A Sufi-Jewish Dialogue: Philosophy and Mysticism in Bahya ibn Paquda's "Duties of the Heart" 9780812202656

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A Sufi-jewish Dialogue

JEWISH CULTURE AND CONTEXTS Published in association with the Center for Advanced Judaic Studies of the University of Pennsylvania David B. Ruderman, Series Editor

Advisory Board Richard I. Cohen Moshe Idel Alan Mintz Deborah Dash Moore Ada Rapoport-Albert Michael Swartz A complete list of books in the series is available from the publisher.

A Sufi-Jewish Dialogue Philosophy and Mysticism in Babya Ibn Paquda' s Duties of the Heart

DIANA LOBEL

PENN University of Pennsylvania Press Philadelphia

Copyright © 2007 University of Pennsylvania Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper 10 9 8 7 6

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Published by University of Pennsylvania Press Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19104-4112 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Lobel, Diana. A Sufi-Jewish dialogue : philosophy and mysticism in BatJ.ya Ibn Paquda's Duties of the heart I Diana Lobel. p. cm.-(Jewish culture and contexts) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-0-8122-3953-9 ISBN-10: 0-8122-3953-9 (alk. paper) 1. Baltya ben Joseph ibn Pakuda, 11th cent. Hidayah ila fara'icj al-qulub. 2. Jewish ethics-Early works to 1800. 3. BatJ.ya ben Joseph ibn Pakuda, 11th cent.Knowledge-Sufism. 4. Judaism-Relations-Islam. 5. Sufism. I. Title. II. Series. BJ1287.B23H4935 2006 296.3'6-dc22 2006042181

For Reb Moshe Holcer, z"l And for Albert, Francine, and Janet Lobel You have taught me-each in a unique waythe meaning of duties of the heart

Contents

Preface

Ix

Introduction: Bal).ya's Work in Its Judeo-Arabic Context 1. Philosophical Mysticism in Eleventh-Century Spain: Bal).ya and Ibn Gabirol 21 2. On the Lookout: The Exegesis of a Sufi Tale 3. Creation

51

4. The One

66

5. Speaking about God: Divine Attributes, Biblical Language, and Biblical Exegesis

96

6. The Contemplation of Creation (I'tibar)

117

35

7. Wholehearted Devotion (Ikhlii!f): Purification of Unity (Ikhlii!f al-TawlJ,zd), Purification of Intention in Action (Ikhlii!f al- 'A mal) 146 8. Reason, Law, and the Way of the Spirit 9. The Spirituality of the Law

196

10. Awareness, Love, and Reverence (Muriiqaba, MalJ,abba, Hayba!Yir'ah)

219

177

1

viii

Contents

List of Abbreviations Notes

245

Bibliography Index

243

323

345

Acknowledgments

361

Preface

It was told of a pious man [IJ,asid] that he met some people returning from a great battle with an enemy. He said to them, "You are returning, praised be God, from a smaller battle, carrying your booty. Now prepare yourself for the greater battle." They asked, "What is that greater battle?" and he answered, "The battle against the instinct and its armies. " 1

This anecdote about a pious person is quoted by one of the early masters of the Hasidic movement in eighteenth-century Eastern Europe, Rabbi Jacob Joseph of Polonnoy. 2 Writing in Hebrew, he speaks of the pious person as a ljasid, portraying him as a model of the new movement of radical piety, lfasidut. The source of his anecdote is the Hebrew translation ofBal}.ya Ibn Paquda's Duties ofthe Heart, written in Arabic-more precisely, in Judeo-Arabic-in eleventh-century Spain, but translated in 1161 into Hebrew and a favorite of Jewish devotion down to this day. What the eighteenth-century Hasidic master no doubt did not realize is that the origin of the anecdote is the Islamic tradition of ljadfth and that the ljasid about whom it is told is the founder of Islam, the Prophet Mul::tammad. Today's readers of the work in Hebrew translation might also be surprised that Ba}:lya's term for both the external battle and the greater, internal struggle is jihadwhich for Ba}:lya clearly has a much broader connotation than "holy war." 3 How does a perennially popular manual of Jewish piety come to be quoting Islamic traditions about the Prophet Mu}:lammad? Muslim Spain of the tenth through twelfth century, known as the "Golden Age" of Hispano-J ewish poetry and letters, is a time of great convergence and cultural creativity. Jewish courtiers such as Samuel Hanagid are writing wine poetry; erotic Arabic poetry finds its way into the

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synagogue liturgy, even on the holiest days. Jewish philosophers are reading and writing philosophy in Arabic; Jews are studying with Sufi masters, integrating ascetic practices and mystical thought into their own spiritual creativity. One of the founders of the contemporary study of religion, W. C. Smith, spoke of rare moments of interreligious creativity in world history that created international communities of discourse. Baghdad in the ninth and tenth century was one, in which the Caliph al-Ma'mun (813-33) established a school for translation. The "Renaissance of Islam" saw the translation of Hippocrates, Galen, Plato, and Aristotle into Syriac and Arabic by Hunayn Ibn Isl,laq and his disciples. The intellectual circles of tenth-century Baghdad show the influence of a wide variety of sects and schools: the orthodox school of the Ash'arite theologians; the Mu'tazilite theologians-known as the "freethinkers of Islam"-who introduced allegorical interpretation of Scripture; the Eastern Christian John of Damascus, who was a strong influence on Christian kalam; and a panoply of Christian sects, which were well represented, as were Zoroastrianism, Manichaeanism, and Indian philosophy.4 The Muslim historian al-Hum'aydi: records the experience of a Spanish theologian, Ibn Sa'dl, visiting Baghdad in the ninth century and attending an assembly oflslamic theology, kalam: Yes, I attended twice, but I refused to go there for a third time ... for this simple reason, which you will appreciate: At the first meeting there were present not only people of various Islamic sects, but also unbelievers, Magians, materialists atheists, Jews and Christians, in short unbelievers of all kinds .... One of the unbelievers rose and said to the assembly: we are meeting here for a discussion. Its conditions are known to all. You, Muslims, are not allowed to argue from your books and prophetic traditions since we deny both. Everybody, therefore, has to limit himself to rational arguments. The whole assembly applauded these words. So you can imagine, Ibn Sa'di concluded, that after these words I decided to withdraw. 5

It was during this time of religious cross-fertilization that Sa'adya Gaon (892-942) wrote his Book of Doctrines and Beliefs to clarifY Jewish belief in an age of intellectual ferment. Bal,lya Ibn Paquda comes a century later in Muslim Spain, an era of similar cultural convergence. We know very little about Bal,lya Ibn Paquda; all we have from him is one manual of inner devotion and several devotional poems. He wrote his Judeo-Arabic classic Guidebook to the Duties of the Heart (al-Hidaya ila fara'i4 al-qulub) in Muslim Spain by 1080 at the latest; it was translated into Hebrew by Judah Ibn Tibbon in 1161 under the title lfovot halevavot, the first work to be undertaken in the immense project of preserving J udeo-Arabic classics for the community of Provence, which was losing the ability to read Arabic. The Hebrew translation has

Preface

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enjoyed immense popularity down to the present day; few Hebrew books have gone through as many printings. However, the study of this work in translation has often obscured the original Arabic context and sources of the book. The work of A. S. Yahuda, 6 Georf"es Vajda, 7 and the recent pathbreaking discoveries of Amos Goldreich have decisively established Bal).ya's borrowings from Islamic literature and specifically Sufi texts. We know that the Sufi movement flourished in Spain from the tenth century on. 9 However, there are many gaps in our knowledge of Spanish Sufism; for example, we do not even know precisely which texts were circulating in eleventh-century Spain. 10 Thus it is difficult to pinpoint which Sufi texts Bal).ya was reading, as he never cites his Arabic sources by name. However, like the classic Sufi manuals, Bal).ya's work is arranged as a guidebook for the inner life. The Hidaya is structured in a series often chapters, or "gates"; each gate represents a duty of the heart, an ideal to be embodied. In the Tenth Gate, Bal).ya tells us that each previous gate is a stepping-stone leading the reader toward the goal of spiritual life, true love for God. 11 In his own eyes, each duty of the heart is vital to an integrated spiritual path. It is ironic, then, that there has been a radical split in the image of Bal).ya and a corresponding split in scholarship. Scholars have described three Bal).yas: the philosopher, the dialectical theologian, and the Sufi pietist. Scholars have seen the philosopher and the theologian in the First Gate and the Sufi pietist in the remainder of the work. So extreme is this split image that Georges Vajda's classic study tracing Sufi themes and sources in Bal).ya's work does not address the First Gate at all, whereas David Kaufmann's philosophical study concentrates solely on the First Gate. 12 In this study, I wish to draw a more complex portrait of Bal).ya as an original thinker who defies easy categorization. Bal).ya integrates elements from N eoplatonic philosophy, Mu'tazilite theology, rabbinic judaism, and Sufi mystical piety in a unique and creative synthesis. Amos Goldreich recently established that a small treatise ofMul).asibi, Questions Concerning the Actions ofthe Heart and the Limbs, is quite likely the source of Bal).ya's title and terminology of Duties of the Heart. It is well documented that Mul).asibi's work was popular in eleventh-century Spain. I will add new evidence supporting Goldreich's thesis that Bal).ya knew this treatise ofMul).asibi's, and provide new analysis establishing a literary connection between Bal).ya and other early Sufi works. Bal).ya is unique in both Jewish and Islamic intellectual history in his integration of philosophical method and Sufi devotion. In my search for the sources of Spanish Sufism, I found many Sufi thinkers immersed in the language of theology (kaliim) but not in philosophical

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demonstration. The Islamic figure Ibn Masarra (d. 931) has been looked upon as a Spanish thinker who was both a philosopher and influenced by Sufi trendsY My preliminary study of his Kitiib al-i'tibiir did not uncover significant parallels with Bal;tya's project of integrating the inner life; his work certainly calls for further investigation. 14 Another Andalusian figure with parallels to Bal;tya is Ibn al-Sid al-Batalyawsi ( 1052-1127). His Kitiib al-hadii'iq (Book of the Circles) was widely read by medieval Jewish thinkers; we know of three medieval Hebrew translations. Batalyawsi is a contemporary of Bal;tya, and his philosophical spirituality has an affinity with the Jewish thinker's. However, while certain mystical themes are present in his work, Batalyawsi is not as imbued with the structure and methodology of Sufism as is Bal;tya. Bal;tya thus represents a unique synthesis: an endeavor to unifY and integrate various dimensions of the inner world. 15 My study analyzes the creative integration of philosophy, theology, Sufi mysticism, and rabbinic Judaism in his thought. My method is thematic and contextual. I have chosen five themes that stand out in Bal;tya's philosophical spirituality and show the thorough integration of these approaches to the spiritual life. 1. In Chapter 1, I discuss the concept of philosophical mysticism and engage in a phenomenological investigation of the philosophical mysticism of Bal;tya and Ibn Gabirol. 2. In Chapters 2-5, I explore Bal;tya's four aspects of his discussion of unity (taw~id). 3. In Chapter 6, I investigate his Contemplation of Creation (i'tibiir). 4. Chapters 7-9 explore the theme of purification or dedication of action (ikhlii~). 5. Chapter 10 investigates the Sufi concept of awareness of God (muriiqaba) and its relation to love and reverence (ma~bba, hayba). In each of these discussions, I offer a close reading of Bal;tya's text and embed his treatment within the Islamic cultural context. I explore the intellectual resources he draws upon-the texts he has read, digested, and creatively shaped. This understanding of textual influences helps us better see the new synthesis he has made. Bal;tya's work is not simply a collage of influences, borrowed and rearranged. He is a synthetic thinker. My task as a scholar of religious thought is to understand the integration of various elements in his thought-the resources he is drawing upon and the distinctive use he makes of them. My work is thus not only archaeological but also literary. I show the way he selectively makes use of these resources to convey a unique vision for Jews of his time.

Preface

xm

Throughout the work, I show that for Bal).ya, philosophical method and rabbinic and Sufi devotion work hand in hand. I thus bring the two sides of Bal).ya together: the philosophical rationalist and the mystical devotee. The dialogue between philosophy and Sufi mysticism is an internal dialogue. However, in Bal).ya's mind, there is no division; the two sides are seamlessly interwoven. For Bal).ya, philosophy and mysticism are not in conflict, but rather represent two intertwined aspects of the life of devotion. This study is important for several reasons. First, Bal).ya has been largely neglected by modern scholars of Jewish thought. While scores of studies have been devoted to medieval Jewish thinkers such as Sa'adya Gaon and Moses Maimonides, little serious work has been done on Bal).ya. Bal).ya is a complex thinker whose ideas and philosophical method deserve careful analysis. Second, Bal).ya is a key figure in what the great scholar of Genizah literature S. D. Goitein termed "the Jewish-Arab symbiosis." 16 Bal).ya shows the cross-fertilization of Islamic and Jewish culture at its most creative. While Bal).ya does not mention the Sufis by name, his use of sources demonstrates firsthand literary acquaintance with Islamic thought. Bal).ya's synthesis of Jewish and Islamic spirituality is unique and worth detailed study. Third, Bal).ya plays a key role in the development of Judeo-Arabic literature. Bal).ya openly acknowledges the strong influence of the works of Sa'adya Gaon-the maverick Jewish philosopher, Mu'tazilite theologian, Biblical translator, and commentator. In turn, Bal).ya serves as an important link in the transmission of Judeo-Arabic thought, influencing key Judeo-Arabic thinkers, including Judah Halevi and Maimonides. Fourth, Bal).ya's work had a decisive impact on Jewish intellectual history. One of the first Judeo-Arabic works to be translated into Hebrew, the Hidaya was influential both in its original Islamic milieu and through its Hebrew version (lfovot ha-levavot) in Jewish communities down to the present day. Moreover, Bal).ya influenced not only ethical and pietistic movements-including the Egyptian pietist circle of Abraham Maimonides and the eighteenth-century Hasidic movementbut rationalist philosophers such as Moses Maimonides as well. Maimonides drew extensively on Bal).ya's presentation of negative theology in the First Gate of the Hidaya, as well as his discussion of love and reverence for God in the Tenth Gate. As Steven Harvey has recently shown, Maimonides was read as a radical Aristotelian in the West but was given a Sufi reading in the East. 17 His descendants-themselves immersed in Sufi ideas-bring out Sufi terminology and themes in his thought. My study shows that

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the Sufi dimension of Maimonides' thought is deeply embedded: the very title of Maimonides' philosophical magnum opus, Guide of the Perplexed, is drawn from a Sufi aphorism. Among the fruits of this research is a more comprehensive understanding of an important source of Maimonidean religious thought.

Introduction

Ba:Q.ya's Work in Its Judeo-Arabic Context

The Dating of Bal;tya's Hidaya Bal).ya Ibn Paquda is an enigmatic figure in the history of Jewish thought. We know very little about Bal).ya; we have little evidence external to his work itself. The Hidaya was written injudeo-Arabic around 1080. It was the first work to be translated into Hebrew by Judah Ibn Tibbon, who set out to systematically make the Judeo-Arabic classics available to the Jews of Provence who did not know Arabic. In his introduction, Ibn Tibbon informs us that Bal).ya was a dayyan, a judge of the rabbinical court: "one of the scholars of Spain was our Rabbi [Rabbenu] Bal).ya ha-dayyan, son of joseph." (Based on the words oflbn Tibbon, the epithet "Rabbenu," our rabbi, has remained with BaQ.ya till this day.) We know that Bal).ya lived in Muslim Spain, and it has been confirmed on the basis of a manuscript from 1340 that he lived in Saragossa, where the name Bal).ya was known (although there is debate as to the correct pronunciation of the name, whether Bal;lya or Bal;laye ). 1 The precise dates that Bal;lya lived and worked are not known. For some time, there was debate as to whether he lived in the second half of the eleventh century or the beginning of the twelfth. 2 A. S. Yahuda, who published an Arabic edition of the Hidaya in 1912, argued for a twelfth-century date for Bal).ya based on evidence of precise literary coincidence between Bal).ya's work and a short work of the eleventhcentury Islamic pietist al-Ghazall, al-lfikmah fi-makhluqat Allah (The Wisdom in Creation). More recently, David Zvi Baneth showed that Bal).ya and Ghazall in fact drew from a common source, the Kitab aldala'il wa'l-i'tibiir 'ala'l-khalqi wa'l-tadbir, by the Arabic author Pseudo] al:_li~ a work belonging to the end of the tenth century and definitely written before 1058. Moreover, we are fortunate now to have an early source that helps us date Bal).ya rather precisely. Moses Ibn Ezra's Maqalat al-IJ,adzqa (Treatise of the Garden)-which, until recent Genizah findings, was available only in Hebrew translation-mentions Bal).ya as belonging to an earlier generation than Ibn Ezra's own. 3

2

Introduction

From this passage, we learn that Moshe Ibn Ezra did not consider Ba}_lya one of the men of his generation, the beginning of the twelfth century. When speaking of the grammarian IbnJanal)., Ibn Ezra writes, "he was followed by the pious and excellent R. Bal).ya," which suggests that Bal).ya followed directly after IbnJanal).. IbnJanal).'s work the Kitab al-Tanqzl] was finished by 1050-55, giving us the earliest dates (terminus ad quem) for Bal).ya. The literary activity of Moses Ibn Ezra began around 1080-90, as Ibn Ezra was a pupil of Isaac ibn Ghiyath, who died in 1089. Since Ibn Ezra locates Bal).ya in a generation before his own, we can confidently locate Bal).ya's period of creativity between 1050 and 1090. 4

Bal}.ya's Sources: Ikhwan al-Safa' (Brethren of Purity) Since we have so little biographical information about Bal).ya, one of the ways we can come to know him better as a thinker is by finding other clues to his social and intellectual context. One of the ways scholars have approached this puzzle is by searching for literary sources for Bal).ya's ideas. In his pioneering study at the turn of the century, David Kaufmann asserted that the tenth-century Muslim encyclopedists known as the Brethren of Purity (Ikhwan al-~afa') were a strong influence on Bal).ya. Their monumental encyclopedia is an eclectic blend of science, philosophy, astronomy, logic, mathematics, metaphysics-all the known sciences of the time. It blends Neoplatonism, Pythagorean speculation, and possibly an Isma'ili political message. It is not clear whether the Ikhwan were a real fellowship of Muslim spiritual philosophers, or whether the encyclopedia of the Ikhwan was a historical fiction, a spiritual rubric for the transmission oflslamic philosophy and science. The work was immensely popular and had been brought to Muslim Spain by the eleventh century. 5 David Kaufmann read the lkhwan in German translation and noted many conceptual affinities between the Ikhwan and Bal).ya; he even quotes certain passages they share. However, the examples Kaufmann brings show that while we can speak of a common intellectual milieu-a cultural storehouse from which medieval Neoplatonists drew-passages that have a common theme do not necessarily point to a literary connection.6 I can offer one clear example. Kaufmann notes that the Ikhwan speak of the color of the sky as pointing to God's providential design. 7 However, the details of the Ikhwan's passage do not match those in Bal).ya. In fact, this motif is found also in another Arabic source-the Pseudo-Jal).i~ text from which Bal).ya quotes extensively-in language that Bal).ya borrows word for word and at length. Bal).ya may know a

Introduction

3

motif from more than one source; there are topoi that are simply circulating in his milieu. Thus while Kaufmann saw the Ikhwan al-~afa' as Bal:_lya's key philosophical source, my research suggests that the Ikhwan represent one among several Neoplatonic sources Bal:_lya was reading. 8

Philosophy and Poetry: Bal;lya and Ibn Gabirol TREATISE ON THE IMPROVEMENT OF MORAL QUALITIES

(KlTAB [f!LAif AL-AKHLA.Q; SEFER TIKKUN MIDOT HA-NEFESH)

Determining the relationship between Bal:_lya and the celebrated medieval Hebrew poet Solomon Ibn Gabirol offers more decisive information about Bal:_lya's intellectual profile. Ibn Gabirol is the first jewish philosopher in Spain; he is also the first poet to reflect Sufi themes in his poetry. Although his strictly philosophical treatise, Meqor Ifayyim (The Fountain ofLife)-WTitten in Arabic, translated into Latin and an abridged Hebrew version-was not influential in the history of Jewish philosophy, his religious poetry entered the liturgy early, and he was widely celebrated as one of the greatest medieval Hebrew poets. The precise extent and nature of Sufi influence on Ibn Gabirol is still debated in the scholarly literature. The focus of that debate has been the precedent Ibn Gabirol set for forms of Jewish liturgical poetry. 9 For the purpose of my study, what is important is simply Ibn Gabirol's innovative introduction of Sufi motifs. Ibn Gabirol's expressions of longing and love have both Sufi and Neoplatonic echoes; Bal:_lya's do as well. The two reflect a common cultural milieu, in which Spanish intellectuals demonstrate an openness to both Sufi and philosophical sources. 10 Ibn Gabirol is also the author of a short treatise on ethics, the Treatise on the Improvement of Moral Qualities (Kitab ~tal] al-akhlaq; Sefer tikkun midot ha-nefesh). Bal:_lya does not mention the ethical work oflbn Gabirol in his introduction, but this could be because in his eyes the I~lal] alakhlaq did not fit his genre; neither is it a manual of Jewish law nor does it concern duties of the heart. Gabirol's work is structured around ten pairs of opposite moral qualities (for example, joy and sadness, pride and humility). David Kaufmann notes that these ten pairs are nearly identical to a table of opposites found at the end of Bal:_lya's Third Gate. He was convinced that this showed that one author depended on the other. Kaufmann argued that it was Ibn Gabirol who borrowed from Bal:_lya. Bal:_lya introduces the pairs in an offhanded way-"1 will mention those qualities that occur to me"-whereas Ibn Gabirol develops his ideas fully and systematically. One is a proposal; the other is a fully developed system. Other scholars argue that the

4

Introduction

direction of influence is the reverse: that Bal;tya distilled the pairs of opposites underlying Ibn Gabirol's treatise and used the classification in his relatively short passage. 11 It may be possible to resolve the issue on the basis of chronology alone. We have narrowed the date of Bal;tya's literary activity to between 1050 and 1090. Ibn Gabirol died in 1057-58. There is a short window of time in which he could have become acquainted with the Hidaya. Moreover, the two figures are thought to have lived in the same city, Saragossa. However, in the current state of scholarship, it is believed that Ibn Gabirol composed the I~lal] al-akhlaq in 1045, shordy before he left Saragossa. If this generally accepted date of authorship is true, the book predates Bal;tya's Hidaya. 12 The literary evidence of a direct relationship between the two books is highly suggestive, but not airtight. The two works have no passages in common. What they share is a very similar-though not identicalclassification of ten pairs of ethical qualities. Some of the pairs are not described in precisely the same words, and the pairs function in different ways in the two works. Ibn Gabirol's work is, to a large extent, purely descriptive; he offers a phenomenological analysis of the ways in which ethical qualities function in the human personality. Bal;lya, in contrast, offers the pairs as ethical prescriptions. He suggests that each of these ethical qualities should be used in its proper time. From the external historical data, it is much more likely that Bal;tya knew Ibn Gabirol's work rather than the reverse. From an internal literary analysis, it is very possible but not certain that Bal;lya drew from Ibn Gabirol's treatise. It may well be that the two were drawing upon a classification that was known among Spanish intellectuals. Although Bal;tya presents the pairs of opposites as if they are just occurring to him, the pairs themselves have the ring of an inherited scheme. It is certainly striking that both thinkers base their ethical system upon these ten pairs of qualities rather than the four temperaments of Greek medicine, the usual basis for medieval ethics. However, given that the two authors make very different uses of this table, it is just as possible that each is adapting a well-known system to his own purposes. 13 THE FouNTAIN OF LIFE (MEQOR l:IAYYIM) AND DEVOTIONAL POETRY

What, then, of Bal;lya's relationship to Ibn Gabirol's philosophical treatise Fountain of Life (Meqor lfayyim) and to his poetry? I have not as yet found a decisive borrowing from Meqor lfayyim. As for the poetry, given that Ibn Gabirol was among the most renowned Spanish-] ewish poets and that the two flourished in the same city of Saragossa in

Introduction

5

roughly the same period, it is hard to conceive that Bal;lya would not have known Ibn Gabirol's poetic work. Indeed, two examples strongly suggest that Bal;lya had read the poetry of his older contemporary, absorbed important themes and insights, and perhaps also offered his own implicit philosophical critique of Ibn Gabirol's approach. The first example is one brought to light by Israel Levin: a highly suggestive parallel between the baqqashah of Bal;lya-the liturgical prayer of entreaty appended to Duties of the Heart-and a passage from Ibn Gabirol's poetic magnum opus Keter Malkhut (Crown of Sovereignty). Keter Malkhut is a penitential poem that has been incorporated into the liturgy of Yom Kippur, but it is not clear that this was its original purpose. The poem is an exquisite expression of metaphysical themes, from divine attributes and negative theology to medieval astrology and cosmology. The passage from Keter Malkhut in which we find a strong parallel to Bal;lya reads as follows: My God, if my sin is too much for me to bear, what will you do for your great name? And if I cannot hope for your mercy, who can forgive me other than you? Thus [even] ifyou slay me, I shall have hope; 14 and ifyou demand [account] from my sin, I shall flee from you to you [evra~ mimkha elekha]. I shall hide myself from your anger in your shade And in the folds of your mercy I shall strengthen myself until you give me mercy And I shall not let you go until you bless me. 15 Compare this with the passage from Bal;lya's baqqashah: And if you do not grant me grace and forgive my transgression, to whom shall I lift my eye? If a master does not have compassion upon his servant and forgive his guilt To whom can he cry other than his master? ... Whither shall I go away from your spirit, and whither shall I flee? If I go up to heaven, there you are; if I go down to Sheol, there you are. 16 Therefore, from you to you I shall turn [mimkha elekha asurah] From before you to you I shall flee [minegdekha 'alekha evra~ah] From your judgment to your mercy I run From your quality of judgment to your quality of mercy I shall take refuge. 17

6

Introduction

The similarity between the two poetic utterances is unmistakable: the notion that God alone can forgive sin, that there is no one other than God to whom the sinner can turn, and, above all, the poignant image of "fleeing from you to you." Striking, too, is the fact that both poets invoke identification with Cain. In Ibn Gabirol, it is explicit; the poet speaks the words of Cain, "my sin is to much for me to bear" (Gen. 4: 13). In Bal;tya, the identification with Cain is implicit. The poet echoes the words of the psalmist, "Whither shall I go from your spirit? Or whither shall I flee from your Presence? If I ascend up into heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in hell, you are there" (Ps. 139:7-8), expounded in midrashic literature as the words of Cain. The similarities are too strong to ignore: the overlap in motifs and language, the pungent allusion to Cain in both poems. It seems clear that Bal;tya read Ibn Gabirol and was deeply influenced by the spirit of his poetry. 18 In fact, the two poems also draw upon a rich Arabic poetic tradition. The following Arabic poem is found in the d'iwiin of the prominent Arabic poet Abii Nuwas: Oh, Him from whom I have no protector, 19 With your pardon 20 from your punishment I seek protection. I, the servant, who acknowledges every sin, You, the forgiving Lord and Master. If you punish me it is because of the wickedness of my deeds, And if you forgive me, it is because it befits you. 21 I flee to you from you, And where, if not to you, shall one who seeks protection flee from you?22 Note that Bal;tya's poem shares with that of Abii Nuwas the image of the servant and master, a theme not found in Ibn Gabirol's poem. 23 This fact is significant: striking motifs, language, and images shared by Ibn Gabirol and Bal;tya can indicate both that Bal;tya drew from Ibn Gabirol and that the two were drawing from a common storehouse of Arabic poetic images. The motif of fleeing from God to God can be traced even further. Levin notes that it crops up in diverse sources, such as the Persian Abii Miskawayh (d. 1030); in fact, it can be traced all the way back to the Prophet Mul;tammad. In a well-attested ~adith, the Prophet declares, "I flee from you to you [a'udhu bika minka]." 24 The statement is oft-quoted in raqa'iq, devotional literature meant to soften the heart of the believer. The epigram emphasizes the unity of the devotee and God, the urgent message that there is nothing outside God to which one could turn. Ibn Gabirol-and Bal;tya following himhas tapped into a wellspring of Islamic devotion.

Introduction

7

I have discovered an additional significant parallel between Bal).ya's book and Ibn Gabirol's poem Keter Malkhut, one not previously noted in the literature. The source of Bal).ya's three essential divine attributesone, eternal, and existent-has always been a mystery. Sa'adya adduces as God's essential qualities the standard kalam triad of living, powerful, and knowing. Bal).ya borrows from Sa'adya the argument that the three essential attributes are really one in God; humans simply lack one word to describe all three as they exist simultaneously in the divine. Bal).ya's divine attributes, however, are abstract, philosophical qualities, which do not appear as the three essential attributes in Sa'adya or in kalam literature. However, they do appear as a triad in Keter Malkhut: You are God, and there is no distinction between your divinity, your oneness, your eternity, and your existence. For all is one mystery; although the name for all [three] varies All refer back to one place. Bal).ya's view is identical. Bal).ya, like Ibn Gabirol, adopts Sa'adya's argument that though the words for the three attributes vary, they are one in God's divinity. However, both Ibn Gabirol and Bal).ya revise Sa'adya's three attributes of living, powerful, and knowing to one, eternal, and existent. This is the only source I have seen other than Bal).ya in which precisely the latter three attributes are presented together as a triad. From a chronological standpoint, it is most likely that Bal).ya was reading Keter Malkhut and was inspired by Ibn Gabirol's philosophical formulation. 25 If Bal).ya was indeed reading and drawing from Ibn Gabirol, how can we compare the approach of these two thinkers? Each thinker presents a unique blend of philosophy and mysticism. My first chapter will thus engage in a phenomenological comparison between Bal).ya and Ibn Gabirol in order to highlight the similarities and differences between these two Sufi-inspired Jewish thinkers in eleventh-century Muslim Spain. This will highlight the distinctiveness of Bal).ya's contribution.

The Ten Gates: An Overview of Bal;tya's Book An overview of both Bal).ya's book and our study will be useful to orient the reader at the outset. First, an overview of Bal).ya's book. Bal).ya sets forth in his introduction two paradigms of the progression of his book. While he does not in practice follow a strict order of mystical stages and states, he does suggest a progression of gates. Bal).ya tells us that the ten gates represent ten root principles, under which we can find all the duties of the heart, whose number is potentially unlimited. Although he does mention in the course of the book

8

Introduction

duties between human beings, the ten root principles are all devoted to the relationship between human beings and God. The subject of the First Gate is pure affirmation of the unity of God (ikhli4 al-taw}Jid). God is the only being who is essential unity and can be described neither by substance nor by accident. God cannot be known in essence but only by way of action, that is, through the works of creation. The Second Gate is thus devoted to contemplation of the works of creation (i'tibar), which point to the wisdom of the Creator. 26 The unique, sovereign God establishes that creatures are obligated to obey him. The Third Gate is devoted to proving the obligation of obedience to God (iltiziimu ttlati llahi; Hebrew, 'avodat ha-shem). Since this One governs all and is responsible for all reward and punishment, the Fourth Gate argues for absolute reliance on God (tawakkul) and total surrender to him (istislam). God's unity also means that all action should be devoted purely to God; the Fifth Gate explicates the duty of purifying intention in action (ikhli4 al- 'amal). God's oneness means that he is deserving of praise, glorification, and absolute abasement or humility (tawatf,u'), the subject of the Sixth Gate. Given that we human beings are prone to neglect obedience to God, the Seventh Gate discusses repentance (tawba; Hebrew, teshuvah ), a way to correct errors and failures. In order to fully realize obligation to God, one must undertake self-examination, calling oneself to account (mul}asaba) as a way to urge our soul to fulfill its obligation to God. Mu}Jasaba is the subject of the Eighth Gate. However, pure affirmation of God's unity cannot be achieved as long as one is still in love with this world. Only by emptying one's heart of desires of this world can the soul dedicate itself fully to God. Thus asceticism (zuhd) is the subject of the Ninth Gate. Finally, to love and please God is the highest wish and greatest happiness; love (ma}Jabba) is thus the subject of the Tenth Gate. Ba}_lya argues that all the duties of the heart are included under these ten root principles. 27 As Vajda points out, this list is somewhat artificial; in practice, each of the duties entails the others, and we find abundant intertextual references. While from one point of view, love is the culminating virtue or synthesis of all duties of the heart, it is also true that each duty both entails and mirrors the others.

Philosopher, Theologian, Sufi, and Jew: An Overview of This Study Ba}_lya is a synthetic thinker. He absorbs many sources but also reflects deeply on his sources and builds an original, unified argument. In the introduction, he tells us that this book began as an internal meditation;

Introduction

9

by writing the work, he carries out a project incumbent upon all human beings. Bal)ya draws upon many intellectual resources but also gives them an original twist. His unique picture of God and the universe calls all capable persons to philosophical meditation. For Bal).ya, the soul is a spiritual substance, a light from the divine whose task is to serve God. According to Bal).ya, the soul is given a sojourn in the material world; our test is to see if we can manage the desires and needs of the body and harness them to serve God. When we forget our purpose and get distracted by the needs of the body, it is reason ('aql) that comes as a guide to remind us of our task. We then realize that the key to fulfilling our soul's purpose is to entrust the needs of the body to the Creator. By surrendering to God in absolute reliance, we ensure that the provisions of the body will be cared for and we can serve the Creator with pure love (mal]abba khal4a). Thus philosophy does not distract the soul but helps us fulfill our purpose. Philosophy teaches human beings that God is pure, absolute unity; thus we, too, must become unified and dedicated to one purposethat of devotion. Each of the gates of Bal).ya's book represents an aspect of the integrated spiritual life. Unification, contemplation, service, reliance, dedication, humility, repentance, asceticism, and love are not so much successive stages on the spiritual path as mirroring aspects of a unified soul. 28 Bal).ya lived just before the ascendancy of Aristotelian philosophy; like Sa'adya, he sees no conflict between reason or philosophy and traditional Jewish teaching. In method, he does not exclusively follow any one set school. He draws upon but also revises Sa'adya's proofs for the existence of God from the createdness of the world. He adopts certain kalam premises-such as the impossibility of an actual infinite. However, he is drawn to abstract, a priori analysis rather than empirical knowledge of the world through the senses. He ascribes to God the abstract attributes of oneness, eternity, and existence rather than theological attributes that describe God's relation to this world. Finally, he asserts that even when we describe God philosophically, our purpose is actually to deny the adequacy of all concrete description: God is neither multiple nor created nor nonexistent. Bal).ya's method thus begins to look much like that ofMaimonides. We use the mind to correct its misapprehensions; we deny all attributes of God that are not fitting for the Creator. However, we should not be under the mistaken impression that a conception of the essence of God can reside in the mind. Anything we discover in the mind is other than God. Philosophy is thus the first foundation of spiritual life. Philosophy enables us to strip away our misconceptions about the divine, making room for the God of experience. Through contemplation of the

10

Introduction

wisdom in creation-the beauty with which the world is constructedwe discover traces of God everywhere around us. At the same time, we discover a living personal God as a comforter, source of strength, and inner witness. Philosophy teaches human beings to entrust the affairs of physical life to the divine, knowing that God will take care of one's material wellbeing. At the same time, one should dedicate all actions to the service of the divine. The duties of the limbs are outward signs of obedience to and love for God. However, the purpose of external religious duties is to lead to pure duties of the heart. Many commandments combine both dimensions; prayer is a paradigmatic example. Prayer contains an outward face: certain words are recited, accompanied by gestures of the body. However, the outward choreography and formal dimensions of prayer are, like its words, simply vehicles for meaning and intention. Like a musician, who must unite formal mastery with soulful expression, the worshiper's aim is authentic expression of love, reverence, and gratitude through the traditional forms of Jewish devotion. While Bal;lya draws upon several interlocking intellectual traditions, he is also an independent thinker, willing to critique, revise, and correct the traditions he inherits, as we will see from an overview of each of the gates we will explore. DIVINE UNITY (TAWijlD)

In his contemplation of divine unity, Bal;lya draws upon a story found in the Sufi works of Sulami, Abu Nu'aym al-I~fahani, and Qushayri that describes God in Qur'anic language as "on the lookout" (bi'l-mir~ad). The Sufi master Yal;lya Ibn Mu'adh teaches that one cannot find God as an answer to the question "where." The question seeks an attribute of the created-that is, place-rather than of the Creator. The transcendent Source of all cannot be physically located; the realm of place belongs to created beings alone. Yal;lya asserts that God is always "on the lookout," but this does not lock God into a place. The only attribute we can say of the Creator is that God is aware of creation. The Sufi story as transmitted by Bal;lya includes a playful ambiguity. Where is God to be found? Through one's looking. On the lookout is not only where God is, but where the seeker is. This ambiguity is suggestive of muraqaba, a Sufi state; indeed, some classical commentators interpret the term mir~ad (on the lookout) using the root of muraqaba (r-q-b). Muraqaba is a state of reflexive awareness, in which the Sufi becomes conscious of God watching him or her. Who is on the lookout? Both God and the seeker.

Introduction

11

Ba~ya plays with this literary ambiguity: God is to be found through human contemplation of God's traces in the world. Human beings must remove all images from the imagination and cease thinking that we can apprehend God's essence. Then the fact of God's existence will be plainly confirmed. Humans cannot see God's essence but can perceive God's actions, God's work in creation. However, in one passage in the Eighth Gate, Ba~ya uses the concept of muraqaba, or attentiveness, to leap across the experiential divide; here he does not remain with the traces of God's actions alone but points to an experience of God's presence. Ba~ya suggests an intuitive state in which ordinary human faculties are bypassed; the companion's awareness is guided by God. The Sufi concept of muriiqaba reconciles Ba~ya's negative theology in the First Gate with the state of communion he describes in the Eighth. Muraqaba serves as a bridge between the rationalist and the experiential aspects of Ba~ya's thought. Ba~ya uses the precise language of several Sufi masters-transmitted by Dhii'l-Niin, Junayd, Qushayrl, and others-to express the theme of learned ignorance, the notion that the ultimate level of knowledge is the realization that one does not know. The more one knows of God, the more one is perplexed. Maimonides reflects the language of several of these Sufi sayings, particularly in Guide of the Perplexed 1:59. Ba~ya was thus one conduit for Sufi traditions in Maimonides and may have inspired his notion of perplexity. Ba~ya expresses a great debt to Sa'adya but is willing to revise Sa'adya as he sees fit. On the subject of divine attributes, Ba~ya states that God has three essential attributes and, following Sa'adya, asserts that the three are distinct in name alone. While human beings cannot but conceive of these attributes as three separate notions, they point to one unified essence of the divine. However, unlike Sa'adya, Ba~ya goes on to say that the three essential attributes are actually negative in meaning; he denies that we can say anything positive about God. The attributes in the Torah are all attributes of action. The correct way to know God is through God's traces in creation, which he distinguishes from having a conception of God in one's imagination or intuitive mind. Ba~ya is equally independent when it comes to proving the existence of a Creator God. Of Sa'adya's four arguments for creation, Ba~ya rejects one; moreover, he changes the order of Sa'adya's arguments. While he accepts the standard kaliim cosmological proofs for the existence of God, his sensibility steers toward the argument from design. He accepts Sa'adya's version of the argument from composition: that while the universe exhibits many features of orderliness, it also features irregularities that can only be the product of a designing

12

Introduction

intelligence. Ba}:lya goes so far as to argue that God built irregularities into the cosmic order so that human beings would discern traces of divine wisdom in the world. It is a rational obligation, a duty of the heart, to discern God's presence within the divine handiwork, to find God's wisdom in the details of the natural world. Aristotelians argued for an eternal world order based upon cosmic regularity. For Sa'adya and Ba}:lya, in contrast, it is cosmic irregularity that forces one to postulate a designing intelligence. God is like the proverbial Muslim carpet maker who is careful to include a flaw in every carpet in order to heighten our awareness that anything human is imperfect. According to this approach, God went one better: God created a perfectly imperfect world. While an autonomous, mechanical system can be perfect, a flawed system that somehow works perfectly must be divine. Whereas Sa'adya grounds his epistemology in the undeniable evidence of the senses, Ba}:lya prefers more abstract arguments. Rather than build from sense perception, as Sa'adya does, he begins with a priori premises and later introduces facts from the observable universe. Ba}:lya's style of argumentation is similar to that of al-Kindi. In his work On First Philosophy, al-Kindi: begins with abstract paradoxes of the one and the many, akin to those of Parmenides; he then goes on to introduce a posteriori evidence from the way the world is in fact constructed. Likewise, Ba}:lya in I:S introduces premises that he establishes through a priori logical proof, while in section I:6 he turns to observe the way the world is in fact constructed, which attests to a wise designer. Thus while in certain respects he adopts the kalam structure of Sa'adya's arguments, Ba}:lya's preference for a priori premises reveals a philosophical sensibility akin to that of Maimonides. Ba}:lya moves from the kalam perspective to a distinctly philosophical approach in his discussion of divine unity. He accepts a distinction found in al-Kindl between conventional and absolute unity. In both Ba}:lya and al-Kindl, we find a strong emphasis on a transcendent One who creates this world ex nihilo, a True One beside which all the unities of this world partake of merely accidental oneness. Ba}:lya draws two arguments from al-Kindi. From the first argument, Ba}:lya learns that there is no trace of multiplicity in God. This world, in which unity and multiplicity are intertwined, springs from a God who is unity alone. From the second argument, Ba}:lya learns that although God is unlike anything in this world, all the things in this world that are in some way one derive their unity from God. Al-Kindi: articulates a paradox: God's oneness transcends the categories of all created beings, yet all created beings participate in some sense in this unity. These ideas are expressed in poetic form by Ibn Gabirol in such poems as Keter Malkhut,

Introduction

13

Shokhen 'ad, and Kol Barui and by Bai:_Iya in his baqqashah; they are presented in discursive form by Shahrastani in the name of Pythagoras, by the Andalusian philosopher Batalyawsi, and by the Brethren of Purity (Ikhwan al-~afa'). However, it is al-Kindi who offers Bai:_Iya demonstrative proofs that satisfY his philosophical demand for rational certainty. Bai:_Iya draws from but also revises Sa'adya's approach to divine attributes. Sa'adya derives from Mu'tazilite kalam the three essential attributes of life, power, and knowledge; he argues that each entails the other and all derive from God's role as Creator. Bai:_Iya is clearly in dialogue with Sa'adya's presentation; he, too, argues that God has three essential attributes, that the three do not add anything to God's essence, and that each entails the other. However, he is evidently uncomfortable with the essential attributes Sa'adya has chosen, which derive from God's status as Creator. For Bai:_Iya, essential attributes belong to God independent of creation; God is eternal whether or not God chooses to create a world. Bai:_Iya thus shifts his focus to the unmanifest God, prior to and independent of creation. Bai:_Iya's attributes are purely ontological; there is no material content to the attributes existent, eternal, and one. While Bai:_Iya accepts the kalam framework of Sa'adya's arguments, he revises them in an abstract, philosophical direction. His formulation accords with that oflbn Gabirol in Keter Malkhut, who identifies Bai:_Iya's three attribute8-{)ne, eternal, and existent-with God's divinity. However, Bai:_Iya goes further: he insists that the function of the three essential attributes is to negate their opposites. The essence of God is unknowable; all we can know are God's traces in creation. However, while from a philosophical point of view, we cannot make positive statements about the divine, from a theological perspective we are required to do so in order that we have a Deity to love and serve. Scripture is not being careless when it uses language in an extended sense. If the Torah had used purely abstract language, it would create no conceptual chord with the listener; there would be no image in the mind of the believer. Scripture thus creates an anthropomorphic image that we must slowly refine and demythologize in accord with a Sufi dictum: anything that exists in the imagination or intuitive mind is other than God. Idolatry extends beyond physical images to mental conceptions; the Biblical phrase "guard your souls" (nishmartem et nafshotekhem) warns against mental idolatry. This point is picked up by Maimonides in Guide I:50. Bai:_Iya also anticipates Maimonides' critical, skeptical stance regarding the limitations of knowledge. However, he qualifies this philosophical skepticism with an affirmation of direct religious experience. He suggests in several contexts that if the seeker approaches God in the proper, indirect way, his or her mind will be illumined by wisdom.

14

Introduction

CONTEMPLATION OF CREATION

(I'TIB.AR)

In his contemplation of creation, Balna makes creative use of material he inherits from the Kitab al-dala'il of the Arabic author Pseudo-Ja~i~. For example, he divides a metaphor he derives from the beginning of Kitab al-dala'il into two discrete presentations that signal two dimensions to contemplation. I'tibiir has a scientific, philosophical side that seeks demonstrative proof of God's creation of the universe. It also contains an aesthetic, devotional side; one ponders the expressions of intelligence in creation in order to inspire one to divine service. Both are duties of the heart. Ba~ya is both a philosopher who delights in rigorous a priori proof and a theologian who surveys the world empirically, gathering evidence of a designing Creator. God made nature uniform enough that we can see the wisdom of its workings, but diverse enough that we can discern a willing agent designing its order. Ba~ya's meditation on creation is like a naturalistic version of ta'ame ha-mitsvot, contemplation of the purpose of the commandments. Every detail in nature is designed for a purpose. Ba~ya himself engages little in the standard discipline of ta 'ame ha-mitsvot. His emphasis is on the commandments of the inner realm. The outer created order offers an occasion for inner contemplation. B~ya's attention is ever drawn to the inward. While he borrows extensively in his contemplation of creation from Pseudo-Ja~i?. he diverges from his source to reflect upon the inner, subjective dimension. Ba~ya finds traces of God not only in the outer design of the universe but also in inner human experience. He combines scientific contemplation with a Sufi-inspired meditation that sees God's traces even in one's own movements. B~ya also extends i'tibar from universal contemplation of nature to meditation upon the miracle of Jewish survival in history. Revising the view that Ba~ya drew from Ghazali:, D. Z. Baneth concluded that both Ba~ya and Ghazali: drew from Pseudo-Ja~i~, transforming a work of natural theology into a text of religious meditation. Each adds abundant prooftexts from Scripture that reflect the wonder of creation. What Ba~ya adds that Ghazzali does not is the notion that scientific reflection is a duty of the heart. The purpose of contemplation is to fully appreciate God's world so that we may be inspired to service.

WHOLEHEARTED DEVOTION

(/KHLAfj): PURIFICATION

OF UNITY, PURIFICATION OF INTENTION IN ACTION

Ba~ya's Fifth Gate is closely connected with the First. The subject of the First Gate is ikhfi4 al-taw~zd, purifying one's acknowledgment of

Introduction

15

unity; the Fifth is ikhlt4 al-'amal, purifying action. To assert God's unity is not merely a cognitive gesture; knowledge of God's oneness is transformative knowledge. The subject of knowledge must mirror its object. To know God's oneness, a person must become unified. Ikhla~ al-taw}J'id is the affirmation of God's uniqueness; ikhlt4 al- 'a mal is the practical expression of one's understanding. The conceptual pairing of the two means that one must fully comprehend God's unity in order to dedicate one's actions to God alone and to God as God truly is. One must express God's unity (ikhlt4 al-tawl]id) in action (ikhlt4 al- 'amal). Ba}:lya suggests that ikhlt4 does not come into play in pure duties of the heart, but rather in mitsvot that have some outward component. The aspect of prayer that is pure service of the heart takes place strictly between oneself and the Creator. This is not to suggest that ikhlt4 is an either/or category. The term ikhl(4-as a verbal noun-suggests a process of purification. Ikh~ implies a continuum, a spiritual path allowing for degrees of devotion. Ba}:lya's formulation may suggest a philosophical critique of an anti-intellectual emphasis in some Sufi thought. To correctly serve the God who is one, a person must attain unity of focus; unification must include the mind. The process of refining understanding within the mind and heart is ikh~ al-taw}J'id. Ikhla~ is exclusive devotion in three senses: one's devotion is unmixed with other motives; one's devotion is directed to God alone, to the exclusion of other created beings; the object of one's devotion, the divine, remains one and unmixed, free of all multiplicity. REASON,

LAw,

AND THE WAY OF THE SPIRIT

At the end of 111:2, Ba}:lya makes a crucial assertion: that the ultimate purpose for which human beings are created in this world is to serve God. This service can be of four varieties. At the initial stage, one serves God out of desire for reward or fear of punishment. A second stage is to serve God out of gratitude for God's many graces. A third stage is to serve God for God's contentment or satisfaction (rif/ii). Ultimately, the goal is to serve God simply because God is worthy of being served. This ladder ascends from service for selfish motives-focus on how worship can benefit the human being-to service with a theocentric focus based on pleasing God, to service simply because God is of ultimate value and worth. Ba}:lya accepts the Mu'tazilite distinction that he inherits from Sa'adya between laws given by reason (shara'i' 'aqliyyat) and received laws (shara'i sam'iyyat). Ba}:lya also formulates a separate distinction based on motivation for obeying law. Anticipating Kant's categories of heteronomy and autonomy, Ba}:lya argues that the stimulus oflaw discovered by

16

Introduction

one's own reason is more powerful than one received from an external lawgiver. As a philosopher, Bal).ya is predisposed to consider response to a natural law implanted in reason superior to response to a law revealed from an external source. The goal of religious life is pure disinterested service motivated by love for God. The Torah offers reward and punishment only as prompting. Its ultimate goal is a worship that flows naturally from the soul's understanding and genuine desire to serve. Bal).ya thus extends the realm of obligation. The obligation enjoined by reason is broader than that enjoined by the Law; its reach is almost infinite. For both Sa'adya and Bal).ya, the universal law given by reason needs positive received law to supply the details of implementation. For Bal).ya, the law enjoined by reason also entails obligations not given by positive law alone: the infinite realm of duties of the heart. Bal).ya also argues that there are seven ways in which the prompting of the Law is superior to that of reason. The Law of the Torah mediates between the body's desire for physical pleasure and the soul's desire for complete asceticism. It is the grace (lutf) of the Creator to provide religious law as a middle way between reason and desire. Bal).ya invokes the Platonic image of justice in the soul; the ideal of moral psychology is to give each part of the soul its due share. Judah Halevi articulates the same argument, which he may have drawn from Bal).ya. The law prompted by reason does not specify positive details. Whereas reason sets forth general principles, positive, revealed law is necessary to implement it in practice. The law prompted by reason is not equal for all, because people differ in their intellectual abilities and even at different times of their life. The Law of the Torah supplemented the rationallaw in order to oblige everyone equally. The Law of the Torah plays a democratizing role. Obedience to God is in proportion to the favors bestowed. Some blessings are bestowed upon all, such as the gift of existence. Others are historical favors, which can be known only through historical revelation. Thus while Bal).ya has a strong philosophical sensibility, he does not deny the particularist dimension of Jewish experience. The Torah has reached human beings with the aid of a prophet through whom signs and wonders were revealed. Bal).ya here draws upon Sa'adya' s argument for the need for visible miracles to corroborate the Law. All the people had equal access to these miracles through their senses and could not deny them. The message that Moses brought from God was authenticated by proofs apprehensible to the senses and to the intellect. This was in addition to the innate, intellectual stimulus implanted in human nature from the beginning of its creation.

Introduction THE SPIRITUALITY OF THE

17

LAw

In his distinction between duties of the limbs and duties of the heart, Bal;tya reflects both Mu'tazilite and Sufi inspiration. Like the Mu'tazilites, Bal;tya calls attention to the cognitive dimension of acts of the heart such as tawl],zd, acknowledgment of divine unity. He seems to have drawn his terminology for the distinction from Mul;tasibi, although the content of Bal;tya's duties diverges from those of the Muslim thinker. While Mul;tasibi's duties of the heart include theological affirmations, Bal;tya's are spiritual complements to the external duties or assertions of universal philosophical truths. Bal;tya's duties do not make theological affirmations about the revelation at Mount Sinai or the parting of the Red Sea, but universal philosophical statements about God's unity and creation of the world from nothing. In this respect, Bal;tya seems to be more of a philosophical rationalist than Mul;tasibi. Duties of the heart are all rational. According to Bal;tya's definition, this means that reason declares these duties incumbent, even if they are not ordained by Scripture. The two axes-rational and revelational commandments, duties of the heart and duties of the limbs-are thus overlapping. All duties of the heart are recognized by reason; some are among the 613 commandments of the Torah. Bal;tya offers several formulations of distinctions in duties. First, in the introduction he makes a distinction between duties of the heart and duties of the limbs. Second, in III:4 he says that the Law is divided into three parts: commands, prohibitions, and permitted actions. Here Bal;tya suggests that no action of the Law can be of the limbs alone. No duty can be devoid of an inner dimension. Prohibitions, however, he divides into duties of the heart and those of the limbs. Perhaps this is because he believes that some things are bad to do, no matter what one's intention or feeling about it. Intentions can be misplaced. No duty can be devoid of heart. Nevertheless it seems that in this classification, Bal;tya is not entirely faithful to his system. Certain examples he sets forth here do not work: for example, public polytheism-a prohibited duty he consigns here to the limbs alone-would certainly seem to include an aspect of the heart. Such discrepancies indicate that this may be a transitional passage as Bal;tya rethinks his system. Third, in IV:4, Bal;tya divides mitsvot into those that affect a person alone and those that also affect others. Classical rabbinic thought distinguishes commandments between humans and God (bein adam lemaqom) from commandments between humans and other human beings

18

Introduction

(bein adam le-IJ,avero ). Bal).ya, in contrast, classifies the ritual commandments not as those between humans and God but as those that affect a human being alone. This may be because he stresses that one should perform those that affect others-the giving of charity, doing good deeds, honoring parents, teaching the truth-for the sake of God alone, not for the sake of looking good in the eyes of others. Bal;tya's ethics here reflect the Neoplatonic concern with the salvation of the individual soul. The ultimate value is one's nearness to God, the return to the divine Source. In VIII:3, the ninth way, Bal;tya develops three categories of mitsvot: duties of the limbs, duties of the heart, and duties that include both limbs and heart. This is the ultimate refinement of his system. Pure duties of the heart have no external component whatsoever: love, repentance, humility. By definition, they belong to the heart and mind. The integrated category includes those duties that have an internal aspect absolutely necessary to the deed itself. If the mind is not present during prayer, one is not praying. The external aspect of the deed mirrors the internal, but the internal is absolutely necessary as well. This is not the case, he argues, for pure duties of the limbs. In these actions, the heart must be present at the beginning of the act to direct the action to God. However, during the course of the act, preoccupation with other things does not harm the action itself. While continual mindfulness certainly enhances observance of these commandments, it cannot be required from a legal point of view. Duties of the heart are different. Here the very essence of the mitsvah is inner. The commandment to love or trust God may have outer expressions, but the essence of the mitsvah is an inner commitment. In the course of his discussion, Bal).ya combines three dimensions of rabbinic intentionality: intention to fulfill the commandment, attention to the words and meaning of what one recites, and awareness that one is in the presence of God. It is about the duties of the heart, Bal;tya argues, that the Rabbis were speaking when they said that commandments require intention (mitsvot tsrikhot kavvanah). He is thus speaking of the special intention brought in Talmudic discussion of prayer and recitation of the Shema. What Bal;tya is pointing to is that with respect to trust and love for God-just as for the inward dimension of prayer-the mitsvah itself requires the heart. It is not as if there is an outward action that may or may not be enhanced by the presence of the heart or mind. The mitsvah itself is something that the heart does. The body of the prayer involves the duty of the body to pronounce certain words; the soul of the prayer involves the duty of the heart to meet one's God.

Introduction

19

AWARENESS, LOVE, AND REVERENCE

Bal).ya points out in his introduction to the Tenth Gate that all the other duties of the heart lead to the goal of love for God, and that is why the Torah connected khali'j al-taw~zd-purifying one's taw~zd-with love. The Torah achieves this by joining the first paragraph of the Shema prayer, which speaks about the oneness of God, with the second paragraph, which enjoins love for the Lord. Realizing God's unity enables one to love God with all one's heart. We can only achieve undivided love ifwe realize the full measure of God's unity; we achieve this by purifying our understanding of what it is to be truly one. Through the language of muraqaba and iUili'i ', Bal).ya associates the awe and love of God with the Sufi practice of becoming aware of God watching over oneself. In Guide III:52, Maimonides echoes Bal).ya's language of iUila' and the image of a king constantly observing the believer. The difference between the two is that for Bal).ya, God becomes a real personal presence, a companion who can ease human loneliness, whereas for Maimonides, the one who is watching is the intellect emanating from God. Bal).ya is more comfortable than Maimonides with the personal God of Sufi devotees, an intimate companion and not an abstract observing intellect. On the other hand, Maimonides exceeds Bal).ya in expressing the human dimension of that relationship; he uses erotic Sufi language of passionate love. While God is beyond all description, human intellectual love for God is intense and passionate-its pleasure is beyond any physical pleasure. Bal).ya is more cautious. Perhaps because his God is so intimate, he avoids describing intimacy in erotic terms. Maimonides and Bal).ya share the concern that love for God be unmixed with other motives and that our concept of God likewise be unmixed with plurality, composition, or physicality. The difference between the two is that while Maimonides speaks eloquently of human love for God, Bal).ya depicts a personal God who loves human beings. Both describe an intense, personal piety and insist that God's essence is ultimately unknowable and indescribable. Both insist that we must rein the intellect with a critical skepticism. Each thinker describes a Sufi-ftavored state of standing in awe and love before the divine. At this juncture, Bal).ya's God, unknowable in essence, becomes discernible in presence. Maimonides' philosophical lover of God is dazzled, perplexed, and confounded. What he or she perceives of God's light is not entirely clear; what is clear is the human response of wonder, awe, and love. Maimonides may even derive this focus from Bal).ya's duties of the heart. 29 Bal).ya's concept of duties of the heart might be thought to be antinomian: a stress on inner belief, faith, and intention as more important

20

Introduction

than action. However, BaQ.ya himself sees his work not as detracting from, but as adding to, the realm of obligation. To know that God is present in one's inward being can motivate the seeker to integrate and purify the inner life of piety. Love and reverence for BaQ.ya are two ways of looking at one religious impulse: exclusive devotion to one God, unmixed with other motives. One loves and serves God simply because God is worthy of exclusive devotion. For BaQ.ya, philosophy and mysticism are not in conflict, but rather represent intertwined aspects of the life of devotion. What we call mind and heart are simply two dimensions of the inner life. The goal of spiritual life is to unify one's inner being and dedicate it to the service of God. BaQ.ya combines an abstract notion of the nature of God's oneness with a conviction that one can discover traces of God within one's own world of experience. His contribution to religious thought is his creative, synthetic approach and his insistence that spiritual life must engage both heart and mind.

Chapter 1

Philosophical Mysticism Eleventh-Century Spain

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Ill

Bal),ya and Ibn Gabirol

Philosophy and Mysticism Bal;tya and Ibn Gabirol represent two models of philosophical mysticism. Both thinkers lived in the city of Saragossa in eleventh-century Muslim Spain and were absorbing the same intellectual and spiritual currents, specifically Neoplatonic philosophy and Sufi spirituality. To compare and contrast their approaches will thus shed light on Bal;tya's distinctive spiritual contribution. Before we undertake this phenomenological investigation, it will be useful to clarifY our terms. The term "mysticism," in particular, is multivalent and somewhat problematic. Should we use the term "mysticism" to describe the philosophical spirituality of thinkers such as Bal;tya and Ibn Gabirol? Israel Levin, in his work on the poetry of Ibn Gabirol, responds as follows. If mysticism is defined as ecstatic union in which subject and object are erased, Ibn Gabirol lacks mysticism, as we do not find evidence of unio mystica in his poetry. However, we can also define mysticism more broadly as the longing of the soul for direct communion with the divine. And we do find clear evidence of such longings in Ibn Gabirol's poetry-indeed, his poetry offers some ofthe finest evidence of such intense longings. 1 The same argument applies to Bal;tya, Ibn Gabirol's younger contemporary, who also offers clear expression of yearning for intimate communion with the divine. Where, then, does Bal;tya stand in the nexus between philosophy and mysticism? Let us begin by examining recent attempts to discuss thinkers on the cusp of these two disciplines. David Blumenthal has adopted the terms "intellectualist mysticism" and "philosophic mysticism" to describe such thinkers; the terms trace back to Ibrahim Madkour's work on the ninth-century Arabic philosopher al-Farabi and Louis Gardet's work on Avicenna. 2 Blumenthal points out that while the concept is commonplace in scholarship on

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Islamic philosophy, it was ignored by several major historians ofJewish philosophy-Harry Wolfson, Julius Guttmann, and the early Shlomo Pines. 3 However, the concept has been utilized by other prominent scholars of Jewish philosophy, including Georges Vajda, Alexander Altmann, Blumenthal, and the later Pines. 4 The concept of intellectual mysticism is based on the notion that the divine is fundamentally intellect, and thus union with the divine can be described as connection, contact, or conjunction of human intellect with the divine intellect. Blumenthal describes this concept so as to make a sharp distinction between intellectualist mysticism and mysticism of the Sufi type. In what he terms intellectualist mysticism, experience of the divine is described as contact or conjunction with the divine mind (Arabic, itti~iil). This paradigm describes the path of learning as a process of illumination; the ultimate human telos is union with the divine mind and full understanding of the universe. Blumenthal describes Sufi experience of the divine, in contrast, as involving a nonintellectual praxis that results not in contact or conjunction (itti~iil) but in identification (ittil],iid) with God. 5 The Sufi cultivates ethical or spiritual virtues such as patience, humility, trust, sincerity, devotion, and love, and aims not at philosophical illumination, but rather union with a being whom he or she loves and trusts. Other scholars have objected to this classification on several grounds. The distinction between conjunction as philosophical and identification as Sufi has been rejected by several recent scholars of Sufism, who deny that Sufis use the term "identification" (ittil],iid). It is Sufi-influnced thinkers such as Ibn Simi and al-Ghazzali who, in their observations about Sufis, claim that Sufis use the term. 6 A second objection lies in Aristotle's definition of knowledge as the union of subject with object of knowledge. According to this definition, all knowledge for Aristotelians would be defined as mystical, and the term "mysticism" ceases to have any meaning. N eoplatonism presents a third objection to the distinction between intellectualist mysticism and mysticism of the Sufi type. 7 Both conjunction and union are Neoplatonic concepts. Plotinus speaks of the conjoining of the intellect with its intelligible object by virtue of a similarity between the two, an Empedoclean "like knowing like." In contrast, union (ittil],iid) is the ultimate stage of the mysticaljourney. 8 The Neoplatonic thinkers Proclus and Isaac Israeli describe three stages on the spiritual journey: purification, illumination, and union. In the first stage, the soul purifies itself from impediments and prepares itself for illumination. In the second stage, the intellect illumines the soul. At the final stage, the soul reaches the level of intellect and becomes full of God, inspired or possessed; the soul achieves union with the divine.

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The notion of intellectualist mysticism is grounded in the Neoplatonic model of the universe. The worldview of Plotinus begins with an undifferentiated One that transcends the level of intellect. In this One is contained the potential of the entire universe, but there is no subject or object, no thought, no differentiation. The One, however, stirs itself into creation by thinking. Differentiation arises with the One's first thought; from this thought emanates Intellect and then Soul. From these divine emanations in turn, there gradually and progressively emanates a universe. Human beings also consist of soul and intellect that long to return to the One. The philosophical and religious journey is one of purifying the mind so that it may be illumined and return in union to its divine source. Plotinus described his own experience of union with the divine that is supra-intellectual in nature. However, we should note that although his experience becomes supra-intellectual in that his intellect plunges into the One, intellect itself is the tool of mystical union. The following is Plotinus's well-known account of his experience: Once I have woken up out of the body to my self and have entered into myself, going out from all other things; I have seen a beauty wonderfully great and felt assurance that then most of all I belonged to the better part; I have actually lived the best life and come to identify with the divine; and set firm in it I have come to that supreme actuality, setting myself above all else in the realm of Intellect. Then after that rest in the divine, when I have come down from Intellect to discursive reasoning, I am puzzled how I ever came down, and how my soul has come to be in the bodJ' when it is what it has shown itself to be by itself, even when it is in the body.

Plotinus's puzzle is experiential in nature. He is no longer talking about the One in theory; he has had a direct experience. The key point for us is that it is intellect that undertakes this journey, joins with Intellect, transcends Intellect, and then returns to discursive reasoning. Upon return, Plotinus finds it difficult to make sense of himself as a hylomorphic being, a union of body and soul. Thus we cannot differentiate sharply between intellectualist mysticism and Sufi mysticism on the basis of their telos: both describe a union with God that transcends reason. What differentiates the two is the way they describe God and how this colors their understanding of the path to the divine. Although the Sufi, too, undertakes a journey of return to or union with the divine, God is depicted by the Sufi as a personal, loving being. Moreover, Sufi language is more classically "mystical"; it delights in paradox, describing reality as what is known and not known, what is and is not. Most Sufi thought does not describe

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philosophy as a prerequisite for union with God; Sufi masters sometimes scorn the intellect and view systematic, discursive learning as an impediment to or diversion from the spiritual path. There does exist much Sufi systematic thought; erudite Sufi learning is every bit as complex as philosophical knowledge. However, Sufi masters deny that such learning is valuable in itself. True learning is the fruit of experience, not a prerequisite or path to mystical union. Learning detached from experience is mere scholasticism.

Philosophical Mysticism and Mystical Devotion: A Proposal To describe thinkers who embrace the worlds of both philosophy and mysticism, I would like to suggest the following terminological distinction. 1. Intellectualist mysticism is a term appropriate to the Aristotelian school of al-Farabi, Ibn Bajja, and Maimonides, who hold that the essence of the human being is reason; it is intellect that lives beyond the grave and achieves ultimate fulfillment (sa'iida). The goal of intellectualist mysticism is conjunction of the human intellect with the divine Active Intellect. 2. Philosophical mysticism is a broader term, appropriate to thinkers for whom intellect is a key component in connecting with the divine, but for whom other elements are also important: feeling, imagination, heart, and spirit. 10 The term philosophical mysticism describes thinkers who bridge the paths of Sufi devotional mysticism and philosophy. Ibn Gabirol and Ba}:lya are thus philosophical, though not intellectualist mystics. Another good example of a philosophical mystic is the Andalusian Islamic philosopher Ibn Tufayl (d. 1235). In the letter to his student at the beginning of lfayy Ibn Yaq~iin-the medieval prototype for the Robinson Crusoe story-Ibn Tufayl explains that he himself would not have attained the experience of union if he hadn't first studied the arguments of various philosophers and then attained the ability to see the truth for himself, first by thought and theory, and then in a brief taste of the actual experience. He offers the parable of a child born blind who learns about the city in which he lives through verbal descriptions. He even learns about the qualities of various colors, which he has never seen. When God by miracle gives him sight, everything is just as he was told, except that he experiences it with greater clarity and tremendous joy.

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Just so, says Ibn Tufayl, philosophers such as Ibn Bajja-what we are terming intellectualist mystics-are theoreticians who describe the divine world as it is. The Sufi experience depicted by Avicenna in his writing about the adept is like seeing the world in living color. Philosophy is not worthless; it gives us a map of the divine world and prepares us for experience of that world. Sufi experience is the verification of that map. Ba}:!ya may represent an example of the latter type of mystic described by Ibn Tufayl. He only briefly hints at or alludes to an experience of the divine, and it is not necessarily one of unio mystica. Nevertheless, Ba}:!ya does clearly present the possibility of immediate, direct awareness of God-a divine infusion if not complete union. God is ever present in one's inner being (rfam'ir); one sees God with the eye of the intellect (bi'ayn al- 'aql). The devotee comes to a stage where he or she sees with no eyes, hears with no ears, and senses things with no need for logic. 11 In a more theoretical vein, Ba}:!ya writes that the soul yearns for union (itt4al) with the divine light. 12 If such is the highest stage of religious life, why does Ba~ya speak of it so sparingly? Perhaps he feels that the most appropriate focus of his book is the middle stages of the path, which are available to everyone, rather than the ultimate telos of the journey, which is only experienced by the few. More importantly, this experience is merely the culmination of all the other virtues. Each of the qualities he describes in his gates puts the person in right relationship with God. The gates each describe inner states that make up the ideal religious personality. The experience of the divine in which these culminate is a realizable ideal, but it should not be the focus of religious life, as this could lead to antinomianism: one could try to bypass stages on the path and seek immediate realization of the goal. 13 Ba~ya thinks it more important that we cultivate genuine trust, love, and faith in God. If we realize the beliefs and follow the practices he outlines in his book-ethical, spiritual, halakhic, and meditational-we will achieve a proper relationship with the divine. Ba~ya's religious ideal is perhaps best described as mystical devotion. The goal is not a settled state of union, but a dynamic, evolving relationship, one that continually finds new ways to serve God out of love. Maimonides, as an intellectualist mystic, stresses that the only thing a human being takes into the afterlife is one's reason; developing the intellect is a kind of salvation. This emphasis on cultivation of the intellect is a legacy of the Aristotelian tradition. Ba~ya's model is Platonic: the intellect has a divine origin and is not harmed by descent into this world, which is only provisional. It does feel trapped in matter; however, if it passes the test of governing the soul well, it will be delivered back to its eternal home.

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For BaJ::tya, intellect is indeed an important faculty of the soul. Intellect guides the soul away from desires that lead her astray; intellect informs the soul of her fundamental duties to her Creator. 14 However, BaJ::tya is not an intellectualist mystic. For him pure intellect is not the only faculty of mystical experience; the experience of God does not take place through the mind alone. It is the soul in its entirety that longs for connection with the divine light. 15 What is necessary is not only cultivation of the intellect but also polishing the mirror of the soul. 16 As a Neoplatonic thinker, Bal;lya can speak comfortably of seeing God with the eye of the intellect ('aql) and seeing truths with the vision of the heart, 17 but he does not sharply distinguish the intellectual or cognitive dimension of the heart from its emotional and conative dimensions.18 Bal;lya's domain of the inner-called variously heart (qalb), inward realm (rfamir), and soul (nafi)-certainly includes elements of what we would call intellect, but also includes emotion, will, and spirit. His goal is not purely intellectual conjunction with a divine Active Intellect; Bal;lya shows no recognition of this Aristotelian theory. For Bal;lya, the goal of spiritual life is a holistic relationship of the entire human soul with the God whom she loves. 19

Ibn Gabirol on Sefer Yetsirah: Mythic Elements in the Teaching on Creation The examples in our Introduction suggest that Bal;lya was reading and drawing from Ibn Gabirol, his acclaimed contemporary in eleventhcentury Saragossa, who was the first philosophical thinker to draw upon Sufi themes. How can we compare the approaches of Bal;lya and Ibn Gabirol? Both thinkers were drawing upon both Neoplatonism and Sufism. Both thinkers present a pristine philosophical spirituality, in which God can only be described in the most abstract of terms. 20 By examining closely where Bal;lya accords with Ibn Gabirol and where the two diverge, I believe we can discern an implicit critique Bal;lya offers of Ibn Gabirol's approach. This will help define more precisely Bal;lya's distinctive blend of philosophy and mysticism. The difference is most striking in the two thinkers' relationship to the cosmology of Sefer Yetsirah (Book of Formation), a central and formative text of early Jewish mysticism. Several contemporary scholars have investigated the traces of a mythic account of creation that Ibn Gabirol borrowed from Sa'adya's commentary to the Sefer Yetsirah. 21 Yet we find no trace of these mythic elements in Bal;lya. This fact is significant. Sa'adya's goal in his commentary to Sefer Yetsirah, Haggai Ben-Shammai has shown, is to reject mystical interpretation in favor of philosophical exegesis. 22 Bal;lya writes of creation in precisely the same spirit.

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First let us define our terms. The English word "myth" is derived from the Greek term muthos, "word" or "speech," which is defined precisely in contrast to logos. The term logos can also mean "word," but in the sense of an argument, a word that calls forth discussion. 23 Myth, in contrast, is always a narrative. A myth is "a story concerning gods and superhuman beings .... [Myth] reports realities and events from the origin of the world that remain valid for the basis and purpose of all there is." 24 Mythological thinking is thus narrative thinking, whereas philosophical thought is abstract and discursive. Gershom Scholem has contrasted Kabbalistic expression to philosophical in this way: Kabbalah is mythological in that it describes the inner narrative of life in the divine realm. The potencies of the divine, represented by the letters of the Tetragrammaton and the spheres (sefirot) of the cosmic tree, become living characters like the gods and goddesses of Greek and Roman mythology. Philosophy deals with abstract concepts, mythology with living beings. A second term germane to our analysis is theosophy. Etymologically, the term means "wisdom of God"; it appears in works of both Greek and Latin Church Fathers as a synonym for theology. Since sophia means knowledge, doctrine, or wisdom, the sophos is a sage, and the theosophoi are not just theologians, but "those who know divine matters. " 25 Theosophy is concerned in particular with "knowledge of the hidden mysteries of divinity." 26 As Jacques Schlanger and Yehuda Liebes have shown, Ibn Gabirol draws on the narrative, mythic, and theosophic dimensions of Sefer Yetsirah. Sa'adya and Bal:_lya, in contrast, avoid such elements. Let us look briefly at some of the evidence on which this contrast is based and consider whether it is literary genre that drives the distinction or broader issues of religious sensibility. Whereas many interpreters of Ibn Gabirol read his poetry in light of the philosophical theory of the Fountain of Life (Meqor Ifayyim), Liebes argues that poetry is Ibn Gabirol's natural medium of expression and that it makes more sense to read the Meqor Ifayyim as an attempt to give discursive expression to themes whose natural realm is poetry. Bal:_lya, too, composes poems-two of which accompany Duties ofthe Heart-but his poems reflect thoroughly rational and ascetic rather than mythic themes. While we find certain elements of mystical longing in Bal:_lya's poetry-as can be seen in the passage from the baqqashah above-for the most part, Bal:_lya expresses his longing for union with the divine through prose rather than poetry. We can thus look at the divide in approach between Ibn Gabirol and Bal:_lya as one between muthos and logos; Ibn Gabirol incorporates in his poetry mythic or theosophic elements of the account of creation that

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BaQ.ya rejects. It is true that there is a certain mythic dimension to Duties of the Heart: the Neoplatonic myth of the soul's descent into the world of matter and its longing to return to its heavenly source. This narrative, however, is about the journey of the soul, not the inner life of the divine. BaQ.ya's overall discourse remains philosophical rather than theosophic. BaQ.ya does not speculate upon the internal life of the Godhead and the process of creation. He proves in discursive fashion that the world must have a Creator and that the Creator is one, eternal, and existent. In BaQ.ya, there is no trace of theosophic discourse on creation as taking place through the splitting of nothingness-a dramatic act that one might compare to other myths of creation, such as the splitting of the goddess Tiamat in the Enuma Elish. 27 Nor do we find in BaQ.ya other mythic elements that Schlanger and Liebes discern in the poetry of Ibn Gabirol, such as the "all" of his much-studied poem "Ahavtikha" as symbol for cosmic tree (Schlanger) or the splitting of nothingness as the cracking of the orphic egg (Liebes ). 28 In BaQ.ya, there is not even a trace of the divine letters by which the world was created, inherited by Sa'adya, Ibn Gabirol, and Halevi from the Sefer Yetsirah. 29 BaQ.ya tells us in his introduction that he has read Sa'adya's commentary to Sefor Yetsirah. However, if he borrows anything from the commentary, it is a rationalistic kalam argument on the impossibility of an infinite regress. 30 Nor, as far as I have seen, does his devotional poetry hint at these theosophical themes.

Pythagorean Mysticism: Ibn Gabirol and Bal:;tya on Unity While BaQ.ya rejects the theosophical dimension of Ibn Gabirol's poetry, the two thinkers do share a spiritual sensibility. We have seen that both thinkers describe God with abstract or negative attributes. It seems to me that what the two share may be described as Pythagorean mysticism, an appreciation of the mystery of God's unity. We can see this best by comparing two poems of Ibn Gabirol with BaQ.ya's teachings in the Gate of Divine Unity. A few remarks of background are in order. Sefor Yetsirah is the first text in which we find the term sefirot, which became so central to medieval jewish mysticism. In the Kabbalah as it developed in thirteenthcentury Provence, the ten sefirot are spheres or potencies of the divine, dynamic qualities that express the inner life of the Godhead. Qualities such as loving-kindness (l]esed), strict judgment (din), majesty (hod), and beauty (tiferet) are radiant spheres of the Tree of Life, the multifaceted nature of the manifest God. However, while the term sefirot appears in Sefer Yetsirah, the ten sefirot are not yet potencies of the divine. Rather, they are abstract principles;

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most interpreters take them to be the ten primary numbers. The first paragraph of Seftr Yetsirah tells us that God created the world with the ten sefirot and the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet. Do the sefirot, then, signifY numbers for Ibn Gabirol? Moshe I del challenges this possibility. Commenting on a line from Ibn Gabirol's poem "Shokhen 'ad" (He Dwells Forever)-"Who fathoms the mystery is shaken with fear"-Idel asserts that it is difficult to imagine that the tensefirot of the Seftr Yetsirah would awaken such awe if we construe them as numbers alone. Yehuda Liebes disagrees. He argues that the mathematical structure of reality-the sensing of divine unity within the beautiful symmetry of multiplicity-is precisely what awakens religious awe for Ibn Gabirol. 31 Ten divides into five and five; every new ten begins a new unity, ad infinitum, as Ibn Gabirol describes: thought to reveal the ten spheres and their circles; and against them inscribed ten without end-and five against five now depend. Who fathoms the mystery is shaken with fear From this he discerns who's beyond all compare. ("Shokhen 'ad" [trans. Peter Cole]) 32 This Pythagorean sensibility is precisely what animates religious awe in Bal:tya. Liebes's words describe well the relationship we find in Bal:tya between philosof:hical-mathematical contemplation and knowledge of God as the One. 3 The parallel between Ibn Gabirol and Bal:tya is especially striking in another religious poem of Ibn Gabirol's, "Kol beru' ma'lah u-matah" (Every Creature Above and Below), which I reproduce here in full in the translation of Peter Cole: All the creatures of earth and heaven Together as one bear witness in saying: The Lord is One and One is his name. Your path has thirty-two courses And all who fathom your mystery see them, And know in the mystery that all is yoursThat you alone, 0 Lord, are king. All the creatures of earth and heaven Together bear witness in saying: The Lord is One and One is his name.

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Hearts find, observing creation, All-being-but-you knows variationIn number and weight is all calibration And all from a single shepherd derive. All the creatures of earth and heaven Together bear witness in saying: The Lord is One and One is his name. From limit to limit your signs existNorth through south, east into westEarth and sky for you bear witness, Each in a way of its ownBut all the creatures of earth and heaven Together as one bear witness in saying: The Lord is One and One is his name. All flows from you in extension; You endure through others' exhaustion; Therefore all being honors your splendor From beginning to end, there's one father alone, And all the creatures of earth and heaven Together as one bear witness in saying: The Lord is One and One is his name. 34 As Liebes notes, here it is not only abstract multiplicity that points to the abstract unity of the Creator. Sensible multiplicity-the multiplicity of our common world of objects-also testifies to an underlying unity. This is clear in the second stanza, which I render here in a more literal translation:

Minds/hearts, in contemplating the constructed world, Discover that all being but you is composite Everything is calibrated by number and weight All are given by one shepherd From beginning to end you have a sign North, south, east, and west Heaven and earth are, each in its own way, Faithful witnesses to you. The multiplicity of the created world points to a unity that must necessarily undergird them. We will see in Chapter 4 of this study that Ba):tya inherits from the Islamic philosopher al-Kindi a structure and method to demonstrate this point philosophically. However, we can see that both the conceptual point-that unity is the foundation of

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multiplicity-and the devotional spirit of mathematical meditation animate this poem of Ibn Gabirol as well. These parallels between Ibn Gabirol's poetry and Ba.l)ya's prose work also make clear precisely the element that Ba.l)ya has left out: all allusion to the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet and the thirty-two paths of mysterious wisdom of Sefer Yetsirah. Ba.l)ya shares with Ibn Gabirol a philosophical sensibility that is awed by God's oneness, that describes God with wholly abstract attributes, that sees God's unity in both the multiplicity of number and the multiplicity of the created world. What he does not share is theosophical speculation on the internal life of the divine or the wondrous process of creation. Like Sa'adya, he is determined to establish creation ex nihilo. However, Ba.l)ya also takes negative theology seriously. Speculation on the internal life of the divine or the process of creation has no place within his philosophical system.

The Dimension of Love: From BaQ.ya to Maimonides Along with a demythologized, non-theosophical contemplation we find a total lack of any erotic dimension in Bal).ya's work. As Steven Harvey notes, before Ibn Simi (Avicenna), many Arabic writers were hesitant to use the term 'ishq (passionate love) because of its earthy erotic connotation.35 Avicenna paved the way for other philosophical writers, including Maimonides, to appropriate the term to signifY human love for the divine. Maimonides, a sober rationalist, cites as an Aristotelian dictum that "the sense of touch is abhorrent to us." However, when it comes to talking about the human relationship to God, Maimonides appropriates both the language and imagery of Sufi erotic love. BaQ.ya works in the other direction. Even where he is speaking of love for the divine, he uses a paraphrase of the term 'ishq rather than the term itself; he uses the definition of 'ishq-"an excess of love" (ifrat al-ma~abba)­ perhaps because he feels that the term 'ishq in itself is too sensual. In this sense, Bal).ya stands in the tradition of early Islamic asceticism (zuhd) rather than later Sufism, which adopted lush and sensual imagery. Bal).ya's sensibility is sober and ascetic; he rarely gushes in his prose. Even his section on love is restrained. And yet while he rarely speaks of union, he does hold up love for God as the culmination of the spiritual path. This love can ever increase in intensity and expression. Thus we have a paradox. Bal).ya eliminates the erotic dimension to human love for the divine, but his God is a personal God who is an immanent presence to the devotee. Maimonides, in contrast, eroticizes the human relationship with God, but depersonalizes the God whom the philosopher passionately loves. He takes Song of Songs as an allegory of love for God; just as a person becomes passionately attached to a

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human lover, thinking about her unceasingly, so should a human being's passion be for the divine. Perhaps Maimonides is able to make this exegetical move precisely because he has translated erotic love into something intellectual. Maimonides explains his assertion "according to the knowledge is the love" in restrained, Aristotelian terms; we come to know God through knowledge of the sciences. God himself, however, is hidden behind the curtain of our limited intellects. For Maimonides, ultimately we know God only through God's actions; what we know are God's products. Studying God's creation awakens yearning to come close to the source of wonder. At the same time, one recoils in awe before the majesty of the divine. Perhaps Bal_lya must be cautious about erotic imagery precisely because his God is a close personal presence. Bal_lya is in greater danger of extravagant mysticism because his God is closer to human beings, less intellectually distant than the hidden God ofMaimonides. Bal_lya's God has a personal will, is a genuine comforter, acts within a human being's life and consciousness. For Bal_lya, while the intellect can only know God through God's traces, human beings can nevertheless be comforted by God's presence. For Maimonides, one knows God through studying God's world. On the other hand, Maimonides suggests that the intellectual experience of discerning God at an ultimate level is an ecstatic experience, as for those who die in the intensity of this passionate love, which is called death by a kiss.

The Journey of the Soul Asceticism is a key theme in Bal_lya that has been treated well in several studies: Georges Vajda's Thiologie ascetique de Ba~ya Ibn Paquda (1947); Allan Lazaroff's "Bal_lya's Asceticism against Its Rabbinic and Islamic Background" (1970); 36 and, more recently, Howard Kreisel's "Asceticism in the Thought of R. Bal_lya Ibn Paqiida and Maimonides" 37 and Nal_lem Ilan's "Al-/'tidal al-Shari'i: Another Examination of the Perception of Asceticism in The Duties of the Heart of Bal_lya. " 38 Therefore I will not treat this theme at length in the present work. To understand Bal_lya's philosophical spirituality, however, it will be important to examine his conception of the journey of the soul. What is the situation of the soul in this world, according to Bal_lya? The soul is torn: on the one hand, she longs to be joined to the divine light, which will bring her own ultimate fulfillment; on the other hand, she has been given a task-to take care of this body and its needs. The soul's test is to fulfill both functions; she must moderate the body's desires-to be a good steward by disciplining desire-so as to realize her higher purpose: to unite with God.

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Ba}:lya's portrait is ascetic and dualistic, but not completely so. The desires of the body in themselves are good: they are meant to take care of the body. They are given to the body to ensure the continued existence of the physical vehicle. Only when the soul forgets her ultimate purpose are they bad; only when the soul's desire to join God's light is forgotten do they become a problem. On the one hand, human beings have been given stewardship of the body; on the other, that which truly increases the light of the soul is love for God. Concupiscence is when human beings forget their higher needs because of the desires of the body. Ba}:lya describes a key turning point in the life of the soul. When the soul realizes that, swept away by the desires of the body, she has forsaken her own needs, she turns away from the things of this world toward the light of God. The resolution for Ba}:lya lies in ultimate reliance (tawakkul): the soul entrusts (wakkala) all her needs to the one who can truly sustain and nourish her. The soul then discovers God as a genuine companion, who keeps her company in her loneliness, assuages her anxiety and fear; then every action of her limbs and preoccupation of her heart are for the divine. Ba}:lya describes a love for a God who can love one in return. God asked the soul to take care of the body; she is torn because the body seems to keep her from the divine light. When she entrusts stewardship of the body back to God-who alone can truly provide for all the body's needs-she finds the way to unite with God in this world. The way oflove and sincere devotion (ikhla~) is the way of utter reliance on God-yearning only to please him and surrendering to whatever he decrees for us. Ba}:lya's model is that of Job: "though he slay me, yet will I trust in him." It is also the model of Song of Songs: "even if he lets me suffer bitterness like myrrh, nevertheless, he rests between my breasts." Here we find another precedent in Ba}:lya for Maimonides: the interpretation of Song of Songs as a parable of the love between the individual soul and God. Before Ibn Aqnin or Maimonides, we find this important motif in Ba}:lya. 39 In III:5, the mind acts as a guide to the soul, who teaches her about obedience and guides her to salvation. The role of the intellect is different than that in al-Farabi, Ibn Bajja, and Maimonides; it takes the role of spiritual teacher and guide, rather than strictly as instrument of union. Likewise, in X: 1 the intellect is the guide that awakens the soul and reminds her of her yearning to attach to the divine light; it is the light of the intellect (nilr al- 'aql) that awakens the soul. The teachings of the Ikhwan al-~afa suggest a view similar to that of Ba}:lya. As Vajda explains, for the Ikhwan, union of soul and body is

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necessary to the perfection of the soul, who contemplates in her physical companion traces of divine wisdom. Through contemplation of her own body, which is a microcosm, she comes to know the entire universe; this contemplation brings her to knowledge of her essence and true nature, which is necessary for her health. She has obligations toward her body that she could easily forget if her physical sufferings were not there to remind her ofthem. 40 In another context, they assert that the soul dwells in the spiritual world and receives an emanation from the agent intellect; ultimately, she seeks to release the overflow she has received. To do so, she unites with the body. Elsewhere, however, continues Vajda, they appear to forget that this liaison is necessary and required by the Creator. They depict in vivid colors the unfortunate situation of the soul in relation to the body. The body is merely an obstacle to the perfection of the soul, who loses sight of her own interests in order to take care to the demands of the body, which are never satisfiedY This is precisely the way that Bal;lya depicts the relationship of human soul to the body. For Bal;lya, it is the divine commandments (mitsvot) that can mediate this relationship between soul and body. Mitsvot are a moderating regime, meant to steer human beings midway between asceticism and indulgence. They are a bridge between soul and body, between the spiritual world and the physical world. Integrated duties such as prayer-duties that have an inward, purely spiritual dimension as well as an outward dimension-function in particular as a bridge between the spiritual and the material, the duties of the limbs and the duties of the heart. 42 Mitsvot thus serve as a bridge between the human and the divine. The experience of God described by Bal;lya is of the Sufi, devotional type, but has a strong philosophical component. Further, as a rabbinic thinker, Bal;lya is careful not to neglect the realm of action; he describes prayer as intimate communion with the divine that involves both limbs and heart. With Bal;lya, we can speak of both philosophical mysticism and Sufi mystical devotion. Exploring Bal;lya's thought within the context of Jewish and Islamic intellectual history, we see the thorough integration of philosopher, theologian, Sufi, and Jew within a fascinating and complex thinker.

Chapter 2

On the Lookout The Exegesis of a Sufi Tale

Bal;lya's First Gate is a meditation on what it is to be One. The key to his discussion is a riddle that appears in classical Sufi sources such as the Tabaqiit ofSulami, Abu Nu'aym's lfilyat al-awliya', and Qushayri's manual of classical Sufi thought, the Risala. This chapter will demonstrate that in Bal;lya, we cannot divorce the philosopher from the Sufi-that Sufi themes and sources are intertwined in his Jewish and philosophical discourse. This discussion will draw in a multiplicity of voices on the question of what it is to be One: Sufi thinkers who seek ultimate absorption in the divine, Mu'tazilite theologians who affirm an abstract depiction of God's unity, Neoplatonic philosophers who maintain that the Deity can be described by negation alone. Bal).ya writes in the spirit of negative theology: he maintains that we cannot affirm anything positive about God. However, he also suggests that while we cannot speak ofGod except as an absence, we can experience God as a presence. While we cannot know God through the mind, we can experience God through the heart. Bal).ya combines N eoplatonic negative theology with the passionate love for a personal God shared by Jews and Sufis alike. In classic histories of jewish philosophy, Bal).ya is often classified as a Neoplatonic philosopher. 1 However, he is equally conversant with the tradition of Islamic theological argument (kalam). 2 Following Maimonides' description of the kalam in Guide of the Perplexed I:71, kalam and philosophy have often been sharply distinguished. It is said that the practitioner of kalam-the mutakallim-begins with commitment to a particular religious faith and seeks to defend the principles of that faith through persuasive argument. Philosophers, in contrast, while they may be committed members of their respective faith communities, claim to begin their inquiry without particular assumptions, and pursue an open-ended search for truth, following reason where it leads them. However, this formulation reflects the polemical definition of kalam given by philosophers of the Aristotelian school (the falasifa), such as al-Farabi, Maimonides, and Ibn Rushd (Averroes). 3 More

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neutral phenomenological descriptions highlight the distinctive terminology, literary characteristics, theological concerns, and style of argument of kaliim. 4 Bal;lya himself uses terminology and arguments from both kaliim and philosophy and does not seem to consider the two incompatible or contradictory. Sarah Stroumsa has shown that classifYing jewish thinkers according to schools of Muslim thought is reductive and flawed. Sa'adya Gaon, most often characterized as a Mu'tazilite mutakallim, shows distinct philosophical traits, while Maimonides, the arch-philosopher (faylasuf), reflects elements of kaliim thought. Jewish thinkers stood outside the strictures of formal Muslim schools and, as outsiders, were free to adapt and reshape elements from many streams of thought. 5 On the question of divine attributes, which we will explore in this chapter, Ba}_lya's treatment is indebted to Sa'adya Gaon. Like Sa'adya, he begins squarely in the tradition ofMu'tazilite kaliim, the more rationalist branch of kaliim, which the Jewish mutakallimun followed, in contrast to the Ash'arite traditionalist school. Sa'adya and the Mu'tazilites affirm that we can make positive statements about God's attributes. Bal;lya, however, moves gradually toward the position of Neoplatonic philosophy. He embraces a negative theology that denies that we can speak of God's attributes and strips away positive images of the divine. Like Plotinus, Bal;lya suggests that there is a mystery to the unknowable One that far exceeds the power of the human mind to comprehend. The centrality of this concept for Bal;lya's thinking is evident in the First Gate. However, when revisiting the theme in the Eighth Gate, Ba}_lya creates an innovative bridge between negative theology and mystical devotion. Bal).ya on Divine Unity (Taw}J,zd) Like many books of kaliim, Duties of the Heart opens with a chapter on divine unity (taw~'ld; Hebrew, yi~ud). The term taw~'id means literally "making one"; it denotes belief and affirmation that God is one and unique. 6 Ba}_lya begins his discussion of divine attributes in the First Gate with a central kaliim problem: if God is truly one, how can God have many attributes? BaQ.ya, like Sa'adya, chooses the Mu'tazilite solution: he draws a distinction between essential and active attributes. 7 The multiple attributes we learn about in Scripture are attributes of action; they describe God's many actions with respect to creation. 8 BaQ.ya defines essential attributes, in contrast, as those belonging to God independent of creation; they were God's before the world came into being and will remain God's eternally. 9 BaQ.ya states that God has three essential attributes: God is one, eternal, and existent. These attributes

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are distinct in name alone. While human beings can only conceive of these attributes as three separate notions, they point to one unified essence of the divine. The attributes are conceptually but not ontologically distinct; the three attributes are only a human way of describing a God whose essence is one. 10 Bal).ya goes on to assert that the three essential attributes are actually negative in meaning. He writes: There is nothing equal to the nature of God, so that whenever you describe him you should consider attributes as the denial of their opposites, as Aristotle has already said, "Negations [al-sawalib] of the attributes of the Creator are more correct [a~daqu] than affirmations." 11 Bal).ya evidently drew this aphorism-as well as its mistaken attribution to Aristotle-from the earliest Jewish mutakallim, Dawiid alMuqammi~. Al-Muqammi~ studied with Nana, a Christian teacher of kalam, and was himself at some point a Christian; he betrays elements of Christian kalam even when ostensibly refuting the Christian position.12 Muqammi~ argues that in describing God through many different attributes, Scripture does not make God multiple; the Torah merely negates many things of the one God: When we say: "eternal," we deny that He could have a beginning. When we say "everlasting," we deny that He could have an end, and so on. Aristotle already said: "Negative propositions [al-qafjiiya al-sawalib) about God are more correct [a~daqu] than affirmations." 13 However, Muqammi~ rejects the way of strict negation-which he ascribes to the philosophers-in favor of a modified approach that accepts the positive formulation of attributes, perhaps because of their presence in Scripture. 14 But here Bal).ya parts company with both Muqammi~ and Sa'adya. While Muqammi~ and Sa'adya follow the Mu'tazilites, allowing certain positive statements about God, Bal).ya shows his affinity for Neoplatonism; he denies that we can say anything positive about the divine. What, then, of the vivid descriptions of God in the Torah, a God who knows and speaks and acts? Bal).ya explains that the purpose of divine attributes in the Torah is to establish God's existence in the minds of the people, since we cannot obey a God we do not know. 15 If the Torah had described God using expressions appropriate to the real nature of God's being, most people would be confused. The learned person should strip these terms of their anthropomorphic coverings. In this way, ordinary people are not left without religion, while the learned achieve the Torah's true purpose. 16

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Bal}.ya distinguishes between knowing God through God's traces in this world and having a conception of God in one's intuitive mind. He declares: My brother, you should exert your soul and oblige it to come to know [ta'rruf] the reality of its Creator on high through his traces, 17 not through himself. For he is the closest of the close from the standpoint of his traces, and the furthest of the far from the standpoint of the representation of his self and the conception of Him. For there is no existence for Him in our intuitive mind [awhiim; sing., wahm] in any way, as we have explained. If you arrive at a point where you can exclude him from your intuition [wahm] and senses as if he doesn't exist, and find him from the standpoint of his traces, as if he is inseparable from you, this is the utmost of your knowing of him, as the prophet encouraged us in saying, "And you shall know this day and lay it upon your heart, that the Lord is God (in the heaven above and in the earth beneath)." (Deut. 4:39) 18

The key to Bal}.ya's Biblical prooftext is the second part of the verse. How can we know a divinity whose essence is unknowable? While we cannot know God's essence, we can know that God exists from effects of the divine found in creation, from the traces we see in heaven and earth. Here Bal}.ya echoes a statement found repeatedly in both Mu'tazilite and Sufi texts: anything that exists in the intuitive mind or imagination (wahm) is other than God. 19 But at this juncture, Bal}.ya's discourse takes a decidedly Neoplatonic turn, moving away from vocabulary shared with mutakallimun such as Muqammi~ and Sa'adya, toward the mystical language shared by N eoplatonists and Sufis. Where BaQ.ya parts company with Muqammi~ and Sa'adya, he has anticipated the title of Maimonides' philosophical treatise Guide of the Perplexed and perhaps even inspired Maimonides' understanding of perplexity. BaQ.ya writes: One of the knowers [of God: ariftn] 20 said, "The more one knows God the more one is perplexed [ta~ayyuran] by him." 21

The eleventh-century Sufi writer Qushayri attributes the precise saying cited by BaQ.ya to the early Sufi Dhu'l-Nun al-Mi~ri (d. 859). This occurs in a discussion of knowledge of God (ma'rifa bi-llah): Sahl ibn 'Abdillah al-Tustari said, "The furthest limit of knowledge [ma'rifa] consists in two things: bewilderment [dahsh] and perplexity [~yra]." I heard Mu};lammad bin A};lmad bin Sa'id say ... I heard Dhii'l-Nun al-Mi~ri say: "The more one knows God, the more one is perplexed [ta~yyuran] by him." 22

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In his discussion of unity (tawlp:d), Qushayri also cites similar statements of the tenth-century Sufi Junayd: When the intellects of rational beings ['uqiil al- 'uqalii'] reach [tanahat ila] the furthest limit of unity [taw~i"d], they reach perplexity [~ayra]. 23 The most noble statement on tawh'id is that of Abu Bakr, the Truthful One: "Glorified is he who made no way ·for his creation to know him other than being unable to know him [bi-1- 'ajzi 'an ma 'rifatihi]." 24

A century after BaQ.ya, al-Ghazali (d. 1111) joins the conversation. He, too, cites Abii Bakr's saying, in a version that became a favorite Sufi epigram: The Master of the Truthful Ones [Abu Bakr] said: [True] apprehension is the inability to apprehend [al- 'ajzu 'an darki'l-idraki idrak]. Glorified is he who made no way for his creation to know him other than being unable to know him. 25

BaQ.ya uses the precise language of these Sufi masters to express the theme of learned ignorance, the notion that the ultimate level of knowledge is the realization that one does not know. Maimonides, too, reflects the language of several of these Sufi sayings, particularly in Guide of the Perplexed I:59: All people, past and future, affirm that God cannot be apprehended by the intellects [al- 'uqul], that none can apprehend what He is but He alone, that apprehension of Him consists in the inability to attain the farthest limit (nihayat) in apprehending Him [idrakuhu huwa al-'ajzu 'an nihayat idrakihi]. 26 Thus all the philosophers say: "We are dazzled by his beauty, and he is hidden from us because of the intensity with which he becomes manifest, just as the sun is hidden to eyes that are too weak to apprehend it.'>27

In this last comment-which he makes in the name of all the philosophers-Maimonides' language is close to the saying of Dhii'l-Niin as recorded in yet another source, the Tadhkirat al-awliya: of Fariduddin 'Attar: The more one knows God, the more perplexed he is [by him],just as the closer one gets to the sun, the more dazzled he is by the sun, until he gets to the place that he is not he anymore. 28

In the Sufi and Neoplatonic contexts, negative theology thus gives way to a stage of suprarational, experiential knowledge. The knower in Dhii'l-Niin's discourse arrives at a state of dazzlement in which he is no longer himself. Junayd's state of bewilderment gives way to annihilation of the ego (fanii') and abiding in union with God (baqa').

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Bal).ya, in contrast, does not here suggest a state of union beyond perplexity. Rather, he introduces a mysterious anecdote, which will be the focus of our discussion: One of them [the knowers of God, 'arifin] was asked about God. He said, "God is one [Allah wa~id]." The questioner said to him, "And what is he like [lit., how is he?]" He answered, "A great king [malik 'a~im]." He asked, "Where is he?" He answered, "On the lookout [bi'l-mir~d]." The questioner said to him, "I didn't ask about that!" He said to him, "Your question in those terms entails characteristics pertaining to the created, not to the Creator. As for the characteristics we must verity with regard to our Creator, they are what I already said to you, since there is no way for us to anything other than these." 29

The story is enigmatic, and intentionally so; it is of the genre of mystical tale that presents a riddle for the seeker. 30 The identical story-told about the early Sufi teacher Yal).ya ibn Mu'adh al-Raziappears in several well-known Sufi sources, including al-Sulaml's Classes ofthe Sufis (Tabaqiit al-rufiyya) and the Treatise on Sufism (Al-Risiila ft-l-ta~awwuf) ofal-Qushayri (d. 1074), who acknowledges Sulaml (9371021) as his source. Sulaml was a native of Nishapur in the Khurasan section of what is now Iran, an early center of Sufi activity. 31 Sulaml's Tabaqiit presents biographies of Sufi teachers organized according to successive periods; it is the earliest surviving example of this genre among the Sufis. 32 This work-along with Sulaml's shorter treatiseswas widely read and quoted in both the West and the East. Sulaml wrote approximately sixty years before Bal).ya, so it is likely that his work had reached Spain by Bal).ya's time. While in Sulaml's Tabaqiit the anecdote is found embedded in the biography of Yal).ya ibn Mu'adh, it has a more visible position in Qushayrl's Risala; the story appears prominently in the introduction, contextualized in a way strikingly similar to the text of Bal).ya. Qushayrl was a contemporary of Bal).ya in the East; it is not as clear that his work would have reached Spain in Bal).ya's time. Nevertheless, Qushayri's text seems to hold an important key to Bal).ya's framing of the story, as we shall see. The story also appears in the Ornament of the Saints (lfilyat al-awliyii') of Abu Nu'aym al-I~ahan1 (d. 1037). The lfilya, completed in 1031, is a more elaborate biographical anthology of the lives of the Sufis; this, too, could have reached Bal).ya's Spain. 33 As in Sulaml's Tabaqiit, the story appears in the lfilya as one of the anecdotes about Yal).ya ibn Mu'adh, with the same chain of transmission as in Sulaml and Qushayrl. Abu Nu'aym does not attribute the story to Sulaml; apparently, he

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received it independently. Thus it is also possible that Ba.Q.ya knew the story from Abu Nu'aym's lfilya. I will argue, however, that it is likely that BaQ.ya received the story in some contextualized form, as in Qushayri, although he may have been familiar with the story from other sources as well. The version in Abu Nu'aym's lfilya is almost identical to that in Sulaml. Thus for simplicity's sake, I will refer in the text of the chapter to the versions of Sulami and Qushayri alone. I will begin by analyzing the story itself and tracing the history of its development. We will then be in a better position to address the question of how the Sufi story reached BaQ.ya and what use he makes of it.

"On the Lookout": God or Humans? YaQ.ya ibn Mu'adh (d. 871, Nishapur), to whom the story is attributed in each of the Sufi works, was an oft-quoted early Sufi master and transmitter of l]adzth; he is the first source, for example, of a wellknown l]adlth that is close to the Delphic maxim: "One who knows his soul, knows his Lord" (man 'arafa nafsahu, faqad 'arafa rabbahu). In this maxim, we find a paradox at the heart of Socratic philosophy: we can only find God by finding the self, but it is the self that seeks God. Finding God thus entails looking in the mirror. This paradox is a key to YaQ.ya's Sufi riddle. 34 YaQ.ya, a popular public teacher who called people to God, is also known as "the preacher" (wa'i?), who "spoke constantly about hope." 35 YaQ.ya thus exemplifies the absence of tension between the streams of philosophy, Sufism, and mainstream Islamic preaching, at least in the early centuries of Islam. Here is the story about YaQ.ya as it appears in Sulaml's hagiography: It was said to YaQ.ya ibn Mu'adh: Tell me about God. What is he? He said, God is One [ilah wal]id]. 36 What is he like? [lit., How is he?] An all-powerful King [malik qadir]. Where is he? On the lookout [bi'l-mir~ad]. It was said: I didn't ask you about that. YaQ.ya said: That (other) is the description of the created. As for the description of the Creator, it is what I told you. 37 In this anecdote, YaQ.ya is asked three questions about God, and provides three answers. To the question what God is, he responds that

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God is one (ilah wa~id). To the question how God is, he responds that God is an all-powerful King (malik qadir). To the question where God is, Yal).ya responds that God is "on the lookout" (bi'l-mir~ad). The key to the anecdote lies in the mysterious phrase bi'l-mir~lid. The verb ra~ada means to lie in wait for someone in the road or the way, to await someone with good or punishment, to lie in ambush. 38 The phrase bi'lmir~ad is, in fact, found in a passage in the Qur'an, Surat al-Fajr, in which we read about the transgressions of 'Ad, Thamud, and Pharaoh. The Qur'anic passage goes on to declare: Therefore your Lord poured upon them diverse punishments Surely your Lord is on the lookout [inna rabbaka la-bi'l-mir~ad]. (Qur'an 89:14) In the Qur'anic context, the term "on the lookout" (bi'l-mir~ad) has the connotation of God watching in order to punish. The term mir~lid appears in one other Qur'anic passage as well, where it is used of hell Uahannam, Gehenna). In Surat al-Naba', we are told about the frightening day of Decision: Surely, hell lies in wait (is a place oflookout/ambush) [innajahannama kanat mir~adan]; A place of destination [ma'aban] for the transgressors. They will abide there for ages. 39 Thus some commentators link the term mir~ad in Surat al-Fajr ("Surely, your Lord is on the lookout") to the specifically eschatological context of Surat al-Naba' ("Surely, hell lies in wait"). Mir~ad is an ambush, a place or instrument through which human beings are watched, to be judged for reward and punishment. 40 Other interpreters, however, assert that the term is meant to emphasize that God watches human beings wherever they areY God is always "on the way," in whatever way you might walk. It is the last aspect of bi'l-mir~ad that interests the Sufi story. One cannot find God as an answer to the question "where?" Yal).ya's assertion that God is on the lookout does not lock God into a place. God is aware of the world, but the world cannot find the One who is aware. The only attribute we can say of the Creator is that he is aware of creation. The seeker may wish to know where God resides: Does God reside in heaven, on earth, or in some realm between the two? Yal).ya's answer appears to be a non sequitur; he answers not with a place but with an activity; not with where God is but with what God does. He suggests

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that the question "where is God?" leads the seeker astray; the question seeks an attribute of the created, that is, place, whereas God is the Creator. The universal, transcendent Source of all cannot be .Ehysically located; the realm of place belongs to created beings _alone. 2 Qushayri wrestles with the meaning of the story in the introduction to his Treatise on Sufism (Risala ft-l-ta~awwuf), perhaps the most widely read manual of systematic Sufi thought. Qushayri, who died in 1074, was roughly a contemporary of BaQ.ya; like Sulami, he settled in Nishapiir, where he received his Sufi training from the master Abii 'Ali al-Daqqaq, who was in the spiritual lineage of Sulami. 43 Qushayri quotes the story in the name of al-Sulami and gives the same chain of tradition; however, his version is slightly different from the one we have in Sulami's Tabaqat. Here is the story as we find it in Qushayri: 44 It was said to YaQ.ya ibn Mu'adh: Tell me about God, the mighty and exalted. He said, God is one [ilah wa~id]. 45 What is he like? [lit., How is he?] An all-powerful Master [malik qadir]. Where is he? He is on the lookout [huwa bi'l-mir~iid]. The questioner said: I didn't ask you about that. (He answered): What is other than that is an attribute of the created. But as for His attribute, it is what I reported to you about Him. 46 Qushayri was apparently uncomfortable with the final sentence of the story he received from Sulami: "That (other) [dhaka] is the description of the created. As for the attribute of the Creator, it is what I told you." Qushayri's version therefore seeks to clarify its ambiguity. What does YaQ.ya mean by saying "that" is the attribute of the created? To what does that refer? Qushayri clarifies: the term "that" in Sulami's story refers to what the questioner was looking for, a localized place. However, anything other than the attribute of being "on the lookout" is merely an attribute of the created. 47 The seeker is apparently disappointed by the enigmatic phrase bi'lmir~iid and wants to find a real place of God. The story may also hint at a secondary level to the seeker's reply, "I didn't ask about that." The seeker may be suggesting, "I know what God has said about himself in the Qur'an. I want metaphysical answers beyond what I can read in Scripture." Indeed, in the ensuing passage, Qushayri addresses the problem of how to understand enigmatic Qur'anic language. YaQ.ya's story is capped by the key comment of Riidhabari, which recurs many

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times in Qushayri's work: "Anything conceived by the imagination is other than God." Qushayri then presents a classic discussion of how to interpret Qur'anic statements that seem to localize and embody Godfor example, the Qur'an's assertion that God is "with" people, and that God "seats himself [istawa] on the throne" (Qur'an 7:54). Here, as in the presentation of the anecdote, Qushayri is eager to show that Sufis reject embodiment and localization of God. One traditional strategy of interpretation-which the seeker may hear in Ya}:tya's reply-is simply to repeat what Scrfature asserts, without explaining how such statements are possible. 8 Perhaps the strategy of the Sufi master in our tale is to use language that can be appreciated on many different levels, in accordance with the student's spiritual development. Some may merely hear an enigmatic echo of Scripture and be disappointed. Others may penetrate to the deepest meaning ofwhat it is to be "on the lookout."

"On the Lookout" in a New Key Ba}:tya's text of the anecdote is nearly identical to that found in Sulami, Abu Nu'aym, and Qushayrl. However, Ba}:tya is writing inJudeo-Arabic for a Jewish audience. While Ba}:tya can make use of the phrase bi'lmir~ad, most Jewish ears will miss the Qur'anic allusion; for the Jewish audience, the phrase "on the lookout" must stand on its own. Thus BaQ.ya, like Qushayrl, embeds the story in a larger theological setting; as a philosopher, Ba}:tya contextualizes the story to emphasize its philosophical dimension. In so doing, Ba}:tya highlights the story's emphasis on why this attribute is most appropriate for God. 49 Ba}:tya carefully explains that the question about God's place speaks in terms appropriate to created beings, not to the divine: "Your question in those terms entails characteristics pertaining to the created, not to the Creator. As for the characteristics that we must verify with regard to our Creator, they are what I already said to you, since there is no way for us to [know] anything other than those." 50 He rebukes the questioner as being philosophically naive: to ask about God's place is to position God in the categories of created beings. All we can know of God is that God is One, a powerful sovereign who is aware of his creation. Ba}:tya's answer is essentially the same as Qushayri's, although we may detect a slight shift in style, a heightening of formal philosophical expression. In the Sufi tale, the questioner asks, "Where is God?" to which Ya}:tya responds "bi'l-mir~ad." An anthropomorphist would expect the answer "God is on his throne." And the morphological form of the answer (mif'al, usually a noun of instrument, but at times a noun of place) may

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suggest that God is in such and such a place. Indeed, according to the classical lexicons, mir~ad can suggest a physical place, such as the lookout post of a sentinel, or a place of ambush, a place where the enemy is spotted. 5 1 But the verse is taken by Sufis to suggest a state of awareness. Where is God to be found? God is not in a phrsical place. But wherever you are, God is there, aware of your actions. 2 In fact, commentators also interpret bi'l-mir~ad in light of the verbal root r-q-b, which has the sense of observation with care, and from which the Sufi term muraqaba is derived. 53 Muraqaba is a state of attentiveness; the Sufi is taught to be ever conscious that God is aware of him or her. Muraqaba is like looking in a mirror and seeing God watching you. The story thus adds a playful ambiguity. Where is God to be found? Through one's looking. On the lookout is not only where God is, but where you are. Bal).ya draws upon this ambiguity; his contextualization of the story emphasizes the human as well as the divine dimension of bi'l-mir~ad. God is found through devoted attention to the divine, through human contemplation of God's traces in the world. 5 4 The Arabic wording of Bal).ya's version allows him this emphasis. The Qur'an says explicitly that "your Lord" is bi'l-mir~ad. In Qushayrl's version-at least as it has come down to us 5 5-we find a personal pronoun; he is on the lookout (huwa bi'l-mir~ad). At first glance, it appears to be God who is watching. Bal).ya's version, like those of Sulami: and Abii Nu'aym, lacks the personal pronoun. Where is God (to be found)? Simply: on the lookout (bi'l-mir~ad). It remains undetermined who is on the lookout-God or humans or both. God is on the lookout, or God is found where human beings look out for the divine. 56 The story plays on this delightful ambiguity. Bal).ya enriches this point by adding another story: "It was narrated of one of the virtuous ones [~ali~'ln] that he would say in his private prayers: 0 God, where do I find you, no, rather where do I not find you? 57 You are veiled, so you cannot be seen, but the whole world is full of you. This is similar to what Scripture says, 'Do I not fill heaven and earth, says the Lord'" (Jer. 23:24). The second story follows perfectly from the Sufi tale. Where do I find you? Through searching. You are veiled, so you cannot be found in a place. But the whole earth is filled with you for one who has eyes to see. 58 God does not fill heaven and earth in a spatial sense. Rather, heaven and earth are filled with traces that they are the design of a wise Creator. Bal).ya draws this message from the story: "The climax of your knowledge of him is your admission and certainty that you are in utmost ignorance of the true nature of his essence. If you have visualized a form of him in your imagination [wahm] or a figure of him in your

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thought, investigate his nature, and the fact of his existence will be verified for you, while his figure will vanish from your imagination, so that you will not find him except through inference." 59 We must remove all images from our imagination and cease thinking that we can apprehend God's essence. Then the fact of God's existence will be plainly verified everywhere we turn. We do not see God's essence, but God's actions, God's work in creation. Note here that intellect has a positive role, in contrast to the imagination. It is the imagination (wahm) that conjures up images of God, comparing God to God's creation. The intellect discovers philosophically that the Creator is absolutely incomparable, wholly other than any created being. Bal:tya's conclusion here, in fact, parallels Qushayri's. Mter _the anecdote in Qushayri, we find the assertion: "Whatever the imaginer imagines [tawahhama mutawahhim] out of ignorance that He is like, the intellect indicates that He is other than [that]." 60 There are thus clear literary parallels between Bal:tya's text and that of Qushayri. Both texts follow the Sufi story with a warning that anything found in the imagination is other than God; we must efface all images from the mind to find the Unmanifest One. Moreover, just as Bal:tya's story is found within a discussion of divine attributes of essence and action, Qushayri's story follows a discussion of the two forms of attributes. Unlike Bal:tya's work, Qushayri's treatise does not present a formal kalam argument; Qushayri makes subtle theological points by weaving together Sufi sayings and anecdotes with his own occasional editorial comments. While Qushayri and the Sufi masters he quotes allude to kalam categories such as attributes of essence and action, the focus of their attention lies elsewhere, in the realm of experience. 61 In Bal:tya, we seem to enter a different literary world, that of kalam dialectic, sustained rational proofs regarding the essence and attributes ofGod. 62 Qushayri's Treatise was written in 1045, while al-Sulami's Tabaqat was written by 1021 at the latest and Abu Nu'aym's lfilya was completed in 1031; as we have noted, it is more likely that Sulami and the lfilya would have reached Spain in Bal:tya's lifetime (died c. 1080) than Qushayri's Treatise. 63 However, there are striking parallels between Bal:tya's contextualization of the story and the contextualization we find in Qushayri. Whereas in Sulami and Abu Nu'aym, the story is buried within a large book-just one among a series of traditions regarding many generations of Sufi masters-in both Qushayri and Bal:tya, the story is placed prominently within an opening discussion of divine unity and attributes. Moreover, we have seen that the discussions of Qushayri and Bal:tya feature similar refrains. This suggests either that Bal:tya read Qushayri himself, or that Bal:tya and Qushayri

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drew upon a common written or oral source that linked this story with a discussion of divine unity (taw~zd) and purifying God's essence from anthropomorphism (tanzzh ). "On the Lookout" as Religious Experience: Muraqaba In the statements we have examined in the First Gate, BaQ.ya remains at the level of negative theology and paradox: God is hidden and cannot be found; at the same time, the whole earth is full of the divine. Thus the First Gate leaves us with the impression that there is no possibility of direct experience of God. However, there is one passage in the Eighth Gate in which he uses the concept of muraqaba, or attentiveness, to leap across the experiential divide, moving beyond the traces of God's actions to an experience of God's presence. To understand BaQ.ya's conceptualization of muraqaba in its cultural context, let us trace the concept's roots in the Qur'an and its Sufi expression in Qushayri. In Surat al-AQ.zab (33:52), we read that "God knows what is in your hearts; God is ever knowing and forebearing." Indeed, "God is ever watchful [raqib; related to muraqaba] over all things." Qushayri opens his discussion of muraqaba by quoting this Qur' anic phrase: God is ever watchful (raqib). He then cites a well-known ~adith: "Sincerity [i~san] is that you worship God as if you see Him, for [even] if you do not see Him, yet He sees you." 64 Qushayri explains that this indicates the state of attentiveness (muraqaba), the servant's knowledge of the Lord's constant awareness (ittilii') of him. 65 God has intimate knowledge of the human heart; what the servant must do is cultivate an awareness of God's watchful presence. Sufis thus developed a spiritual practice whereby the seeker becomes more and more aware of God watching him or her until God enters his or her own consciousness. This is the state of muraqaba. BaQ.ya develops his concept of muraqaba in a similar direction. Like Qushayri, BaQ.ya connects muraqaba with the process of calling oneself to account (mu~asaba). We must come to terms with God's awareness of us by imagining God as a king before whom we adorn our inner self just as we would adorn our outer self to meet a F,eat leader, for God is constantly observing (ittila') our inner being. 6 BaQ.ya writes: "If this point [that God is aware of one's inner being] is repeated in the mind ofthe believer, and he constantly reflects upon it in his soul, 67 God will be always be present with him in his consciousness and he will see Him with the eyes of his intellect.... If he continues to do this, God will soothe him and keep him company in his fearful loneliness; he will acquaint him [at[a'ahu] with the secrets of his wisdom and open the door of knowing him. " 68

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The realization that one has an inner witness to one's every thought and feeling can be terrifYing or comforting. The first response, Ba}:!ya suggests, is awe and fear. As the bond becomes more intimate, the constant witness becomes a personal presence, a companion who soothes the aching loneliness of the human condition: He will take it as his task [tawalla] to manage and direct him, not leaving him alone to himself [yukhallfhi ila nafiihi] and to his own devices, as it is said in the Psalm of David, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want" (Ps. 23:1 }, to the end of the Psalm. And he will become in the highest ranks of the companions of God, and in the most exalted of the levels of the pure, and he will see with no eye, and hear with no ear, and converse with no tongue, and feel things with no senses, and sense these things with no need of logic [qiyas]. The motif with which the passage concludes is reminiscent of a lj,adith qudsz, a Prophetic tradition in which God speaks. In this lj,adith, God seems to affirm that he becomes the seer and hearer, the very consciousness of the servant. God declares: "My servant draws near to me by means of nothing dearer to me than that which I have established as a duty for him. 69 My servant continues to draw near me through free acts of devotion, until I love him. And when I love him, I am the eye with which he sees and the ear with which he hears and the hand with which he grasps and the leg with which he walks." 70 This lj,adith was widely quoted among Sufis and was interpreted with varying degrees of theological boldness. 71 Some offered a fairly conservative interpretation: God becomes the servant's hearing and eyesight, as the faithful prefer God's commands above all else. God's companion uses the sense of hearing to hear only that which pleases God and uses the sense of sight to see only that which God commands him or her to see. 72 Divine love so ove~he~s God's faithful servants that ~het can hear, s~e: or do only that whiCh w1ll draw them close to the De1ty. 3 As Mu}:las1b1 writes, "God reforms (qawwama) the servant's intellect and limbs for His obedience. It is not that God actually dwells in the intellects and limbs, let God be glorified above all that!" 74 We see a somewhat bolder interpretation, which shares features with the passage in Ba}:lya, in the following report from the Persian writer Fariduddin 'Attar. In this passage, which concludes with a Persian paraphrase of the lj,adith, 'Attar transmits an extended saying of the early Sufi Dhii'l-Niin: The knower [of God: 'arif] becomes more humble every moment, for with every moment he is closer (to God) .... One who is more knowing is more perplexed [ta'ayyur] (by God}, just as the closer one gets to the sun, the more dazzled he is by the sun, until he gets to the place that he is not he anymore .... The knower ['arif] sees without knowledge ['ilm] without an eye, without transmission

On the Lookout [khabar], without witnessing [mushahada], without description unveiling [kashf] and without a veil [~ijab]. 75

[wa~f]

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without

As we have seen, BaQ.ya describes a similar state of communion; the person who meditates on God's constant awareness, surrendering his consciousness to God,

enters the highest ranks of the companions of God [awliya] and the most exalted levels of the pure, and he will see with no eye, and hear with no ear, and converse with no tongue, and feel things with no senses, and sense these things with no need of logic [qiyas ]. 76 Bal;tya suggests that awe at the omniscient God gradually gives way to love, companionship, and perhaps a kind ofintersubjectivity-a sharing of consciousness, if not union. We find here in the name of Dhii'l-Niin a statement that appears in Bal;tya's First Gate, on divine unity: the more one knows of God, the more one is perplexed by him. Bal;tya's conclusion in the First Gate is that one should abandon the quest to grasp God's essence and be content with finding traces of God through examining creation. In the Eighth Gate, however, we find neither perplexity nor epistemological caution. Rather, Bal;tya boldly states that one who reflects deeply on God's providence will see God with the eyes of his intellect and will find God present in his inner being. The passage concludes: "He will not love one thing over another, and will not prefer a condition other than that which God has chosen for him. For he has tied his contentment to God's contentment, and connected his love to God's love. The loved is what God loves for him, and the hated is what God hates for him. Of him the pious one said, 'Happy is the one who listens to me ... for he who finds me finds life" (Prov. 8:34£.); (emphasis mine). One might interpret Bal;tya's prooftext from Proverbs cautiously, following conservative interpretations of the ~adzth: God's companion experiences the world through the lens of God's command. However, the earlier motif of seeing without eyes seems to assert that God will take it as his task (yatawalla) to manage and direct the human being. Thus while Bal;tya does not say explicitly that it is God himself who sees through the eyes of the human servant, it is clear that the servant's seeing is taken over or directed by God. The companion of God enters an intuitive state in which ordinary human senses are bypassed; the servant's awareness is providentially guided by the divine. Barry Kogan eloquently characterizes this passage as "an attempt to depict the nonsensuous experience of the soul or heart, within which God has, as it were, taken up residence in order to direct the devotee through the course of his life in accordance with His will.'m

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How, then, can we reconcile Ba}:lya's negative theology in the First Gate with the state of communion he describes in the Eighth Gate? 78 I would suggest that the concept of muriiqaba, attentiveness, serves as a bridge between the rationalist and the experiential aspects of Ba}:lya's thought. Using a Sufi story, the First Gate affirms that all we can know of God is that he is bi'l-mir~iid, always on the lookout, but that we humans must also be watchful. However, the Eighth Gate suggests that if we follow our theory into practice and begin watching, we become aware of a presence in the mirror watching us. Thus while we do not find God in theory, we do find God in experience, a God that is not utterly removed, transcendent, and absent, but an awesome king, and finally a comforting presence. Qua philosopher, Ba}:lya advocates negative theology and argues against the possibility of knowing God's essence. As a teacher of practical piety, however, he suggests that the great divide between humans and God can be bridged. In Chapter 3, we will see another way that the gap can be bridged: through investigation of God's role as Creator.

Chapter 3

Creation

BaQ.ya's creative union of philosophy and mysticism is evident not only in the First Gate's discussion of the unity of God but also in its philosophical proofs for God's existence. It is BaQ.ya's conviction that intellectual understanding is integral to a heart lovingly devoted to God, and that such understanding is contingent on recognizing that God is our Creator. Why is creation such an urgent theme for medieval thinkers? No issue vexed BaQ.ya as much as the question of whether the world is eternal and beginningless or whether it has been created at a certain time by a Deity. The reason is clear. In BaQ.ya's mind, there are only two alternatives: either the world is eternal, or it was created in time by an omnipotent God. If the world is eternal, it is independent and autonomous. BaQ.ya does not engage the middle position of the medieval Arabic Aristotelians-most prominently, Avicenna-that the world might be both eternal and created. For Avicenna, creation is an eternal logical relation rather than a temporal one. There is no inherent necessity for the world to be. The world is inherently contingent, uncertain; it is God who eternally endows the world with Being. 1 However, this is a timeless process. For Avicenna, the world is created-that is, given existence-by God, but it is also eternal. 2 For BaQ.ya, in contrast, to be created means to be created in time; creation involves a temporal sequence. There was a time when the world was not, before God created heaven and earth. In BaQ.ya's mind, a religious worldview depends on the belief that the world is not self-subsistent; absolute contingency of the world is fundamental to the authority of religion. That is why it is so crucial for BaQ.ya to prove that the world is created, which for him means created in time. It is the foundation of BaQ.ya's devotional psychology to know that we are ultimately dependent for our existence on an all-powerful Deity. We must prove that the world is temporally as well as logically contingent, that we are dependent upon the Creator for our very being. Logical proof is necessary to awaken gratitude for existence and our desire to love and serve the Deity. 3

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From another point of view, the problem of creation touches upon the fundamental question of our existence: Is there a purpose to our coming into being? Perhaps our existence is a matter of rigorous causality, independent of a creating will, as radical Aristotelians held. On the other hand, the universe might be due to chance and accident, as the ancient Epicureans taught. This is not merely a scientific, academic question but an urgent, existential one. Bal;lya believes passionately that we are here not by chance but by design, that there is meaning and purpose to our existence. He believes that study of the universe reveals evidence of a designing intelligence. The world is not a matter of rigorous causality on the one hand, or accident and randomness on the other. The world is created for a purpose; in the words of a contemporary scientist, "we are truly meant to be here." 4 There is a second layer to Bal;lya's inquiry, no less vital. To prove God's existence is not only to seek an answer to an existential concern; the act of investigation is itself significant. Philosophical inquiry is an act of devotion; there is a commandment to use our minds to know God and God's world. If we do not investigate matters ourselves, we have failed to live up to God's commandment. Sa'adya and Bal;lya each offer a parable in the introduction to their respective books; the difference in their parables points to important differences in their approach. In Sa'adya's parable, a person has a sum of gold that he distributes in varying amounts to several people. If he wants to show his friends immediately how much money remains, he can simply weigh the gold left in his hands. His friends are now obliged to accept what he has told them; they are at leisure to verify the results mathematically. In Bal;lya's parable, a servant is appointed by the king to collect money from his subjects. The subjects lie about the amounts of money they bring, and the king's servant believes them because he is too lazy to verify the truth of their claims. Since he did not count the money for himself, he is punished, for he has been negligent in his responsibility to the king; he has relied upon the claims of others when he had the ability to verify them for himself. For Sa'adya, once we have counted the money in the easy way, we are at leisure to verify the results for ourselves. The matter is purely an epistemological one: how we verify truth. For Bal;lya, in contrast, the matter touches deeply upon our relationship with our Creator. God gave us minds to know him. If we base our understanding of God solely upon Scripture, accepting it on traditional authority without confirming its truth independently, we have missed a vital dimension of our relationship to God. It is true that Sa'adya, too, affirms that to know God is a Biblical commandment, and he quotes the standard medieval prooftext: "For

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our Creator Himself commanded us to do this very thing, together with authentic tradition, as when the prophet said: 'Do you not know? Do you not hear? Has it not been told you from the beginning? Have you not understood the foundations of the earth?' " 5 However, one gets the strong sense that for Sa'adya, the importance is epistemological and not experiential. To achieve certainty awakens faith, which for Sa'adya is an epistemological category. 6 For BaJ:tya, the act of inquiring about these matters of existential significance is itself a way of communing with God. Intellectual inquiry is a means of mystical communion. The philosophical enterprise fills one with love and awe for the Creator; the process of investigation is a means of spiritual connection. This is the devotional context for BaJ:tya's inquiry into creation. For BaJ:tya, knowing that God created the world is of urgent import because this knowledge brings intimacy with the divine. To some extent, BaJ:tya's format in proofs for God's existence is predetermined. Both Sa'adya and BaJ:tya follow the procedure of standard Islamic theological manuals. The first chapter of a kalam manual proves that the world is not eternal but has been created in time. From this, it follows that there must be a Creator; the author then proves that the Creator is One. Proofs for the existence of God thus fall under the rubric of tawlj,zd, clear affirmation of God's unity, the topic of BaJ:tya's First Gate. BaJ:tya's proofs follow the standard kaliim model, which Sa'adya follows in the first chapter of his Book of Doctrines and Beliefs as well. The proofs for God's existence thus fall under the topic of the First Gate, affirmation of the unity of God. Proving God's Existence through Creation There are several ways that one can prove the existence of God, generally classified as ontological, cosmological, and teleological proofs. 7 Ontological proofs are a priori; they claim to prove the existence of God from the pure analysis of concepts, without appeal to anything existing in the world. Cosmological proofs, in contrast, are a posteriori; they move from the existence of something in the world-motion, an individual object, or the world as a whole-to a cause or reason that something exists. 8 Teleological arguments are a form of cosmological argument. However, they seek more than the cause or reason for something existing. They seek a cause for the world's order, functionality, beauty, or design. That is, they move from the evidence of design witnessed in the world to the conclusion that there must be an intelligent being who is the cause of this world order or cosmos. 9 If the world exhibits purpose, there must be a being who designed the world in accordance with that purpose.

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In the First Gate, Bal;tya makes use of both cosmological and teleological arguments for the existence of God. Like Sa'adya, he follows the standard kalam procedure for proving the existence of God: first he proves that the universe is created, and then he deduces from this that the world has a Creator. Sa'adya's work in turn is indebted to the arguments of the fifth-century Greek writer John Philoponus and the work of al-Kindi. Bal;tya builds upon the arguments of all these thinkers, adapting them with discrimination for his own purposes. In the First Gate, he weaves the cosmological argument for creation with a strong teleological theme of design. Before we enter into Bal;tya's detailed proofs for creation, we must introduce a caveat for the reader. We have explained that for Bal;tya, the process of inquiry is an act of passionate devotion; the arguments for creation are of intrinsic philosophical interest. The details of these arguments may be well known to certain readers with expertise in the history of medieval philosophy; for readers more interested in Bal;tya's piety than his philosophy, they may seem like a diversion from the devotional focus ofBal;tya's book. However, to leave them out would be to ignore an important dimension of Bal;tya's thought. Bal;tya is not a Sufi poet but a Sufi philosopher. For Bal;tya, the detailed exploration of God's world-whether physical, as in the Second Gate's contemplation of creation, or metaphysical, as in the treatment of creation and the forms of Oneness in the First Gate-is a way of communing with the divine. A poet such as Riimi might find these discussions a tedious diversion from love for the Deity. Bal;tya himself obviously found them fascinating and intimately connected with love for God. Bal;tya's approach may thus be seen as a critique of or contribution to mainstream Sufi thought. The absolute dependence of every human soul upon God is central to Sufi psychology. The attitude of tawakkulabsolute reliance upon the Deity-hinges upon realizing that our very existence is dependent upon God. 10 However, Sufi thinkers until Ghazali do not engage in philosophical proofs for creation. Bal;tya reasons that, being creatures of mind as well as heart, we must know with our intellects as well as our hearts that we have been created by an all-powerful God. Thus for Bal;tya, Sufi spirituality requires philosophical proofs of the createdness of the world. Eric Ormsby, writing about Ghazali, expresses this idea eloquently: "Only those truths which are somehow 'tasted,' i.e., known and experienced in one's inmost being, are fully genuine. The abstract notion of contingency, of createdness-in-time, must somehow be experienced directly; it must be made one's own and internalized. It thus affords the possibility of experiencing in one's own person the blessedness of created existence." 11

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We will see that BaQ.ya favors highly abstract arguments; he prefers focus on the abstract world of the One to the concrete world of the senses. BaQ.ya's work reflects a Pythagorean mysticism, a love for the meaning of Oneness in all its dimensions. BaQ.ya is certain that we can commune with the One through intellectual contemplation; like Plato, he shows a preference for the abstract argument over the concrete. 12 This preference will become clear when we see precisely how BaQ.ya diverges from Sa'adya in his proofs for creation. The proof of creation thus reveals an important dimension of BaQ.ya's piety. Tracing BaQ.ya's historical roots in the arguments of Sa'adya, alKindi, and other Arabic traditions will bring to life BaQ.ya's immersion in his intellectual milieu. The historical discussion will also enable us to see the distinctive flavor that BaQ.ya brings to the proofs for creation he inherits and shapes.

Ba.Q.ya's Three Premises and Sa'adya's Four Proofs In 1:5, BaQ.ya begins his proof that the world is created with three premises:

1. A thing does not create itself. 2. Causes are limited in number; they have an unprecedented beginning (or first cause). 3. Everything composed is created. 13 Why does BaQ.ya begin with these three premises, in this particular order? Each of these is based on principles articulated by Sa'adya in his Book ofDoctrines and Beliefs (Kitab al-amiinat wq,'l-i'tiqadiit; Sefor emunot vede'ot)14 and in al-Kindi's On First Philosophy (Fz'l-falsafa al-ulii). 15 We find in Sa'adya's work several sets of proofs for the existence of God; he follows the kalam method of proving that the world is created in time and therefore must have been brought into existence by a Creator. 16 Sa'adya's first set of proofs is intended to show that all things are created in time. The second set shows that a thing cannot create itself.17 Sa'adya's proofs may be summarized as follows: First set of proofs. Createdness of the universe in time. (1: 1) 1. From finitude or limits; the finite character of the universe. 2. From composition: the union of parts and the composition of segments 3. From accidents. 4. From time. 18

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Second set of proofs (Book II) Things cannot create themselves, because if something created itself: 1. It would have to be capable of self-creation now, when it is in a stronger position to do so. 2. There is no time in which it could create itself. 3. It would also be capable of abstaining from self-creation. 19 We know that Bal;lya read Sa'adya; Bal;lya strongly recommends Sa'adya's works in his introduction. Thus we can safely assume that Bal;lya is drawing from Sa'adya's arguments here, as well as from other sources. However, we can also note that Bal;lya reverses the order of Sa'adya's arguments. To understand why Bal;lya might have reversed the order of Sa'adya's arguments, let us first examine the logic of the order in Sa'adya's discussion. Sa'adya begins here with that which is most available to sense perception. 20 Sense perception is the first of Sa'adya's epistemological sources; he considers sense perception, reason, logical inference, and true tradition to be four genuine roots of knowledge. 21 While Sa'adya notes the problem of optical illusions, he believes that we can generally trust the evidence of our senses, to offer valid testimony about the world. 22 However, Sa'adya recognizes that the origin of the universe is not directly available to sense perception, although its creation is hinted at through our experience of the world's finitude. Whether one argues for an eternal universe or a created one, we have to go beyond what is immediately present to our senses. The correct epistemological procedure is to ascend from that which is most perceptible to that which is most subtle, which the finite human mind cannot grasp. 23 Thus Sa'adya begins his arguments with evidence that is perceptible; we can see with our own eyes that things are limited in space and time. All things in our perceivable world come into existence; this shows that they are limited in time. We know that things are limited in space because even the heavens-which might appear to be infinite-are circled each day by the sun; if they are encompassed in a day, they must have finite magnitude. 24 Since one can perceive with the senses that things are finite in space and time, Sa'adya takes this as his starting point for proving that the world is not eternal; the world has not been in existence for an infinite amount of time, but is created. Sa'adya can thus proceed to the more abstract questions of whether it is possible that it could have created itself and whether the Creator creates from nothing or from a preexistent matter. 25

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What might be Ba~ya' s logic in reversing the order of the arguments? Whereas Sa'adya is concerned to build an epistemology based on the undeniable evidence of the senses, Ba~ya has a penchant for abstract principles. 26 Rather than build, as Sa'adya does, from the ground upfrom sensory experience-he begins in section 5 with abstract premises and in section 6 introduces facts from the observable universe to build a grand, unified argument that the world is constructed and attests to a wise designer. Ba~ya's style of argumentation is similar to that of al-Kindi. In On First Philosophy, al-Kindi develops antinomies like those of Plato's Parmenides, which express the paradox of the one and the many. AlKindi, however, goes on to introduce evidence from the way the world is in fact constructed. 27 Likewise, Ba~ya in section 5 introduces premises that he establishes through abstract logical proof, while in section 6 he turns to observe the way the world is in fact constructed, which attests to a wise designer. Unlike Sa'adya who begins empirically, Ba~ya's three premises are strictly metaphysical. They are not about our world per se but about beings in general, about the way entities come into existence. He begins with that which is most simple and builds to that which is complex. Ba~ya begins by looking at the single entity. In premise 1, he asks, how does an entity come into existence? He reasons: a thing does not create itself. If a thing does not create itself, it must be created by an external cause. Is that external cause one, or can it be multiple? Can there be a chain of causation that extends infinitely? In premise 2, he reasons: the chain of causation cannot be infinite; there must be a beginning to causation. Given that this is true about a single or simple entity, what about complex things? In premise 3, he reasons: everything complex must be created. 28 None of these premises is intuitively obvious. In fact, Ba~ya will go on to offer extended arguments for each premise. Nevertheless, he calls these three statements premises because they will serve as the building blocks for his unified argument in section 6. What do we make of the fact that B~ya prefers to begin with abstract, theoretical premises, whereas Sa'adya begins with empirical inspection of the world? Neither Ba~ya nor Sa'adya is squarely rooted in the PlatonicAristotelian tradition of Greek philosophy. However, on a conceptual level, one might align B~ya with Plato-the abstract philosopher, drawn to a conceptual world such as that of pure mathematics-while Sa'adya is more akin to Aristotle, the empirical scientist, who investigates the world of sense perception as it is. B~ya investigates the ideal world of soul and mathematical unity; however, he gives this abstract pursuit a Jewish twist. B~ya asserts that by exploring the origins of the world on a purely

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conceptual level, we fulfill the commandment of using our intellect, a gift from God, and we come closer to the Deity. 29

BaQ.ya's Innovation: The Teleological Argument We will not explore all the details of Bal).ya's kaliim argument for creation. For our purpose, what is most notable is where Bal).ya turns from Sa'adya's kaliim framework to the language of contemplation. We find in BaQ.ya not simply proof for the existence of a Creator, but a meditation upon the order of creation. Bal).ya introduces images from an Arabic work of this genre, the Book of Proofs and Reflections regarding Creation and Divine Governance (Kitiib al-dalii'il wa'l-i'tibiir 'alii'l-khalq wa-l-tadbzr), attributed to the ninth-century Muslim litterateur JaQ.i~: "We perceive the world with both our senses and our intellects as if it were a house prepared with all its necessary equipment. The heaven above is like a ceiling, the earth is stretched out like a rug, the stars are ordered like lights, and precious stones are hidden like treasures, each of which is prepared for its own purpose. The human being is like someone given ownership of the house who is entitled to use everything in it." 30 Bal).ya, still quoting from Pseudo-Jal).i?, goes on to say that the different forms of vegetation and animals are all prepared for the purposes of the human being. The rising of the sun and its setting establish day and night, its courses establish the seasons. The cycling of the heavenly bodies' orbits, the rotation of the spheres, which differ from one another in their motions, and the stars and constellations are all according to a prepared plan and well-scrutinized system, which does not change or deviate, all for the benefit of rational beings. At first glance, Bal).ya seems to stress regularity and order, the fixed course of the heavenly bodies. However, as H. A. Wolfson points out, regularity would be an imperfect argument for a Creator; it could easily accord with an eternal universe. The key to Bal).ya's argument for design lies in the subtle signs of deviation from order in Bal).ya's description-for example, in Bal).ya's noting that the spheres "differ from one another in their motions." It is these irregularities that clinch Bal).ya's argument that the order of the universe must point to a designing agent. This thesis may in fact bring us into the genre of argument from particularization (ta~!!'i!!)· Particularization arguments emphasize that the world could have been other than it is; since there is no reason the world is one way rather than another, a Creator is required to "tip the scales" in favor of any particular course of affairs. The fact that the world is this way rather than that points to the existence of a God

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who willed it to be this way. If we cannot fathom God's wisdom in deviations from regularity, the irregularities of the universe may simply be particular features that God willed to be so. Bal}.ya makes his argument more explicit in the gate on contemplation of creation. In the Second Gate, he maintains that the Creator deliberately built in irregularities so that human beings would discover traces of the divine hand in creation. There is enough order and regularity that we know it is designed with intelligence; there is just enough irregularity that we discern the flair of a unique artist. Bal}.ya notes that if the traces of God's wisdom were manifested uniformly throughout creation, nobody would have any doubts; all would be equally able to discern God's guiding hand. When natural things act according to their fixed natures, we know that their actions are involuntary, compelled by their innate dispositions. God wanted to show that the world came into being not out of innate fixed laws; God is not compelled to create. God thus made the manifestations of wisdom varied to testify to his unity and freedom of action. Like light, which takes on different colors when touching windows of different hues, so God's uniform wisdom is manifested in great variety and even irregularity.31 We thus know that the world is created in time by the conscious will of a designing agent. Bal}.ya's argument therefore goes beyond particularization. He asserts that God built in irregularities not merely for reasons unfathomable to us, but in order to testify to his unity and freedom of action. God wanted us to discern his presence in the universe; God therefore planted in the universe traces of his existence. These evidences send the discerning seeker on a search for the God behind such idiosyncratic design. God is the artisan of the universe, but Bal}.ya portrays God as more of a Paul Klee than a Michelangelo, a Stravinsky rather than a Bach or a Mozart. Bal}.ya sees beauty in the harmonious balance between order and disorder. Bal}.ya might feel comfortable in the postmodern world of quantum physics, in which chaos and randomness in the microcosm mysteriously produce regularity and order in the macrocosm. While we cannot with precision locate the position of a quark, we can nevertheless predict that tables will be tables, chairs will be chairs, and the sun will rise tomorrow as always. "The sun rises, the sun sets, and hastens to the place where it arose" (Eccl. 1:5). Bal}.ya's God is both the naturalistic God of Ecclesiastes and the arbitrary, unfathomable will of the Book of Job. Sa'adya, too, brings in evidence of irregularity in the varying degrees of luminosity of the stars, their place in higher and lower spheres of the heavens, and their varied rates of motion. Sa'adya's argument thus contains elements of the argument from particularization as well.

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What is unique to Bal).ya is the element of design in the image of the well-prepared house, which he received from Pseudo-Jal).i~. Whereas Sa'adya is concerned to establish the creation of the world with epistemological certitude, Bal).ya is interested in the wisdom and design of creation as a subject for the believer's contemplation. Bal).ya's arguments thus point in a spiritual direction that goes beyond Sa'adya's rationalism; Bal).ya reflects an artistry of the human spirit. His book is not a polemical refutation of heresy, in the spirit of Sa'adya and kaliim treatises, but a philosophical guidebook for believers, a Jewish devotional manual in the spirit of Sufism. Babya's Arguments from Composition: The Bringing Together of Incompatibles Bal).ya also introduces another argument lacking in Sa'adya, which entered the medieval Arabic tradition either from John of Damascus or from the Arab Christian kaliim of Abii Qurra; it also appears in the encyclopedia of the Arab Christian Job of Edessa. This is the problem of bringing together incompatible opposites. When we realize that the world is complex and analyze it into its component parts, we find that all plants and animals are composed of the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water. We human beings would be unable to join these together into complex creatures. When we try to put them together, they oppose one another, or quickly transform. However, in nature, we find them stable and lasting. Bal).ya argues that these elements do not mix of themselves, because their natures oppose one another. Thus the miraculous combining of incompatible elements must be the work of something outside of them, who joins them together and makes their union into complex wholes an enduring one. 32 The four elements, Bal).ya continues, are themselves composed of matter and form, which correspond to substance and accident. The matter that composes the four elements is the first matter, which bears the four elements; their form is the first universal form, which is the origin of all substantial form, and of all accidental forms, such as heat, cold, moisture, dryness and heaviness, lightness, movement and rest. 33 The notion that matter, form, and three-dimensionality are themselves signs of composition does not appear in Sa'adya; it does appear in John Philoponus and al-Kindi. This is one example of evidence that Bal).ya drew from al-Kindi or a tradition he shares with al-Kindi as well as from Sa'adya. Bal).ya concludes that composition and structure are obvious in the whole of the world and in all its component parts. Since everything in

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this world is composed and created, we are logically compelled to believe that the universe as a whole is created. Bal;tya then combines his argument from composition with his original premises: 1. Since we have seen that this world is wholly complex, it follows that the world must be created, since everything complex is created (premise 3). 2. Moreover, since it is impossible that a thing can make itself (premise 1), it follows that the world has a maker, who initiated and generated it. 3. Finally, since causes cannot be infinite in their beginning (premise 2), it follows that the world has an unprecedented beginning, and that this First One is the one who created it not from a thing, not even using something, and not upon something. Quoting Isaiah and Job-"I am the Lord who makes everything, I alone stretch forth the heavens" (Isa. 44:24); "He stretched forth the heavens upon nothing [tohu] and suspended the earth upon nothingness [blirna ]" (Job 26:7)-Bal;tya concludes: "He is the Creator [bari] (ex nihilo), which we have been seeking in our inquiry, the eternal for whose beginning there is no beginning and for whose eternity there is no end." Bal;tya has shown that the world is created, but has he actually shown that it is created ex nihilo, or, as Sa'adya expresses it, not from a thing? Does he bring prooftexts from Scripture, as Wolfson argues, precisely because he has not succeeded in proving creation ex nihilo by reason? Bal;tya seems to use the prooftext from Job in particular to establish explicitly that the earth was created from nothing. 34 My sense, however, is that Bal;tya does not bring in Scripture to fill in gaps that he cannot fill in by reason alone; such an approach would conflict with Bal;tya's stated method and his understanding of the relationship between Scripture and reason. 35 Instead, I would venture that Bal;tya thought his argument for creation was sufficient to prove creation ex nihilo. He had Sa'adya's extensive defense of the ex nihilo position and apparently did not think it necessary to include these arguments. As we noted above, Bal;tya does not entertain the possibility of creation as an eternal process. Creation from an eternally existing matterrefuted explicitly by Sa'adya-is not even considered by Bal;tya. For Bal;tya, to be created is to be created in time and from no thing. Upon inspection, we can see that Bal;tya uses evidence of the world's composition in two different ways: to point to its createdness and to point to its intelligent design. His discourse integrates three kalam arguments from composition with an argument from design.

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Bal).ya's first argument from composition is that composition implies a Creator, since the parts of a compound must precede the compound, and a Creator must assemble the parts into the whole. 36 Bal).ya's second argument is that the complexity of our world traces even to the fact that every being in our world is composed of form and matter and is three-dimensional. His third argument is that the complex entities of our world are, in fact, composed of incompatible parts. The mixtures of fire and water, for example, require a being who puts incompatible parts together. Bal).ya's argument from design borrows language directly from Pseudo-Jal).i~: that the complex interconnectedness of the world shows teleological order and thus a wise designer. Bal).ya adds two additional arguments from design, one borrowed from Pseudo-] al).i~, another whose immediate source I have not ascertained but which can be traced ultimately to the Latin writer Cicero. The first argument-in language borrowed directly from PseudoJal).i~-runs thus. Imagine someone looking at an irrigation wheel that is going in circles to irrigate a piece of land. If such a person were to claim that the irrigation wheel came to be by chance, without the deliberate action of a maker who exerted effort to put it together, arranging each of its component parts for its function and utility, one would think such a person utterly ignorant and foolish. How, then, can one hold such a view with regard to this magnificent sphere that surrounds the earth, which is prepared for the benefit of the whole earth and its inhabitants? Surely if one thinks an insignificant water wheel shows evidence of wise planning, one must hold so with regard to the orbiting spheres of the heavens. 37 To this argument borrowed from Pseudo-Jal).i~, Bal).ya adds one from another source. If one were to spill ink on paper, surely it could not randomly form into readable, well-arranged sentences. Likewise, someone looking at a book would be unlikely to believe that it came to be by ink randomly splattered on paper. 38 Just so, this magnificent creation, which is so subtle and difficult to grasp, bespeaks the design of a wise being. Thus we see that the world cannot be an eternal immutable order but must be the product of a wise designer who created it in time.

Concluding Analysis Sa'adya, in his Kitiib al-amiiniit, establishes four proofs that the world must be created, and three that it could not have created itself. From these, he deduces that there must be a Creator. Bal).ya has chosen to term some of Sa'adya's arguments "premises"-although he does

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demonstrate these premises-and to combine them with an argument from design based on the composite nature of the world. In his introduction, Bal).ya speaks ofSa'adya with the highest praise. What is Bal).ya's motive for rearranging Sa'adya's presentation? First of all, we have noted that Bal).ya prefers to begin with abstract metaphysical principles and then proceed to the nature of our world. Thus while in certain respects, he adopts the kalam structure of Sa'adya's arguments, Bal).ya's preference for abstract premises reveals an inclination for metaphysical argument that Sa'adya does not share. Second, we should note the varied ways that Bal).ya makes use of his observation that the world is composite. On the one hand, he expresses the philosophical principle found in both Plato and Aristotle that everything that is composed is non-eternal, because in an eternal universe, any complex structure will at some point dissolve into its component parts. Bal).ya formulates this as the principle that in any complex structure, the component parts must precede the compound, both naturally and temporally. The first principles cannot be complex; they must be simple in nature. An artist must exist who combined these simple elements into a complex structure. 39 Bal).ya adds to this the argument from design found in the mutakallim Na~m. The world is not only composite but is formed from component parts that are dissimilar and, in fact, incompatible. Thus the world requires a designer who was able to join together incompatible elements. Bal).ya joins with this an argument found in Sa'adya that the irregularities in nature testifY to a Creator who has brought them together with intelligent design. To enhance the latter argument, Ba):lya introduces two arguments from design found in Pseudo-Jil_li~ and one that traces back to Cicero. The world is like a well-constructed house built for the benefit and utility of human beings. Just as when we look at a finite, humanly constructed irrigation wheel, we know that it has been created with a purpose, so when we look at the heavenly spheres, we see them rotating in continuous, orderly motion, which shows evidence of purposeful design. If we found a human artifact such as a book, we would think it absurd if someone tried to claim that it came together from a random spilling of ink. How, then, could a rational creature argue that the complex beings we observe in this universe are the product of random chance? Bal).ya thus has brought together arguments found in diverse sources: Sa'adya, a Jewish thinker drawing upon kalam thought; the kalam of Islamic and Christian thinkers such as Na~m, Abu Qurra, John of Damascus, and Job Qf Edessa; Pseudo-] al_li~. a monotheist using Mu'tazilite arguments from design. He has also used philosophical

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premises and methodology that show an affinity with-and quite likely the influence of-the Islamic philosopher al-Kindi. What is his overall intent in combining these disparate ways of proving the existence of a Creator God? Bal;lya's overall intention in writing his book is to enhance a person's spiritual life; he is most interested in a person's appreciation of God's traces in the world. Bal;lya sees the contemplation of creation as a spiritual as well as an intellectual discipline; it is a duty of the heart. Thus whereas Sa'adya is guided in his presentation by epistemological considerations, the overall design of Bal;lya's argument is not only epistemological but devotional. Bal;lya highly praises Sa'adya's work; he tells us that he has chosen not to reproduce Sa'adya's arguments where he believes Sa'adya has laid them out completely. On the other hand, he feels free to revise Sa'adya. Bal;lya restructures Sa'adya's material into abstract, universal premises that he combines with teleological arguments. He uses teleological material adduced by Pseudo-J al;li~ to prove design: parables of the world as a well-fashioned house and the heavens as a grand irrigation wheel. These serve well as subjects for spiritual contemplation, drawing the philosophical contemplative closer to God. Bal;lya's Platonic/Pythagorean sensibility attracts him to the wholly abstract world of metaphysics. His desire to show that God's hand can also be seen throughout the fabric of creation attracts him to proofs of God's intelligent design of the universe. These two dimensions are wholly integrated within Bal;lya's thought. Like Plotinus, Anselm, Augustine, and Maimonides, Bal;lya has written a manual for the contemplative person with a philosophical mind. Does Sa'adya or Bal;lya succeed in establishing that the world is created ex nihilo? Sa'adya devotes considerable attention to proving that the world was created not from a thing and to refuting thinkers who maintain that the world could be created from eternal matter. Sa'adya thus adds to his kaliim arguments for a Creator separate arguments to prove creation ex nihilo. In both the Book of Doctrines and Beliefs and the commentary to Sefer Yetsirah, Sa'adya proves that the concept of creation excludes the notion of a preexistent matter. He rejects twelve other models of creation, including an eternal universe, emanation, and the shaping of eternal matter. The world is not only created-as his kaliim arguments demonstrate-but created "not from a thing." 40 Bal;lya omits these discussions. He is drawn to the Pythagorean concept of an immaterial One who creates all matter and form, substance and accident. If we think back to Plato's Timaeus, we see that Plato has not quite harmonized the worlds of form and eternal matter. Physical

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accounts of creation and metaphysical accounts of participation in the Forms are not easily reconciled. Bal;tya avoids this project. He seems to take the ex nihilo dimension of creation for granted, as if it is proven by his proofs for creation. Sa'adya's discussion is here, as elsewhere, shaped by a polemical intent: he seeks to refute the views of competing schools. Bal;tya's address is internal to the Jewish community: he seeks to develop the internal life of the Jewish heart or spirit. Bal;tya exhibits no sense of a tension between philosophical contemplation and halakhic observance. The interior and exterior aspects of spiritual life complement each other: to study proofs for God's creation of the universe and evidence of his design all around us can only enhance observance of God's duties. In what sense can we speak of Bal;tya's approach as a creative union of philosophy and mysticism? Bal;tya believes that we achieve communion with God through the inner dimensions of spiritual life: through love, obedience, and service. Intellectual understanding is integral to a heart lovingly devoted to God. The mind is the noblest part of the inner being; its full understanding of God's unity is central to loving devotion to God. To understand that God is our Creator whom we are obliged to obey is key to this loving service. Bal;tya believes that he has given his readers ample material to come to the conviction that God is the Creator upon whom our existence completely depends and that God's loving construction of the world is abundantly manifest. Most importantly, the process of contemplating proofs that God created the world is itself a means of communing with the Creator. In the following chapter, we will see that Ba}:lya's philosophical mysticism is expressed most expansively in his Pythagorean contemplation of the One.

Chapter 4

The One

In the previous chapter, we saw that creation was a tremendously important topic for thinkers of the Middle Ages. What is the nature of the relationship between God and the world? Does the world exist independently, or does its existence depend upon a Creator? Creation is of passionate interest for Bal;lya because he believes that the contingency of the world-and thus our ultimate dependence upon a Creator-is crucial to religious devotion. Bal;lya's stance anticipates Schleiermacher's definition of religion as ultimate dependence. 1 The question of the origin and source of the world is also expressed in Bal;lya's milieu in the search for the One. The One is conceived mathematically as the origin of multiplicity; the one is the primal, that which is first. The One is also conceived of as origin, whether logically or temporally, as first cause of the universe. Religiously, the Deity is described as One. What, precisely, does it mean for God to be One? Is God One as opposed to many, or radically indivisible, free of all composition? For the Pythagoreans, numbers are not fungible; each represents a beautiful color or quality that makes it unique. One is conceived of as the origin of all number, but not as a number in itself. Medieval Islamic philosophers such as the Brethren of Purity and Abii al-Sid Batalyawsi assert that the relationship between one and number is analogous to the relationship between God and the world. Other medieval philosophers such as al-Kindi draw on the N eoplatonic distinction between the Creator who is essential unity and the numerical one, which is accidentally one. The True One is the source of all multiplicity and oneness in this world. The Sufis are less interested in the mathematical beauty of the One and in the complexity of mathematical relationships; for the Sufis, all multiplicity ultimately dissolves in the One who is God. Bal;lya, as a Jew, believes passionately in the Oneness of God, yet he inherits all these crosscurrents: Jewish monotheism, Pythagorean and Neoplatonic number mysticism, the philosophical distinction between the True One and the metaphorical one, and Sufi mystical devotion. Bal;lya participates in a world of diverse currents and cultures. He shares with this multi-vocal world a search for the One, that which

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unifies the chorus of multiple voices. His work is itself a synthesis of these diverse currents. For Bal)ya, God is the True One, the actual Source that unites the diversity of this world. God is different from the number one, the one known by the faculty of intuition or estimation (wahm). The number one serves as a bridge between the actual One who is God and the diversity of this world. Mathematics and philosophy thus serve as a conceptual bridge to mystical devotion, just as One is an ontological bridge between God who is One and the world that is many. Bal)ya expresses his love for the mystical dimension of philosophy most clearly in his discussion of the True One and the metaphorical one. The overall structure of his argument in I:7-9 is highly reminiscent of the argument of al-Kindi (d. 866), the earliest philosopher in the Islamic world, in his work On First Philosophy. 2 BaQ.ya also reflects careful reading of other sources of philosophical mysticism: the encyclopedia of the Ikhwan al-~', the tenth-century Shahrastani's presentation of views of the ancient Greek philosopher Pythagoras, and Ibn Gabirol's poem Keter Malkhut. However, Bal)ya is not a historian of philosophy; his purpose is not to compile philosophical arguments. Rather, he has a clear devotional intent: to enable the worshiper to serve the one God with a full heart and mind. For Bal)ya, the question of unity is a portal or passageway, a central gate toward devotion to God. In this chapter, I will carefully follow Bal)ya's argument in sections 8 and 9 of the First Gate. I will also turn to the texts and ideas with which BaQ.ya is in dialogue. My goal is to allow Bal)ya's distinctive voice to emerge. Bal)ya's First Gate is a philosophical meditation upon the declaration of the Shema, "Hear 0 Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One" (Deut. 6:4). What does it mean to say that God is One? The term "one" has many different senses. "One" can mean unique, distinctive, or singular. It can point to a single individual among many; it can mean integrated and whole. "One" can signal completeness; it can refer to the integration of many parts. BaQ.ya argues that we stumble because we think God's Oneness is like the oneness of other things in the world. God's Oneness is utterly unique. It transcends all distinctions. And yet there are bridges between the unity of God, the unity of the number one, and the forms of unity we perceive in our world. There are two key senses of unity that Bal)ya seeks to distinguish. There is first the numeric one. We can speak of one billiard ball in contrast to two or three. It is one because it has size, shape, and color; it occupies a particular point in space and time. Its parts are cohesive; it forms a unified whole. We must have one such billiard ball before we can have many; in this sense, one is the root of multiplicity.

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There is also a one that gathers together and embraces many. We can think of a circle encompassing many different billiard balls, as in a Venn diagram. These all become one set ofbilliard balls. All are joined together to create a unified whole. What, then, does it mean to say that God is One? The conventional sense is that there are not many gods but only a single one. However, we could also mean that God embraces many different parts or elements into a unified whole. The term "one" could signal that God is singular, unique-that there is no other being like God. God's Oneness could signifY utter simplicity, a one in which there are no parts. We must keep each of these possibilities in mind as we enter Ba}:!ya's discussion. In the First Gate, sections 1 through 6, Bal).ya follows kaliim procedure. He establishes through proof that the world is created and deduces that if it is created, there must exist a Creator. Some of his premises are found in al-Kindi-in particular, the notion that there cannot exist an actual infinite-and also in Mu'tazilite thought. However, when we come to Bal).ya's discussion in section 8, Bal).ya turns from kalam arguments to a philosophical approach to unity. Ultimately, Bal).ya develops an independent voice, pointing through philosophical argument to God as the Oneness that cannot be spoken. In the First Gate, section 7, Bal).ya tells us that since he has proved that the world does have a Creator, he will now undertake to demonstrate that the Creator is One. He does this through seven arguments. Bal).ya's second argument is a kalam argument from design: since the world shows evidence of purpose and order, it must be the product of an intelligent designer. The third is a kaliim proof that Bal.1ya draws from Sa'adya: if the world is created, it must have a Creator, as it could not create itself. 3 The seventh argument is a classic kaliim proof for the Oneness of God, known as the proof from mutual preventing (imtinii'): if there were more than one god, one could prevent the other from creating. 4 Bal).ya's first, fifth, and sixth arguments reflect his reading of alKindi: and other philosophical sources. He develops them in his own creative ways in sections 8 and 9.

First Gate, Section 8: The True One and the Metaphorical One ONENESS AND THE ONE

First Gate, section 8. Bal).ya opens the Eighth Gate with a reflection on what it is to be One. One

(wa~id)

is a term derived from oneness (waMa).

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Does BaQ.ya seek to make a linguistic observation about the derivation of words, or a metaphysical point about the origin ofbeings? On a linguistic level, BaQ.ya echoes a debate among Arabic grammarians about which is simpler and prior: the verbal noun (wal],da, oneness) or the verb (waiJ,ada, he was one). 5 BaQ.ya's point builds upon this linguistic issue but goes deeper. His statement hearkens back to the fifth proof in Hidaya 1:7, which examines the meaning of multiplicity and oneness. There he quotes and interprets Euclid's definition of one or unit: Euclid defined oneness (wa!ula) as that by which anything is called one (wa~id). By this he meant that oneness is prior to the one by nature, just as we say that heat is prior to the thing which is hot. If it were not for oneness, we would not call anything one. 6

BaQ.ya here makes a point to which he will return in 1:9: anything in this world we call "one" derives its ability to be a unified entity from the unity of the True One. 7 Oneness is prior to anything called one. BaQ.ya's point cannot be exegetical; any close reader of the Bible would find this explanation surprising. While the Torah tells us in Deuteronomy 6:4 that God is one (el],ad), Biblical Hebrew has no abstract term for oneness. BaQ.ya's point is thus metaphysical rather than linguistic. Oneness is the source both of multiplicity and of the unity we see in this world. 8 BaQ.ya's strategy in sections 8 and 9 will be to elaborate this argument: first showing the existence of absolute unity and then demonstrating that this absolute unity is God. A pivot in the argument is the number one, which he introduces in 1:7: Any multiplicity we perceive through our senses or intellect, we know for certain that oneness precedes it, just as the numerical one (wa~id al- 'adadl) precedes

all numbers. 9

BaQ.ya hints at a relationship that other thinkers address more expansively: the relationship between the numeric one and all numbers is parallel to the relationship between God who is One and our world, which is a multiplicity of ones. Two SENSES oF METAPHORICAL ONE (AL- W.AlfiD AL-MAJ.Azi)

In this spirit, BaQ.ya continues in 1:8: The term "one" is attributed in two senses, one of which is accidental or metaphorical [majaz] and the second substantial and permanent, which is the true or proper [~aqiqa]. 10 The metaphorical one is the accidental one, and it has two senses. One is of a plurality, generality, or collection: a genus has many species; an individual is a combination of many parts; an army is composed of many persons.

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This argument recalls al-Kindi's extensive discussion in his treatise On First Philosophy of all the different kinds of things we call one. 11 BaQ.ya seems to have known this work, as he echoes several of its interlinked arguments. 12 Bal).ya adds that another sense of accidental one is an individual thing that is a compound of form and matter, accident and substance. Such things can be created and destroyed; they are subject to change, division, and transformation. This is a subtler sense of one. If we look at an individual being-even an individual atom-it is not evident that it is composite. But at its basic level, everything in the phenomenal world is composed because it is finite. If it is finite, it is bounded by three dimensions, and this three-dimensionality makes it compound. Anything in this world, even an atom, is composed of form and matter, substance and accident. Since there is some multiplicity connected with the essence of the thing, it cannot be called truly one. It is one in some respects but multiple in others. It is one accidentally or by metaphor; it is not truly and completely one. 13 We find this idea in al-Kindi's On First Philosophy as well. Al-Kind1 explains that all bodies possess three dimensions. A body is composed of the substance, which is its genus, and of the long, wide, and deep that constitute its specific difference. Composition is a change of state that involves motion, as it is a joining and organizing of things. Anything that is a body is composite and is finite. 14 While al-Kindi's presentation includes more detail and technical, Aristotelian precision, BaQ.ya is thinking along parallel philosophical lines. THE INTUITED ONE (AL- WA.IfiD AL- WAHMi);

BAI;IYA's

CoNCEPTION OF WAHM

What, then, can be called one, if even an atom is not one? BaQ.ya explains that just as one has two senses-essential and accidental-the True One (al-wal],id al-IJ,aqiqi) also has two senses. The first sense is conceptual or theoretical; this one is intuited or imagined (bi'l-wahm, wahmiyya). The second one is the one existing in actuality (bi'l fi'l). The intuited or conceived one is the numeric one, the root of all number. The actual one is God. What does Bal).ya intend by using the term wahmi to describe the way we know number? Wahm is a rich term and hence difficult to translate.15 Bal).ya's wahm appears to contain three aspects: 1. Wahm is the realm of number. We abstract from our empirical experience of one book, one scroll, one chair and intuit the number "one."

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2. Wahm is the realm of entire conceptual systems. The world of Euclidean geometry is conceived or intuited by the wahm. 3. Wahm is the realm of images. We conceive of God in anthropomorphic terms in the wahm. It is our job as philosophical thinkers to erase the image of God from our wahm and find God through divine traces in creation. 16 These various connotations of the wahm in Bal:tya can shed light on his conception of the intuited, conceptual, or theoretical One. Bal:tya draws a distinction between: 1. the one numbered thing we find in the world-that which is accidentally or metaphorically one; 2. the concept of number abstracted by intuition or imagination, which is the theoretical, conceptual, or intuited True One; and 3. the actual True One who is GodP Let us trace the historical background of the term wahm, which will shed light on Bal:tya's usage. The term acquires a specific, technical meaning in the tenth century with Ibn Sim"i; it is one of the mental faculties known in medieval thought as the internal senses. Wahm for Avicenna corresponds to what is called in scholastic philosophy the "estimative faculty," that faculty by which animals instinctively pursue certain things and avoid others, as a lamb runs to another lamb or flees from a wolf, even if it has never seen one. Estimation perceives the insensible forms connected with sensible objects and knows what to pursue and what to avoid. 18 The lamb sees beyond the material form of the wolf and senses its hostility. The wahm acts upon the imagination of animals the way reason acts upon the imagination of human beings; it tells them what to pursue and avoid, beyond immediate pleasure and pain. This precise sense of wahm as a kind of animal instinct-introduced by Avicenna and most associated with him-is not present in Bal:tya. However, there is another, more abstract dimension to the estimative faculty that has not been as well noted and that does illuminate Bal:tya's use. This sense appears in ninth- and tenth-century pre-Avicennian sources, including Sa'adya, al-Kindi, and Isaac Israeli. As Shlomo Pines and A.-M. Goichon have shown, it is present in Avicenna as well. Pines's discussion will help us clarify the connection between wahm as instinct and wahm as a mathematical faculty. The wahm-like one sense of the Greek doxa-is a kind of imagination. However, unlike other medieval conceptions of the imaginative faculty, it does not merely passively reproduce sense data. Rather, the wahm

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judges and corrects sense data in accordance with what it considers to be reality. Wolfson finds the precurser to this medieval conception in Aristotle, who speaks of a faculty that enables people to judge the sun to be larger than it appears to be, according to pure sense data. This example helps us understand why the faculty is called in Latin estimatio and in English the "estimative faculty." Wahm combines imagination with judgment; it estimates what is true, despite the evidence of the senses. Avicenna's classic example of the lamb sensing that the wolf is to be feared makes the wahm a kind of instinct; this second sense of wahm highlights that it is a form of judgment or estimation. Since the wahm judges non-sensible forms, it is appropriate for judgments of a highly abstract nature, such as those of mathematics. There is evidence that Avicenna considered the art or science of mathematics to be a function of the wahm. In the Shifa', he asserts explicitly that numbers are known by the wahm; he speaks of certain dispositions that "derive from number, which is in the minds [awhi'lm] of human beings." Avicenna alludes to the art of mathematics as a function of the wahm in both the Najat and the Shifa'. In the Najat, he writes that every theoretical art or science (~ina'a na~ariyya) has as its object either existent things (al-mawjudat) or things conceived by the estimative faculty (or: imagined things, al-wahmiyyat). Likewise in the Shifa', Avicenna refers to a science that deals with that which exists in things perceived by the senses (al-ma/J,sftsi'lt) but is abstracted (yujarrad) from these things by means of the estimative faculty (al-tawahhum) and by means of the act of definition. It seems clear, as Pines argues, that both passages refer to the art of mathematics. 19 While Avicenna alludes to this abstract, mathematical sense of wahm, it is most clearly attested to in pre-Avicennian sources. In these sources, wahm is associated with judging that which is possible or potential. Isaac Israeli in his Book of Definitions defines wahm as follows: "A faculty which roves among possible things and uses the psychical faculty, because those forms communicated to us by the senses with their matter are communicated to us by the psychical faculty abstracted from their matter.20 Wahm is also said of the faculty resting in the things concerning which one seeks to find out whether it is so-and-so or not." Wahm is thus a mental faculty that can look beyond what is given to us in material reality. It can abstract from what is given to us as both matter and form-tables, chairs, books-and can perceive the nonsensible forms behind them. It can also judge whether a thing really is as it appears to be. 21 The sense of wahm as conceiving the possible or potential is found in Sa'adya's fourth proof from time: "The infinite divisibility of a thing is

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only a matter of wahm, but not a matter of reality. It is too subtle to be a matter of reality, and no such division occurs .... Infinite divisibility exists only in the wahm." This usage is reported of the mutakallim alNa~m in al-Ash'ari's Maqilliit. In his discussion of the theory of atoms, Ash'ari writes: Al-Na??