supported, and blessed. "The righteous man is the foundation of the world." The Temple, and the sacrificial service especially, had a particularly deep significance in keeping alive the connection of the lower world with the higher. The earthly Temple corresponded with the heavenly Temple (the Sefiroth). The priestly blessing, which was pronounced with the ten fingers raised, prompted the Ten Sefiroth to pour out their gracious gifts upon the lower world. After the destruction of the Temple, prayer took the place of sacrifice, and accordingly prayer has a peculiar, mystical importance. The prescribed ritual has an unfailing effect, if the worshiper knows how to address himself, on any particular occasion, to the proper Sefira, for prayer must be addressed only to it, and not directly to the Deity. The mystery of prayer assumes an important place in the Kabbala. Every word, even every syllable in the prayers, every movement made during worship, every ceremonial symbol is interpreted by the Kabbala with reference to the higher world. The Kabbalists took a special interest in the mystical explanation of the religious laws of Judaism. This was the center of gravity of their system; by its means they could oppose the Maimunists. Whilst the latter, from their philosophical point of view, declared certain precepts to be meaningless and obsolete, the mystics treated these ordinances as of the highest moment. They were therefore considered the preservers of Judaism.
The vital importance to Judaism of the doctrine of retribution and the inquiry into the condition of the soul after death had been too strenuously asserted by Maimuni for the Kabbala to omit to drag them also into the province of its theory. The Kabbala claimed great antiquity for its views on these questions; but their youth and derivation from another system of thought are obvious. Starting from the doctrine that all souls had been created in the beginning, the Kabbala taught that these souls were destined to enter upon an earthly career, to pass into bodies, and to remain connected with them for a certain period of time. The soul during its earthly life was subjected to the test whether, in spite of its connection with the body, it can keep itself pure from earthly grossness. If it can do this, it ascends purified after death to the domain of spirits, and becomes a part of the world of the Sefiroth. If, on the other hand, it becomes tainted with earthliness, it is compelled to return to the bodily life (but not more than three times) till, after repeated tests, it can soar aloft in a pure state. On the doctrine of the transmigration of the soul, an important point of the Kabbala, was based its doctrine of reward and punishment. The sufferings to which the pious, apparently without cause, are subjected on earth, serve the purpose of purifying their souls. God's justice, therefore, ought not to be questioned, if the righteous are unfortunate, and the godless are prosperous. As most souls during their earthly existence become lost in sensuality, forgetting their heavenly origin, and therefore are obliged to wander through new bodies, it happens that the larger number of souls are such as are born again, while new souls rarely come on earth. Through the sinfulness of man, whereby the same souls repeatedly enter bodies, the great redemption is postponed, for the new souls cannot come into existence, the world being almost entirely filled by old ones. The great time of grace, the spiritual completion of the world, cannot come until all created souls have been born on earth. Even the soul of the Messiah, which like others abides in the spiritual world of the Sefiroth in its pre-mundane existence, cannot appear until every soul has dwelt in a body. The soul of the Messiah will be the last of the souls, and the Messiah therefore will come only at the end of days. Then at length the great jubilee will arrive, when all souls, purified and refined, will have returned from earth to heaven. The furthering and hastening of this time of grace depends, therefore, on the wisdom and religious conduct of the righteous. The adepts in Kabbala thus acquired extraordinary importance; they were sureties, not only for Israel, but for the whole order of the world, for through their conduct they might hasten the birth of the soul of the Messiah, the last in the storehouse of souls.
The Kabbala boasted that it had disclosed the secret of Judaism much better than Maimuni, and had shown its relation to the higher world, and to the shaping of the future. The Kabbala had unlimited play for its fantastic interpretations. In distortion of the Scriptures, the Kabbalists out-ran the Alexandrine allegorists, the Agadists, the Church Fathers, and the Jewish and Christian religious philosophers. Azriel, indeed, coquetted with philosophy, and endeavored to make the Kabbala acceptable to thinkers. But another Kabbalist of this time, Jacob ben Sheshet Gerundi, of Gerona (who wrote in about 1243 or 1246), deliberately opposed his secret lore to the explanations of the philosophers. He repudiated any truce with them, and could not find scorn enough for philosophical "heretics and despisers of the Law." Gerona, the native place of Ezra and Azriel, of Jacob ben Sheshet, and Nachmani, was the first warm nest for the fledgeling Kabbala. This occult science, which made its appearance with a flourish, rests on deception, at best, on the self-deception of its founders. Its theory is not old, as it pretended, but very modern; at any rate it is not found in Jewish antiquity, but dates from the twilight of Greek philosophy. The Kabbala is a grotesque distortion of Jewish and philosophical ideas. In order to make it appear ancient and authentic, the compilers had recourse to fraud. They circulated a Kabbalistic manuscript which purported to have been composed by an honored Talmudical doctor, Nechunya ben ha-Kana, and others. In vain the highly respected Meïr ben Simon and Rabbi Meshullam of Béziers called attention to this forgery, which bore the title Bahir (Luminous), and condemned it to be burnt, as it contained blasphemies against the greatness of God; the book Bahir maintained its ground, and was in later times used as evidence of the great age of the Kabbala.
The labors of Azriel and Ezra in behalf of the secret science might have had but poor results, if Nachmani had not ranged himself under their banner. At first blush, it is indeed hard to conceive how this clear, keen-witted, subtle thinker, who, in the province of the Talmud, had the ability to shed light upon every obscurity, could be induced to join the votaries of the Kabbala, and permit himself to be blinded by the false light of the Bahir. But on deeper examination of his way of thinking, this phenomenon ceases to be a paradox. Nachmani belonged to that numerous class of men who can form a correct judgment on single objects, but are unable to comprehend a great whole. Maimuni's philosophical line of argument repelled him on account of its prosaic nature; the Kabbala, on the other hand, attracted him because his belief in miracles and respect for authority found nourishment therein. When he, a pious rabbi and deep Talmudist, had acknowledged the truth of the Kabbala, its authority became established; where Nachmani believed unconditionally, those less gifted dared not doubt. A poet, Meshullam En-Vidas Dafiera, an opponent of the Maimunists, accordingly ranges him with Ezra and Azriel, as a defender of the truth of the secret lore.
"The son of Nachman is our stronghold sure,
Ezra and Azriel know the hidden things.
They are my priests; my altar they illume;
They are my stars that never cease to shine;
They can compute the meanings of God's words,
Only from fear of scoffers are they silent."
Thus Nachmani became a chief pillar of the Kabbala, the more so because he spoke of it only casually, and concealed more of it than he revealed.
Thus, within barely four decades after the death of Maimuni, Judaism was divided into three parties; and this was the beginning of a retrograde movement which led to degradation. A marked division was established between the philosophical school, the strict Talmudists and the Kabbalists. The first named, who regarded Maimuni as their chief, strove to interpret the doctrines of Judaism in a rational manner; they either adhered to the arguments of their leader, or deduced, from his premises, bold conclusions which had escaped his notice, or which he had not desired to infer, and they almost entirely broke away from the Talmud. The strict Talmudists occupied themselves exclusively with Halachic controversies, and had no desire to become acquainted with philosophical notions; they were averse to science and to inquiry in the domain of religion, and they interpreted the Agadas in a purely literal sense, but they also turned aside from the Kabbala. Lastly, the Kabbalists were prejudiced against both the literal Talmudists and the rationalistic Maimunists. At first, they maintained friendly terms with the Talmudists because their numbers were few, and the conclusions, at variance with Judaism, which could be drawn from their system, were not yet recognized, for both had to combat a common enemy. Hence the Kabbalists at first directed their attacks solely against the Maimunists, but before the end of the century the Kabbalists and the Talmudists had become enemies, attacking each other as vigorously as they had formerly assailed their common opponents, the philosophers.
The consequences, on the one hand, of the degradation of the Jews, through the papacy, and on the other, of the internal discord, soon made themselves felt, and produced an unhappy condition of affairs. The happy contentment, the joyousness, the delight in original, intellectual work, which, combined with spiritual activity, had borne such beautiful fruit, had all long since passed away. Sad earnestness filled the hearts of the Spanish and Provençal Jews, and weighed down, as with lead, every lofty aspiration of their souls. The joyous singers became silent, as if the icy breath of the gloomy present had suddenly caused their warm blood to freeze. How could a Jew pour forth merry strains of song with the badge of dishonor on his breast? The neo-Hebraic poetry, which, for three centuries, had produced such noble works of genius, perished altogether, or bore only faded leaves. The satires and epigrams which the Maimunists and anti-Maimunists hurled against each other were the last products of the neo-Hebraic muse of Spain. But these verses no longer bubbled over with laughter and merriment; they were full of earnest logic and argument. They were no longer like the epigrams of the flourishing era of poetry, which resembled prattling maidens, but were like quarrelsome scolds who had lost the charm of youth. Poets themselves felt that the source of the neo-Hebraic poetry had been exhausted, and they fed on the memories of its Golden Age.
The last representatives of the neo-Hebraic poetry were Jehuda Alcharisi, the untiring translator and warm partisan of Maimuni, then Joseph ben Sabara, and lastly Jehuda ben Sabbatai. These three men, as if acting in collusion with one another, created the satirical romance. This consisted in the introduction of fictitious characters, and the use of exuberant rhetoric; but there is more of strained attempt at wit than of graceful skill in their poems. Alcharisi, in his romance, "Tachkemoni," under the disguise of Heber the Kenite, and in dialogues with the poet, introduces a variety of subjects, both humorous and serious, intermingling rhymed prose with verse, and interweaving little episodes. This method was pursued also by the poet, Joseph ben Sabara, probably a physician in Barcelona, in his romance, "Diversions" (Shaashuim). The third poet of this class, Jehuda ben Isaac ben Sabbatai, also of Barcelona, was considered by Alcharisi to be one of the best masters of the art; his performances, however, do not in any way justify this opinion. His dialogue, "Between Wisdom and Wealth," is very poor in poetical ideas. His satirical romance, "The Woman-hater," is not much better; he lacked entirely the broad conceptions of his contemporaries.
The decay of the neo-Hebraic poetry was very rapid. After the death of Sabbatai it fell into a yet more forlorn condition, and a century passed before a worthy successor made his appearance. Original power of poetic production had died out, and those who were acquainted with the manipulation of language, and could construct tolerably good rhymes, merely imitated the work of their predecessors. Abraham ben Chasdaï, a Maimunist, of Barcelona, re-wrote, from an Arabic translation, a moral dialogue between a worldly-minded and a penitent man. This he put into a Hebrew form under the title of "The Prince and the Nazarite."
A poor copyist, Berachya ben Natronaï Nakdan, called in the dialect of the country Crispia (flourished about 1230–1270), turned his attention to fables, which had been popular among the ancient Hebrews. He was, however, unable to invent, but chiefly elaborated in the neo-Hebraic form the productions of earlier fabulists. Among his one hundred and seven Fox Fables (Mishlé Shualim) there are very few original ones. Berachya desired to hold a mirror up to his contemporaries, "who spurned the truth, and held out the golden scepter to falsehood"; plants and animals were employed to describe the perversity and depravity of mankind.
The only merit possessed by the fables both of Berachya and of Ibn-Sahula, a minor poet of northern Spain (1245), who also moralized in perfervid words in the "Fables of Ancient Times" (Mashal ha-Kadmoni), as also by the moral tale, "The Prince and the Dervish" of Abraham ben Chasdaï, consists in the happy imitation of the Biblical style, and in the ingenious application of the verses of Scripture to an entirely different line of thought. This it is which, in the eyes of scholars, imparts to their language an air of uncommon wit, attractiveness and piquancy. It is doubtful whether Joseph Ezobi should be included among the poets of the time. It is showing too much honor to his writings to term them poetry; and they would be silently ignored when neo-Hebraic poetry is referred to, were it not that, through frequent transcripts and the multiplication of copies in Latin and French translations, the attention of the historian of literature has been drawn to them, and they have acquired a certain fame. Joseph Ezobi (or Esobi) ben Chanan, of Orange (near Avignon, about 1230–1250), dedicated to his son Samuel an epithalamium, called "The Silver Dish" (Kaarat Kesef), in which he laid down admonitions and rules of life. Among other things, he commanded him "to hold aloof from the wisdom of the Greeks, which resembled the vine of Sodom, and implanted the seeds of disease in the mind of man." He suggested to him to study Hebrew grammar and the Bible; but to devote his attention chiefly to the Talmud. This is sufficient to characterize the man and the bent of his mind. Joseph Ezobi's verses show a fair command of language, but they are deficient both in power of expression and in gracefulness; he is one of those versatile poetasters who arose at this time in large numbers, especially in Provence.
The various branches of learning degenerated in the post-Maimunic time even more than the art of poetry. How could a sound exegesis flourish when both philosophers and Kabbalists vied with each other in subtilizing and misinterpreting the meaning of Holy Writ, so as to obtain Biblical support for their theories? Hebrew grammar at the same time also fell into decay, under the subtle quibblings of the philosophers and the Kabbalists; the excellent productions of earlier days sank into oblivion. David Kimchi was the last exegete and grammarian for a long space of time. Nachmani, it is true, occupied himself with the exposition of the Scriptures, and very often called in the aid of grammar, and displayed traces of correct philological theory; he did not, however, cultivate these branches for their own sake, but in the service of a prejudiced opinion, and especially in controverting the views of an opponent. Thus, the magnificent garlands of Jewish learning that had been woven by the Jewish Spanish thinkers and inquirers after truth gradually faded.